#Viking au

[partygetsmewettexxx]

Um helloooooooo?!?!?!!!! I literally love this!?!!!?

the people have spoken so here is viking soap and a bonus creep

[missallanious]

Jojo’s Bizarre Viking AU

Okuyasu and Josuke Meet - Oneshot

Okuyasu Nijimura crouched in a tree, watching through the leaves as two figures approached the stream bank. His brother, Keicho, was on a different branch, also watching. The two figures (one boy and one man, judging by their statures), were chatting quietly and split up, searching the plants in and around the stream, plucking some every now and then and calling out their discoveries to each other. Okuyasu turned to his brother, looking for a sign of any kind. Keicho, for his part, looked delighted, and held up a hand for Oku to wait. At least, that’s what Okuyasu hoped it meant. Sometimes he got Keicho’s hand signals wrong, and had the scars to show for it.

His brother quietly pulled out his bow and an arrow from his quiver, taking aim at the smaller figure below.

Oku knew this plan, and breathed an inward sigh of relief; his brother, using his prowess with long-range weapons, would take out one of their victims, and it would be up to Oku and his close-range fighting style to take out the other one. Then, they would steal all they could from their downed opponents. He glanced between the two people puttering around the burbling stream, and wondered briefly why his brother was choosing to aim at the smaller boy. The other man, taller and well built, seemed like the better one to be taken out first. Maybe his brother meant to fire a warning shot, scare away the smaller one?

That thought was quickly dashed as Keicho loosed his arrow, striking the boy and felling him instantly.

Oku squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away briefly. He wished they didn’t have to fight, to kill, but his brother was on a mission of some kind. And Oku was too stupid to fend for himself, so he stayed.

Oku shook himself and readied to jump down from his perch, to start what he knew to be his duty of fighting the other his brother hadn’t taken out. But Keicho’s hand was suddenly on his shoulder, stopping him. Looking gleeful, Keicho pointed to the tall man on the ground, who Oku now noticed showed no signs of noticing his fallen comrade. Keicho practically slithered down the tree, creeping over to where the boy had collapsed, and quietly dragged the prone form into the woods behind the tree Oku as still perched on.

Okuyasu watched, confused, as his brother began to rifle through the body’s pockets and pouches, dumping things unceremoniously on the ground, searching. Then, a shout.

The man had finally noticed his missing companion and, judging by his frantic steps forward, had also seen the faint remains of blood swirling in the stream waters and smeared on the bank, leading back to where Keicho still crouched. Keicho glared briefly at his brother before turning back to his task, leaving Oku to do what he did best.

Fight.

Okuyasu leaped down from the tree, landing with a splash in the water, effectively blocking the path of the searching man. Who, now that he was closer, Oku realized was slightly taller than himself and had piercing blue eyes. Instinct, as it so rarely did, took over for Okuyasu, and he leapt forward instantly. His first punch landed, striking the other’s jaw and knocking him backwards, and then the fight was on.

His opponent, though taken by surprise and staggered by the first blow, gave as good as he got. Okuyasu found himself nearly being pushed back by the onslaught of blows, his own breaking through occasionally and striking the other’s face, chest, and stomach. The second he had to take a step back, nearly losing his balance on the slick rocks beneath his boots, and the other man made a move to go around him, Okuyasu pulled out his one weapon.

It was an odd weapon, made by himself for himself, and only he knew how to utilize it; a strong cord, with a fair amount of length and secured to his belt, and a strong iron hook at the end. The hook was blunt and scuffed from years of wear, but did it’s job as wonderfully as a worn bone leatherworking tool.

Grabbing the hook, he swung with terrifying accuracy and snagged his opponent’s arm, yanking the cord to pull the man back into his waiting fists. With his other hand he caught the hook as it swung back, ready for another use. The man he was fighting looked shocked (understandably so), and was clocked again as Okuyasu threw the hook again, hitting his forhead with a sickening whack. Okuyasu once again caught the hook as he pulled it back, taking a firm stance between the man and his objective. To Okuyasu’s surprise, the man started to speak.

“Please,” his voice wavered for a moment, and he spat some blood into the stream, “please, I’m a healer! I need to save my friend, he’s my apprentice, I can’t— why are you doing this?” Okuyasu wasn’t prepared for this. The man was staring at him, eyes piercing and pleading even under the blood pouring from his forehead. Oku wasn’t great with words; hell, he wasn’t even good with thoughts. But this man was looking at him so earnestly that he felt compelled to speak (and he could practically hear his brother screaming at him to just shut up, Okuyasu, you don’t know anything!).

“I—we—“ he stuttered, before finding his voice. “My brother’s looking for something. He thinks your friend has it.” He clenched his jaw and firmly avoided the other’s eyes as he finished. “He’s already dead. I….I’m sorry. You should go while you can, I’ll tell my brother you beat me,” Okuyasu turned back to the man and felt as if he was punched in the gut by the sheer despair in the other’s eyes. He lowered his arms and started pleading.

“Please, just go! I’ll—I’ll make sure we leave your friend’s body, you can come back for it later! Just get out of here now, before—“ and then he felt his stomach hit his boots as an arrow appeared to suddenly be growing out of his opponent’s shoulder. Okuyasu whirled to face his brother, standing now, another arrow already nocked and ready to fire. He distantly heard a splash as the man behind him must’ve fallen into the water, but his focus was on the arrow that appeared to be aimed at him. Even knowing that Keicho hated when he spoke, Okuyasu felt that he had to try.

“Keicho,” he held his hands out and low, shoulders starting to hunch with nerves, “Brother, please, we should let him go, he’s a healer—“ Okuyasu was cut off as an arrow whizzed past him, clipping his ear and slicing his cheek. His brother’s cold voice rang out, and a whirring sound could be heard as his brother switch from arrow to his sling. He liked top use his sling on Okuyasu; hurt him, but less blood to clean up, Keicho claimed.

“I knew i couldn’t count on you, brother mine,” Keicho sneered. “You’ve always been too kind for your own good.” Keicho took a step forward, and something flashed around his waist. Before Okuyasu could blink, he felt the CRACK echo in his skull as the stone fired from his brother’s sling caught his brow. Okuyasu fell to his knees, clutching his face in pain, eyes spinning as he tried to focus. He could faintly hear steps around him; in front? Or behind? The splashing steps echoed in his ears and he couldn’t pinpoint them.

He still valiantly attempted to get back on his feet, protesting even as his brother kept speaking.

“Keicho, they’re healers, we shouldn’t—“

“If you wanted to be this noble, you should have thought of that before you became so stupid.”

“I’m sorry, brother, I know I—“

“You don’t know anything!! You’ve always been an idiot, but at least you would do what I told you! You’ve always been a burden to me; I don’t even see you as w brother anymore!”

A strong hand gripped Okuyasu’s chin and forced him to look up, meeting his brother’s furious gaze.

“Who took care of you all these years!?”

“You,” Okuyasu replied weakly, tears staring to burn as his brother’s words continued to cut.

“Who taught you everything, who kept you alive!?”

“You, brother, but—”

“Stop sniveling! If you’re not even going to do as I say then I have no use for you.” His brother drew back, face impassive as Okuyasu began to cry in earnest, begging his brother to please don’t abandon me, please, I’ll be good, but Keicho merely let go of his brother and turned his attention to the man Okuyasu had been fighting. He wrapped his sling back around his waist and again pulled out his bow and arrow, taunting the man.

“Don’t worry, your friend died quickly. I’ll make sure to bury you next to him.” Keicho nocked his arrow and aimed at the glaring man, who had managed to pull the arrow out of his shoulder, but was still clutching it as it bled.

Okuyasu was a few things; stupid, strong, and, if his brother’s words were anything to go by, a burden. He was also incredibly stubborn. So, as soon as the thought to save the healer entered his head, he was as likely to let it go as a starving dog letting go of a steak.

Before anyone could react, Okuyasu had swung his hook. It caught his brother’s arm and he yanked, managing to simultaneously aim the arrow away from the wounded healer… and make his brother fire. Which wouldn’t have been that bad, if Okuyasu wasn’t now in the line of fire.

The shot hit with a dull thwack, and Oku blinked at the arrow now settled firmly in his side. His brother started to scream at him while furiously nocking another shaft, the healer inexplicably also yelling at him? Okuyasu wasn’t sure why, exactly, but all thoughts were effeciantly overrun by the sudden ROAR from the treeline, just to the side of where the healer’s companion lay. All three men turned to the biggest bear any of them had ever seen, still belting out its roar as it pawed the ground. Keicho had time only to release two shots before the bear was upon him. Okuyasu, who was between the bear and healer, tried again to stand, yelling for the other to grab his friend’s body and run. He managed to get to his feet, albeit wobbly, and mobbed to take a step towards the bear and brother brawl ahead of him, when something tugged his arm and he fell back, landing firmly ion the grasp of the healer who quickly placed a vial of.. something, to Oku’s lips. He was too surprised to do anything but drink, and when the healer grabbed the arrow in his side and pulled, he let out a surprised yelp. He grabbed at his side, but was amazed to find that there was no pouring blood. No pain. And, amazingly, no hole in his side. The only sign that the arrow had, in fact, been inside his body, was the torn bloody clothing and bloody arrow now bobbing downstream. Okuyasu turned his scarred face to the healer, who seemed to be a bit pale.

“Why did you save me?” Oku couldn’t stop himself from asking. He has attacked the man, his brother had killed his friend! There was no reason Okuyasu could think of for the healer to, well. Heal him. The healer looked at him, something in his gaze that Okuyasu couldn’t place.

“You saved me first,” he replied. “You just…seemed to be a pretty great guy.”

Okuyasu didn’t have time to unpack all of that. So he didn’t.

Feeling much better than maybe he ever had, Okuyasu leapt into action. Grabbing the healer around the waist (ignoring the surprised grunt), he flung his hook at a tree branch and yanked with all his might, jumping at the same time. This effectively pulled them both out of the water and across, into the tree line. Still holding the healer, he flicked his wrist to free the hook as he sprinted past to the place he knew the healer’s apprentice to be. Gritting his teeth at the sight, he placed the healer down and briefly met his gaze.

“I’m sorry.” He said solemnly. “For everything.”

And before the other could respond, he turned and ran back to where his brother was fighting the bear.

The stream was now frothy and violent, the vicious swipes of the bear and stomps from both parties stirring up clouds of mud, mixing with the blood poring from various wounds and turning the water a dirty red. Okuyasu hesitated for only a second, before he saw an opening and jumped in. He flung his hook and yanked, stopping the bear from taking Keicho’s head off with its powerful paw, and splitting the attention between himself and his (wounded) brother. It roared again, enraged, and charged him. He pulled his hook back in time to hang it on his belt before the bear was on him, and he did his very best to keep it occupied. Punching its face, going for its eyes, grabbing the cheek skin to keep it semi-still as he went for its weak points. For the bear’s part, it clawed and bit and tried to disembowel him. He managed to dodge the worst strikes, but was still bleeding profusely by the time a shout rang out from behind the bear.

Keicho had righted himself, blood pouring from open gashes on his side and hairline. He took aim and fired an arrow right into the bear’s eye. It have an unearthly howl of pain and rounded on him. Keicho fired shaft after shaft into the charging behemoth, slowing but not stopping it. It reared up and roared again, another two arrows hitting the chest and throat area, before it stomped down, crushing Keicho with a sickening crunch.

Okuyasu would later swear he saw Keicho close his eyes as the bear fell on him, looking at peace for the first time in years.

The bear snuffled around a moment as its adversary stopped moving, then itself staggered and slumped into the water. Keicho’s arrow littered its body like porcupine quills, and it gave a last shuddering breath before it was still.

Okuyasu, now bleeding yet again from the bear’s claws and teeth marks on his skin, gave a broken sob and lurched forward. His brother’s body was still, half pinned under the monster bear, his head beneath the uncaring water. Oku splashed closer, hoarsely calling his brother’s name. He fell to his knees by his brother’s head, cradling it in his lap and trying to bring it above the water. He helplessly noticed that no bubbles were coming from his brother’s nose, no signs of life apparent, and clung to Keicho’s head, crying quietly.

The stream, now calm after the fight, burbled onwards, carrying away the blood and tears of the Nijimura brothers, and the lifeblood of the downed bear.

After what could have been an eternity, but equally could have been just a minute, Okuyasu began to hear voices nearing him. He raised his head, eyes and cheeks puffy from tears and head starting to throb with what he could only assume would be a terrible headache.

Maybe I used my brain to much today, he mused, then blinked as he saw the source of the voices round a big tree. It was the healer and — his companion? He was alive??

The taller healer saw Okuyasu and let out an excited yell, right as Okuyasu burst into fresh sobs. Both the tall healer and his small friend shared a concerned glance and rush to Okuyasu’s side; that only made him sob harder. When was the last time he had been comforted when he was crying? Keicho just used to smack him when he got too loud; at best, he would ignore Okuyasu and let him cry. But now, these two people were — and he had —

He faced the small boy (maybe man? He had boyish features, but some scratchy facial hair lead Okuyasu to think that maybe he wasn’t as young as originally thought), who looked alarmed at having a hulking, bawling, near-murderer give him any attention — and he started to apologize.

“I’m s-s-s-so sorry my brother almost killed you!! I should’ve stopped him, but I — I’m so stupid I couldn’t even tell him not to—!!” He lifted a hand off his brother’s chest and weakly reached out to the apprentice, who gracefully grasped it and tried to shush him, assuring him it was all right, he was fine now, and Josuke shouldn’t you do something about his bleeding?

Oku blinked, hiccuping as his tears slowed. “My name’s not Josuke, ‘m Oku?” He was, thankfully, observant enough to notice that the tall healer had moved to his other side, so he didn’t jump out of his skin when the other chuckled, shaking his head as he dug through a bag Okuyasu hadn’t noticed he was holding.

“My name is Josuke; that’s Koichi, my apprentice. And you’re… Oak-u, you said?” Okuyasu nodded, and as the two healers started discussing something with far bigger words than Okuyasu was used to, he suddenly found himself in a situation where he didn’t know what to do next. He had already apologized, the two— Josuke and Koichi, apparently— were fine, the bear was dead… and so was Keicho. He supposed he should bury him? He remembered, back when he and Keicho had lived with their old village, that there was some custom about…setting them on fire? He glanced around and, seeing all the trees around, firmly decided against it. Custom or not, he didn’t feel good about potentially setting the forest on fire.

He felt someone place a hand on his shoulder and turned, opening his mouth to ask what?, instead finding his lips occupied with another vial. Josuke’s fierce blue eyes brooked no argument and Okuyasu meekly drank the liquid. As before, he could feel an improvement as soon as he finished the draught, though not as intense as an arrow-wound healing completely. He was going to ask if Josuke was maybe a witch, or some other kind of magician, when the smallest among them spoke.

“Is it…dead?”

Oku saw Koichi glancing nervously at the bear, and gave a raspy chuckle. “Either it’s dead or playing the longest game of chicken I’ve ever seen,” he paused for a moment, before turning his head to face Josuke. “Oi, is… uh, do you know where I can bury my brother?”

The healer’s eyes then lit on the body under the water, Oku still cradling his head. His eyebrows jumped and he scrambled to his feet, once again reaching for his bag. Okuyasu waved him off, giving a mirthless laugh.

“No, no, don’t waste your supplies,” he traced his brother’s face lightly, brushing his eyelids more closed. “He’s been gone for a while.”

Oku sat up and began patting his body to check for wounds. Hmm, it felt like a rib or two was broken, and he didn’t like how his left ankle felt as he tested it, but aside from those all his other wounds didn’t feel too deep anymore. At least, not deep enough that he was lightheaded from blood loss. He got to his feet a little shakily, gently moving Keicho’s head to rest on the stream bed, and stuck his arm out to the taller healer, who was still crouched next to the bear and his brother. Josuke blinked his (really, amazingly blue) eyes in confusion, but just as Oku was beginning to feel like maybe he had overstepped and this healer might not want to touch the man who had been fighting him just a few minutes earlier, and his hand started to retract, the healer shot a hand out and grasped his.

Oku must have winced as he heaved the man upright, because suddenly the healer’s eyes narrowed and he stepped closer, starting the same patting routine Oku had just gone through himself. Okuyasu sucked in a breath as Josuke patted just a tad too fiercely on one of his (probably, definitely broken) ribs and the healer’s gaze shot up, scrutinizing him carefully. Oku gently brushed the hands away, giving a nervous little smile.

“I—I should get going. Got a brother to bury. And you guys should probably, uh, go back to your home.” he guestured to the bear. “You guys can have the bear? The fur’ll probably be nice to have, what with winter coming soon, and bear meat ain’t half bad if you cook it right…” Okuyasu trailed off in confusion, watching for a moment as Josuke’s hands continued to pat around his torso and arms. After a beat of silence, Josuke finally glanced up and met Oku’s eyes. The healer froze, then sheepishly drew back his hands.

“Sorry? Habit, I guess. Are you sure you don’t want me to…?” He guestured to Oku’s ribs.

Oku, in turn, shook his head and glanced away, sizing up the bear and its position pinning his brother below the water. He patted his ribs subconsciously, wondering how he would be able to move the behemoth if they really were broken. “No, thank you, I don’t think I should bother you any longer,” he shot a lopsided grin to Josuke, the scars on his face tightening and pulling with the movement, “you’ve already been nicer to me than I think anyone else I’ve ever met,”

The healer’s face did something, but the expression was gone before he could ask about it, and then he was talking again so Oku couldn’t be bothered to focus on a micro-expression.

“Can I at least get your name? Your full name?” Josuke asked.

Oku was too surprised to think of why that may be a bad idea, so instead he simply said “Okuyasu Nijimura,” and the healer nodded to himself, mouthing the name quietly, before he turned back and stuck out his hand.

“Josuke Higashikata, village healer, at your service.” Oku stuck his own hand out, starting to say that, as nice as Josuke had been and as wonderful as it was that he was offering his services, Oku really hoped they never met again because he had a bad taste in his mouth from attacking an innocent civilian and a healer, but he never finished his thought as Josuke yanked him within range as soon as their hands were clasped, and delivered a swift uppercut to his chin, effectively knocking him unconscious.

[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.

[andromacheofappalachia]

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.

[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. 

[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 💙

[loganbcrnes]

Bound by Instinct

The storm had barely passed, but the air was still thick with the smell of smoke and blood. The sound of clashing swords and the shrill cries of villagers echoed through the once-peaceful village, now under the wrath of a berserker raid.

Wolfbear Syverson, his tall, muscular frame with his hair splattered on his chest, cloaked in the shadows of a bloodied sky, moved like a predator among his pack. His eyes, feral and wild, scanned the chaos around him, the primal instinct to conquer and claim driving him forward. His pack of berserkers, fierce and untamed, followed him like wolves in the hunt. They tore through the village with the speed and brutality of a storm, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.

But Sy’s eyes were sharp, his senses keen, and amidst the war cries, there was another sound—a distinct cry, one that didn’t belong to any villager, but to someone in torment. His head snapped toward the source, and the scent hit him almost immediately—the sharp tang of fear, pain, and desperation. It was the unmistakable stench of tortured slaves.

His jaw clenched as he followed the scent, his pace quickening. The villagers hadn’t hidden you away for protection; they had imprisoned you and the others for their own cruel amusement. From within the cage, you and the rest of the slaves bore the marks of their brutality—bruises, open wounds, broken spirits. Some were too weak to lift their heads, while others whimpered as fresh blows rained down upon them.

Syverson’s pack fanned out, cutting down anyone who dared stand in their way. He reached the site where you were held, his hands curling into fists as he took in the sight of you—filthy, bruised, shaking from exhaustion. Rage burned deep in his gut.

Without a word, he surged forward, his large hands gripping the iron bars and ripping them apart with a strength that seemed impossible. The metal screeched in protest as the door was torn from its hinges and flung to the ground.

The villagers around the cage faltered, confused at first, but they soon realized their mistake. They drew their weapons, but it was too late—Sy’s fury had already been unleashed.

With a savage roar, he cut them down without hesitation, his blade slicing through flesh like it was nothing. His berserkers followed, their war cries shaking the earth as they tore through the remaining enemies. The battle was over in moments, bodies left strewn across the blood-soaked ground.

You barely had the strength to move, your body trembling from hunger and exhaustion. The other slaves bolted the moment they had the chance, but you remained frozen in place, unable to process what had just happened.

Then his gaze landed on you.

It was like being caught in the sights of a predator—one with burning blue eyes, a towering frame, and the air of something untamed. The moment his eyes met yours, you knew that whatever had driven him to slaughter the villagers wasn’t just bloodlust. It was something else. Something primal.

“Come,” he growled, his voice low and guttural.

It wasn’t a request.

You hesitated, but before you could fully register what was happening, his large hand shot out and gripped your arm, hauling you to your feet. His grip was firm, almost searing against your skin, but not cruel. Your legs nearly gave out beneath you, but he didn’t let you fall.

He turned and pulled you along, his long strides making it difficult to keep up. The rest of his pack continued their destruction, razing the village to the ground, but Syverson was already leaving, his focus entirely on you.

The dense forest loomed ahead, dark and quiet in contrast to the fiery wreckage behind you. You didn’t know where he was taking you, didn’t know if this was another form of captivity, but your body was too weak to resist.

After what felt like hours of walking, you arrived at the entrance of a cave, carved into the side of a rocky hill. Inside, the scent of damp earth and animal pelts filled the air. A fire burned low in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls.

Syverson released your arm, but you didn’t dare move. You watched as he removed the heavy fur cloak from his shoulders, his sharp gaze never leaving you. His expression was unreadable—wild, intense, something between curiosity and possession.

Then, after a long moment, he grunted and nodded toward the furs piled near the fire.

“Rest.”

It was the only word he spoke, rough and unpolished.

You hesitated, still trying to understand what was happening. He had slaughtered the ones who tortured you. He had taken you from that hell and brought you here. But why?

Your body ached with exhaustion, your mind spinning with confusion. Yet, as you stood there beneath the weight of his stare, you realized one thing: whatever had happened back in the village, whatever instincts had driven him to take you…

You were his now.

[erithel]

Viking Husbands. Gift art for a friend.

[missallanious]

Uhm?????? They????????

[wherethewolfsbaneblooms]

Jarl Dimitrescu Resident Viking AU. Coming soon…

[andromacheofappalachia]

If anyone has a fic where Viking!Ghost and Viking!Soap steal reader away in a raid or even Viking!141 taking reader in a raid, please send it my way 🙏🏼

[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