prince ragnar

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And then when the sons of Ragnar had all given up their lives, their troops who had assisted them were dispersed far and wide. And all of them of them who had been with the sons of Ragnar thought that there was no worth in other princes. ~ The Saga of Ragnar Lodbrok

Torch of Bellona (Part 3)

Originally posted by mountainkinq

Author: Wristic

Pairing: Ivar X Reader

Word Count: 1800

Warnings: being aroused by things you should most certainly not be, mainly pointed objects and a bad attitude

-Part 1- -Part 2- -Part 4- -Part 5- -Part 6-


The night before Ragnar and Ivar are prepared to leave, you finally convince Ecbert to at least let you see the son. While Ivar had been so hospitable before, it made you naive to the darker side of him, and you fall like a rabbit into a wolves den.

Keep reading

4

Through the Years → Victoria, Crown Princess of Sweden (270/)

4 March 2011 | Princess Victoria of Sweden holds a Sweden scarf during the Men’s Relay 4x10km Classic/Free in the FIS Nordic World Ski Championships 2011 at Holmenkollen in Oslo, Norway. (Photo by Ragnar Singsaas/WireImage)

Unpopular opinion: Dragon Quest Heroes 2 is the least hype I’ve ever been for a Dragon Quest game. It’s the only release since DQ9 (not counting Jokers because Jokers don’t count) that I haven’t preordered or bought within the first few days of its release. I’m holding out for the Switch version, if it doesn’t come I’ll just import it. 😐

You can’t show me Ragnar, Prince of Midenhall outfits, and Malroth and not have me hype for another game to play on my Zelda box. I love my Zelda box.

Request: Hi! Would it okay to make a request? Ivar x Reader have a really nasty argument right before Ivar has to sail away for a raid or something which leads to make up sex when he gets back? Sorry! I really adore you Ivar x Reader’s!

Note: The argument got a little more intense then I had intended when I started this. I hope you still like it, nony.

Warning: Contains rough smut and some violence.

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“This is delicious.“  Ivar said, mouth still full of food. “Did you cook it or the slaves?”

You smiled at him. “I did. I don’t need any slaves to take care of me.”

“And you think I do?” He replied with grin.

“Well, I don’t know. Do you, son of Ragnar Lothbrok, prince of Kattegat?”

“Of course not. I just prefer not to waste time on cooking and such things. And you make it sound like I was sitting on a throne all day long, having servants tending to all my wishes.”

“Is that not what you do?” You said, giving him a mischievous grin from across the table.

He groaned and threw one of his potatoes at you. “Shut up!”

You ducked under the flying potato. “I’m just worried that no one will feed you the next few weeks.”

“Then maybe you should change your mind and come with me.”

Your grin faded and you got serious. “You know there’s nothing I want more but my father has gotten so sick and since mother died there’s no one else to take care of him.”

“I know. But I will miss you.”

You reached across the table and put your hand on his cheek. “Promise me you’ll come back to me.”

He placed his hand on yours. “Always.”

You smiled at each other and you got lost in his mesmerizing blue eyes, like you had so many times in the past.

After a while Ivar broke the silence. “Speaking of coming back, where have you been all day? I’ve been looking for you and then I saw you coming out of the forest.”

“I’ve been helping your brother.”

“Which brother?” He asked and you did not miss a certain sharpness in his voice.

“Ubbe.”

“Why are you spending so much time with Ubbe recently?” He wanted to know, his tone now clearly annoyed.

You rolled your eyes. Ivar could be so loving and caring when he wanted to but sometimes he acted like a child, especially when he was jealous of his brothers.

“He is building a house for himself and Margrethe, so I figured he could use some help.” You replied, unable to hide an unnerved undertone.

“If you help him with his house then what have you been doing in the forest?”

“We’ve been cutting trees.”

“And was Margrethe also there?”

“No she wasn’t. She had other stuff to do. What are all these questions?” You were starting to lose your patience.

Ivar’s eyes narrowed. “So you’ve spend the whole day in the forest, alone with my brother. And you want me to believe you’ve been cutting trees?”

“What else would we’ve been doing, Ivar? Hmm? You tell me.” Your voice coming out louder and more angry than you had intended.

“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.” He replied, his voice seeming completely calm, but you knew him well enough to know that it was very likely just the quiet before the storm. But you could not care for that now because your own anger was starting to cloud your mind. How could he dare to accuse you of such things?

“You know what, Ivar? Think whatever you want. I’m tired of your mood changing from one second to the next for no reason. If you want to go ahead and play the spoiled little prince that’s fine, but do it with someone else because I’m really tired of it.”

You saw Ivar’s eyes become dark with anger and immediately regretted your words but it was too late to take them back.

Ivar leaned over the table. “You are mine. You better don’t forget that.” He hissed.

You also leaned forward so that your face was just inches from his. His jaw was clenched and his eyes dark like the stormy sea. He radiated such anger that it scared you a bit, but you were a Viking, you were taught to never let your fear show.

“I don’t belong to anyone. You better don’t forget that.” You spat, echoing his words.

You could see him clenching his jaw even harder and releasing a stiff breath, fighting to keep control over himself. He seemed to have lost that battle because the next moment his arm shot towards you and before you could react his hand closed around your throat.

“You are mine.” He repeated, voice shaking with anger.

You tried to move away from him but his fingers were digging into the sides of your neck, giving you no chance to escape. Your air stream was completely blocked and your hands clutched around his, trying to open his grip but he was way too strong for you. As little shadows began to dance in front of your eyes you started to panic, your body demanding the air he was no longer able to get. As you let out a strangled noise, Ivar’s anger twisted face changed into a look of utter shock. It was as if he was waking up. He stared at your face, then down to his hand on your throat and very slowly his grip softened. He let go of you completely and quickly withdraw his hand as if he had burned it, his face now full of terror.

“Y/N, I….”

As the fear left your body the anger came back.

“Get out of here.” You hissed, your voice raspy, the words burning in your throat.

“Y/N…”

“OUT! NOW!”



You had made sure he had no chance of seeing you again until he left the next morning with his warriors. You knew that Ivar had moments like this, when his anger took over and he completely lost control, you had seen it happen more then once. But so far it had never happened with you. You had trusted him, felt completely save in his presence. You knew it was stupid but there was a feeling of betrayal inside you, you couldn’t get rid of. Of course you’ve had arguments before, the kind of arguments that made everyone else flee out of the room, not wanting to become casualties while you two released earthquakes and thunderstorms. But he had never hurt or really scared you before. And now you weren’t sure if you could forgive him.

But as the weeks passed you had to admit to yourself that you missed Ivar. You were worried about him, even more than usual. If something happened to him, your last conversation would have been the worst argument you ever had.

One evening you were sitting in your hut, taking out your braids and humming some melody that was stuck in your head as you heard a noise behind you. You turned in your chair and your eyes grew wide in surprise. Ivar was leaning against the door frame, supported by his crutches. You hadn’t heard him open the door. Your first impulse was to run to him and sink into his arms but you still  weren’t sure if you had forgiven him. It took you all your inner strength to keep any emotion from your face as you looked at him. He had a crooked grin on his face but as you didn’t react at all and just kept looking at him, you could see some insecurity grow in his eyes. After a moment though, he gained back control and his grin only grew wider.

“Are you not going to ask me in?”

“Where’s the point when you are in already?” You replied, struggling to keep your voice neutral. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“We just arrived about half an hour ago.” He slowly crossed the room and stopped in front of your bed. “Come here. I’ve missed you.”

Your eyes narrowed. You couldn’t believe he could be so ignorant. “Don’t think you can command me to do anything!”

His grin came back to his face, just a hint of evil arrogance in it. “But you want to. I can see it in your eyes.”

He was right. Although you were still mad at him your body longed for his. You wanted nothing more than to feel his skin on yours, to be as close to him as you could possibly get. It made you angry that he had such an effect on you. And it made you even angrier that he knew it and that he knew how to use it against you. You stood up so fast that your chair toppled over. You went over to Ivar and stood in front of him, eyes blazing with anger.

“Don’t you dare to tell me what I want.”

His grin didn’t fade one bit. “Not even when it’s that obvious? You want me, Y/N. There’s no point in denying that.”

You hated him so much that moment, mostly for being right. You somehow had to let your anger vent and pushed against his chest with both hands, harder than you had intended to. Ivar lost his balance and as he fell backwards he let go of his crutches and grabbed your arms, pulling you down with him. You heard the crutches clatter on the floor as you fell down on the bed. Ivar quickly rolled over so that he was on top of you.

“Get off me!” You hissed and pushed against his chest.

Ivar just smirked at you and caught your wrists, pinning them to the bed above your head. Then he moved his hips so that they rocked against yours. You could feel heat shoot through your body like liquid fire and fought hard to suppress a moan. But Ivar didn’t stop, he kept grinding his hips against yours and the need to feel more of him grew bigger and bigger inside your stomach, causing your breathing to come quick and heavy.

He chuckled at you. “See? So stop struggling and let me give you what you want anyways.”

You gave him an angry hiss but had to admit defeat. He must have seen it in your eyes and placed his lips on yours, kissing you hungrily while one of his hands slid under your dress and up your thigh. He let his fingers slowly travel across your folds and gave you an satisfied yet amused grin as he found you already soaking wet. Then his lips were back on yours and he slipped one finger between your folds. You moaned into his mouth as he started to move it up and down, hitting your clit with every move. His other hand found one of your breasts and started to knead it but he quickly became annoyed by the fabric getting in his way and he retrieved his hand from between your thighs. You whimpered at the loss and he smirked, clearly pleased with himself. For a moment he fiddled with the stings that held your dress together, but soon lost his patience and just ripped it apart. He hurried to slide the fabric down your body and then discarded it to the floor. He quickly undressed himself and you took a moment to cherish the view. You adored the way the toned muscles on his shoulders and his chest worked as he moved back up to you.

“You still want me to leave?” He asked with a cocky grin.

“No.” You admitted.

“What do you want me to do then?”

You smiled and lifted your head from the pillow to kiss him again but he pushed you back down, pinning you to the bed with his body. He rocked his hips again and now that you where both naked you could feel his hard cock rub against your thigh. You sighed, half in anticipation and half in defeat. You knew he wouldn’t stop until you said it out loud.

“I want you to fuck me.”

He gave you a nod as if to say See, it wasn’t that hard. Then he pushed your thighs apart to get better access. He was hovering over you, still pinning you to the bed, not allowing you much movement. He looked down at you and pushed himself inside you with one swift movement. You gasped at the exquisite sensation of him stretching your inner walls and your eyes flew shut. Ivar leaned down and bit your shoulder.

“Keep looking at me.” He cooed.

As you opened your eyes he started to move in and out of you. He didn’t bother to go slow and picked up his pace quite quickly, his trusts fast and hard. It didn’t take long until you squirmed in pleasure but he didn’t give you much room to move, his strong arms keeping you in place and reminding you who was is control. You wrapped your legs around his waist to allow him to go even deeper. As a reward he placed a sloppy kiss on your lips. As your pleasure increases you grind your hips against his, eager to meet his thrusts, while you loudly moan out his name. Ivar places one of his hands on the head of the bed to be able to push himself into your depths with even more force than before. With every thrust he hits a magical spot deep inside of you and you scream out his name so loud you probably wake up all your neighbors.

“You know you are mine.” Ivar growls without stopping his brilliant movements and in this moment you have neither the strength nor the will to disagree.

“Yes Ivar, I’m all yours.” You pant and smirks, even increasing his efforts to make you scream out his name.

You know you are close as you feel your whole body tense. And with one forceful thrust Ivar buries himself deep inside you and spills his hot liquids. The feel of Ivar’s seed filling you is enough to drive you over the edge. Waves of pleasure are rolling through you and your whole body is shaking. You ride out your orgasms together and then Ivar collapses onto you. For a long moment you just lie still. Both of you unable to move, bodies sticky with sweat.

As your breathing slows down a bit, Ivar rolls off of you and pulls you into his arms.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He says, placing a kiss on your temple.

All you can manage is to hum in agreement, as you settle your head against his shoulder and close your eyes.

“Don’t fall asleep.” Ivar whispers into your ear. “I’m not done with you yet.”

4

Through the Years → Victoria, Crown Princess of Sweden (290/)

25 August 2011 | Princess Victoria of Sweden attends The Crown Prince and Crown Princess Fund on the occasion of Crown Prince Haakon and Crown Princess Mette-Marit of Norway’s 10th wedding anniversary at Oslo Cathedral in Oslo, Norway. (Photo by Ragnar Singsaas/WireImage)

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Friends, witchlings, compatriots, please join us in celebrating this most auspicious occasion.

It is on this day, April the 1st, 2015, that we celebrate the birthday of Sir Havoc Toffington of Gingerdale, First of His Name, Knight of Bardoom, Battlekitten to His Royal Highness Prince Ragnar the First, and Loyal Witchcat to The Most Noble Bree Landwalker, Duchess of County Bucks.

Out of the wilds of the County James City, a small ginger kitten was come to the good people of the asylum at Pawsitively Precious. He charmed them with tricks most clever and manners most endearing, and earned a reputation as a fine young gentleman cat.

On the day of the 25th of October in the Year of Grace 2015, Havoc demonstrated his fine accomplishments in an exhibition for Ragnar the First, Prince of Bardoom, and his lady, the Duchess Bree Landwalker. So enchanted were these two good people that they took the young gentlecat into their home, and there he lives quite comfortably and well, learning the dual trades of combat and witchcraft from his benefactors.

For full six months, Sir Havoc hath proved his mettle as a Giver of Cuddles and a Slayer of Catnip Mice. His talents in the Holding-Down of Furniture (particularly Windowsills) and in the Chasing of Bouncy Objects are unparalleled, and his gingery valor and excellent speech are the chief delight of his Lord and Lady.

Therefore, we are most pleased to honor young Sir Havoc on this, his First Birthday. We expect to see many more of them and shall always hallow the day on which his pristine white boots first graced our threshold.

Three Cheers for Sir Havoc!

Hip-Hip-HUZZAH!
Hip-Hip-HUZZAH!
Hip-Hip-HUZZAH!