#ivar blurb

[littlemissvenom0]

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If you enjoy the x reader imagines and also use Wattpad, head over to my account and check out my tumblr x reader imagines book!! Everything is on there and I’m even updating that one more than here, so there’s always new ones to read!!

Account name - littlemissvenom

book name - Tumblr x reader

[entitled-fangirl]

Can you make a Ivar x reader, where the reader is Christian and forced to marry Ivar and she’s only heard stories of him, but when she actually meets him in person she thinks he’s an angel at first cause he so prettyyy. I just love Ivar and this idea, any fic with Ivar would be amazing!!

If not it’s okay, I hope you have an amazing day!!💛💛💛

A little blurb for your good behavior 🤍

………………………

A monster. A beast. The Antichrist himself.

She heard every rumor that was ever whispered in the halls of the castle.

A warrior with the blood of innocents on his hands. A cripple with a hunting instinct to kill everything he saw.

Ivar the Boneless.

And the day her home was conquered, she feared the devil would truly take her soul.

And he would indeed.

…

“Please. Oh, great Father. Restore and protect your people,” she pleaded at her bedside.

Her father and brother were out in the midst of battle, fighting as a true king and prince would.

And she was stuck praying for their souls.

Each scream, each cry, every clashing sound of metal only brought more fear into her heart.

“Save them from the heathens! I plead, Father!”

She couldn’t dare to look out of her window. She didn’t want to see the bloodshed. It would risk haunting her pleasant, innocent dreams.

There was a horrid thump. It shook the walls of the study stone castle.

They were breaking in.

Her eyes closed tightly, her knuckles turning white in the earnestly of her prayer.

“Father, please!”

Thump.

“Holy God, hear my prayer!”

Thump.

“Please!”

Thump. Silence.

There was no battlecry. No sounds of dying soldiers. Just… silence.

She stayed there, on her knees, without a word. Without a prayer. Just waiting. It felt like minutes, like hours, maybe days for all she knew. In reality, maybe a couple minutes. But it was like lifetimes.

And the door to her chamber opened slowly.

And in stepped in an angel.

She let out a breath.

Her prayers had been answered. He was here to save her.

The mysterious angel stood in the doorway, leaning against it with a curious look in his eyes. All knowing.

Blue eyes like the sea at its purest. Hair braided out of his face carefully, like he was ready to fight for her. To protect her. Sword at his side.

She rushed forward, dropping down on her knees in front of him and clung to his tunic. “Praise the Lord for hearing my pleas,” she whispered to the ground.

The angel’s head tilted curiously at the girl at his feet. “Why do you cry?”

She looked up at him. “My father is defending the kingdom with failing progression. I have asked for help and the Lord has answered. You, angel.”

He smiled with a slight swagger to him now in amusement. He bent down at the waist carefully to not knock himself over. He grabbed her biceps and helped her up.

Their distance didn’t change, her standing body only inches from his.

He was beautiful.

He studied her, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. His hand wandered down to her waist and he leaned in. “I’m no angel, princess.”

She froze. “Wh-what are you?”

He smiled. “The Devil.”

Ivar the Boneless.

[jadelynlace]

Full-Term⎮Ink Drinker Blurb⎮Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader]

Read more Ink Drinker here.

Author's Note: I teased about it, and you guys begged for it (pun intended). Now, I have never been pregnant, and for any of my followers who have, I apologize if this is no where near close to the actual experience of pregnancy. But I did try my best.

Content Warnings: Pregnancy sex (full term), mentions of birth and Ink Ivar (who is really in need of a warning all on his own).

Word Count: Just shy of 2000 words.

You were ready for it to be over. The past 38 weeks had been full of surprises, watching your body change, watching Ivar fall in love with you all over again. How he could not get enough of the way you are growing a human inside of you. From the photos, to painting your bump, to finding out that you’re about to bore the first Lothbrok girl in over five generations. Ivar was through the moon. But you, oh, you were ready for it to be over.

The thought of birth is exhilarating, it is terrifying. You’ve seen it in the field; in its glory, in its horror. You hadn’t yet made up your mind as to whether you wanted the intimate home birth, or the hospital birth. You stacked up the complications you could have, often leaving you awake at night, or slithering into your dreams. Too many times you’ve envisioned waking up in your own pool of blood or worse: leaving Ivar alone as a single parent to a newborn.

Walking hardly helps, walking at an angle hardly helps. You roll on the exercise ball, as Ivar sneaks glances at how you move your hips, wishing it was him below you. Helga has offered you tea, blends that she claims helped her deliver both Phoenix and Apollo rather quickly. Hvitserk makes a game at trying to jump out from around the corners at the station, hoping it’ll scare you into labor. But he’s only ever been met with the sight of your middle finger. 

Desk duty at the station is tedious enough, but you could easily do without the input of the men you work with. It was hard to believe some of them were medics, even harder to believe that they were fathers themselves. 

“We could have sex,” Ivar says to you suddenly. Eyes glued to his sketchbook as you adjust, and readjust, how you’re sitting on the couch.

“What?” You say, not quite sure you heard him correctly. His subtly could rival that of a sledgehammer.

“To induce labor. I read that sometimes the best way to get the baby out, is to do the same thing that got it in there,” 

The last 38 weeks had taken their toll on Ivar too. You can see the difference in his face, mentally preparing himself for the journey that is coming. The faintest hint of dark circles from staying up with you; in your pain, your sickness, your cravings. Walking on eggshells at times because of the swing in your emotions, and how you would just sometimes cry. Over him, for just existing, and how much you love him. Or, how he once closed the oven door too hard and you feared the oven must hurt. 

Ivar was more ready for this than he had ever been ready for anything in his entire life. And the final stretch of days felt like years, but Gods, watching you grow a human is the best experience of his life.

“You really want to have sex with your pregnant wife, to induce labor?” You ask.

“Baby, I really want to have sex with my pregnant wife even if it doesn’t induce labor,” Ivar answers as if it’s so completely obvious.

“Your pull out game is what go me into this mess,” You tease.

“As if you didn’t beg for me to come inside—”

“Ivar,” You cut him off. “Everything hurts right now. And I have to pee again. But I can still manage to stand up and smack you,” And Ivar just offers you his tell tale smile, a grin that stretches from ear to ear, and you calm down. 

*

You take each step one at a time, planting two feet parallel before continuing, and you swear the Braxton Hicks contractions are purposely worse on the stairs. Ivar whines from the bed, wondering where you are and you feel tears in your eyes because you simply can’t walk up the stairs any quicker. Finally though, you’re in the door way and Ivar is in his boxers, constructing the best pillow mound you’ve seen to date. 

“I figured this might help,” He tells you, arm out stretched to you. As you get closer, he’s there to fix your hair, standing in front of him as he braids it to keep it out of your face, but to ensure you’re not going to wake up from a headache. There’s a kiss to your shoulder next, as he says “There,” ever so softly.

“Can you help me take off my dress,” You say to him.

“Too hot?” But you don’t answer. Ivar’s hands move slowly, rolling the hem of your nightgown towards your waist and slipping it up over your arms, all while paying careful attention to your braid. Once it’s discarded, you stay where you are, and Ivar’s hands splay across your bump like hot coals, before they gingerly lift it, relieving the pressure. You only moan.

“Just a few more days, baby,” Ivar tells you softly. Slowly his hands move again, covering your chest, the pressure in them as they grow fuller, and fuller. 

“Can I take you up on your offer?” You peep.

“I offer you lots of things, every day,” Ivar hums.

“You know exactly which one I am inquiring about, Ivar,” You deadpan. Ivar’s lips land softly on your shoulder again, humming in agreement as his hands continue to roam. Across your bump, to your chest, your lower back and you’re beginning to melt before him.

You move, and Ivar just watches you, setting his glasses on the night stand while you lie down. He’s behind you in an instant but you haven’t found comfort yet.

“No, not like this, it hurts,” You hiss and Ivar stops.

“Hold on,” He says, helping you move, “Try this,” And he moves the pillows again, letting you rest over them.

“Oh, that’s better,” You sigh, melting into the fabric. “So much better,” You hum, nuzzling your face.

“Just relax,” Ivar hums, kissing between your shoulder blades.

“You really want to have sex with your pregnant wife to induce labor?” You mumble again while you feel Ivar’s hands on the small of your back. “Oh, that feels so nice,” You then sigh when he applies pressure where you ache. “Are you even going to be able to get it up?”

Ivar leans over you then, length pressing against you and you giggle.

“Did you even doubt that?” He whispers in your ear, leaving a kiss to your temple.

“No, not really,” You reply, his hands tracing you. “I haven’t shaved since I could see my feet,” You mumble. “Are you sure you really—”

“Do I need to gag you? Is that how this is going to be?” Ivar asks, shifting his weight behind you as his boxers are tossed somewhere behind him. “Can you try to relax for like, twenty minutes?”

“You’re going to last twenty minutes?” You quip, simply because you cannot help yourself. Ivar’s hands are at your cheeks just as the comment leaves your mouth, but instead of the quick smack you anticipate, he grabs handfuls, fondling the skin.

“We both know who’s not going to last,” Ivar hums, tracing your slit. “But when you want me to stop, you tell me, alright?”

“I know Ivar, I know,” You hum.

Ivar’s warmth covers your back, body over yours and you can’t help but shiver in anticipation for his cock to spread your walls. He rests his head against yours for a brief moment, palms tracing your stomach and you can picture the smile on his face. He leaves you for a moment to nudge your legs to spread, and out of pure instinct they fall open.

Grabbing himself, Ivar taps the head of his cock against you, just to tease you before he pushes his length into you slowly, inch by inch as your wall spread with a delicious pleasure. Feeling every vein and trace of skin before he bottoms out, and rests against you.

“Oh my god,” You moan, thighs already trembling as his hands waste no time to cover yours as they bunch the sheets. “Oh, fuck,” You gasp.

“I know,” Ivar hums back. “Better?”

“You have no idea, Ivar,” You moan into the pillow. “Gods, you have no idea,”

Ivar stays still, letting you feel the weight over you, the pleasure between the two of you, his cock throbbing inside of you. He only moans from where he is, his lips pressed against the curve of your neck before he finally rocks his hips. Careful to let the weight fall to his legs, you’re nearly dripping as his cock slides, pushing back into you and the intensity makes you shake. You whine as Ivar’s hands squeeze yours, harder.

Pulling back, you feel his hands press into your back, his cock staying still and your mind is left to remember all of the times he would have taken a fistful of your hair into his grasp. Or how his hand print would redden across your backside. But this time, he’s taking his time, taking more care than he ever has to make sure you’re both going to remember this. He doing exactly what he said: he’s getting your child out the same way he put them in there. With love.

You don’t have the words to tell him to go faster, to fuck you harder. The sensitivity makes the pleasure that much more intense, and you’re on the grasp of your first release as his hips moves lazily. 

“You’re going to make me cum,” You gasp, causing Ivar to only hum in response as he moves. Nudging your head with his, his lips catch yours for a brief moment, pressing his forehead against you.

“You always feel so good,” He rasps, his cock slowly moving through your folds. 

You relax further into the pillows, your thighs shaking as he brushes your sweet spot. 

“Are you going to cum for me, sweet girl?” Ivar hums, and you only nod. “Good,” He teases. 

His thrusts grow deeper, pressing against you harder but still mindful of your body. Your orgasm grabs you suddenly, tired body shaking under him, fingers interlocked over yours. Humming from above you, you press against Ivar further, helping him over his edge as his muscles tense, cock releasing inside of you as he moans deeply from his chest. 

The room is still, his breathing over yours as Ivar nuzzles against you, eyes closed as he holds you. His cock finally flags as he moves back, pressing his hands against your back before he helps you move. 

“There you are,” Ivar teases, helping you stand on shaky legs and you only look up at the man who falls more in love with you every second.

“Can you help me get my nightgown back on?” You ask softly and Ivar chuckles. He moves then, and you stop him. “Wait, let me just hug you first,” You finally peep, wrapping your arms around his neck, inching as close to him as your bump will allow and Ivar only wraps back around you. 

“You know, it could take several attempts for this to work,” Ivar quips. 

“Oh, honey, I know,”

Tags:

@smileysam13579  @dreamtherapy @angelofthenightposts @unbetaedimagines  @readsalot73 @queen-sarang   @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @prettyinpayne @quantumlocked310 @mighty-ragnarssons @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @queen-of-upshur @nanahachikyuu @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @fatedwithmbc @hashimily @youbloodymadgenius @love-all-things-writing  @theanxietyqueen17 @trip2themoon @tgrrose @synnersaint @kataphine @prepare4trouble @abbiii72 @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog @93xdiagonxalley @ivarisms @nordicshieldmadien @ironynoticony @ivarsgard @cosmicmerbabe @smears-and-spots @kaybee87 @t4medicroe @noway4u @southernbe @anakindoesntlikesand @mymindfuckery @noonespecial90 @hypocrtic-trash-baby @tessakate @ivarlover

*please message me to let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series/etc. are also welcomed, as well as feedback.*

full masterlist can be found here.

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

🗡️Vikings Masterlist🗡️

Smut: 🔥🔥

Fluff: 🌸🌸

Heated Fluff: ⭐️⭐️

Friendly: 🌈🌈

Angst: 🌨️🌨️

💙 Collage

💚 Oneshot

💖 Preference/Headcanon

💜 Quotes

💞 Blurb

Athelstan

- Father 💖🌈

Bjorn

- Tits 💚🔥

- Holiday 💚🌸

Hvitserk

- Spanking 💚🔥

Ivar

- Overstimulation 💚🔥

- Let’s Wait ��😂🌈

- Behave 💚⭐️

- Freaks To The Front 💚🌸

- 29 💚🌸

- Dreams 💚🌨️

- Josh 💚🌸

Ubbe

- Early Retirement 💚🌸

Multiple

- Modern World 1 💖🌈

- Modern World 2 💖🌈

[nomclovin]

fave fics

just a place to store my fav fics to revisit 

maul oppress 

@sxvenz attention. ~ maul x reader 

Warnings: yan!maul, obsessive tendencies, possessive tendencies, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome 

@thenightmarketofdathomir Brula Shampoo ~ Maul x reader 

Warnings: explicit, aftercare, overstim., bite marked 

WC: 800 

@zoeykallus what is love ~ maul x reader 

Warnings: angst, fluff 

@loth-wolffe getting maul to bed ~ maul x reader (no y/n) 

fluff 

WC: 1.6k

@whirlybirbs of possession & lust ~ maul x reader

Warnings: explicit, oral/fingering, heavy petting, dirty talk

WC: 6k

@ivorydragoness44 tunics ~ maul x reader 

Warning: fluff, stealing of tunics 

WC: 500 

adrian chase / vigilante 

@vigilvntes stop talking ~ adrian chase x reader 

Warning: slight nsfw

WC: 700

fezco

@onlyfezco baby, baby, baby ~ fezco x reader 

Warnings: fluff

WC: 1.2k

@sublimecatgalaxy three times fez gets jealous ~ fezco x reader 

daryl dixon 

@letterstotheflre i like it ~ daryl x reader 

Warning: fluff, intimate, shaving, “daryl loves bush. pass it on”

marvel

@sagechanoafterdark hold me closer ~ bucky x reader

warning: softness, sad bucky, touching

WC: 1k

@you-are-my-sanctuary what could’ve been pt.1, pt.2 ~ steve x ready, future bucky x reader 

Warning: ANGST, pain, regrets, moving on, hurts so good 

hot girl summer ~ steve rogers x reader

this post used to be on tumblr but i think the author deleted their account, this is their work on oa3 

outer banks 

@withbeautyandrage buzzed ~ rafe cameron x reader 

Warning: drinking, fluff, established relationship 

WC: 1.1k

top gun 

@royalmaybank cookie dough love ~ jake seresin x reader 

baker!reader, established relationship, fluff

jake covers the corner of the table w his hand

goose makes you of through the five stages of grief

ivar lothbrok 

@barnes-lothbrok little love 

Warnings: fluff, pregnancy 

WC: 1k  

@richeeduvie moon song ~ homelander x reader 

Warning: reader likes homelander, nsfw 

ghost cod 

@charnelhouse boxed cake ~ ghost x reader 

Warnings: vom breath 

WC: 1.7k

@halfmoth-halfman little treasures, life’s pleasures ~ ghost x medic!reader

WC: 3.2k

Maul blurbs 

@justalittletomato maul blurbs 

honeymoon

honeymoon extended

maul experiences a glimpse of his realities

 cress and aster leave the galaxy 

kisses 

dad!maul hurt cress  

@whirlybirbs maul blurbs 

real kiss 

comfortable 

[author-morgan]

im so so curious about this plan of yours to rewrite seasons 5 and 6 with Harald and an OC. would you mind sharing another snippet? 🥺

oh, yes. so, i've been throwing around this idea for about 2 years now and have written blurbs here and there (really don't have much time due to Ph.D. life to sit down and start to fully flesh this out yet), but essentially i dislike what Hirst did to Harald in those last two seasons. so i want to give Harald a proper chance at love with a good wife (and queen).

my OC is Ragnhild the Mighty, based on one of his wives in the sagas who 'he loved above all others.' she's got a reputation (how else would she earn the epithet, Mighty) and is just as ambitious as he is when it comes to getting a crown and kingdom so it makes them quite a pair and force to reckon with.

the general synopsis is Harald and Ragnhild first meet in York (5b) and agree to raid and war against Alfred and co., but it becomes clear that the gods led them to one another for a reason, and not eager to part ways, she returns to Norway with him and Björn to fight Ivar. then it roughly adheres to the general events of the show (election, Rus invasion, etc.), but ofc has some unexpected spins here and there (and lest we forget, she is the mother of Eric Bloodaxe too).

but here's another snippet of them on the eve of the battle of meretun: 

“Indeed,” Harald breathes, his thoughts straying to his brother, to his princess. Both are dead in the cold iron earth now because of his doing. “But we are all blood and bone and spirit. Imperfect” —he lays his hand over hers— “and perfect as we are.” Ragnhild looks at him and wonders if he feels the same invisible flame—the same spark of strange magic—when their flesh touches. She shifts then without a word, swinging herself over his outstretched legs, perching on his lap. Her hands capture both sides of his face, thumbs following the fading blue-black ink of his tattoos and over the scar cutting across one of his cheeks. Her brother’s words echo loudly in her mind: he can make you a queen. Harald’s breath catches as he beholds her—the perfect woman—and a new softness appears in his livid eyes. “Ragnhild?” Her name is a soft, disbelieving whisper. Placing her palm over the restless pounding of his heart, Ragnhild leans toward him, stopping just when her nose brushes his, breaths mingling. “It is a cold night,” she echoes, the words dancing across his cheek and bearded jaw.

[justanoasisimagines]

Heroes versus Villians October Event

Hey lovelies, throughout the month of October, I'll be posting twice a day for a hero and a Villian. Below is the list of what's going to be posted.

1st October - Neville Longbottom (Blurb) & Aemond Targaryen (Blurb) 2nd October - Podrick Payne (Blurb) & Victor Zsasz (Gotham) 3rd October - Elijah Mikealson (Drabble) & Charles Vane (Headcanon) 4th October - Steve Rogers (Love Letter) & Clay Morrow (Love Letter) 5th October - Neal "Baelfire" Cassidy (Headcanon) & Phillip Graves (Headcanon) 6th October - Alex Keller (Love Letter) & Rollo (Blurb) 7th October - Harwin Strong (Headcanon) & Ramsay Bolton (Drabble) 8th October - Bruce Wayne (Drabble) & Kraven the Hunter (Headcanon) 9th October - Aethelred (Drabble) & Tom Riddle (Blurb) 10h October - Captain James Flint (Blurb) & Niklaus Mikealson (Headcanon) 11th October - Daryl Dixon (Blurb) & Negan (Headcanon) 12th October - Viktor Krum (Blurb) & George "Digger" Harkness (Drabble) 13th October - Captain John Price (Headcanon) & Cormac McLaggen (Drabble) 14th October - David Hale (Drabble) & Gaston (Drabble) 15th October - Clint Barton (Headcanon) & Aegon II Targaryen (Drabble) 16th Drabble - Gwayne Hightower (Blurb) & Miguel Galindo (Love Letter) 17th October - Adrian Chase (Blurb) & The Joker *Heath Ledger" (Love Letter) 18th October - The Beast (Headcanon) & Vladimir Makarov (Headcanon) 19th October - Alden (Love Letter) & Ceasar Martinez (Drabble) 20th October - Stefan Salvatore (Drabble) & John Walker (Headcanon) 21st October - Johnny "Coco" Cruz (Blurb) & Ivar the Boneless (Blurb) 22nd October - August Wayne Booth (Love Letter) & Troy Otto (Blurb) 23rd October - Ragnar Lothbrok (Blurb) & Damon Salvatore (Headcanon) 24th October - Theon Greyjoy (Love Letter) & Rumplestiltskin (Love Letter) 25th October - Bucky Barnes (Headcanon) & Criston Cole (Drabble) 26th October - Rick Flag (Love Letter) & Koing (Love Letter) 27th October - Simon "Ghost" Riley (Love Letter) & Killian Jones (Drabble) 28th October - Dewey Riley (Headcanon) & Billy Loomis (Blurb) 29th October - John Dorie (Drabble) & Viserys Targaryen (Drabble) 30th October - Matthias Helvar (Love Letter) & Baron Helmut Zemo (Blurb) 31st October - Robert "Bob" Floyd (Blurb) & Stu Macher (Headcanon)

[deepwoodmotte2]

hi guys!!! banner post dropping now!!

welcome to deepwood motte (2)! this is my side blog dedicated entirely to asoiaf, got/hotd, and vikings!! if you don’t follow me on @krillmorrissey (my 11 year old 45,000 post deep main) you might not know these fun facts!

- i’m a 21 year old college student double majoring in studio art and history

- i use she/her pronouns

- i write for asoiaf and affiliated shows as well as vikings and its affiliate universes!!

- i really prioritize writing neutral or non-white readers; seven hundred white ocs named aemma velaryon works for some people, but i am diverse and want to be diverse! send in ideas! PLEASE! (i am latinx and indigenous to turtle island - i can best write similar ((or those)) perspectives, but am always willing to try!)

anyway!! welcome :) my masterlist will be dropping soon, as will these fics:

- ivar the boneless x reader (arranged marriage au, short blurb)

- cregan stark x reader (lady Mormont! reader, fix-it fic of sorts?)

- brandon the builder x first people! reader (dream sequence, through the lens of a later stark i haven’t decided on yet. maybe also a werewolf element to this but unclear. warging!)

in the meantime, you can search my writing on this blog under #vi’s writing !! I also reblog any recommended fics under #vi’s fic library

if you have any ideas or requests, please send them in!! i won’t write anything illegal or excessively violent, beyond first-cousin marriage or other GOT accurate things like targaryen marriages. there might be smut, and if there is, i’ll tag it and put warnings.

TERFS are not welcome here, and as always, Free Palestine, Free Cuba, and free all oppressed peoples. best! via

[hecohansen31]

(Last one I’m SORRY!!) could I bug you for some #31 of the baby prompts with Ivar??🥰🥺❤️

WARNINGS: Mention of Pain/Cheesy Short

Kissing little one where they got hurt to make the pain go away.

You looked up to your child, as he went over to your husband, Ivar, safely hidden by the blankets of your shared bed.

He had woken up with his legs sore.

Pain being emitted from them all over his body.

Something that wasn’t unusual, since pain had been his fellow lover for so much time, before you came along.

You had been worried, but he had reassured you that sleep and herbs would have made him feel better by night, suggesting that you and your newborn baby, Floki, went on a small trip to the market, since he didn’t want to be seen like that by you and him.

‘I don’t want to leave you alone, my love’ you had protested ‘… what if something happens, meanwhile I am gone?’.

‘I’ll have a few thralls to check on me and soon Hvitserk will come to discuss some matters about the raids we have planned for the next summer…’ you hadn’t looked much convinced, so he had gently moved to caress your face ‘… nothing will happen to me, my love, it is just a bit of pain, I am used to it’.

‘I wish you weren’t’ you simply muttered, before pecking lightly his lips, as you told your child to get himself dressed, but he had heard your talk with his father and now he was close to Ivar, meanwhile you put on your shoes.

Ivar tried to fake his best a smile on his face, as his little scoundrel of a son, moved down to get in bed with him.

You almost shot forward to tell him to leave his father alone so he could rest, but before you could, you witnessed something rather cute happening.

Your child gently moved to kiss Ivar’s legs, delicately.

And then mumble in that high-pitched childish voice of his:

“Mom always gives me kisses where it hurts and they always make me feel better” he explained as Ivar’s eyes became full-blow by surprise, before softening as he hugged the boy close to himself, thanking him for ‘his precious help���.

“I am already feeling better” he commented softly, ruffling his hair “… now get a breath of fresh air with your mother and then we’ll play a bit, when you are back”.

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Everything Taglist:

@maggiescarborough

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Ivar Taglist:

@youbloodymadgenius, @alexhandersenx, @peaceisadirtyword, @a-mess-of-fandoms (I have decided to start tagging asks with my usual taglist, and I hope you won’t mind it, but if you do, obviously just let me know and I’ll delete you from the taglist) (I hope I am not bothering you!)

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[thepaperpanda]

Knitted Christmas Sweaters || modern!Ivar the Boneless x fem!reader

Masterlist ❄

Summary: It appears that Ivar is unhappy with the gift he received from you, but once he learns about your motives, he changes his mind.

Warnings: none

Word count: ~ 570

Author: Fenrir

A/N: today’s prompt: Matching Christmas Sweaters

In Ivar's mind, he knew that his low mood was just that... His. While his brain could come up with a thousand plausible reasons why someone else was at fault, Ivar had to take responsibility for his feelings and the path to getting himself out of feeling so blue. You made things uncomfortable for him, especially during the Christmas/Yule holiday season, by making him do pointless and pathetic tasks such as picking out a Christmas tree, baking gingerbread and decorating your flat.

And now this. When he looked in the mirror for the last time, he uttered an unhappy grunt - he wore a red, woollen sweater with a reindeer motif. This piece of clothing was only nice because the sweater was fluffy and kept Ivar warm. "There is no way in hell I'm going out like this!" Ivar shouted loudly, making sure you would hear him through the closed bathroom door. No way, babe, I look like a fucking idiot!"

You leaned your back against the wall, waiting for Ivar to stop acting like a child. You were standing in the corridor of your shared flat, so sweetly encouraging him, "Oh, honey, you look absolutely cute, I bet! Get out, please!" You knitted him a sweater, but he threw a tantrum when you gave it to him. Again.

After another sigh, Ivar ran his hand through his thick, dark hair and left the bathroom. He opened the door and stepped forward, resting his hands on his hips. "There's a reindeer on it, and I hate them. As a whole, I'm not a fan of sweaters."

Without unnecessary words, you grabbed his palm and led him to the living room. After pushing him into the couch, you told him to stay there while you disappeared into another room. Soon, you returned to him, wearing exactly the same sweeter, but in a smaller size. "Look, I knitted both of them so we'd have a matching thing." When you spoke, your voice became low and he could hear your sadness.

As you explained everything to Ivar, he felt even worse for acting like a wayward child. He got up from his place and slowly limped to you, immediately wrapping his hands around your waist. "Baby, I didn't know. I didn't mean to, though. Don't be mad, please?"

Taking a few long moments to gaze into his blue eyes, you smiled barely. "I'm not mad, but I hoped secretly you'd enjoy the gift. I apologise that it's not as fancy as the PlayStation 5 Ubbe gifted you with."

As Ivar kissed the bridge of your nose, he took your face in his palms. "It's a much better gift, silly. Do you know why? It's the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me, because you made it yourself and put effort and your heart into making it. At least we have matching sweaters now." With his palm firmly gripping yours, he led you into the corridor where a huge mirror hung. As he gazed at your reflections, he leaned his head down and placed his chin on top of your head as he stood in front of the mirror with you. "Just look at us. We're two cuties wearing reindeer sweaters."

Laughing, you turned in his arms, wrapped your arms around his neck, and kissed his cheek. "Despite being a dick most of the time, you are sometimes tooth-rooting cute. I love you, Ivar."

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Άσπίς (Vοσταλγία Winter Blurb)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Άσπίς: shield (Ancient Greek)

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: Winter Blurb #8. A wonderful nonnie requested to see Ivar on protective mode, so I tried my best to deliver.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: nope, PDA, lil bit of suggestive themes, and the usual I suppose.

A/N: Hope this is okay, thank you for requesting this! And I’m sorry for getting them out of order (I’ll get to all the remaining winter blurbs as quickly as I can).

Of all the things you could expect of a winter in this kingdom, being followed around Kattegat, much like you were when you were first brought here, was not one of them.

It has been half a day now, and you are slowly driving yourself mad trying to figure out if these women are trying to be discreet about their lumbering steps trailing after you or not.

“So, you’ve noticed them too.” Freydis quips, a smile that you can hear in her voice.

“It is hard not to.”

The blonde giggles under her breath, knocks her shoulder with yours as she whispers, “You still shouldn’t stare, you know.”

It is at her words that you blink out of your daze and realize you’ve been sitting there and staring at them for a while now. When the green eyes of one of the shieldmaidens meet yours, the woman only bows her head in greeting.

Eyes narrowed, you stand up and walk up to them, uncomfortably aware of their eyes on you from where they sit together, a table away.

You have no words when you reach them, though, and all you can offer is a flimsy, “Hello.”

She bows her head, again.

You hate that.

“My Queen.”

You hate that too.

“You aren’t subtle.” You blurt out, eyes switching between the one that spoke and the other three.

“We weren’t trying to be.”

You tilt your head to the side, and press,

“Why?” One of them, a woman of grave features and a scar over her lip, offers the beginning of a smile, and a helpless little shrug, as if to tell you she really shouldn’t give you an answer. That is an answer though, and you sigh, “Of course.”

When you turn around to go find your husband, the sound of chairs rustling as the shieldmaidens stand to follow you makes you grit your teeth. Freydis’ clear blue eyes watch you go, and with a secret smile she teasingly mouths good luck.

Luckily, you find Ivar quickly enough, and the little gaggle of shieldmaidens following you -in a manner that really shouldn’t remind you of little ducklings as much as it does- manages to become background noise for you as you walk to the courtyard where Ivar and Hvitserk are talking animatedly and eating, still amazingly unbothered by the biting cold of the winter.

As you approach you note that the shieldmaidens disperse through the crowd, as if they understand they are no longer needed. You know they will be once again on you the moment you walk away from your husband though.

Ivar is sitting by that table with his back turned to you, and it is Hvitserk who sees you approaching. He groans, an exaggerated roll of his eyes accompanying his words.

“In Odin’s name, no. Go away, you saw each other this morning.”

At his brother’s words, Ivar turns around, eyes already seeking you. You lose a bit of your anger when you witness the way his expression softens when he sees you.

“My love, come here.” He calls, extending a hand that you take without thinking twice about it.

You walk towards him until you are standing in between his legs, his hands moving to your hips and tightening as you lean down to greet him. He sighs into the soft and slow kiss, and your heart skips a beat in response.

Ivar maneuvers you until you hop onto the table in front of him, his hands moving down to your thighs and his smile widening as you lean back for another kiss.

“You last saw her this morning,” Hvitserk repeats, the clanking of a knife being dropped onto his plate as he sighs, “Could you not?”

Ivar pulls back, leaning to the side to look past you at his brother, “You could choose not to watch.”

“I’m eating here,” Hvitserk retorts without missing a beat. A moment, and you hear, “So unless you also plan to, please get your wife off the table.”

Eyebrows lifted, Ivar taunts, “And what makes you think would I let you watch, hm?”

“Well, there’s not much difference between seeing and hearing, and I have heard you two already, so th-…”

“Stop it.” You order past gritted teeth, and though you cannot see Hvitserk, you can hear his smile when he retorts,

“That’s actually the exact opposite of what I’ve heard you say.”

You put your hand on Ivar’s mouth to stop him from laughing, but the glint in his eyes and the silent shake of his shoulders still make your foolish heart grow warm, and a reluctant smile pulls at your lips.

Moving your hands to his shoulders, not bothering to hide how you are seeking the warmth of his fur cloak to cover your freezing hands, you start,

“Why are there shieldmaidens following me?”

“I want you to get used to them,” He says with ease, offering a shrug at your silence. “They will protect you when I leave for the spring.”

“Won’t Hvitserk stay with me?”

“Of course I will,” He quips, sounding almost offended that you would imply otherwise. “But my brother is right, you should have warriors to guard you.”

The choice of words irks you more than you would like to admit.

“I don’t ne-…”

Ivar’s hands tighten on you, calling for your attention, “We’ve talked about this.”

“No, you’ve talked.”

“And you’ve just quietly let me talk?” Ivar taunts, a smirk pulling at his lips, “Why do I find that hard to believe?”

You open your mouth to respond, but interrupt your words to turn your head to offer a glare at Hvitserk when he snorts a laugh.

“Something to say?”

He doesn’t look at you, and instead brings his cup to his smiling lips, standing up and shaking his head as he gulps the remaining mead.

“Not a thing,” Hvitserk replies easily, passing you by and pressing a kiss on your head as goodbye. “Good luck.”

What is it with everyone wishing you luck in regard to this?

You watch him go, and Ivar’s hands trailing up and down your thighs, leaving warmth chasing after the touch, bring your attention back to him.

“I told you a long time ago to find some warriors and shieldmaidens you can trust to protect you.”

“And I promptly ignored you.”

Ivar tilts his head to the side, annoyingly smug.

“How did that work out for you, hm?”

You sigh, following the trail of your fingers through the fur cloak over his shoulders, and quietly insist, “I don’t need guards.”

“Yes, you do.” He retorts, not missing a beat.

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” He insists stubbornly, though a small smile starts to curve at Ivar’s lips at your glare. “This is not up for discussion.”

Your eyes narrow as you say, “With you, most things aren’t.”

“And yet you love me.”

You furrow your lips at the smug expression on his face, and shake your head.

Having those warriors following you around, it feels like those first weeks in Kattegat, with Whitehair’s looming presence behind you, with watchful eyes set on you at all times. Eyes and ears follow the witch, the elder had told Freydis, but you had known for a while that Ivar was keeping a tight hold on the invisible chains he had set upon you.

“Ivar, I won’t be followed around as if I am a prisoner, th-…”

His expression hardens almost immediately as the word leaves your lips. Even after everything, you even implying that you are a prisoner to him still irks him.

“No, you will be followed around as if you are my wife, because you are.”

You take a deep breath, and start again, “I’m safe here.”

He doesn’t miss a beat, voice more guarded, stance more defensive, as he argues, “Not as safe as you think.”

“There is no safer place than Kattegat. If any army prepares to go beyond our walls, we will know, and prepare.”

“It doesn’t take an army to kill one woman,” He argues, a fleeting smile as he adds, “Even if that woman is you.”

“If someone gets close enough to try to kill me, we’ve already lost, Ivar.”

A twitch of irritation that furrows at his nose, that curls at his lip, and Ivar looks away with an angry breath. You realize you might have been a tad blunter than you intended to be with your words, but it is true.

“They will force you to surrender if they have to, the shieldmaidens. That is why I want them with you,” He states after a few breaths, the words quiet, as if speaking any louder will make it a reality. Given how much thought he has already put behind this possibility, you gather he should worry more about his thoughts making it true rather than his words. “They will drag you to safety if they have to. They aren’t there to save your pride; they are there to save you.”

“I wouldn’t give up our home.” You argue without hesitation, a furrow between your brows that you feel lessen when the faintest of smiles curves at Ivar’s lips absently at your words.

“If someone comes and takes Kattegat from us, I can fight for it, reclaim it. I have before,” He insists, and it is at that last sentence that it dawns on you. Why Hvitserk stays behind with you each time, why Ivar insists on leaving people he trusts to protect you, why leaving you behind in Kattegat seems to weigh on them as much as it does. They have left their home unprotected before, and they have returned to find their kingdom was not their own anymore and their mother had been killed while neither of them were there to protect her. You realize, for the first time maybe, that leaving behind their family in Kattegat is more daunting than either of them dare admit, maybe because they don’t realize it either. “But I can’t-…if they take you from me, what…what is there for me to do, hm?”

He searches your gaze as if you can offer any certainty regarding that, as if you can promise not even death can keep you from his side. You wish you could, but you cannot. You can promise that you will not let death claim you for as long as you can.

A Hiereia of the Dread Gods doesn’t fear death, and you never have. But you have prayed and threatened and you would fight and kill to keep Ivar from it.

And so you understand, even if you do so with less painful clarity than he experiences it, why he needs to do whatever it is in his power to keep you safe.

You concede with a dazed nod of your head, one of your hands trailing from his shoulder up to the side of his face, fingers tracing absently at the cold skin of his cheek.

“If you trust them, then so will I,” You promise, before taking a breath and leaning closer, brow pressed against his as you insist, as softly as you can, “But I don’t need them following me, not while you are here. No one is enough of a fool to try and take me from your side.”

He had to have known you wouldn’t give in without making him give in as well, you wouldn’t retreat without making him lose some ground of his own as well.

Ivar watches you in silence, pale blue eyes set on you, but you have feeling in his mind he is considering the cost of agreeing to keeping those guards with you only once the army leaves with him.

“If you choose a few more, that you know and trust, then mine will only guard you once I’m gone,” His eyes search yours, and, seemingly placated at whatever he sees in your gaze, Ivar leans back. After a breath or two, with a rueful, self-depreciating smile he adds, “Not that I don’t think you still put too much trust in a cripple being able to protect you, bu-…”

“You do,” You interrupt, a small furrow between your brows. “You have. You protect me, you keep me safe, in…in more ways than my pride lets me admit.”

You had heard the fearful whispers of how Ivar the Boneless was crazy, and once you might have agreed, looked upon him and seen nothing but madness; but as time has gone by, and as the cold of the winter settles in your bones, you cannot help but think it is him the one thing that has kept you from going mad yourself.

In a different life that you dread to even think of or imagine, Fate has pulled you apart and you have left a piece of your heart with him, and no kingdoms and no wars could ever fill the space it left behind.

Not that you would ever tell him, though you think he already knows, but he has saved you from a life without him, a life of being a title before a name, a life of power and the madness that comes with holding it alone. If what you have to do to promise him to do your best to save him from a life without you is accepting a little gaggle of shieldmaidens to follow you around, you can do so.

Ivar offers a small smile at your words, a softening of his features that still pulls tight at your heart.

“You came all this way because of this?”

“It’s not that far, I was bored, and…” You stop listing out your reasonings at the look on his face. “Shut up. It was unsettling.”

He hums as if considering your words, but there’s clear intent as his hands on your thighs make your legs part, and he moves himself closer to the edge of the chair.

“I was eating, you interrupted me.”

“You let me interrupt you,” You argue, but if he hears you he makes no comment. Instead, his hands on your thighs move further back, settling on the curve of your ass and moving you closer to the edge of the table, closer to Ivar’s mouth. He trails a path of kisses over your dress, a path down your stomach towards the side of your hip, stopping only when you call out quietly, “Ivar.”

“No one is looking,” He reassures you, but the dark smile that curves at his lip tells you he is lying and happily. “And if they do, let them.”

Your thoughts linger on his words, your eyes linger on the darkness of his gaze, for what seems to be a few moments too long; surprising yourself at what the thought of being caught with him does to you, and seeming to give Ivar enough time to go on.

He sets to continue the trail of kisses, one rough hand reaching under your skirts to lift up your dress just enough that he can press his cold lips to the skin of your knee.

You huff a laugh, and pull softly at the ends of his braids on the back of his neck, “Ivar!” You complain, smiling foolishly as you offer, “It’s too cold out here.”

A breath, then two, and Ivar drops his head on your leg, silent laughter making his shoulders move slightly. Laughter still clinging to his voice, he presses a kiss over your thigh and offers, “Good to know the cold is your reason for saying no, my love. I’ll remember that.”

____ ____ ____

Yes, the Reader’s introspections at the end there were about Alatheia, I made myself sad with that AU and you have to suffer with me.

Thank you for reading, hope you liked it!

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[jadelynlace]

A Slice of Lime, Please⎮Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader]⎮Deleted Scene

read more Ink Drinker here

Author's Note: With the general time line of this blurb, and the video I saw earlier, I've concocted this piece. And trust me, I was grinning like an idiot the whole day at the station as I kept going back to this. This is a much lighter piece over the angst of the next blurb coming. I said what I said.

It’s sweaty bodies, music a bit too loud for your liking, and the general wave of the patterns voices as eye swatch the game on the screen. They pull out quietly, only to round up their decibels a moment later. You agreed to the night out when you were in much better spirits and now you’re following through with it all and you hate it. 

These are the moments you loathe—being out with nothing to show for the fact that you and Ivar are together. Except, you’re not. To keep the bubbling beast of Ivar’s anxiety at bay, but you would go to the ends of the earth if you thought it would help him.

Sometimes, you wonder if anyone knows; every so often you catch Hvitserk looking at you for a second more than what seems appropriate. And rather than question it, you let him sit in his own unease with whatever it is he’s searching for. Right now, it’s his expression as he watches you, watch another woman offering to buy Ivar a shot. 

You watch this woman undress him with her eyes, pulling the black tee from where it’s tucked to reveal the ink on his chest, the muscles you traced your nails over that morning. How she brings her pupils up and down and wonders if his size matches with what she’s looking at. You have half a mind to tell her that it does. You wonder if she wants to know about his interest, his quirks, or if she just wants to look at him. Instead, you look back at Hvitserk and raise your brows; if you’re going to have a feeling, it better be towards something you can handle.

“What?” You ask Hvitserk and he shakes his head. 

“Nothing, nothing,” He lies and you narrow your eyes.

“Hvitty?” You then ask. “Hvitserk,” You demand.

“Y/N, it’s nothing,” He then tells you and you can see he’s starting to dig the hole.

“You’ve been doing that for the last week,” You grumble.

“It’s just…” Hvitserk starts.

“Yeah, a slice of lime, please,” You hear Ivar say to the bar tender.

“On the rig check yesterday…” Hvitserk starts.

“Hey, brother,” Ivar snaps his fingers behind him, “No work talk. No firefighter stuff,” And Ivar turns back around.

“I’m trying to tell something to my partner,” Hvitserk says, placing a very careful emphasis on how he speaks. 

“Are you having a stroke?” Ivar tries.

The woman follows, two shots, two lime slices, and she hands Ivar’s respective parts to him. 

“No, I’m not,” Hvitserk snaps.

“Well, you’re about to,” Ivar says and he takes the lime slice—and much more quickly than you anticipate from his large hands—shoves the rind between your lips. Without a word to the other woman he tosses the shot back, his neck snapping backwards before his hands reach to your cheeks as he pulls you forward, sucking the lime from between your lips.

You feel your heart stop, your body moves with how Ivar dictates, and Hvitserk doesn’t miss the way you close your eyes, or the way both yours, and Ivar’s beings deflate. He tries so very hard to hide the smile that comes over his lips and he fails. But, he doesn’t quite care.

The moment you feel Ivar slowly pulls back, your eyes open quickly, widely as they watch his slowly open. 

“Oops,” He tries, “Must have mixed you two up…” He says so that only you can hear it, bastardly smirk on his lips. “Is she still there?” Ivar adds, louder.

“Nope,” Hvitserk states. “And for the record, Ivar, cardiac arrest is the correct medical term. That wouldn’t cause a stroke,”

“It wouldn’t?” Ivar tries, “Oh, I guess that’s why you majored in para-medicine and I majored in mathematics,”

You spit the lime out into your hand and hand it to Ivar, who only offers you a wink.

“Can’t be surprised by what you already know,” Hvitserk sings. 

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[spacemilkies]

Thirsty Thursday will still be going, but I just needed to roll through this first. Not a request, just the pain in my side that is Ivar. I just wanted an excuse to play with darker themes. This is not Far Cry, but Vikings writing. 

When you fall in love with him, it’s decidedly too late. It was as if fate decided to subject you to eternity of misgivings for your stupidity. Or perhaps it was naivety. How despite the bruises molded by fingertips never seemed to leave your skin, always refreshed before they could properly fade. Everyday the window of opportunity to escape closed a little more until it was completely shut to your access- not that you ever glanced its way.

So when you finally accept that your turmoil is based on a sick rendition of stockholm syndrome, it dawns on you like the pearly gates of a sealed prison. The term ‘broken’ is the mantra he carried like a tattoo his entire life. He is the embodiment of the word, even know as he finds his strength- broken, soulless is the monster within.

His teeth claw into your spirit, fingertips manipulating the beat of your heart until it aligns with him. It’s really something when you can’t even trust the thrumming organ keeping you alive, or maybe your acceptance is its last gift of promise to you before the end.

Tightening the shade above your eyes, you resist the urge to shudder as the bed shifts beside you. He’s sensitive to that, cognitive of your every thought, motive and action. Even subconscious avoidance is a wall of defense soon to be crumbled.

He’s at the top now, a reigning success despite his past. The epitome of the Seerer’s vision brought to life- hell tethered to the world of the living. There is no one left to stand in his way. Not that it mattered, he’s already filled your head with moss and threatened your veins with poison. Why would anyone sacrifice themselves for someone who could never truly be saved? Why subject themselves with torture when he already satisfied with you.

“ If you’re simply going to lie there the least you could do is make yourself useful in one aspect of your life,” His articulation is a dichotomy of impatience and cruelty. Yet you find humor in the ironic testament of the life he once lived. A twitch of laughter splits your lips, letting the sound wafts into the room. It’s toneless but recognizable for what it is.

The bed shifts further and you can feel the heat of him permeating the air around you. For now the taste of it is bemused, tinged with irritation, but curious nonetheless. Not that you analyzed the breakdown of your slip up.

It’s uncertain if it is inquisitiveness or obedience that invites you to open your eyes, but you bite down on the urge until blood bubbles in retaliation. You know what he looks like, how he feels, the way he tastes. Yet he remains as indescribable as those haunting blue eyes that stare down the world. He thrives for acceptance, yet scraps the hides of his enemies in vengeance. He’s inconsolable, unstable, every space between his heart beats like seconds of a clock until detonation.

The slow trickle leaking at your apex is dismissible to your conscious, a simple adaptive reaction you’ve gained over the years as another layer of protection. It hums to the tune of him slotting himself between your thighs, parting them in forced invitation.

“Tell me pet, what is it that you find so funny that prompts laughter from those sweet lips?” A mouth stained with honey, he claims. Viscous and tantalizing, a treat from the gods- you were their sacrifice after all.

His lips are at your throat, slicing along the column of your throat with the same cold steelness of his blade. It’s news to you how painful it can be to resist the instinct to swallow around nothing. But you don’t want to attract the beast with a viable target with his weapons already so close. The timer is ticking firmer, mimicking the sound of your own heartbeat now- a pity given how quickly it speeds up the clock.

“Speak when your king requests it if you, wife.”

You wonder how much pain is involved with death, surely you’ve come close now?

The sound of your voice is unrecognizable, the threads of sleep more familiar than the crack of it. “Just you … my love. Should a king not bring happiness and contentment to his subjects?”

He’s humming, thinking, and calculating, tongue darting out to wet thick lips. A jumbled mess of war tools thrown haphazardly in the toy box of his mind. So much time as a child, just sitting there and festering on the future.

Yet as you defy the sight of him so much time has passed and you’re still alive. How long will it be until you’re breathless? Either withered from exertion or the force of his hand knocking you back. Perhaps both.

Maybe he’s waiting on a more appealing answer, you’re reminded by the snoozed warning. The reason, your response, his question; they’re all useless, just a paperweight in time to provoke space. Your lips are pressing hard against the shape of his mouth, chased by muscle memory rather than sight. He grunts in surprise despite seeing it coming. You’d forgotten again about the essence between your legs until his knee adjusts against it, spreading the tackiness of it against your inner thigh.

“I know what you’re doing.”

As always. More receptive to your own actions than yourself. The edge of his voice is less noticeable, drowned out by slide against his hard body. His entire integrity is stable, an ironic perception given the hitch in his step when he walks.

Hands slide up the length of your arms to curve at the slope of your shoulders. A groan his bleeds into his mouth as his fingers curl in, nails biting moon crescents into the skin beneath them. Is it shameful to prefer it over the phantom grip around your throat?

“Do you crave the darkness now?” His words whisper against your eyelids, and you find reprieve in the way his hands seek out a new target. Their journey is short, reacting in tandem with his thigh spreading yours further apart as he spears your heat with two digits. The move is with efficiency rather than exploration, testing the compliance of your inner walls before jerking free. It feels rudimentary, like checking off a item on a list before moving on to the next. 

His hands are at your thighs now, gripping them firmly as he rocks forward. Your whimper is lost to his own laughter as the head of his cock glides along your slit. It’s as if he’s waiting, following the cycle of air in your lungs for the right moment to take you, the force of his motive choking you mid exhale.

You can hear his lips curl back, feel his teeth glinting down with a premise of promise- a threat. “Such a pretty, pliant little wife they call you,” he recalls as he sheathes himself to the hilt. “Complimentary words for a whore.”

His cadence draws you back and forth against the sheets, creating friction despite the softness. He’s rough but not unhinged as you’ve dealt with in the past.

“I should show them the marks on your knees. Burned raw from way you crawl to me. Bruised from the weight of your body as you feast on my cock.”

You’re quiet no longer, stifling a stream of dry sobs as hips slap against your own. The sound of it is salacious, dirtied by his words as he carves another layer from your soul. It’s the sharp snap of him meeting you that brings you pain, surely reddened past the tint of the setting sun. His body is taut, stretched despite unrelenting muscle as he dominates what is his.

“You’re just a princess, not worthy enough to be their queen,” he purrs. Your voice is shattered into too many fragments for speech not that you have anything in the line up.

You drip around him as he fills you, unbothered by the question of whether it’s post-orgasm or pre-lubrication, the hypersensitivity is untelling as he pulls free. It rolls down the curve of your body in thick droplets, the stain of it sure to irritate you further into the night.

Not once, not even as he rolls off of you do you open your eyes. It’s a pointless notion at this point when he’s already invaded all your senses until there there is nothing but him.

His voice tumbled out from his side of the bed, lips tilted with humor. “It’s a shame that my mother wasn’t there to call you out on your pathetic nature. Or perhaps this was her prophecy from the beginning. The Boneless and the Worthless.”

[starboyreggie]

A Princess and A Pagan

A Princess and a Pagan: The Beginning of the Betrayal

Part Two // Part Three

Word Count: 1708

Pairing: Hvitserk x Adelaide (OC)

Summary: The Northmen have entered East Anglia, and the king of West Anglia has taken precautions to make sure they will not harm his kingdom. However, Ragnar has not only asked for richest, but also for the young Princess’s hand in marriage.

Warnings: Viking slander

Requested: nope, I just wanted to write for my man

Masterlist

// I do not own any characters or themes except for Adelaide and her family. This work of fiction is heavily based on History’s Vikings. However, in this piece, the sons of Ragnar are older much earlier and all travel with him to Europe. //

It was a warm spring day with the sun shining down from the sky on the kingdom of West Anglia. The birds were singing outside the window their sweet morning song. Adelaide stretched her arms to her sides and she hummed to herself when she felt the sun’s warm rays on her face. Looking out the opening, she smiled to herself thinking about the day’s activities.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock filled her room. Adelaide called for her visitor to enter, knowing it was her servant, Milla. Her brown hair was pulled into a high bun as it usually was, and she carried a dress in her arms.

“Good morning, Milla.” Adelaide murmured as her voice was rough from her long night's sleep. Milla was one of younger servants her father had. She was only 29 years old, and she started working for the King of West Anglia when she was 14 years old.

“Good morning to you too, Princess Adelaide. How was your rest?” Milla inquired. She placed the dress at the foot of Adelaide’s bed and watched as she stepped out of the bed.

“It was interrupted many times during the night by soldiers running down the hall,” Adelaide’s eyebrows scrunched together as she approached her servant, “Do you know anything about that?”

Adelaide sat down at her mirror and watched as Milla approached her. Milla sighed as she reached for the hairbrush on the table, “The Northmen are in East Anglia and might be heading west. There is to be no worry though because your father has started to prepare.”

Adelaide couldn’t help but worry. What would happen if those pagans came to her home? She had complete faith in her God and father that she would be protected. She had heard of some of the terrors that followed these Northmen. They were giant men with even bigger weapons who were rumored to eat Christian children for dinner after they had destroyed villages and bathe in Saxon blood.

She shuddered at the thought of those pigs being in her kingdom. Milla saw the distress on her princess’s features and quickly finished brushing her hair. She ushered Adelaide out of the chair and over to the foot of the bed, “Let’s forget about that for now and get you dressed for the day.”

Adelaide slipped out of the silk slip she had slept in. Goosebumps arose on her skin as the cold morning air hit her skin. She stepped into the red dress as Milla walked around her to tie the back. Adelaide looked in the floor length mirror and took in her appearance. The dress was a deep red color with a high collar and red lace sleeves. The material was tight until it reached her waist where it became loose and flowy.

Once Milla had completely tied the back of the dress, she walked back in front of Adelaide. She ran her hands down her sides, smoothing the dress down. Milla grabbed some of Adelaide’s naturally wavy hair and placed it in front, “You are so beautiful, my Princess.”

“Thank you, Milla,” Adelaide warmly smiled, “Did my father give you any specific instructions for me?”

Milla placed her hand on the small of Adelaide’s back as she guided her to the door, “Just for you to meet him for breakfast as soon as you awoke.”

Adelaide nodded her head and dismissed Milla when they reached her chamber’s door. On the way to the dining room, she noticed a surplus of guards posted around the castle. She brushed it off and blamed the Northmen’s presence in East Anglia for the increase of soldiers.

She reached the dining room and her father, mother, and older brother was already there. The room got eerily quiet as she approached the table. “Good morning, father,” Adelaide leaned down over her father’s shoulder and gave him a kiss on his cheek as she greeted him.

King Coel smiled at his little girl as she took her seat, “I hoped you slept well, sweetheart.”

“I did, father,” Adelaide took a sip from her cup before continuing, “Why were the guards so restless last night?” No one answered her as her mother looked at her with a sad look.

“What? Is there something wrong? I know about the pagans in East Anglia.” Adelaide started to panic as her brother just stared at their father, waiting for him to speak.

“Princess,” her father began before he was interrupted by the dining room’s door being slammed open. Everyone’s eyes snapped over to the noise. Adelaide was the last one to react as her back was to the door. She turned in her seat to see three giants standing and one on the floor in the doorway.

The one in the middle, who seemed to be the leader as he was the biggest, had a long braid of hair going down his back with the sides shaved and a thick beard that went down to the bottom of his neck. The other three men were smaller but still huge. To the left of the largest man, was what seemed to be the next oldest and he had the same shaven sides but the hair on top was much shorter; on the other side of the leader, was a man with blonde hair that was braided but nowhere as long as the other two. Next to the blonde was the man on the floor, and he had the shortest hair of all the men and it wasn’t braided.

The three men started to walk toward the table as the last dragged himself. The leader took the seat to the left of Adelaide’s father as he was at the head of the table. Her mother was to his right, her brother beside the queen, and Adelaide beside him. The second oldest took the seat next to the leader and the cripple next to him. The blonde sat to Adelaide right and she flinched as his eyes scanned her.

Adelaide scooted closer to her brother and looked to her father with confusion etched on her face. The king looked apologetic as he sighed and looked at the people that had just joined the table. Adelaide’s brother, Nikolas, took her hand under the table and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

King Coel cleared his throat, “Princess, I would like to introduce you to Ragnar, Ubbe, Ivar, and Hvitserk.” Her father pointed to each as he said their name. Adelaide smiled at each one as she made eye contact with them to show that she was friendly since she didn’t think they could speak her language, “I am Adelaide,” she enunciated, making sure to speak slowly and point to herself when she said her name. The men seemed to understand as they nodded in response.  

“Father, what are they doing here?” Adelaide said in a happy tone so not set off any alarms in the visitors’ heads.

“We are here because your father asked us to negotiate a deal,” Ragnar spoke to her. Adelaide’s smile dropped immediately as she was shocked to understand his words. She looked around to the younger men to see their reactions to her question. They were watching carefully but didn’t seem like they heard what she said specifically.

“My sons cannot understand you. I am the only one here that can speak your language.” Ragnar confirmed as Adelaide shook her head.

“Ragnar here has agreed not to raid nor kill any of our people in the kingdom,” the King had paused to let the good news settle in.

Adelaide smiled at Ragnar, “Thank you, and what have you asked of us in return?”

Your father rushed to answer, “We are to pay them a sum in gold and silver annually.” Adelaide nodded, the deal seems fair to her. There was no price for safety, but that appeared to be a reasonable deal. She wondered how much the pagans wanted because as just as it seemed, she knew it was too good to be true.

“Your father has also given us your hand in marriage,” Ragnar spoke, and Adelaide heard the venom drip from his words as an evil smirk appeared on his face. He was clearly looking for a reaction out of Adelaide and she couldn’t help but give him one.

The blood drained from the princess’s body, and her body ran cold. She was having a hard time breathing as her gaze turned to her father. He had a look of pity on his face directed toward her. The king didn’t say anything as he allowed Ragnar’s words to sink in.

Adelaide's mouth was slightly open as if she wanted to speak, but no words came out. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that her father had sold her to these pagans. And for what? For the Northmen not to attack them? They hadn’t made any advances toward West Anglia, so there was no need for this deal. Her father had jumped the gun with this alliance. He hadn’t even tried to fight. The king was protecting the kingdom when it wasn’t in any danger yet.

Adelaide started to blink rapidly as her vision started to blur. She didn’t know if it was anger or betrayal that controlled her body at this point. Her mother had constantly reassured her that she would be able to approve her husband, that she would be happy and marry into love.

She looked at her mother and she refused to look at Adelaide. Adelaide looked around the table and the Northmen were all staring at her, drinking her reaction. She started to feel tears sting in her eyes, but she was determined to not let these pigs see her cry. Adelaide quickly blinked them away as she choked, “Who?”

“My eldest unwed son, Hvitserk,” He stated proudly as he nodded toward the blonde next to Adelaide. She slowly turned her head to face Hvitserk. He was already looking at her with a dark look in his eyes. Adelaide gulped a large lump that had formed in the back of her throat.

“I hope that this was worth it, father.” She spoke with hatred laced in her tone as she kept eye contact with Hvitserk.

A/N: ahhhh! This is my first piece as a multi-fandom blog, so it had to be my man Hvitserk. This will be a long fic and the other parts will be longer and may get smutter. Also, I decided to give the protagonist a name, Adelaide Coel. She is physically based on Mary of Scots from Reign but only physically. I hope yall enjoy this! I am really nervous about posting this, so leave me some feedback!

[bonkywobble]

Bonkywobble’s Kinktober 2022

I’m so excited for this!!!

Here’s my full list for the upcoming kinktober event. These fics will range from short blurbs to full one shots. The themes will be a mix between light and dark so please heed the warnings in each one. All fics are x female reader unless otherwise specified but more importantly, all fics are 18+ only so minors do not interact with these works or my blog at all.

Fandoms include: Marvel (MCU), Stranger Things, DC (DCEU), The Witcher, Vikings, Once Upon A Time, The Grey Man, Defending Jacob, The Losers, The Sandman, The Red Sea Diving Resort, Knives Out, The Mandalorian

Main Masterlist / Navi

* indicates full length fic while ⚠️ indicates dark themes. List below the cut:

WEEK ONE

Day 1 💋 Jake Jensen - Shibari/Hair Pulling *

Day 2 💋 Thor Odinson - Thigh Riding/Electro Play

Day 3 💋 Dark!Librarian!Steve Rogers - Free Use ⚠️

Day 4 💋 Billy Russo - Uniform Fetish

Day 5 💋 Steve Harrington - Sex Pollen *

Day 6 💋 Frank Castle - Edging/Bondage

Day 7💋 Lagertha - Somnophilia (East of The Sun and West of the Moon AU)

WEEK TWO

Day 8 💋 Old God!Clark Kent - Lingerie (Old Gods of Appalachia AU) *⚠️

Day 9 💋 King Valkyrie - Impact Play

Day 10 💋 Lloyd Hansen - Hate Sex ⚠️

Day 11 💋 Ivar the Boneless - Masturbation/Voyeurism

Day 12 💋 Bucky Barnes - Quickie/Creampie (Ethereal AU)

Day 13 💋 Robin Buckley - Overstimulation

Day 14 💋 Hvitserk Ragnarsson - Primal Play

WEEK THREE

Day 15 💋 Alpha!Ari Levinson - A/B/O *

Day 16 💋 Jefferson - Knife Play ⚠️

Day 17 💋 SamBucky - Dirty Talk

Day 18 💋 Din Djarin/The Mandalorian - Praise Kink

Day 19 💋 FrankenBilly - Dacryphilia ⚠️

Day 20💋 Lord Morpheus/Dream of The Endless - Sensation Play

Day 21 💋 Neighbour!Sam Wilson - First Time *

WEEK FOUR

Day 22 💋 Marc Spector/Steven Grant/Jake Lockley - Mirror Play

Day 23 💋 Eddie Munson - Nipple Play *

Day 24 💋 Winter Soldier!Bucky Barnes - Biting/Outdoor sex * (LMTAF AU)

Day 25 💋 Andy Barber - Choking/Breath Play

Day 26 💋 Harley Quinn - Body Worship

Day 27 💋 Geralt of Rivia - Anal Sex

Day 28 💋 Vampire!Stucky - Monsterfucking/Blood play *⚠️

WEEK FIVE

Day 29 💋 Ransom Drysdale - Pegging

Day 30 💋 Arthur Curry - Anonymous Sex

Day 31 💋 Bjorn Ironside - Breeding Kink

Bonus fic: ???

[literaryuppsala]

Morning fuss.

Pairing: Modern!Ivar x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Ivar have a big family.

Words: I have no idea, it’s just a tiny blurb. 

Warnings: None, it’s fluff, just cuteness overload. So sweet you’ll probably develop diabetes after reading, I’m sorry. 

A/N: I deleted my other account (stylinsonliving) and all my works will be reposted here, any doubt send me an ask. I wrote this piece a while ago, thought It was too cute to stay in the drafts and I crave others approval too, so, yeah. My asks are always open: you can request a filthy smut, a relationship advice and my political opinion, I’ll answer to all of it. Feedback is always welcome and my mistakes are always mine.  

Fluff below the cut, enjoy ♥

***

You opened your eyes before the alarm went off like every morning, then you disabled the little, annoying thing before started screaming beside your bed. You always liked waking up early in the morning, even before the kids, you liked the time on your own. You wobbled out of the bed, covered your swollen frame with a silke robe and went to the bathroom to brush your teeth and braid your hair, leaving the bedroom right after, making little, to no sound. 

The sound of your slippers against the carpet were very soft, you breathed hard, the last trimester of pregnancy was always the worst, but you already knew that. You crossed the corridor til the kitchen and turned on the lights, even with the first rays of sun, the house was still a little dark.

Then you started preparing breakfast, you hummed softly while making it, very low only for yourself to hear, enjoying your own company for a while, listening to your own voice and thoughts. Not that you didn’t like the noise, not at all, you loved it. It was only because you liked to have the first few minutes of the day to keep to yourself. 

At the end of one hour and a half you already had set the table with enough plates to all of you, put some half-done cookies on the oven, made pancakes, eggs and bacon, coffee and orange juice, milk and cereal and that’s when you heard the first sound, and smiled to yourself ‘cause your day wouldn’t be silent anymore. 

“Get out of my way, poop head!” 

“I’m not a poop head! you’re poop head!” 

They started running down the corridor till the kitchen, already fighting themselves with kicks and punches and enough ‘poop head’ for at least a month. 

“Hey! Hey!” You step in between them. “Nobody is a poop head in this house.”

“Kyle threw his pillow on me.” Your little one whined first.

“I was trying to wake him up on time for school!” His brother went right after.

“It’s too early for you two to start yelling with each other, c’mon.” You sad It to your twins. Jaxon and Kyle were seven, and despite loving each other, they fought a lot and they probably had that from their dad and uncles. “Now, sit.” You commanded. 

Within minutes you heard the sound of another pair of slippers on the carpet, very slow and lazy. Your first born appeared in the kitchen and sat beside his younger brothers. 

“Morning, mama.” He greeted you tenderly while taking the cereal to put on his own bowl. You went to him and kissed the crown of his head, putting his messy hair in place while doing It. 

“Morning, pup. Did you sleep well?” He nodded and you laugh a little. Kitt was thirteen and very loving, but not at six a.m, never at six a.m. 

Eventually they started fighting each other over bread and bacon, even though you made enough for the whole pack of them, they were never satisfied. With all the noise, the youngest pup starts screaming in his cradle, made you run into the baby’s room and got him in your arms to calm him down. You went back to the kitchen holding Erik in your arms and trying to ease the boys, but they seemed to had completely forgotten you were there and you just gave up with a roll of your eyes, looking at your baby and smiling at him. 

Right there you listened to your husband's little grunts while waking up, you listened to him in your bathroom and then he went through the corridor, appearing in the kitchen right away with his joggers dangerously low on his hips, his messy hair is all over the place and his hand is resting on his naked torso. He grunted again, louder this time. 

“Stop tormenting your mother.” He growled and just like that, the little wolves were all eating in silence. 

You smiled at his figure, and he came to you with a smirk on his face. You put your baby boy in one arm so you can use the other to embrace him, who put one of his hands on the baby and the other one on your ass, grabbing a little too hard while pecking your lips several times, then kissing your jaw, your neck and below your ear, making you shiver. 

“Morning, hot mama.” He said against your skin before taking the baby from your arms, his hand a little longer on your bump before he went to sit at the table with the boys.

“Good morning, darling.” You answered, looking adoringly at your husband while sitting by his side.

“Papa, Kyle threw a pillow on me this morning.” Jaxon complained, catching Ivar’s attention.

“Why did he do that?” He asked with a frown. 

“‘Cause he’s a poop head.” He whined again.

“Hey! Stop calling your brother that.” He scolded. “Kyle, why did you do that?”

“Cause I wanted to wake him up.” He shrugged with his mouth full.

“Why didn’t you do it more gently?” He tried again, trying not to laugh.

“Cause he’s a heavy sleeper, papa. I called him and he wouldn’t wake up.” 

“Hey, can I sleep at Donny’s tonight?” Kitt asked while getting up. “We have practice this afternoon, thought I could crash there after.” 

“What are you having a party? It’s wednesday!” You scolded. 

“It’s not a party, ma. We’re just haggin’ out, watching a movie or something.” He explained leaving the kitchen.

“Your mom is still talking to you, come back here.” Ivar growled and Kitt’s head showed up by the door frame. 

“Please?” He begged with his big, puppy, baby blue eyes at you. “Cmon ma, I’ll be home tomorrow after school, it’s no big deal!”

You looked at Ivar waiting for support but you just found his almost laughing face, almost making you laugh too. 

“Alright, no sleeping late for you young boy, and I want my goodnight call, whether you’re with your friends or not!” 

You heard his laugh while he went back to his room, he truly reminded you of Ivar. The twins almost started another fight, but he was right there to scold them. 

You finished breakfast together and very quickly you were at door waiting to give your boys wet loving kisses before school. Kitt took the twins by their hands, walking them to the bus, the three of them kissed your cheeks and left. Erik was crawling around your legs, the two year old was a menace. Then there was Ivar, walking over to you with a big smirk, his hands like a magnet on your baby bump while his mouth met yours feverishly. 

“Can’t wait to come back and put my hands on you.” He grunted with his lips on yours. 

“Your still with your hands on me Mr. Lothbrok.” You grinned. 

“Don’t blame me for thinking my wife is sexy when she’s pregnant.”

“That’s why you keep me pregnant all the time.” 

“And because inside you is my favorite place to be.” 

“Shut up.” 

He smiled before kissing you and taking the little one at your legs in his arms.

“Take good care of mama while I’m at work.” He asked, tickling the little boy and making him laugh. 

“MAMA!” He screamed excited.

“Alright, alright, time to tell papa to go to work, because If he’s going to put so many babies in me, we’re gonna need extra cash. And extra help too.” You took the baby from his arms. “Tell your lazy brother that uncle Hvitserk is very much needed here today.” 

“We have a meeting-” He was about to deny you, but you silently pouted and he was a goner. “Fine, I’ll send him here.” Then he kissed you again, kissed the baby in your arms and the baby bump. “See you all at dinner, love you hot mama.” 

"Love you too, hot papa.” 

***