#Viking au

[missallanious]

Local Jobros questioning their respective Jojo’s sanity (and character judgement) as they compare notes on how they met/became friends

Set in my silly lil Viking au because they canonically interact 😔🤌

[wherethewolfsbaneblooms]

The jarl awaits, basking in the glow of a full, highland moon. What will you offer her, should you accept her invitation?

Keep an eye out for Shield Me Chapter 7 in the next few days. For now, have Jarl Dimitrescu lounging in the moonlight chin up titties out.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Prey 2

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, includes violence, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: while out on a hunt, you become the hunted.

Characters: Kraven the Hunter (viking AU)

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

Voices stir in the air with the taste of salt. The coast isn’t far. It hardly matters where you are. You know it’s far from your mother’s hovel. What’s more, you are trapped. Bound and draped over this man’s shoulder like a slain deer. 

You writhe, trying to kick free of his grasp. He keeps his arm firmly hooked around your legs. In response to your struggle, he strikes your haunch. You grumble and exhale against his hide jacket. From his other shoulder, a bunch of rabbit dangle; the ones he stole from your traps. 

He is silent still. He grunts but it is not angry. It is dulcet, as if he is amused. 

You wiggle again, trying to see past him as the murmur grows louder. There are others near. The mulch of dirt beneath boots and the stakes set between lengths of rope suggest a camp. A figure approach but you are blinded by the back of your captor. 

“We discovered scavengers near the forest. They have been dispatched.” The man informs the one who carries you. A similar grumble meets the news. “They are rampant in these parts.” 

Yet another dull rumble. He proceeds past the other with undaunted steps. By your measure, he is deferred to, if not a leader, at least a feared warrior. 

You turn your head this way and that. Pits burn beneath boiling pots or simply amid the cluster of bodies whetting blade or carving bone. A whole horde of warriors like the one who ensnared you. They glance back at you and several give pause as they linger. 

There are women too but they pay little mind. They are dressed as the men are, sat beside shield and blade. You bend your knees in an attempt to ram them into the man’s ribs. You know it would do little to truly free you but as fate closes in, so too does desperation. 

On and on. Men look over and dip their heads or avert their gaze. Their reactions all but assure you of the sort of beast that carries you. 

He bends and enters a tent behind a pit. In an instant, you are swung up and back. You land on the ground so hard the air rushes from your chest. You wheeze as the man snickers. You cough and roll onto your side. Your fingers tingle from the tight binding around your wrist and your legs chafe in your leggings. 

He moves around you to sit on his pack. You watch him unsling the rabbits and unsheath a short blade from his belt. He diligently begins to skin his stolen game. For a moment, you wonder if you should be next. 

Silently, he carries on in his task until he is done. The prepared hare are laid in a wide wooden bowl. He stands and wipes the knife on his jacket. He comes close and squats as he presses the tip to his calloused finger. 

You stare at the knife then look at him. You lift your head and stare him down. He chuckles and slips the knife back into its sheath. 

He reaches for you and you scowl. He touches your cheek, his roughened fingertips brushing down to your chin. He cups his hand under your jaw and squeezes firmly. He makes you sit up as he examines you. He turns your head this way, then the other. 

He lets go and flips his hand. He brings his other up to pull apart the collar of your tunic. He clucks in his throat and yanks until the laces snap. You tense and try to shake him off as he stretches the fabric to look past it. He moves one hand to fondle you. He grunts as you do the same and stomp your feet towards him. 

He makes a noise between his teeth and taps your cheek then points in your face. You still. He feels along your chest and your torso. He kneads your stomach and frames your waist. You growl and gnash your teeth. He shoves his hand between your legs and hums. You twitch. 

“Healthy,” he appraises. The first word he speaks. His voice is silty like the shores. His blue grey eyes meet your glare and he smirks. “Could eat.” 

You’re not sure what he means. If you could do with a good meal or he could. He flutters his fingers before drawing away. He goes back to the bowl of rabbits and lifts it. He leaves, knowing you can’t do the same. 

You gulp. There’s no mistake to be made. It’s certain why you are here. You are game too but your end is not so swift as the hare. 

The warm of his hand clings between your legs. It makes you shudder. You look down at the slack tunic. Your heart pounds against your ribs. He felt that too. 

You curl your fingers but not all the way. The straps are too tight. Your legs ache from the friction between them and your spine throbs rigidly. You shift up onto your knees and wobble. You try to shuffle forward on knee and toe. You fall over with a thump and a groan. 

The man laughs from outside. You know is at your expense, that he can hear you through the hide walls. It is all futile, he knows it as well as you. But it isn’t funny to you. It is terrifying. 

You lay on the floor, beside the disposed pile of fur. You smell the blood. You close your eyes and shudder. You are not used to being the one caught in a trap. 

[forestshadow-wolf]

So Viking!Soap... with blue war paints streaking across his left eye, leather and fur war kilt (because he's 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿), and battle axe

You guys see my vision right? I mean Viking!Simon Riley certainly does.

Viking!Ghost... with a sheep skull war-mask, he wears thick, dark furs under his pauldrons and leather gauntlets, ulfberht sword he made himself at his side at all times

You- you guys see my vision right?

[gaysindistress]

Okay but imagine Viking simon and John????

Cod masterlist

Viking!Price is a quiet but vicious man. He’s the king that’s led his people to greatness after his predecessor allowed the Saxons to infest their home. He’s the king that slaughtered every last Saxon in Danmǫrk and cleansed the land with their blood. He’s the king that showed no mercy when the Saxon King begged for it. Viking!Price only lets a small smirk grace his face as he let his axe bury itself into the Saxon’s chest.

Covered with blood, Viking!Price spun around to his people and let out a victory cry when the Saxon’s body hit the ground. His people cried back and a celebration feast began shortly after. With mead, food, and pleasure flowed through his longhouse, he sat at his table and watched his people enjoy themselves. The Saxon’s body was left just outside of their walls so that everyone could see what would happen if he caught them. He chose to forgo the usual burial or even burning in favor of making an example out of the Saxon and thus letting the ravens feast on him.

That night an ally offered his daughter to Viking!Price as an offering to the almost god like Viking king. Viking!Price barely glanced at the eerily silent and still girl but grunted his approval and dismissed them with a flick of his hand.

Her father thanked him profusely for accepting his offering while she kept her cold eyes on the king.

However this man was not the great and mighty king his people believed him to be.

When the feast became a feast of flesh and pleasure, she snuck out of her room and found the Saxon’s body. Behind the several fighting ravens sat one that had remained perched on a log, watching the battling before it. Its small beady eyes found hers and cocked its head to watch her as she approached. She produced a pouch and threw it towards the raven, hoping that it would understand her request.

The raven glanced to the pouch and then to her, refusing her offer of coin. It scans her body and stops as it narrows in on her chest where her heart should rest.

“The king’s. You may have his.” She counters and the raven nods its approval.

A cry rings out from the longhouse causing the other ravens to fly away in fear.

The lone raven stares at the seemingly desperate girl. For a moment her cold eyes glow with hope but it fades as soon as it appeared.

Months pass as she waits for the right moment to enact her plan. The raven has yet to be seen again however she knows it’s not far away. Small shiny trinkets and pretty rocks have begun to collect outside her window. One night a bone shard craved into a dagger appears outside her window. The following dusk, she keeps it tucked between her breasts as the Viking!Price seeks her out.

His mind becomes occupied with chasing his own pleasure as she artfully moves atop of him. With his eyes shut and thoughts occupied with their joined bodies, she pulls the bone dagger out and readies it. A quiet call at the window draws her attention to her raven, watching and waiting for her.

She thrusts bone dagger into his chest and climbs off of him to allow the raven its space.

The valravn, her raven, tears into the chest of his won wager with his sharp beak and consumes the blood the king’s heart.

As the king’s body cools, the sound of bones snapping fills the room. She watches as her raven morphs into a giant of a man covered in blood and feathers.

That fleeting warmth returns to her eyes as she looks upon the valravn and slowly approaches him.

“What shall I call you?” She whispers to him while her hands come to rest of his cheeks.

“Simon.”

[amadenchart]

Queen Signý.

[OC: Signý]

Uncensored version on my SubscribeStar.

[doumadono]

Hey. Can you whip up a bit of smut with Viking Katsuki with dry humping? 😏

KVITRAVN - MHA VIKING AU

Bakugo had been away for a considerable duration. He, along with other warriors under earl Toshinori, embarked on another raid against a northern clan. Upon their triumphant return, Katsuki finally found a moment to spend with you.

Upon Katsuki's return, he swiftly discarded the thick fur from his shoulders and settled into a wooden chair by the fireplace to thaw.

You approached, offering him a cup of mead. "I'm thrilled you're back home."

Katsuki casually pulled you to perch on his knee — an ordinary occurrence between the two of you, a preference he delighted in.

As you settled on Katsuki's right knee while he sipped his mead, you immediately sensed the friction against your yearning core from his thick, woolen-covered thigh.

Unaware of the pleasure he unintentionally induced, Bakugo absentmindedly bounced his knee, while you subtly shifted to find the perfect position. Your attempts to align your clit with his thigh went unnoticed until your hips started rocking — initially gentle, then gradually intensifying.

Bakugo, facing away from you and watching people outside the window, remained unaware until he paused, observing your actions.

You got lost in the moment, emitting breathy moans until his rough hands anchored on your waist, bringing you back to reality. "Oi! Don't stop, little raven," he encouraged. His hands guided you, amplifying the rhythm as you ground against his thigh. With a gentle nudge, he instructed you to turn around.

Shy yet compliant, you removed your panties and picked the hems of your long dress, cheeks flushed and eyes avoiding his gaze. Returning to his knee, his calloused hands secured your hips, guiding you back into the intense grind.

"Look at you," he murmured in a darkened tone. "So eager to get off, tsch!"

You met his gaze, biting your lip.

He was visibly aroused, straining against his trousers. As you gained confidence, your hands on his broad chest, you rocked harder and faster, moans escalating, and you didn't care who could hear you.

Bakugo savored every detail — your hair, the grip of your hands, your pleasured moans, the pearls of sweat formed on your temples.

As your rocking grew wild, Katsuki lost control. His fingers dug into the flesh of your hips, matching your fervor, guiding you back and forth. "Cum for me, little raven," he urged, relishing your tremors on his thigh.

You screamed his name and rested your forhead against the crook of his neck.

Post-orgasm, he held you close, reveling in the aftermath. "So hot," he admitted, adjusting your position to straddle him. He encouraged you to rub against his dick, creating a visible bulge within his trousers. Observing a wet stain on his pants, he teased your lack of control. "Oi, little raven, you couldn't contain yourself from cumming already, huh? Quite the naughty one, aren't you?"

[leshiyy]

Vikings au

(or just photoshoot for the album cover))

[dr3adlady]

she mad at her husband😑

I've got a few words with other people who, like me, are fascinated with GRRM's writing and characters :) Apparently it's *trendy* to dunk on this ship and bully its shippers these days. It's beyond me why we should fight over every little silly thing. First and foremost, a Song of Ice and Fire is a hobby for me, and many others, and it should be treated as such. It should not affect our real life in a negative way. If you care immensely about lives of fictional characters to an extent that you find online bullying and insulting others for no real reason a 'moral' thing to do, I am seriously worried for you. It speaks of a certain immaturity when there are real problems in the world, when real people are being hurt, killed, thrown out of their houses, deprived of their human rights, etc, and some people here spend their lives fighting over some non-problems.

Sorry to rant, anyway, good day to everyone 💙

[maria-and-aguilars-codex-1492]

Viking AU where Viking!Gaz has given up raiding and now hunts and farms with his thrall turned wife reader who forages and weaves. The two are disgustingly devoted to the other despite their initial differences in everything from tongue to the land that each was born on. Soulmates in every sense. Isolated from the rest of the world aside from the eyes of the Gods. That is until Viking!Price appears within their field, flanked by Viking!Ghost and Viking!Johnny. Gaz feels true fear in that moment. The kind that sinks the heart and turns bones to stone. For the first time he has something to fear other than death and that is his fear for what would become of you. Should this be a raid. Should those men get their hands on soft, sweet you.

Price claims to only wish to trade for some food and a roof for one night. That they had merely stumbled upon the cottage. Gaz doesn't believe it at first--not entirely--until you notice that Johnny is injured and offer to tend to him. To allow them into your home.

Neither could have prepared for the fact that the trio did not just stumble upon them.

Or perhaps the even worse one, that they did not plan to leave either.

[missallanious]

Oku was flirting talking with a village girl and Josuke got jelly 😔

[wherethewolfsbaneblooms]

Jarl Dimitrescu Resident Viking AU. Coming soon…

[erithel]

Viking Husbands. Gift art for a friend.

[omniluci-estumbra]

“Hjartao mitt…it means my heart” 🔥❤️‍🔥🔥

Viking AU

I want to start doing more fanart for ongoing WIPs I love and White Wolf by DarkCloud190 has completely given me brainrot about loving, ax wielding, shifter Viking Draco soooo here we are lolol

ff: White Wolf by DarkCloud190 on AO3

[amadenchart]

Winterheart: Queensguard

In the later stages of childbearing - for her sake and that of their child - the Queen cannot accompany the King on his raids. However, the King always ensures to leave behind their best guards to protect what he holds dearest in life.

Alt (nud3) version on my SubscribeStar.

[callofdudes]

I made more because... Because! @aidenlydia again, this is their au but I'm eating it like fish sticks on a plate of mac 'n cheese. Getting this scene out of my head because I love them and I have nothing else to do waiting for dinner.

More Viking SoapGhost.

Ghost watched, his eyes unmoving as John wrote with his charcoal wood pen on some old pages. Geez it must have been four pages with three drawings and eight life updates.

Finally John signed the bottom of the pages and rolled them up with a string.

"You done??" Ghost asked flatly when He finished.

"Yes, now I need these delivered back to Roach."

"You say that like I'm going to do it."

John looks at him, nodding. "You are."

Ghost sighs and groans. "I'm not your dumb messenger bird." He grumbles, shifting closer and standing. John pulls his cloak tighter and chuckles softly. "Actually, you are."

He holds out the folded papers to a pouty Simon. "Go on, shouldn't be long now if you get to it." John encouraged.

"Fine, but I'm bringing back a tab worth my while for it." He grumbled, looking up at the big man.

"Mhm, and I'll happily pay."

Ghost shifted, black wings flapping in the air, snatching the papers between his talons. He squawked at John, who could only smile softly, barely noticable.

And watched him head off. Simon didn't actually mind doing errands for John. If anything the combined stretching of his wings and the inevitable praise he was going to get for completing the assignment would be worth it.

Oh yes indeed.

John kept the fire lit, watching the open snowy land as Ghost's small form had left his sight. He poked the fire, watching the embers flock to the wind of the cave mouth, then over at Ghosts bedroll.

He sighed softly, placing his hand on it, noticing a stray feather stuck to the inside. He chuckled softly, picking it up and twirling it around.

"Be safe, Ghost."

Ghost did as he promised, he made the incredible eight hour journey in the shitty weather back to their small village. Fucking between houses to the main hall.

Stopping at the doors, his feet hit the ground, heading up the stairs and pushing the knocker open.

The large door swing, creaking when he entered. A head poked up, followed by a little smile. "Well well well, hunting season is barely started and you're already back."

Simon rolled his eyes softly, coming over and dropping the roll of papers. "From MacTavish."

"What is it??" Roach asked, undoing the twine.

"Hell if I know, I may be a crow but I do not snoop."

Roach gave him a look, and Simon sighed. "Ok not this time. But I was damn curious."

Roach chuckled softly. "Alright, I'll look these over, you go get some rest. Probably had a long trip."

"Well I got permission to run up a tab so I'm gonna go get my arse drunker than a bat in honey." He flipped the end of his cloth mask back over his shoulder to keep it secure. Heading back to the door and out to go get absolutely hammered.

And you don't want to see a shifter drunk, it's not always pretty. But Ghost has been starting to learn that eighteen drinks is when John has to cradle the poor crow with his talons straight out and wings a mess as he takes him home.

And of course, by the time Ghost had slept off the drunken night Roach had something new written up for him. Returning to the hall and taking the papers.

"Will you be alright to fly?? You look a little..."

"Mmm I'll be fine!" Ghost mumbled, heading from the hall and taking off again. Damn messenger bird. John better congratulate him at least or he's never running him these stupid errands ever again.

It was late when he returned, but he saw the familiar smoke and a crackling fire. Flapping his wings and stretching out his talons when he saw a dark figure among the casting, wobbling shadows.

He latched onto John's arm guard, crooning his neck and fluffing his feathers before tucking them in.

John noticed the letters and gently took them, noticing the scratchy pen writing of Roach.

"Thank you Ghost, you've done very well."

Simon melted, making a little noise and hopping up his arm, craning his head to peck at John's beard.

"Yes, good work." John put the papers down to run his large, calloused thumb over Simon's small head, gently smoothing the feathers down.

Oooh yeah, this is so worth it.

He fluffs his feathers, nipping at his hand when he attempted to pull away. "Alright then, if you insist... Get comfy."

Simon cawed at him. He wouldn't be getting comfortable. Hopping onto the ground and shifting, noticing his bedroll slightly closer.

"You miss me or something?"

"Only warming the place where my cold heart will go after I see that tab." He mumbles as he turns his attention mostly onto the letters.

Simon smiles a tad, laying down and getting comfy. He looks around, then at the fire, watching the flames dance. His head slowly coming down, resting against John's thigh.

It was hesitant, but then again peaceful. The silence only filled by the crackling fire. Simon's head feeling a mess from the last of the alcohol and the flight until Johns hand gently touched his head.

He didn't react, keeping himself stiff as Johns thumb absentmindedly stroked his hair. Eyes still glued on the letters, reading them through.

Simon relented to relaxing, curling up and pulling John's cloak over him slightly. His eyelids felt heavy, and the soothing warmth of John's hand slowly had him coming undone.

Letting himself fall asleep there, letting out soft breaths.

John's gaze finally flickered over to his partner, humming softly. "Good work, Simon. Can always count on you."

He put the papers aside and leaned back, watching the entrance of their camp as Simon slept. He would keep watch, he'd gotten enough of his own rest for now.

It's shorter but hell that first photo had me in a coma. Yes, I am insane, yes, I will make more, respectfully if I'm allowed to keep gobbling up these meals...