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#king ragnar x reader – @honestsycrets on Tumblr
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All Roads Lead To The Throne

@honestsycrets / honestsycrets.tumblr.com

Sy. XX's. Latina. Sometimes I write.
Please DO NOT repost my stories.
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Anonymous asked:

Hello! I love the way you write 🥺 Could I ask "I'm not jealous. Why would I be jealous?" With Ragnar? He's my absolute favourite!

❛ pairing | ragnar x reader

❛ type | drabble; 2021 valentine requests (that I never got to)

❛ summary | he's not insecure. just... curious.

❛  tags | jealous!ragnar, drabble.

❛ sy’s notes | ha... hi. this is me coming back from yet another hiatus. heartbreak and anger are my writing fuels. here's some of my king.

In some things, Ragnar is mysterious. His features remain even, deceptively so, until you’re splayed open like a bloody sacrifice, split open as an enemy, or your heart sundered as his lover.

In other cases, such as drinking around a wide-open fire, he is legible. With a haze tearing across his eye, he follows your movements around the fire. He thinks with the cowl flopped across his head that he is not so obvious-- or perhaps he doesn’t even care. He swirls his cup of ale, clicks his tongue across the top of his mouth, and looks up with a forehead of wrinkles. It’s not your first hint.

“What is it?” you say.

There are only a few stragglers from the heavy night of boozing. Even though many are in their beds, Ragnar remains steady with his drink in hand. He tips his cup and stares into it. As if inside, there may be better answers than you could give.

Ragnar.”

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The Third Wife

❛ pairing | Ragnar x reader

❛ type | (?)

❛ summary | Ragnar is caught in a lie he can’t take back.

❛  warnings | murder, death, younger seasons, polygyny, dark!lagertha

requests filled | Hi I was wondering if it would be possible for you to write a story about the reader and Ragnar as they have their first child together and she decides to name him after athelstan. And as their child grows Ragnar notices how much his son remind him of his old friend

Can you please do a series where Ragnar has a secret family with the reader that no one in his family know about until they one day catch him out and about with the reader and their child. Aslaug decide to tell the reader the truth about Ragnar. Now Ragnar has to manage the flames he caused.

Hi, I have a request for a Ragnar x reader one shot about Ragnar marrying (after leaving Aslaug) a younger woman and having children with her. Thanks!

In a home of many children, it is scarce to get time alone. 

Sliding out of the home during midday was the only way to take your beloved bath on those days. Your beloved thralls would care for the children as you bathed in a clear stream, the pebbles under your toes and fishes dancing delightfully underfoot. 

In these spare minutes, you can run the hunk of soap over your body. Honey is a distant pleasure. One that your oldest son… Vesteinn had given you. Your nipples perk under the soap, the cool water from your hands falling over the perk of your breasts. Your mind wanders.

“Touch her here.” 

Fingers drifted between your lips. Shy, quiet gasps from his lips. His hips snapping, time with rapid thrusts of fingers over your clit. A silent scream. A slap of hips. Cumming, cumming and-- god, those blue eyes set into a pale face. Not your husband’s sultry eyes. No. 

They were far too… concerned for that. 

“Are you alright, (Y/N)?”

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Dagny

❛ pairing | Ragnar x Reader

❛ type | drabble

❛ summary | Ragnar has a new girl. But what to name her?

❛  warnings | mention of childbirth.

❛ sy’s notes | requested.

When the pushing is done and the afterbirth is delivered, you’re left to your thoughts. Freyja and the other fertility gods have treated you well. Well enough that you rejoiced in a beautiful daughter. Ragnar’s… second, as he reported with those wide eyes. Eyes that hadn’t taken in the sight of a daughter. Not during his marriage to Aslaug, but to Lagertha.

“She is beautiful, my lady.”

The babe is fast asleep. Her soft cheek is plush against your breast, chubby limbs peaceful as if in your womb which hours ago she left. The midwife cleans her clarty hands in the water as she prepares to take her leave.

“She is, isn’t she Ragnar?” You incline your head toward soft lips, smooth and closed. The taste of milk on her lips, your naked breasts peaking in the warm air. The thrall stirs the flames in the middle of the home before coming to you. Just before her hands touch your extended belly, calloused ones beat her to your stomach.

“Ragnar…” He says nothing, traveling toward the same area she had gone. Ragnar presses down upon your lower stomach, shoving down upon your belly.

You suckle in a forced breath, little more than a forceful escape of air leaving your lips. Ragnar’s eyes flicker to yours, and you nod, turning your hand to your child’s hair. His hand wanders. “The bleeding has worn down.”

“It was only a little,” you tell him.

“More than a little. You might have bled out. If I wasn’t here.”

So it had been. Perhaps… more than a little. More like a lot. Ragnar eases up from your swollen parts with your prideful sigh. “And yet I didn’t, blessed be Frigg. And Freyja. All of the gods who kept our little one safe.”

He says nothing of that, kneeling at your bedside. His hand runs over the soft and smooth skin of his new daughter. He aches to see her. Despite her comfort warm against your chest, you hand her freely to him. Ragnar takes his daughter once again, cradles her close. Relief washes over you when she does not wake. His large hand traces her puckered lips, the quirk in her tiny nose.

“Does she look like her?” you ask.

“Like Gyda?” Ragnar takes a long time in his response. He weighs his response. At the corner of his eye, you swear that you may see his eyes water. “Just like her.”

“It… could be a fitting name,” you hint. He kisses the top of her head, rocking the small child in his arms. You admire your husband with his daughter, swaying without speaking for some time. His eyes travel over her closed eyes

Ragnar looks over his shoulder, his braid shifting stiffly. “No,” he regards. “Dagny.”

Day-new, for it was a new day; a new child.

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Sweet Little Lies II: Reprimands

❛ pairing | ragnar x reader

❛ type | straight angst

❛ summary | you bury your son with his father’s help.

❛  warnings | funeral, angst heavy, mention of baby death, forgiveness.

❛ sy’s notes | so this is one of those fics that doesn’t really have a happy ending. I was asked for a sequel and this one, including forgiveness, is the only thing i felt would fit the story.

His relationship with Aslaug was irreparable. They both knew that it wasn’t love that brought them together. Sex had been the only stabilizer between the both of them. Now… it felt, well, even more so strained. 

Then there was you. 

Floki told him of the burial. You chose somewhere special to your Helga and your family, and chose to bury your child under the same place where Angrboda was buried at such a young, precious age. It would be peaceful there for his son, born lifeless and gone. He would be with his cousin. 

And you? 

You would leave Kattegat after recovering from the traumatic birth. It was… for the better. If you were here, he would be reminded of everything that he lost. His son and his would have been wife. If you stayed with Helga… you would be a constant smear wherever he went. 

It had only been two days since you gave birth. You were up on your feet, despite the swell of your stomach and the blood you lost. Clumps of dirt and soil are thrown out from where Floki digs a worthy hole, pacing from one end to the other. Ragnar sits on the edge of the hole. Both say nothing and everything, the waft of death from the bundled package sinks into his nose. Ragnar’s eye centers heavily on the linen ties that seclude the sight of a battered, decomposing child.

“He has a name, you know.” 

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reblogged

Announcement || Daddie’s Den

July 28th, @laketaj24 and I will be hosting Daddie’s Den– a day for my King Ragnar. I’ve been missing him like crazy lately, I just needed a taste of him. So with that in mind, we’ll be making a day just for him! 

For me– you can request moodboards, drabbles, long fics and ridiculousness like that. As per usual I’m into NSFW, SFW, Platonic and in character ships! I’m accepting requests up until July 15th so feel free to drop them. 

See you then! 

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Announcement || Daddie’s Den

July 28th, @laketaj24 and I will be hosting Daddie’s Den-- a day for my King Ragnar. I’ve been missing him like crazy lately, I just needed a taste of him. So with that in mind, we’ll be making a day just for him! 

For me-- you can request moodboards, drabbles, long fics and ridiculousness like that. As per usual I’m into NSFW, SFW, Platonic and in character ships! I’m accepting requests up until July 15th so feel free to drop them. 

See you then! 

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Ragnar’s NSFW Alphabet

❛ Author’s Notes | As requested, NSFW alphabet with King Ragnar. Warnings include a mention of drug use. Some gifs not mine but could not find the source as I’ve saved them. I’ll gladly give you credit. Gif heavy.

A = Aftercare: 

Ragnar reclines in his bed; pleased but also silent. He opens one eye to see if you’re still watching him. 

Ragnar can be considered the lazy lover. After he knows that he’s done a good job, he tends to daze off. Not exactly asleep, no, not by far. But his mind begins to wander while he watches you cool down.

B = Body part

“Ass.” Ragnar doesn’t skip a beat in responding after you pose your question. 

Ragnar isn’t really hard to please. Thick, muscular, skinny or otherwise, he just really loves a nice ass. Though if he’s being honest, feet and a naughty tongue always seem to get him going as well.

C = Cum

His lip quirks. “Off my fingers. On your ass. Inside... of you. Hypothetically.” He motions his fingers towards you, setting down his cup.

Ragnar is inventive with his uses for cum. As a sort of alpha male himself, obviously he’d love more cum going in to breed. In more recreational sex though, he can’t deny that he really just loves cumming on your face.

D = Dirty Secret

“Can you keep a secret?” Ragnar digs into his pocket, retrieving a small green sachet. He retrieves a small bundle out, daring you to try it too. “It’s an escape.” 

Only his eldest son and Aslaug know that Ragnar really does like to escape his reality. Being the man that was rumored to be a god-- its nice to get a little lost sometimes.

E = Experience

“Well, I am a Daddy.” He sets his hands upon his thighs, looking side to side. “Isn’t that what you call me?”

He didn’t get to be a daddy by not trying things out. 

F = Favourite Position

“Come.” He stretches his hand out to you, welcoming you to climb onto his lap. “I like my lovers on top.” 

G = Goofy

“Is that... a kink?” He arches his eyebrows up, fully expecting that you’ll answer him. He’s run into weirder things in his day.

Serious. But he’s known to make a range of facial expressions when something throws you off. Sometimes-- that’s good and sometimes-- that’s bad. It’s all on you to figure it out. 

H = Hair

“It’s up kept.” Ragnar quirks a smile yet again, looking down his body. His gaze lingers down upon his thighs for a second before he spares you a curious glance. You’re always welcome to come find out.

Ragnar is reasonably well kept. He’s not one to be bald, of course, but he’s also not bushy. After all, the Saxon women seem to admire a well kept man as much as Norse women. He has a reputation to uphold-- he is, after all, Ragnar Lothbrok.

I = Intimacy

Ragnar has had his fair share of intimate moments. Rough and hard with Lagertha and Aslaug and intimate with them as well. He’s not exactly squeamish to changing up his speed nor does he really think he should be bound to one at a time.

J = Jack Off

Ragnar raises his eyebrows at you. Him? Masturbate? It’s been so long. “Well.” He says. “It’s better if I just show you.” 

Ragnar doesn’t often need to masturbate. But when he does, it’s when he’s raiding. Despite Aslaug’s skepticism, he won’t just sleep with anything. Sometimes its better to let his hand do the work then get involved with some clingy shit he won’t enjoy.

K = Kink

“Let us see.” Now that you’re talking about kinks with him, he sits up in his excitement. “Pretty young things, multiples, feet, bondage, knife play and oh... sex with a sinister smile.” 

Ragnar has a lot of kinks. He’s someone that constantly has to be engaged in something new. One tone vanilla sex isn’t for him. He enjoys spreading his wings a little bit-- even teasing others with what he has though be it lowkey.

L = Location

“Ecbert’s bath.” Point and blank. He watches you squirm.

The way he speaks out of personal experience, you have to wonder what he might mean by that. Had he done it before? By the glitter in his eyes, you know the answer is yes. You just wonder with who.

M = Motivation

"Do I need a reason?”

He really doesn’t-- but what teases him the most is thin, clingy fabric hugging your body. Naked is one thing, bondage is another. Sheer and tight things are definitely his favourites and have him up and ready to go.

N = NO

"Piss.” He cringes. “Let’s not do that again.”

If there’s one thing that he doesn’t exactly enjoy, its being pinned down and pissed on. He likes his women on top. Just... not like that. Though if you’re really into that-- maybe you could try to get him into it too.

O = Oral

“Both would be good to me.”

He’s not opposed to giving oral, in fact, he enjoys it. He enjoys gliding his lips up and down your sex, drawing his tongue in small circles as he gladly-- but slowly glides his fingers inside of you. But as a man, there’s little as exciting as having his lover on their knees in front of him within the deep portions of a forest of campground, taking him into your mouth.

P = Pace

“Let’s see where today takes us.” Ragnar shifts. 

Ragnar usually lets you set the pace. Chief reason? He’s been beat too many times by Lagertha’s domination. But if you’re too shy to take it, he’s sure to take the lead from you. 

Q = Quickie

“Is that all you’ll offer your king?” Ragnar teases, letting his fingers dance up the side of your arm.

He’s been spoiled on his usual sex with him. If he can skate around getting a quickie into longer sex, he will. He enjoys being actually able to savor your body around his cock, rolling your hips and bringing him deeper and deeper inside of your body. But as a king, his life is full of quickies. He takes whatever sex he can take.

R = Risk

Ragnar’s eyes light up in his excitement. “What kind of risks are we talking about?” 

Ragnar has a tendency to get bored in his own life. He has certain loves-- and of them, sex is one. So if he can spice things up; he’ll give it a go. Though, don’t try to sound him with a stick down his dick. 

He cringes.

S = Stamina

“As long as you keep up, I will too.” Ragnar leans into your face, keeping your gaze in his own.

Ragnar teases that he can last quite a while. But-- that’s if he’s on top. Something about a woman dominating him always makes the rounds shorter and shorter... and shorter. Give him a little and he’ll be right back up for you.

T = Toy

"Yes. Ecbert’s shown me some. Lagertha enjoys them. I use them.”

In his wide travels, he’s learned more than just how to please a woman. He’s also picked up different things. He has a host of them-- some to use on others while some are used on himself. Those are for special occasions.

U = Unfair

Ragnar makes a face. His lips twitch and part as he looks away.

Nope, not a tease. He’s a spoiled old man. He doesn’t exactly feel in the mood for your teasing either. Though he’ll indulge you time to time. Don’t be surprised if he overpowers you to get what he wants.

V = Volume

“I rather hear you instead.”

He’s a silent lover. If not speaking his nasty words, he tends to make low groans and small groans. He makes a game out of teasing his brother Rollo with your loudness in place of making noise himself.

W = Wild Card

“My King.” Your words... they drive him to a dark but delicious place.

Ragnar isn’t one to enjoy being called “my king” by many. Nor does he make people call him their king. However when it is out of your lips-- it just feels right. He’s up in no time flat and you regret those words when you’re sore the next day.

X = X-Ray

“Go ahead.” He draws his trousers down, he fists himself to hardness and relishes you watching him.

Ragnar is of a good size. Somewhat above average but still proportional to his body.  He’s never had a complaint.

Y = Yearning

"I can go without a few days.” He says. “If I have to.”

A few being just that-- a few. Ragnar has the tendency to get overly excited and feel the need to fill you. If he’s on raid, he can hold out longer with the reasoning that if he misbehaves, you might not give it to him again.

Z = ZZZ

Ragnar lays awake. 

He never could sleep. Perhaps that’s why death always looked so good.

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Brr!

14th December - Snowed in ☃️

A/N: Another snippet for this one!

Your boyfriend was the kind of man to always be on the run. Taking care of the farm or his many sons, that was easy as shit for him. Waking up to snowflakes piling on top of a snow packed window? Not so much.

“We could cuddle.” You suggested that most of the day. Cuddling under warm, silky sheets and filling each other with kisses. Ragnar drifts one of his muscled arms over your waist. You were facing away from him to watch the snow fall. Eventually your hand moved to follow Ragnar’s very scars with your fingers. You trace one of a hook along his arm.

“Haven’t we all day?” He says. “I’ve got better ideas than cuddling.”

You turn in his grip to lay against his chest. He alternates out in front of you, blankets sliding off that skinny naked ass you loved so much.

“Ohhh, papi wants to play?” You ask. “Didn’t I just play with you all night?”

One look out the cold, frosty window and he has all the answers he needs. There would be no going outside today. You would have to cook inside. The candles flickering illuminate the room where previously there was no light.

“What else is there to do?”

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Mas

Ragnar x Latina!Reader

12th December - Too much eggnog🍾

A/N: As a Puerto Rican, we don’t really drink exactly eggnog all that much. In place of that I threw in Coquito which is coconut and rum drink similar to eggnog. 

Ubbe knew his father’s favourite season was Christmas. Not for the jolly decorations or the snuggles by the fireplace-- but because of the never ending booze that kept his ass hazed all night.

“Ubbe do you want more Coquito?” You interrupt his thought, coming around with the jug of creamy booze that had his lips tasting of coconut with every sip. He looks to his empty cup and then to his older brother Bjorn who was easily chugging along with his many, many cups. They were much more experienced than him.

“Of course.” He says against better judgement.

You fill his cup with the rum drink that leaves his stomach feeling full, sinking back to Ragnar’s side to fill his own. With another long drink, his eyes haze. His father’s hand lazily drops over the round of your hips, laying a soft kiss to your belly. He knows his father is getting drunk when he has that tell tale slouch, flicking one of the cards in his fingers into the middle of the table.

“Your turn Bjorn.” Ragnar says baring a flat lipped smile.

The older bear holds his cards in his hands. He lays down another card with a face as deadpan as his father's. Then it is finally time for Ubbe to lay down his. He searches which of the remaining few cards he has before laying one down, missing the slight churning smile that perks at Ragnar’s lips once the card is down.

“He’s very predictable, isn’t he, papi?” You stroke your fingers through the bundle of braids atop of Ragnar’s head. Before Ubbe can ask why-- Ragnar throws down the exact card that Ubbe had been so sure his father would not have.

“We’ll teach him. Pour him some more, princesa.”

He groans.

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Cuddles with Farfar

Ragnar x Latina!Reader

10th December - Watching holiday specials on tv 📺

A/N: Grandpa time is grandpa time! Muneca = Doll

Little known fact about your papi: he loved holiday specials. You could snuggle up with a book on the couch, wrapped under fluffy blankies and be fine! Ragnar, on the other hand, would flip on the television and throw his arm over your shoulder. As a step-grandmother though, you were babysitting one such little girl while her father was out on the town with his pregnant wife Torvi.

The television was buzzing with the strange animation. Rudolph with his strange friends-- an elf that wanted to be a dentist and while you’re not sure of the human, its almost cute too. Ragnar knows all of these specials by heart.

“Come here Siggy.” Ragnar calls out to the little girl, building a huge block house. She peeps up from behind the blonde bangs that fall into her shocking blue eyes. Then Siggy moves in a thick red christmas sweater to climb up her grandfather’s legs and into his lap.

“Are you going to watch Rudolph with us, muneca?” You close your book while placing the golden bookmark on the right page. Siggy stares blankly at you before nodding, holding a fuzzy brown monkey in her lap. Ragnar reaches out to lay his other arm over your shoulders, tugging you in close. On occasion his finger would run through your dark curls. 

“I would watch these with your father, Siggy. Now you will watch them too.”

If not with Bjorn, it would be with Ragnar. His granddaughter keeps warm on his lap while you plop your cheek against his shoulder, occasionally nipping him for a kiss. It warms your heart-- because he really wasn’t as bad as a grandfather as his ex-wives made him out to be. He cared the most.

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Ragnar’s Gift

Ragnar x Latina!Reader (Implied)

8th December - Buying Christmas gifts 🎁

Sooo, you probably could have picked something small like any other girlfriend. You had been saving and saving all year for just this Christmas gift. Ragnar would surely get other gifts from you-- but this was the cream of the crop! No way he could top you on this one.

“And you’ll hide this how?” A giggle slides from Floki’s lips. His lanky body was tall and overbearing while you urged the young filly down from Ragnar’s horse trailer. As far as you knew-- Ragnar was somewhere else on the massive farm. Athelstan had promised to keep him busy all night while you figured out a way to hide this cute, chocolatey thing.

You didn’t know the first damn thing about horses. That was business for Ragnar and his farm hands. Even Athelstan had learned while you took to more domestic things like Ragnar was fine with. You could care for the home and garden while he cared for the larger things on the farm.

“You can help me, can’t you, Floki?” You ask.

He blinks once then twice. “I will?”

“Unless you don’t want to. I can always ask Athelstan.”

Finally Floki took the reins, clopping off that pony while you giggle and move back inside. It was far too easy to convince Floki to help you in anything. Like this, Ragnar would none the wiser when he took you for a night out on the town. Or so you thought-- because after all, Ragnar always planned for everything.

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Almost a Quiet Night

Ragnar x Latina!Reader

6th December - Cuddling by the fire 🔥

A/N: Another with Papi Ragnar.

Rain or snow, Ragnar would work on the farm. He had a lot to do on the farm with Athelstan and Floki and while they were constantly bickering, you could get a lot done inside. The sun was setting on the flat horizon over your snowslicked farm when the front door to the foyer cracked open.

Your ears perk with the sound of his boots-- messy, muddy and snowy-- on your mopped floor. You slip off the small white and red ruffled christmas apron before straightening out your lazy crimson silk slip to go meet him. He holds a metal bucket loaded to the top with wood from the pin where he kept all the firewood.

“You finally finished?” You ask. He tugs his hoodie off of the bunched braids on the top of his head, shrugging.

“Until tomorrow.” He says, alternating his bucket around so that you can help him take off his coat. He plips off his boots, leaving them where they were. Then standing on his tippy toes, you reach to kiss him softly on his lips. He tastes of the smoke of a fire.

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Don’t Let Me Fall

Ragnar x Latina!Reader

2nd December - Ice skating date ❄️ from @ivaraddict and @dangerousvikings bonus Christmas challenge.

A/N: I’m a little late to this Christmas challenge but it has been an insane month for me. I’ll be posting this series I started of Christmas with Daddie Ragnar today. I wrote this fic with a Latina reader because I was largely writing this for me as some down time between requests. The whole series will have one.

“It’s one baby step then another!”

Ragnar was a lot of things.

An ice skater was not one of them. He’s a man that likes his feet firmly planted beneath him. A surprise, one or two, was welcomed. Not so much this. He had easily fallen over on the cold, hard icy surface not once or twice-- but three times. If any of his sons could see him now, especially Ivar, he would not hear the end of it.

“C’mon Papi, you can do it.” You giggle, skating circles around him on this frozen pond hell. He glances to you as you swivel about him, tickling his beard with your manicured finger. He glances down to your finger, holding himself up with his hands balancing him. It’s almost cute to see him so vulnerable for a change.

“What if Papi doesn’t want to do it, hm?” He responds, almost mocking your affectionate pet name for him. You stretch your fingers out towards him, beckoning him to come a little closer with eager digits. In no way does his ass want to either. He rather stand there until you’re done skating circles around him in your white, fluttering dress top.

“Pleasssse.” You whine. His sweet, beautiful girl would whine until his cows came home. Ragnar sighs while bringing his hands up behind his head. If he didn’t do this, he wouldn’t hear the end of it. At the very least there were no others here. Then exhaling a forceful breath, his hands leave his bound braid to stretch out towards you.

“Don’t let me fall.” He says. You swish over, grabbing his short, thick fingers in your own. Little by little you urge him to move forward. His brilliant blue eyes garner a wide quality, contrasting against your warm brown skin. Despite the ravens that always crouch on the gate, Ragnar’s tired eyes begin to glisten as he runs his blades across the ice.

“You’re not falling at all!” You let go of his fingertips, shocking the older man enough to stumble forward into you in a flutter of your dark hair. This time, he swivels about to drag you down into the harsh ice on top of him. With a harsh crack, you hear him groan irritably. The mind was usually more tired than his body-- but this time, it was his body that was crying out with the pulse of his tattooed head. He pops one placid eye open to look at you.

“You let me go.”

He did say not to.

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Ragnar carrying you across the threshold as his bride. (It’s a Viking thing!)

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At the minimum, it was one huge bottle of mead.

But if he was being honest, it was probably more. The wedding feast had gone on probably longer than it should have. Good food and even better company meant that they had spent way too long throwing back drinks. Combining that with Floki’s small teases and his Athelstan looking like a meek mouse that he needed to impress, he was staggering on his feet. Maybe hitting the doorframe to the very house he built for you with Floki’s help.

“Tha’s a door.” You slur despite the fact that you were probably worse off than he. He kicks open the door with his boot, causing a delighted giggle to spill off of your sweet lips. Your arms are around his neck as he supports you in his arm. You edge up to catch his lips in a kiss; shit the honey must have been extra sweet this year in that booze. 

“I see it.” Ragnar grumbles. He staggers in and kicks the door, missing once, before it slams shut. With a grunt he shifts you over his shoulder and locks the door. Finally, he was sick of this wedding shit. He crossed the door and now all that was really meant to do was his favourite part– solidifying this marriage with sex. Dropping you onto the bed, you rut around in the furs before stretch your hands out to him.

“Gimme!” You shrill.

Ragnar cocks his eyebrow up at you. “Gimme what?” He asks, bending his head slightly.

“You!”

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reblogged

Lothbrok III

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A/N: When you know you in deep shit. The song reader sings to Ragnar is Trollabundin by Eivor, I believe.

This woman was proving to be difficult.

Ragnar shoves away the winding tails of the Lindworm and tugs the doors apart. Not only had he slain the Lindworm but now he had hacked down the door to go find you inside. But no, of course, you weren’t at the bottom of the tower. You swept yourself away to the tippy top of this aged tower. Ragnar let loose a rippling growl that reverberates up the stairs. Another small laugh ripples down, a giggle really.

“You’re really going to make me chase you?” Ragnar huffs, lifting his eyebrows up in blatant irritation. For a princess stuck in a tower, you did not act like you were so grateful for his work.

“It would not be so fun otherwise!” You call back.

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Defy the King

A/N: So this might have been inspired by the moment in which Ragnar realizes that Lagertha has been sleeping with Ecbert. I suppose it could also be read as Lagertha being the one in question. Have a snippet. Gif not mine.

You were so pretty when you were out of breath.

Every moment of your life you were talking about something, guiding him into a strange rage with every decadent flirt thrown towards Ecbert. Despite his thought that perhaps! Perhaps you could contain yourself, you had not. His palm around your throat was a pretty reminder of whom was in control. Him. He was in control, not you-- who threatened to overtake him with every word you took. A wily wife unlike Aslaug who knew to mind herself.

“You talk far too much.” Ragnar’s hand snatches your thin neck, leaning in to speak against your ear with soft but anxiety-bitten lips. “It would be good for you if you would just… shut up. Look pretty for a change.”

You scratch at his grip, small little marks in comparison to the scars of his youth. “You can’t make me shut up. I am a free woman to warm anybody’s bed.” A daring assertion given that Ragnar’s other hand has thrown up your skirts, guiding his fingers down to your shaved mound. It’s soft against his fingers, slick even as you defy him. He watches you with wild eyes, spreading you open around his calloused fingers.

“I’ll do it myself if I have to.” Ragnar hums, low and deep.

By the defiant look in your eye, knowing all night you had your hand on Ecbert’s lap, he was certainly free to try.

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Lothbrok III

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A/N: When you know you in deep shit. The song reader sings to Ragnar is Trollabundin by Eivor, I believe.

This woman was proving to be difficult.

Ragnar shoves away the winding tails of the Lindworm and tugs the doors apart. Not only had he slain the Lindworm but now he had hacked down the door to go find you inside. But no, of course, you weren’t at the bottom of the tower. You swept yourself away to the tippy top of this aged tower. Ragnar let loose a rippling growl that reverberates up the stairs. Another small laugh ripples down, a giggle really.

“You’re really going to make me chase you?” Ragnar huffs, lifting his eyebrows up in blatant irritation. For a princess stuck in a tower, you did not act like you were so grateful for his work.

“It would not be so fun otherwise!” You call back.

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