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Your husband had warned you beforehand: “Ivar is… different.” The statement had struck you as rather odd. What exactly did he mean? Despite the many, fleeting questions now running away with your mind, you had said nothing and simply nodded in response.
He had been your husband’s old, college roommate from a few years back and he never mentioned him, until now. Ivar had called him up out of the blue to request that they all go out for dinner to reminisce about old times. Your husband however, had seemed strangely put off by the invitation; seemingly creeped out by his own fleeting questions of how exactly Ivar had found out his number and why exactly he had called him up in the first place. It in turn had put you off now as well. “Ivar is different” what exactly did that mean?
Upon arriving at the rather posh restaurant and being escorted to your table you found that this Ivar, was already comfortably seated there. He looked up at you both as you approached him. Your husband feigned fondness and enthusiasm while greeting his old roommate. He was quite handsome and well-built. His long, dark hair was secured up in a bun. His face was more than pleasant to look upon, despite the striking blue eyes that had something strangely sinister, cold and predatory lingering in them. As they moved to meet your own eyes you immediately felt a chill run down your spine. You began to feel very uneasy. His eyes held yours just a little too long then and you quickly averted them to the ground. “It’s nice to meet you, Ivar. I’ve heard so much about you.” You lied and he seemed to almost scoff at the statement for some reason. You glanced back up at him. You had an odd, paranoid feeling that those calculating and somewhat disturbing eyes could somehow read the contents of your mind so easily, just like a book.
Your husband coughed awkwardly then as he pulled out your chair and gestured for you to sit after the much too long, uncomfortable silence. As you smiled weakly at him and took your seat you could still feel those eyes on you. They continued to openly read you. They continued to send chills down your spine; forcing you to feel some sudden sense of dread deep within you.
As the strange and uncomfortable dinner carried on, his eyes never left you and you never chanced a glance in their direction again. All throughout dinner Ivar had barely spoke. Your husband had done his best to keep on with the idle small talk but Ivar only ever gave one word responses as he brought his fifth glass of straight whisky to his lips; eyes never leaving your form. You prayed that he would leave. Praying he would just go to the bathroom or something so you could beg your husband to finally make your escape. But he sat, unmoving and unspeaking. Staring.
Your husband had had enough eventually, much to your relief. “Okay, Ivar. I think it’s about time we left, this was… this was nice, though. It was nice catching up.” His eyes lingered on you still. More uncomfortable silence seemed to fill the small space at the table until the creep finally decided to open his mouth and respond. “Yes, I am needed somewhere else as well.” He finally pulled his eyes away from you to stare at your husband. You chanced a look at Ivar now only to see the utter contempt and irritation evident in his eyes as he challenged your husband with his gaze. “But yes, this was, as you said, nice.” A sudden cold, wide smirk appeared on his face then and it only served to creep you out further. His large hand shot out then to grab your wrist firmly, causing you to briefly gasp. His smile never faltered as he leant down to place a chilling kiss on the back of your hand. He lingered just a little too long and you shuddered in response. He stopped and his eyes looked up at you again. The smirk was gone just as quickly as it had appeared and the hungry, predatory look that took it’s place had been the last straw for you.
You abruptly pulled your wrist away from his hand then and stood up from the table, causing a slight scene. “Don’t touch me.” You warned, gaining a newfound courage. You desperately wanted to tell the creep to “fuck off” but decided that you rather not be barred from your husband’s favorite restaurant over something as pitiful as this. Ivar continued to stare up at you, feigning a look of pure hurt, though his eyes continued to tell a different, darker story. “As you wish.” He responded while holding his hands up in fake defense, chuckling slightly to himself. “I’ll be seeing you.” He hummed to just you alone it seemed; those words sent more chills down your spine. He then pulled out from the table and you were surprised to see he was wheelchair bound. You somehow held his intimidating gaze all the way, as he moved slowly past you. You watched as he finally exited the restaurant and you hoped you would never have to see him again.
—-
“Who the fuck was that guy?!” You screamed at your husband in the back of the taxi now. “I told you who he was, honey, my old roommate.” You felt your rage seething through you at his sarcastic response. “What’s wrong with him?! You said he was ‘different’ what the fuck does that mean?!” Your husband scoffed. “Well i’m pretty sure you just saw for yourself what that meant, honey.” You sighed in frustration. “Then why, honey, did you agree to have dinner with the creep?!” Your husband let out his own sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
“He comes from some wealthy, well known family. The Lothbrok family. Out of all of the children, Ivar was apparently described as the disturbed, outsider; basically a borderline psychopath. That description of him certainly rang true when I was forced to share a room with him in college.” You fell silent as you listened to your husband explain his past experiences with Ivar Lothbrok. “He was apart of this secret society; he was into some creepy fucking cult shit. And, he used to describe fucked up things to me that he did and I still don’t even know if they were true or not. He told me about these girls he was…” your husband trailed off abruptly. “What?!” You desperately questioned, urging him on. He sighed again. “Girls he was following; stalking around campus. I found a box full of pictures he had taken of said girls without their knowledge, as well as some… personal items of theirs. He was just a real sick and real disturbing guy. The only reason I accepted to meet him tonight was because I was afraid of what he was capable of if I did upset him in some way. Understand?” You only shook your head in disbelief. “And you included me in this? In meeting your psychotic roommate?” You stated more so than questioned. Your husband opened his mouth to speak, to object; but quickly closed it and nodded silently in defeat. You both sat there in the ominous silence then, all the way back home.
At home, you tried to find comfort in your husband’s arms. Growing strangely tired. One thing lead to another and you were sloppily beginning to kiss and grope him, yet he only pushed you away. “I’m, uh, i’m not exactly feeling up to it tonight, honey.” Your frustration from earlier in the evening with him and the sting of this sudden rejection forced you to push yourself out of his arms then. “Well you can sleep out here on the fucking couch then!” You had exclaimed before storming off to bed. You hadn’t wished to sleep alone after the extremely creepy evening but he was continually forcing your hand tonight. You fell into bed and quickly into the deepest sleep it had seemed, you had ever been in.
You had dreamt of Ivar that night. He was holding you down under the weight of his body as he growled like a wild beast above you. He had restrained your wrists with only his hands and was ramming into you ferociously. The darkness of your room shadowed his face but his eyes seemed to shine dangerously in the pitch black. You screamed out his name as he fucked you and he moaned in response before removing his hands from your sore wrists to hastily wrap around your throat. He slowly but surely began choking you out. Those same fiery eyes burning into your own.
You awoke, gasping and clutching at your throat. You had tears in your eyes as you desperately searched the dark room for any sign of an intruder. You reached out to turn the nearby lamp on and found the room, much to your relief, empty. You understandably found it hard to fall back asleep that night.
In the morning you noticed some strange cuts in your skin that you had failed to notice yesterday. You briefly wondered how they had appeared at all, only to disregard it as something you had clumsily done without your knowledge the previous day. As you made your way into the bathroom you noticed, quite alarmingly that your neck was slightly bruised up as well. What exactly had happened last night? You found your memory very vague, oddly enough. One memory that had failed to leave your mind though was the memory of Ivar. You shuddered at the thought of him, once again.
—-
Weeks had flown by and your husband was absent most nights for work, leaving you completely on your own. You found yourself dreaming of Ivar fucking you, almost on every single one of these nights, disturbingly enough. It terrified and disturbed you greatly. Each dream had grown more steamy and more violently deranged. You had honestly considered visiting a psychiatrist at this point. In some dreams, Ivar would have you shackled and begging for mercy as he cut into you with a blade and fingered your dripping cunt all at the same time. Some other nights, he was gentle; he caressed you and called you sweet names as his sweet kisses lingered on your neck. You were disgusted at how these pornographic dreams of yours actually turned you on sometimes. You shamelessly touched yourself some mornings at the heated memories. You had also noticed the strange, increasing number of cuts on your body every morning. What exactly were you doing to yourself in your sleep during these dark dreams?
You could of sworn that you actually saw Ivar throughout that day a couple of times as you ran your errands. Secretly, watching you with those eyes that continued to haunt your dreams. But you passed it off as your overactive and apparently now, Ivar obsessed imagination.
You remembered what your husband had said about him, stalking other girls. You thought about what it would be like if he were to actually stalk you, everyday. You wondered what a borderline psychopathic, stalker would picture while eye-fucking you from a distance. Perhaps he pictured everything that he had already done to you in your dreams. It gave you a dangerous thrill; an unnatural and wrong feeling of your own psychotic lust. Your own mental state could not of been well if you continued to get off on the thoughts of the frightening stalker forcing himself on you and watching you as you unknowingly went about your day.
—-
As the number of nights your husband was absent increased, you continued with these fantasies outside of your dreams. You felt lost; undesired, stupid, pathetic and unhealthily miserable with his absence. You then wondered if Ivar had perhaps started stalking both you and your husband before the uncomfortable dinner that night. How long had he been watching you before that night? You gasped slightly at the thought. Just how long has he been desiring you? You knew it was ridiculous and that he probably wasn’t even following you or thinking of you even remotely as much as you were oddly thinking of him; but the thought was ever sweet and it turned on the lonely and pathetic woman you had become. The feeling was increasingly dangerous.
You awoke one morning with the sun in your eyes. You could tell that it was a hot, sticky day that called for a freezing cold shower. You weakly smiled at the idea. Entering the bathroom and turning the tap on full blast on cold; you could of sworn you heard a sound coming from down the hall only to disregard it as the common creaking of your house.
You stepped into the shower and sighed as the cool water ran over your body. A few minutes in and your mind couldn’t help but wander to your ever absent husband before quickly back to your supposed dark, pursuer, once again in place of the concerning issues of your current relationship. You drew a shaky breath at the memory of the dangerous game of cat and mouse you wanted so desperately to play. You had grown reckless within your now very dark imagination.
You closed your eyes as the water ran over your face. You could have sworn you had felt his eyes on you right then, as you basked in the water. It was impossible, but the dark thought turned you on all the same. Your hand slowly slid down to your wet cunt. You circled your clit as you imagined him sitting and watching you right then and there, in your bathroom. You wanted to put on a show for his prying, perverted eyes.
You moaned quite loudly as you began fingering yourself; thrusting your fingers deep inside your slick sex then. Your other hand found the shower’s wall to steady yourself as the water continued to run over your head and now gasping mouth. Your moans grew desperate as you pumped your fingers in and out; faster and faster. “Mmm, Ivaaar. Are you watching me, Ivar? Do you want to fuck me?” You laughed and quickly moaned out his name as you grew closer and closer to your breathtaking orgasm. “Ivaaar.” You bellowed out his name again and you swore you could you hear his own moans right outside the shower; watching you intently while he brought himself to his own release. You gasped. “You want to fuck me, don’t you?” You laughed again, whimpered and moaned as you finally brought yourself to a sweet release. For some terrifying reason you wanted to hear his voice then, cutting through the silence of your solitude; responding with a chilling “yes.” It scared you to imagine that voice answering you but at the same time the thrill of it drove you completely mad.
You shut the shower off then, trying to catch your breath. The bathroom door creaked as if someone had bumped into it slightly and your eyes shot open to look at the still, very much empty doorway. More sudden bangs and creaks came from down the hall and you were more than sure you had even heard your front door creak open. You began to feel that same panicked feeling that had continued to haunt you these past few weeks, but you hastily told yourself, once again, that it was nothing more than your own, imagination.
—-
“I cheated on you.” The words felt like a knife stabbing a million little holes into your poor, little heart. You stared up at your husband in complete shock as you got ready for bed. “What?” Was all you could manage to get out. He stood awkwardly in the doorway of your room and avoided your eyes completely. The growing rage, feeling of betrayal and need for revenge took over then.
“I dream that your fucked up, creep of an ex-roommate fucks me every night.” You blurted out and you watched his head snap up to look at you in utter disbelief. “I dream that Ivar fucks me every night while you’re gone. While you’re gone, apparently fucking other women, and I… I like it. In fact I fucking love it. All the sick things he does to me in those dreams, I fucking love it! I touch myself to the thought of him in your absence every morning now. I want him.” You watched your husband’s eyes quickly change from disbelief into complete disgust as he listened to your own, sick fantasies about Ivar.
“What?” This time it was his turn to ask the disbelieving question. “Get out.” You responded through gritted teeth. He stared at you for a minute more before finally complying and storming out of your room.
—-
He watched you from his dark, dim lit corner of the moody and unconventional little bar. The light from his cigarette illuminated your now favorite deep, blue, predatory eyes. You sat alone; feeling those same eyes on you, yet ignoring the growing feeling of nervousness that was slowly manifesting into pure terror as well as arousal. You downed your third tall glass of wine and avoided glancing in that direction altogether. You had lured the predator out into the open now, he was waiting and watching you with hungry eyes.
He had never tried anything on you, yet. He only watched. You could feel those eyes on you constantly now; everyday undressing you and perhaps picturing you in many lusty, sadistic and psychotic little fantasies all too familiar to him in his own deranged mind.
You paid the bartender for the third glass of wine before taking a breath and standing up from your place at the bar. You could feel his eyes, never leaving you. Before you could comprehend exactly what you were doing; how much danger you were getting yourself into, you had stormed past his dark corner and pushed the bar door open to enter the freezing cold world outside.
Your unhealthy obsession with Ivar had only grown these past few months now. You were sure he was the one following you around and tonight at the bar only confirmed it. He was all you continued to dream about. All you thought about. He frightened you to no end. He turned you on. You had decided that you had had enough trying to fight all of these conflicting feelings. You had grown desperate. You just needed him now. You needed to feel the psycho deep within you, caressing you, desiring you, loving you all the same.
You finally arrived home, making sure he was following closely behind you the whole walk there. You left your front door unlocked and wide open as you began to strip naked, walking slowly towards your bedroom. Your breathing grew heavy and your vision blurred from your blind lust. You were completely naked now as you turned to lay down on your back on the king-sized bed; waiting just for him.
Your breath hitched as you heard a few creaks and the sound of him moving through your living room, towards your bedroom. Your eyes rolled back as you readied yourself for him to enter your open doorway. You heard his chair stop at said doorway and a low, dark chuckle emanated from him at the sight of you. You moaned. “Look at you. Ready just for me. Good girl. My beautiful, precious, good girl.” His voice was low and dark and something about the tone made you immediately regret what you had done. You longed for nothing more than to run now. Ivar was a psychopath. Your husband had warned you beforehand. Ivar could kill you without a second thought.
Your regretful thoughts were interrupted then as you felt the bed dip and Ivar’s large body suddenly on top of you now, pinning you down just like in your dreams. Strangely, exactly like in your dreams. You stared up at his perfect face and the dangerous eyes; mesmerized and frightened. You felt cold steel around one of your wrists then as Ivar secured handcuffs on you, connected to the bars of your bed. Panic was indeed taking over completely now. “I-Ivar.” You tried to suddenly plead but a hard, quick slap to your face shut you up then. You gasped as tears began to fill your eyes at the stinging sensation. “Do me a favor, and shut the fuck up.” He spoke harshly down to you and you found yourself longing for that more gentle and loving Ivar that was present in most of your previous dreams. But this was a psychopath, you had to get that through your thick skull, he might never be loving and gentle with you; he might just end up killing you tonight.
You sobbed under him as he restrained your other wrist with another pair of handcuffs. He then secured both of your ankles so you were spread open wide and completely at his mercy. “How pretty you look.” He sneered as he kissed your ankle before crawling back on top of you. He leant down, and his breaths were hot on your face as he eventually positioned himself right next to your ear; his unique scent filling your nostrils completely and making you let out an involuntary moan. “I remember exactly how you looked the first night I touched you, while you lay in this very bed. You were completely unconscious.” Your eyes widened in realization. He had been in this room before. Every single night in fact. Those cuts were from him. The bruises around your neck were from his hands actually taking pleasure out of choking your sleeping form. Those dreams you had touched yourself to every morning, were real. “H-how?! You-you fucking bastard, you creep! You fucking psychopath!” Another hard slap to your other cheek silenced you, yet again.
“You always made it so, damn easy to drug you, sweetheart.” He spoke softly now as he stroked your cheek and looked down at you adoringly. You tried to move your head and shake his disgusting, fucking hand off of you. “It started that night, at dinner with your pig of a husband. I slipped a little something into your glass of water before you had even arrived. That night I had a wonderful time fingering and exploring your precious cunt. Fucking your unconscious body. I made sure to leave many pretty marks all over you as well to remind you of who you truly belonged to. I would visit you every night, my love. And I must say, hearing you moan my name in the shower that one morning; you can believe I fucked you hard that night.” You were shaking uncontrollably now at the thought of him entering you every night without your consent or even your knowledge. You hated yourself immensely for still feeling the hefty effects of your arousal, dulling your senses along with the alcohol in your system. You were speechless as he continued speaking with a now very large and crazed grin.
“I love you. And oh, did you make it so easy for me to get to you. All those other girls in the past I had watched; they were nothing compared to you, my love. My world. How beautiful you were when you had not a clue that my prying eyes were consumed with fucking you.” He laughed darkly again before leaning down to plant a sweet sort of kiss onto your lips before suddenly biting down on your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. You cried out and he pulled away again; your blood evident on his own plump lips. “Those other girls lost my interest much too quickly, and I enjoyed watching the life slip out of their judgmental, fucking eyes as I gutted them and left them for dead in some trashy, little alleyway. Where they belong. They didn’t enjoy the attentions of the 'crippled freak.’ But don’t worry, my love, you could never bore me. I promise. For you are all mine now, to keep, to do with what I please.” You squirmed under him and whined. The threat of death, the realization of his violations, the arousal, the pure and utter fear; it was all beginning to be too much to handle.
“Hm? You want me to fuck you while you’re conscious now? Do you want to scream my name? Beg for mercy? Beg for release?” His eyes grew dark again; swimming in his crazed lust as he spoke and grabbed ahold of your throat. He had taken a moment to gaze into your fearful and lust filled eyes before licking his lips and catching your trembling mouth in a overly rough kiss now. He crudely invaded your mouth with his tongue, not giving you a proper chance to react. He then took your bottom lip between his teeth and bit down to taste your blood, once again. His eyes rolled back and he let out small moans and low growls at the coppery taste.
You shut your eyes tight in response to the pain; whimpering. Another slap made you yelp then and your eyes shot open to meet his. “Don’t you dare take your fucking eyes off of me while I break you.” He had warned you then in a strangely, sweet sounding voice. You fought the tight grip the handcuffs had on your wrists, longing to cradle your now stinging cheek.
You suddenly felt something cold on your throat and you halted your struggling completely then. Ivar had his favorite blade that he had used on you countless nights before, at your neck this time, ever so slightly digging in and threatening to spill even more blood. You opened your mouth to begin begging only for him to land another hard slap on you. You felt your tears begin to leak from your reddening eyes as you sobbed and tried to beg for him to stop. “Shut your fucking mouth! You don’t get to open that pretty mouth of yours unless my tongue or cock is down deep within that pretty throat.”
He quickly began to kiss you up and down; suddenly worshipping your entire body. You continued to squirm to try and get free. “Shh, i’ve seen all of you already; all you have to offer. I’ll gladly enjoy possessing it and keeping it for myself. All mine, forever.” His crazed eyes widened at the thought of “forever.” You could only continue to sob in response to “forever.”
As if the thought of you being his little fuck toy for all eternity was too much for him to handle, he began hastily undoing his belt with the hand that didn’t hold a knife to your throat. As soon as his jeans were down, he forced himself into you, grinning madly at how wet you were. “That’s right, mine. You’re all mine. Just feel how wet your cunt is for me. We are meant to be together!” He chuckled as he continued to ram harshly into you. His other hand slid the knife slowly down your body. leaving it’s signature mark on your skin. Painting a picture he was very, very used to painting now. “Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine, mine.” He muttered the same word over and over, madly under his hot and heavy breaths until it had lost all meaning.
Your tear filled eyes rolled back into your head as you tried to stifle a moan just to spite the crazy fuck. His hard thrusts deep within you mixed with the sharp, stinging pain of him cutting you open slightly made it very difficult to hide your immense pleasure though. Soon enough, your moans escaped you and it only made Ivar thrust into you harder while beginning to laugh manically all the while. “Do you know what I did to your cheating fucking, dog, prick of a husband?!” He asked as he continued to fuck you, making the bed slam into the wall over and over, his hair falling out of his secured bun and into his eyes. Your eyes shot open again at his words. Full of fear.
He leant down to whisper breathlessly in your ear again. “You know what I did to him? Hm? Can you guess? No? I cut his repulsive, fucking head off and left it on the doorstep of the whore he was fucking in place of you! It was a long, long time coming for him.” He whispered sadistically into your ear as he continued to mercilessly fuck into you. He threw his head back and continued to laugh again at what he had apparently done to your husband. You let out a cry in response. “No! No, no, no! Fuck you, Ivar. Ivaaar.” You sobbed but moaned out his name in the end, just like he had wanted as you felt your mind numbing release take over. He moaned and growled ferociously in response before releasing into you.
Ivar rolled off of you to the side, still breathing heavily. He wrapped his large arms around you, cradling you then. You weeped and he hummed. “I love you.” He repeated. You could do nothing as he soothingly ran a hand through your hair and began kissing your neck. “I love you.” He continued. “You’re mine. Say goodbye your friends, your house, your job. Say goodbye to your life. It belongs to me now.” He smiled into your neck and you could only shut your heavy eyes in response as his warmth and his protective arms around you, his heavy breaths and the steady beat of his heart sent you into a deep unconsciousness. You were his. There was nothing you could do. You were his and you were solely responsible. This was all of your fault. You were his.