Author’s Notes | I hope you enjoy this like I enjoyed to write, cause fuck… I enjoyed it…
Universe | Vikings
Pairing | Sigurd x Sub! Reader
Info | Viking Age AU, Dark! Sigurd, requested by anon for UKT3
Words | 1120
⁑ Warnings: NSFW, SMUT included, some humiliation, Male! Dom, hardcore, oral sex (Male receiving), cursing, and dirty talk. +18+.
It was the end of a feast on the hall.
All his brothers were seated around the table, finishing the meat of the feast, sharing the mead and the laughs, high from the alcohol they had already shared for hours.
Ubbe had Margrethe seated in his lap and Hvitserk’s hand was running from her knee up to her but shamelessly. You were seated beside Sigurd, a cup of mead in your hand while watching Ivar talking about hard sex and stuff you knew he didn’t have done yet.
Sigurd rolled his eyes in one more ironic giggle. You were so tired of those two always arguing and fighting between each other, ruining good moments like that.
“You know nothing about what you’re talking, Ivar.”
Tiredness that mixed with the alcohol, forbid you to keep your mouth shut when you saw a fight about to start again.
“Neither do you…” you said, causing Sigurd to turn his face towards you at the same moment and Ivar’s frowned expression to convert in a smile almost immediately.
You were Sigurd’s woman for almost a year. And you knew he wasn’t that way. He was sweet and tender with you and it wasn’t something you disliked, but you would like some more strength sometimes and it was the truth: Sigurd could say whatever he wanted, but he also knew nothing about hard sex and stuff.
Or at least it was what you thought…
“C’ mon Sigurd, don’t look at me like that, love. You’re too soft for this. I love your softness, but this is not your game, babe” you tried.
Almost seeing the dragon in his eyes spitting fire when Ivar started laughing and Ubbe, drunk as he was, couldn’t avoid the smile.
“You drank enough for the night. We’re leaving” he said, finishing his cup and getting up.
You knew you went too far and he was mad at you because of Ivar’s laughs when you left, ignoring Hvitserk’s drunk appeal for you two to stay a little more.
“You’re too sober, Sigurd! Drink more mead or at least leave the girl!!”
Drunk, completely. Sigurd wasn’t used to share you as Ubbe shared all his girls with Hvitserk. He wasn’t used to be too harsh, to go too strong.
He was sweet, right?
Maybe that was the reason why you sighed surprised when he closed the door of your room with your back against it. His jaw clenched while his hands were running your thighs under your dress.
“Sigurd… babe I…”
“Shut your mouth!” he growled.
And for the first time in your life, you feared what was to come.
He was high from the mead, maybe drunk. Maybe not thinking…
Your eyes found his and you felt his hand in your neck, sliding slow, feeling your skin in a threatening way. For a moment, you thought he could choke you dead there and when his fingers surrounded your neck you feared he would do this.
But at the same time, you felt yourself burning…
You weren’t used to that fierce Viking in your room, and he could see it was making you horny.
“You speak too much, woman…” he said, touching your lips with his thumb, drawing it slowly. “I gonna show you better use for your pretty mouth”.
You felt his strength pushing your body down and you imposed no resistance.
He wouldn’t hurt you, you could see it in his eyes.
But you wanted things harsh…
He would give you harsh things…
“Love…” you tried to speak while he was opening his trousers, releasing the hardness you knew so well from the long nights riding your bardic prince.
“Suck.”
His voice was demanding, harsh. But you decided to impose him some resistance and discover where that intense man was able to go for your pleasure. And when you leaned your head back, you felt his heavy hand on your nape, his fingers tugging your hair, forcing your head towards his hard cock.
“I said suck it!”
He felt you melting in his fingers. Where was that amazing Viking in the last months?
Your mouth softly embraced his cock, sliding your lips through half of his length, filling your ears with a relieved moan from his mouth. And then, again, he surprised you, pushing your head against his crotch and moving his hips, rolling them into your mouth carelessly.
“You fucking like it, don’t you?” he said; his eyes on yours when both of his hands held your head, firming it into its place for he could establish a pace to literally fuck your mouth. “You fucking like things harsh… I gonna finish this pretty mouth of yours and then, I’ll fuck you until your pussy burns!”
That dirty talk, that harsh tone… You were soaking wet into your skirt, pressing your thighs one against another while that gagging sound was taking you to the edge of coming without even touch yourself.
Sigurd was right. You liked things harsh.
You liked to feel his heavy hands holding your head with that strength; you loved to feel his hard cock sliding through your tongue, senselessly fucking your mouth, not minding the little coughs he was provoking when his tip reached the bottom of your throat.
“Tonight… You gonna be my little whore!”
You felt his pace increasing, his words spreading a heating wave through your entire body while his seed filled your mouth without a warning, spurting when he pulled his cock out of your mouth, slowly coating your tongue with his flavor.
“Swallow it” he ordered.
And you did it, not questioning your master, opening your mouth clean to his eyes like a good little slave.
“You may be being a good girl now, (Y/N). But it doesn’t mean I’ll forgive you for tonight so easily” he said, caressing your chin with a devilish smile in the corner of his lips. “On all fours. No bed for you today. I gonna fuck you here and give you what you deserve. Now!”
You couldn’t exactly determine if he was pissed off or not. But you turned anyway, looking at him over your shoulder, seeing while he was positioning himself behind of you before filling you in a single movement.
Your moans filled the room and you felt his hand on your hair, pulling your head back, so he could speak in your ears.
“Louder…”
You would talk to him in the morning for sure, maybe apologize properly for exposing him like that. But for now? You moaned louder, obeying your master as a good pet.
It would be a hell of a night for sure. And you wanted to enjoy it completely before having your sweet bardic prince’s pride restored.
A/N: This chapter includes Sigurd. Neither gif is mine. Also, if I missed you in tags please just tell me by responding to this!
It was like being a child.
Playing tag and looking for a base to call when things got too risky. Bjorn was your base. This was the one place where you could be safe: on the couch, laying upon his chest and pretending that you were asleep. Of course that didn’t really escape Ubbe who lazily took up a roll of bread and pushed himself off of the dining room table where the brothers played a lazy game of cards. The sway in his step bounced creaky floorboards, alerting you that someone was coming closer.
“What is it?” Hvitserk laughs smoothly. A small pressure against your strands of hair says that Ubbe’s pulling on your strands. You feign a little sleep kissed moan.
“She’s pretending.” Ubbe whispers-- and sweat could have run down your back in fear of what he might do.
“So what if she is? What are you so afraid of?” Ivar reclines back onto his with a solid creak of his chair. Ubbe’s hand relinquishes its tight grip on your hair.
“She’ll try to run.” Ubbe grunts. Then his attention wavers. “Who is staying up tonight?” He pulls away from your side. His large, lingering presence thankfully slips away. Ivar straightens as if to say he will when Sigurd interrupts him.
“I’ll do it.” He shuffles the card with a rippling slap.
Ivar shifts within his chair. “You aren’t going to lose her again?” He picks.
“I’ll be fine.”
You knew that Sigurd and Ivar were a pair you shouldn’t be alone with from that instant forward. At some point, you fell asleep. You weren’t sure if it was before or after the point Sigurd accused Ivar of cheating or the food flinging across the dining room table, but you had. When you awoke, the cabin was thickly dark. Hvitserk had fallen asleep on a smaller couch-- and you kind of wonder how he could sleep with his neck crooked on the leather armrest. Ubbe and Ivar were nowhere to be seen. Besides the large living room and tucked away kitchen, there were other rooms that you had yet to explore.
“Restless?” The blonde boy says. His nappy blonde hair is messy with braids. More than anything, he looks like a fluff ball. He must have caught you peeping up to see if the coast was clear. Sigurd, you thought Hvitserk had called him, seemed to be a wildcard. He certainly didn’t look scary but looks could be very deceiving.
“A little.” You murmur sliding off your place on Bjorn. “Tired?”
He folds his arms one over another, skeptical of the reason you were asking him such a thing. Obviously it was to coerce him to go to bed. He says nothing at first, but as you muster the courage to stand up, his attention falls to the dirty skirt and hoodie. You pull the bottom of your skirt over your ass, following Sigurd’s eyes glazing at the hem of your skirt.
“No.” He answers at last. “Are you?”
Always.
“It’s a little suffocating in here.” You murmur, looking about the dark planks that covered the walls. It was definitely aged as if it had stood here for years. Sigurd’s chair scratches the floor as he stands up. His boots carry him to the door.
“It always is.” He responds just as aptly, pulling it wide apart.
Fresh air wafts into the room smelling as sweet as the fresh sweet bread that Aethelred used to bring you home from the bakery. The forest is lively, the animals brought to life by the change of light to dark and you-- feel freedom creep closer and closer to your fingers.
“You want to go outside.” Sigurd says, pushing open the screen. You feel as if it’s a trap and don’t advance any further. After all… if it is a trap, he would expect you to go for it. Sigurd offers out his hand toward you after popping the lock.
“Do you want to stay with Ubbe?” He suggests.
Fuck if you don’t want to trust him. He looks… trustable. Despite your better judgement, you take his hand. Because anything is better than staying with the hunter-- or the wolf. Sigurd leads you forward into the room before following out of the enclosed space. The car has moved; you’re not sure where.
“What is this place?” You ask.
Sigurd holds a hard look in his eyes. “My father’s cabin.”
There’s no other distinguishing information. You aren’t sure what of good you’ve heard of Ragnar Lothbrok. Only that he was a witty man that evaded Ecbert, Aelle and most irritatingly to your father-- him.
Rounding the back of the cabin and into the loud woods, you find that the chrome of Bjorn’s car glistens just slightly. Less so when your cheek hit the deep indigo of the truck with a forceful slam, billowing pain through your arteries. There’s a harsh shuffling behind you with Sigurd’s hand deep in your hair.
“You made a fool of me.” Sigurd’s long braids and frizzy waves fall over his shoulder as he leans over you. Dread, pure unadulterated anguish fills you when you hear an unraveling of plastic that causes you to thrash-- hard under his hips that cement you against the truck. He wrenches your panties down your sore thighs in one fluid motion
“I was just trying to get away!” You exclaim. The blond doesn’t respond and in the place of words, you feel the lubrication feeding off of the thin, plastic covering burning inside of your well abused walls.
Another Ragnarsson-- you punch out the ache on the truck, scrambling against its paint with your nails clenching tight. His scruffy, itchy blonde facial hair rubs at your neck as his teeth sink into your nape, a hand shifting under your dirty hoodie to grasp at your lacy bra. Smoothly he thrusts forward and not so smoothly, you wail another shout. Your cunt squeezes and squeezes as if trying to push him out of your warm walls.
“It wasn’t on purpose!”
Moans stream from his lips. There was nothing you could do but protest his fingers rolling your nipple between his fingers, or weakly tug at the hand that had slipped in between the junction of your legs to your smooth mound. Sigurd’s thick fingers clumsily massage down your slit, the sear of his erection pumping in to hilt time after time.
“It doesn’t matter.” He huffs over your neck. “You ran.”
He hilts deep, pausing long enough to push your hair away from your face. His lips stroke against beads of rolling tears. “Now,” He withdraws-- pumping straight back in with his static words. “After we're done with you, I might just keep you.”
Gods, no. If you thought the most quiet of the boys was safe-- what would men like… Ubbe be? His thick girth presses deep within your cunt, milking him of his sweet seed with every stroke of his hips. It won’t be long, and yet, he forces an orgasm out of your fingers with his thick rolling digits. He shoves you into the grill, smooth fluid slipping from your clenching cunt by the mere pressure of his body in yours.
It wasn’t you, you think. This was nature. A pure, mechanical response to a curved cock that smoothed over the best of places. His fingers like dark oil to a creaking machine. He mangles out a hard shout, thick ropes of his seed pushing out of the plastic covering that once covered his silken tip.
“Hm, so the condom might have popped.” Sigurd pulls his cock out of your clenching walls that beg him to stay-- dripping pearly seed from your lips. “That isn’t the only thing that popped. Did you cum on Bjorn’s car?” He’s laughing, hand harsh on the middle of your back.
Another Ragnarsson’s seed is slipping down your thighs. Your father… what would he have said? Done? You feel shamefully thick with guilt. Father always said that these men were from the devil-- and you had taken their seed twice by the spasms of your sweet cunt.
Their hips, the harshness of their fingers… the pleasure and pain that came with this horror. It was sweetly made. That horrified you and despite Sigurd’s planning for a harsh response, he hadn’t expected you to fight him again. You snap the hold on his back with all the force you could muster, jabbing him in the temple with your elbow so harshly he staggers off to the side for just moments, tucking away his cock with a ‘fuck!’ that rumbles through the forest.
When he recovers, its all curses. You slip under the car, crawling underneath to reemerge on the other side. Sigurd paces one way-- then another, trying to locate which line of bushes you slipped into. Somewhere along the line, your panties were abandoned. I lost her! Against a strong oak you hear the boots against soaked leaves. Your toes curl in their thin socks against muddy forest floor.
Gif credit: Gif is not mine and all credit to the creator for this sexy gif.
A/N: In which Sigurd is a very bad boy.
The garage door reverberated a soft security alarm through the home. Heavy footsteps slapped from the laundry room out to the hallway to the kitchen where you stood.
“Fa!” A maniacal giggle cooes from behind you. Your daughter at no more than two years of age pushes herself onto her two feet, barreling past her many doggie toys.
“Aslaug!” He chimes fondly, setting down his guitar case and work bag. You turn around just in time to see Sigurd plucking up your daughter with his messy blonde hair cropped short, waving this way and that.
“Hey Sigurd.” You turn back to the stove to mix the potatoes with oily thick butter and a mix of Sigurd’s favourite herbs. He walks in tired from work, thankful for dinner. For years now you had lived together, agreeing to raise Aslaug jointly together.
“Hey (Y/N).” Sigurd leans in to kiss the top of your head. “How was Aslaug?”
“Good as always.” You note, setting the potatoes aside and checking the meat. Aslaug rests in his arms for only seconds before kicking and squirming her long legs to be set free, darting off in a flash of blonde hair.
“Did you go see Marco of whatever his name is?” Sigurd walks over to wash his hands as you take out the roast. You set the roast on top of the stove, pulling your hair around to tuck a bit behind an ear.
“No. He showed me up!” You huff, turning around with your back against the oven. You take off a red oven mitt then the other.
“I thought I was cute, too, but I guess not.” You sigh. Sigurd reaches out to grab your shoulders.
“You’re all the beautiful things in the world.” Sigurd says. He can read you like an open book. If that were so, why would you be stood up? There’s a secret behind the smile on his lips, the cocky one in which he knew he had done something just awful.
“You’re just saying that because you’re my baby daddie.” You look down to pressure on your leg. Little Aslaug forces herself between your legs. Vand, she says asking for a refill on her drink. Sigurd rolls his lower lip into his mouth. Fuck them.
“Even I have standards, (Y/N).” He laughs. “Weren’t you the one telling me to dump Margrethe? For sleeping with all my brothers? Of course I was sleeping with my best friend too... wonder who that was?”
You pout that adorable pout grabbing Aslaug’s cup. “Shut uuppppp. Go get your daughter more water, Sigurd.”
He laughs deeply and walks off as you turn to plate his daughter’s food, plucking her up and walking over to her high chair. As your phone pops up with a message, Sigurd’s eye falls upon it. Like the snake he is known for, he pops it open and deletes the message. Because well, he wasn’t so stupid to know you hadn’t done the same with Blaeja and...
