#vikings drabbles

[sailor-aviator]

Viking!AU where the shieldmaiden says she "will not kneel for anyone". But she does love to kneel for her husband, Viking!Jake...

I was gonna write a one-shot for this, but we’re just going to talk about it instead because I think about it every day ngl probably because this was my area of focus for my minor lol

Imagine being a fierce warrior, a Viking, a shield-maiden. There aren’t many of you, but the few of you that there are command respect from the men around you. You aren’t a stranger to the ways of the rest of the world.

You know that the women of your culture are privileged in many ways, freer. You can choose your husband and divorce him just as easily. You can prove yourself in battle, earning your place in Valhalla alongside your fallen brethren and Odin, the Allfather, himself.

You kneel before no man.

Well, maybe just one.

Your lips pressed gentle kisses along the thighs of your husband, leaving a trail that led right to where he needed you most. His dick stood tall and thick against his stomach, the muscles in his abdomen tensing as you teased him, mouth coming so close only to be pulled away at the last second.

“Please,” he gasped, green eyes falling closed as his head fell back. Your fingers trailed up his thighs, scratching lightly at the skin as you smirked against him.

"What is it, my love?" You rasped, your smirk growing bigger as he let out a desperate whine, "what is it you want?"

"Your mouth," he gasped, eyes cracking open to fix you with a pleading look, lips parted in desperate pants. Your fingers gently wrapped around his length, stroking him slowly as he bucked up into your grip. You leaned forward, licking at his weeping tip and earning a low groan.

It made you feel powerful, knowing that this feared and respected warrior was reduced to a whining, babbling mess in your hands. You took him in your mouth, slowly taking more and more of him into your mouth until he bumped the back of your throat.

"Fuck!" He yelped, fingers gripping the bedspread in a death grip, one hand flying to tangle in your hair.

"Feel so good, my love," he groaned, hips lifting slightly. "Such a tight, wet mouth. By the gods, I'll never get enough of you."

You hummed at his words, the vibrations causing him to cry out once more, his hips bucking up into your mouth and sending more of his length down your throat.

You kneeled before no man, but your husband wasn't just any man, was he?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Common Knowledge 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, bullying, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Harald Halfdansson, tall & plus-size reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You unfurl the strip of legal pad, marked with Professor Halfdansson's messy and pointed writing. The usual scribble that has you squinting at your returned papers. He must be the only instructor in the college that still handmarks his assignment.

Like much of his style, his slanted cursive is chaotic. Often, his lectures or spiraling tangents about his trips to Norway or some mythos unrelated to the topic at hand. He is a well of knowledge, but one which is often overflowing and bottomless.

The subject is far from your first choice. You prefer history with a human subject. Your intrigue is those events which truly occurred, people who once walked the same earth as yourself. Mythos and belief is a human creation but it hardly captures your imagination.

Along your search for title jotted onto the scrap, you find several other books to sate your personal preferences. A book on the Beothuk and their demise and another illustrated index of Renaissance art. Finally, you find the rear corner of the store, the mythology shelves nestled behind Spirituality and New Age.

You hover your finger before the rows and lean in, squinting through your lenses as you search out the rather Nordic-sounding name. You sense a shadow at the end of the aisle but do not look over. You'll just be on your way once you-- there it is.

You pinch the spine of the deep blue tome and slide it out. The cover is stamped with gold runes and lettering, a viking helm the central image. You double-check that it matches the professor's scrawl, however you can never be sure as his Fs look like Ss.

You set it flat on your armful of book, balancing the weight with the rest as you crumple the scrap and tuck it into your pocket. It's a bit more than you want to spend but it will be useful in maintaining your average through Halfdansson's course.

The shadow comes closer and you shift out of the way for the approaching customer. You sidle away as they huff, a breath that fans around them. He leans into the shelf and you sense his head shift and his gaze follow your slow retreat.

"Ah, you are a fan of vikings?" He asks, stopping you in your tracks. "You must've watched the show, hm? Cute series but not very accurate, you know?"

You blink, taken aback but his tone and his assumption. It isn't the first time you've met the attitude in your chosen discipline. When it comes to military history or the lives of vaunted men, there is often an intonation towards female scholars. You have been dismissed more than once.

"Never seen it," you lie, "you seem the type though."

You note his snow white hair, a peculiar shade, drawn back into a half pony, and his blindingly pale eyes. He wears a tunic better housed in the closet of a LARPing club and looms with an air of indignation. He puts a thick hand on the shelf and leans, no doubt used to towering over others.

"Funny, that is the very book I came for," he intones.

"Oh, what a coincidence."

HIs jaw ticks and he snorts, "seems you've found quite the lot--"

"I have. A whole trove."

You go to turn away and hear his sole clomp down behind you, "surely you can grab another encyclopedia. I really need that one."

"Uh, no, this is what I need."

He follows you down the aisle as you keep a quick step, uneasy at how he trails you so fervently.

"Maybe you should grab another one."

"I have all the others. I've been waiting months for that to come into stock," he insists.

"Well, you can find a kiosk and order one in--"

"On a three month backorder," he interjects and grabs your arm. "I'll pay you--"

You spin back to face him and hit his chest with your books, "don't touch me."

"Well, just..." he retracts his hand, "hold up. I'm trying to talk to you. To barter--"

"I'm sorry, but I need this book for class," you hug the books and back up, overly aware of the tingliness from where he grabbed you. You don't like being touched. At all. You can feel your heart pumping.

"Does the school not have a library, little girl?"

Your mouth falls open. Little girl? This guy just can't help himself. You haven't been rude, maybe matter-of-fact, but he's been downright mean.

"Not for sale," you push your shoulders up and back away.

You twist on your heel and speed away. You weave between the shelves and discount tables and join the winding queue at the counter. You don't look back and sway in your boots, waiting your turn.

"I could give you several recommendations for an alternate text," the man appears at your side, crowding you inside the black cords that rein in the queuing customers.

You ignore him and turn your head away. You wish he'd just take a hint. If you heard a single please or any sort of respect, you might consider it. He's only been a jackass and judging at first glance, he's too old for that.

"You don't need it–"

You move with the line and he growls, shifting with you.

"Look, girl–"

You snap your head back and give him a glare. He sucks in one cheek and exhales heavily, "miss, I am asking you nicely–"

The associate at the counter calls for next and you take your cue. You quickly cross the space and put your haul onto the wooden ledge. You hear the pushy stranger snarl something under his breath. You refuse to look back as you hand over your membership card.

Men like that are the very reason you despise the general public. Hard to fathom how you can be so intrigued by the human condition when you can hardly bear to be around other people.

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐢𝐟𝐭

Fae folk had lived on this land since time immemorial, but for all the time you had lived in your little nook of the woodland, you had only seen one man brave the trail. And for his kindness to all who lay in his path, creature and legend alike, you wanted to give the hunter a gift.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ⇁ Viking!Bucky Barnes x Fae!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ⇁ 500

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ⇁ Fluff

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ⇁ I loved writing this.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ⇁ Algir — Tognatale by Warduna

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ⇁ @the-slumberparty One Word Drabble — Masterlist

𝑾𝑰𝑳𝑫𝑬𝑹𝑵𝑬𝑺𝑺 ⇁ 𝒂 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒓𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒕𝒊𝒗𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒉𝒂𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐤𝐨𝐠𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The Viking had unknowingly visited your home many times before, though it seemed he did not know, nor see you, watching from the protection of a bush.

Intricately braided dark hair adorned his head, woven amongst the ink decorating his scalp and neck - a warrior’s signet, you knew. Many men who had discovered your home bore the same intricacies, but never had you seen one like him. 

The pelt of a bear covered his broad shoulders, while a flowing black cape covered the leather of his armour. Your people had been forbidden to interact with such men many, many centuries ago, you knew this, but it did nothing to abate the temptation. 

His mount, a fiery steed with four strong legs and a thick neck, snorted proudly as the man urged him towards your creek; the loud hoofbeats echoed on the rocks like claps of thunder. 

“Easy, easy,” the man soothed. His voice sounded honeyed and rich. “Not long now, boy.” 

The steed turned and stomped his hoof as the man dismounted swiftly, with grace and an elegance that you had seen only in fae folk. Bloodied pelts littered the steed’s back, as well as cuts of meat - no doubt the spoils of the man’s hunt to take back to his people. 

You watched curiously when he neared a wide part of the creek, deep enough for rocks to litter the bed, as well as your gift; a pristine animal skull, white as ivory and bleached by the power of Sol.

The man knelt on to the grassy bank of the creek, and he paused suddenly. “What is this?” 

A strong inked hand reached forward from the cloak and into the flowing water of the creek, retrieving your gift with intrigue. His eyes were as bright and blue as the sky, crisper than ice, as they roved over the skull.

You gasped quietly when his focus turned to his surroundings, his dark hair flowing from his shoulders as he peered around. “Thank you,” he said, loud enough for his voice to echo through the trees.

The steed snorted and knickered loudly, and your gaze flickered from the man’s face to his horse, only to see the horse staring right at you, its ears twitching back and forth.

“What is it, boy?” The man pondered, standing from the bank to soothe his steed. “We will be home soon.” You breathed a small sigh of relief as you watched the man gather the steed’s reins in his hand and mount up, but it was short lived, for the horse did not look away when the reins were pulled taut. 

“Koma, boy,” the man insisted, scratching at the twitching ears of his horse. “What are you looking at?” He followed his horse’s gaze and found you, peering at him through a gap in the bush. 

“Ah, there you are, little mouse. Thank you, for the gift,” he said softly. 

At the Viking’s retreat, you couldn’t help but hope you would see him again. 

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[meraxesmoon]

Ok but... Ivar with a bastard daughter would hit

He wants children but its difficult with his condition, so when he finds out this blue eyed girl is is he is like: 🥺🥺🥺

I also think he really wants a baby girl, idk... He seems like a girl dad

Baby girl would love ubbe and hvitserk

It would also be so cute if she didnt realise ivars injury because he is so capable especialy with the crutches like

And ragnar (if he was alive) would loooooooove her, a blue eyed and brunette girl (thats his baby gisla)

Aslaug (if she also was alive)...Thats her fav grandbaby hands down

Lagertha would try to keep her distance but baby reader would NOT let her... She is so cool she would be glued to her side

She would be spoild with gold and jewls by ivar:

Ivar: sloth-face (hvitserk) that is for my baby daughter dont you dare break it 😡

Love vikings!!

AND SHE LOVES HER PAPA SOOOO MUCH!!!

Ivar would be such a good dad, I know this in my heart. I like the idea of baby! (name) being brought to Aslaug by her mother, and she's just like, here, here's your grand baby. Aslaug is so excited and immediately starts to dote on her new granddaughter! Ivar absolutely adores his baby. She literally has him wrapped around her little finger as soon as he meets her. Everyone was unsure if he was able to have children, so he's over the moon when he realizes he has a daughter.

Uncle Hvitserk is her favorite! Everyone in the family is absolutely whipped for her, but Hvits especially. He's constantly walking around Kattegat with his little niece on his hip, just carrying her around like a potato sack wherever he goes. I think it's pretty clear that Ivar is the closest with Hvitserk, so he trusts him the most with his daughter. Sigurd loves his niece, but he gets into arguments with Ivar all of the time, so Ivar gatekeeps her from him!

Remember how Aslaug is literally a princess? Yeah, her granddaughter is absolutely spoiled. Aslaug does her hair, putting jewelry in it and making sure she looks absolutely adorable every day. She keeps her baby in comfortable dresses when she isn't running around following her father and uncles. Aslaug lives for being a grandma, like actually. Don't even get me started on Ragnar.

He lost Gyda, but he saw so much of her in his granddaughter, it's almost as though she returned to him. I really like the idea of Ragnar settling down and just being a grandpa because I think he deserves that much. Ubbe and Ivar have given him little Lothbrok's to look after, and so he does. Ragnar was a farmer, so he often teaches his granddaughter how to farm and look for certain herbs.

I think Lagertha would definitely try to ignore her at first, but she's just too cute! We're talking about a woman who loves children, and once she gets comfortable enough, she co-grandma's with Aslaug.

Ivar is her favorite person, though. She loves her papa more than anything in the entire world and thinks he's the coolest viking. Ivar's daughter looks up to him as though he can do no wrong, and he never takes that for granted. Ivar and Aslaug are very similar in the way that they spoil her. Ivar wants to give his baby the world, and he makes up for that with gifts. Like, if his baby wanted the moon, he would give it to her if he could.

Viking girl dads >>>

i love aslaug sm, she was so overhated

[miss-madness67]

It Is You (Ivar The Boneless)

Ivar the Boneless drabble

Imagine you are the one that catches Ivar's eyes, not Freydis.

The crowd is overly excited by the army’s return to Kattegat, they had finally avenged the death of Ragnar Lothbrok. I had not taken long to recruit the great heathen army, and less to decimate the Saxons. Most of the hassle had been travel discrepancies and what to do after. Now with all that finally over, Vikings have a chance to celebrate victory. It is no surprise, then, when the great hall is completely packed with drunk people in the late hours of the night. The celebration of the great heathen army’s conquest is something to brag about, and Ivar the Boneless is doing precisely that.

You have never seen the Viking prince in person, considering that you are not a shieldmaiden, and could not go to avenge Ragnar. Also, you grew up in Ringerike, not Kattegat, thus you never encountered him during your childhood. You have heard the stories, though, not only the most recent ones about his victory against the Saxons, but also those speaking of his cruelty and quick temper. And so when you came to welcome your brother back from fighting in England, it was not in your plan to cross paths with Ivar the Boneless. However, once you entered the great hall, your destiny was entangled with his.

He is not the only man that stares at you more than he should, but his gaze is so intense that you can not shake it off. It burns through your skin like fire, stealing all of your attention from your brother’s words. When you look up, Ivar is already glancing your way. He does not smile or try to approach you like the rest of the men, he just stares.  His look is heated but not loaded with anger, it is something else. No one has ever gazed at you like that, it has such desire and amazement. It makes you feel like a goddess. So, while your brother is still talking, you leave his side to introduce yourself to the cruel prince. That is the first step that changes your life.

Tags: @cdauni @justsomecreaturewandering

[alicedopey]

Random thought: Harald pulling you close on a cold morning, asking if you're willing to spend the day keeping each other warm under the covers. - Zombie

In Bed with the King

(gif credits to its creator)

Fandom: Vikings Pairing: Harald x (Wife) Reader Genre: Smut(-ish) Words: 614 (Drabble) Warning(s): It's a little bit smutty people so don't like it, don't read it. A/N: I wanted fluff but Harald would not cooperate so it turned naughtier than I thought. Hope you will like it @thezombieprostitute

Your eyes fluttered open as the soft hues of the morning sun lightened the royal chamber. The snowstorm that has started yesterday evening was apparently done. It was still very cold though, you thought as you slid out an arm to rub the sleep from your eyes. A faint shiver ran through your body and you quickly put your limb back under the furs, meeting the hand of your husband resting possessively on your middle. You smiled and tenderly stroked his skin, enjoying the contrast between the two of you. He grumbled but pulled you closer and kissed your neck. The tickle of his beard made you giggle and you tried to get away from him. 

“Stay still, woman. Let me enjoy my morning kisses”. His lips followed a path down your neck and along your shoulder, sending shivers of pleasure through your whole body. His hand slowly glided along your upper body and stopped on your breast before kneading it.

“Harald, we have to stop”. You whispered though you did nothing to stop him and your body even started oscillating against his. 

“Why is that, my Queen?” Harald asked between kisses, never ceasing his sweet torture. His hand left your breast to travel down your body and you found the strength to stop him just as he was about to reach your sex. 

“Because, my King.” You inhaled deeply, fighting your own lust. “We have some duties to attend.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do.”

“No, we don’t.” He intertwined your fingers and kissed your shoulder again. “In fact, we are going to spend the day under those furs and keep each other warm.”

“Must I remind you there was a snowstorm yesterday and that our people…”

He cut you off with one of his hoarse and seductive chuckles. “Who do you take me for, woman? I’m not a heavy sleeper like you. I have been up since dawn with several of my men.” 

You let out a mock outraged scoff and managed to turn around so that you were facing him. “Really? An old man like you?”

Harald laughed heartily. He did not take any offense on this recurring banter between the two of you, especially because he only was a few years older than you.  “You did not think I was an old man last night”. He pulled you close and rubbed his nose against yours. “You even praised my stamina, if I remember correctly.”

“I admit you are insatiable.” 

“Only with you, my Queen. Only with you.” He kissed your nose tenderly. “As I was saying, my men and I checked the surroundings as much as we could. Most of us are stuck inside because of the snow. There is nothing we can do for the moment but keep each other warm. What do you say, dear Queen of mine? Shouldn’t we take advantage of this opportunity to work on our most important project: making an heir for the throne?”

His hand under the furs traveled down your body and hooked one your legs on his hip. You could feel his leaking tip against your dripping center which clenched around nothing. Letting go of your leg, he grabbed his cock and rubbed it against your cunt. A needy whimper left your lips and you slid your hand between the two of you to grab his sex and put it inside of you in a swift motion. He groaned as you let out another whimper, this time filled with want and need. Your breaths mingled as you got even closer and put your forehead against his. Your eyes met briefly, full of lust and naughty promises.

“Anything for you, my King.”

Tagging (feel free to ask to be added or removed): @naaladareia @gearhead66 @flowers-in-your-hayr @medievalfangirl @girlonfireice

[writingsofwesteros]

*types in guilty* 🥹 Oh shoot, I'm def writing this too late, feel free to ignore this request.

Clan or viking Harwin fucking you so primally, savagely in front of the others, kind of a bedding ceremony to show you belong to him. You're so out of it, but the way you're clenching around nothing when his cock leaves you tells him you need more. He takes you to his cave/tent/whatever, you're like a doll in his arms, mind still so hazy. But still, you clearly crave the pleasure he just gave you and who is he to deny you?

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

NSFW

The fire crackling around them began to come over your ears as the sounds were slowly becoming heard by you. Not that any of the words or cheers of the audience around you entered your mind as it only became more softened. You began to hiccup in pleasure; loud moans escaping you with ease as you gripped onto anything that could make you steady

Your legs began to shake at the intense feeling moving around your body as Harwin’s grunts echoed in your ear. His larger hands slowly moved up and down your soft skin as you bounced back and forth on his fat, throbbing cock. Harwin hummed; whispering sweet nothings in your ear as your eyes rolled back at the intense pleasure.

A sweet blush came over you at the louder volume of the audience. His fingers moved into your locks now and tugged back. A sharp gasp escaped you; echoing in the cold night as the breeze moved over your soft skin. Goosebumps easily moving over you with your soft, pink nipples pebbling for his eager fingers to touch.

His dark chuckles echoed in your ear once more as he leaned closer; his body weight pushing down onto you. The change of position only allowed Harwin to be that much deeper inside you. Gods, you could feel him everywhere, you thought to yourself. His larger hand snaked around your body now and pressed against the bulge in your stomach.

His thrusts only continued as you whimpered and moaned out his name like a prayer to the Gods. “Hmm, they will not help you now.” Harwin purred; his hot mouth soon on your soft, sweet tasting neck. The marks he always enjoyed leaving on you would be for all to see in the morning. The thought alone had you whimpering once more.

Your legs were beginning to shake now; your heart pounding in your ears as you still bounced back against him. “So beautiful..so good..” Harwin whispered; his own moans echoing into the dark evening without any care. You were shaking some more as he pounded away; his fat, mushroom head pushing deeper and teasing your sweet, spongy spot.

Your eyes fell shut as you clamped down on his twitching cock. Your climax was soon ripping through you under the moonlight. His dark chuckles only echoed even more in your ear as he fucked you through your orgasm. You knew it was to be a long night. His larger hands were soon palming at your bouncing breasts once more.

You were squirting around his fat, thrusting cock as sharp gasps escaped you again and again. Harwin’s larger hand reached for your arse, spreading your cheeks apart as he watched the sight. A ring of cream easily formed around his thick, twitching cock. “Fuck..that’s it.” Harwin groaned as the wet, squelching noises echoed.

His larger hand came down on your arse; causing you to shake and clamp around his fat cock once more. It was an act you both had only recently discovered and enjoyed immensely. Harwin enjoyed how red you became and sensitive. The soft pain was dull compared to the pleasure coursing through your body with his thrusts. 

Harwin repeated his action as you fell into the ground beneath you. Still, he did not stop nor did you truly want him to. Your eyes rolled once more as he took control. Your body seemingly not your own in that moment as the pleasure had your eyes hazy and mind softening. Harwin grunted behind you; his body slapping against your own.

His larger arms wrapped around you; bringing you impossibly closer against his bare chest now whilst his thrusts never stopped. The cheers around you continued as your sweet, ample breasts continued to bounce with his movements. “Good girl. I love you.” Harwin began to whisper sweet nothings into your ear.

If only you could reply back, you thought as your delicate fingers moved into his dark locks as he chuckled still. He leaned in and began to softly mouth at your neck whilst his larger hands palmed at your sweet, bouncing breasts. His free hand came down on your arse once more; an act he repeated again and again.

~

The warmth of the furs wrapped around you. Harwin’s embrace is still as loving and tight as ever. A soft look of confusion came over you as you realised where you were. A soft whine escaped you as you moved; his thick cock still stuffed inside your weeping pussy. “Harwin…” You began to softly whisper out to him.

His fingers were gently brushing through your lock as your eyes sleepily began to open. Slowly, you looked up at him. A soft, gentle smile was on his face as his hand reached to cup your face. His thumb is now brushing against your cheek. “Hmm, beautiful.” Harwin whispered as he leaned in; his soft lips lovingly capturing your own.

Your legs were tangled together as you slowly moved on top of him. A whine escaping you as his twitching cock rubbed on all your soft spots before you settled. “Good girl.” He whispered praises still before pressing soft kisses down your neck. You had hardly remembered moving from the public space to here.

Not that it truly mattered; you were forever safe in his arms. A soft hum of happiness escaped you as you cuddled closer. His chuckle vibrated his chest as he brought the furs further up your soft, bare body. His larger hand now resting on your hip as he kept you impossibly closer. You could already feel the sleepiness returning.

His hand still stroked up and down your arm as the pitter patter of rain began to fall. “I love you.” You softly whispered out. “I love you too.” Your eyes began to flutter shut as his words washed over you. Not that you could pay attention as dreams wrapped around you. As did Harwin’s loving embrace.

[viking-raider]

Cranky Koala - Cotton Candy Goodness

Summary: When you don't sleep well, you're Henry's cranky koala.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 621

Warning: G - Cotton Candy Goodness, Fluff, Manhandling, Cuddling, Cranky!Reader, Loving!Henry, Implied Daddy Kink, only if you want!

Inspiration: It just popped into my head this morning, and I thought it was cute.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLISTand turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy! @viking-raider-library

Henry watched you from the doorway of the kitchen for a moment, shoulder resting against the wall, a faint smile on his bearded face. He noticed your moodiness, when you woke up and came down to join him in the living room that morning but hadn't said anything. It usually only made you moodier, when Henry pointed it out, so he had learned to try and just quietly lift you out of it.

You were currently standing in the open freezer door, jaw stiff, lips pressed together in a thin line and eyes giving the freezer's contents a hard squint. Standing there for a moment longer, you huffed and closed the door with a less than gentle push, but it wasn't quite a slam either.

“What are you lookin' for, babe?” He called out to you, cocking his head with amusement as you moved to the pantry.

“I don't know!” You barked, glaring at the pantry items, like something would present itself to you.

“Honey.” Henry sighed, pushing off the wall and came towards you, resting his hand on your shoulder.

“Don't honey me, Henry Cavill.” You growled at him, turning around to face him, crossing your arms over your chest.

Henry chuckled at you, a grin pulling across his lips once again, shaking his head at you. “Did you not sleep well again?” He asked, cupping the side of your neck.

“No, I did not!” You growled at him, stamping your foot in your frustration.

“Why don't you take a nap?” He suggested, gently massaging your neck.

“I don't want to take a nap, Henry.” You protested, brows drawing together. “I'm not a baby.”

A light went on in Henry's brain and his face brightened, making you narrow your eyes at him.

Henry moved his hand from your neck to your armpit, doing the same with his other hand to your opposite armpit, and pulled you towards him. His thick biceps swelled and tensed as he started to lift you up.

“What? No!” You squirmed and flailed, slapping at Henry's arms and chest. “Henry, put me down! Henry, quit it! What are you doing?!” You rebelled against him, kicking your feet as they left the ground. “This isn't fair! It's not fair, you're bigger than me!” You whined, wrapping your arms around his neck to balance yourself out.

“And stronger than me!” You grunted, giving up and leaning against his chest.

“I know I am.” He purred into your ear, tucking his forearm under your butt, while he used his other hand to rub and gently pat you on the back in a rhythmic pattern.

“This isn't fair.” You sighed, resting your head on his shoulder, forehead pressed to his neck, giving you great access to the spot he sprayed his cologne, letting you draw in the alpine, mountain and cider notes, mixed with the intense warmth of his muscular body.

“You totally just manhandled me.”

“I did.” Henry snorted, nodding his head and swaying slightly on his hips. “But it'll help you relax, so you won't be so cranky and maybe, take a nap.” He explained his logic, content on holding his cranky-panky girlfriend for as long as you needed him to.

“I hate you.” You mumbled, sighing softly.

“I know, and I love you too.” He smirked, patting you on the bum.

The two of you were like that for nearly fifteen minutes, Henry just holding you like a cranky koala, rubbing your back and swaying. Until he heard you start to snore against his neck, and he carefully crept upstairs to the master bedroom and tucked you in.

[wordsbymae]

MINORS DNI

Title: The Viking

Pairing: Male OC x reader

TW: Violence, murder, generally bad things, implied non/con, no explicit smut but heavy Non/con groping!!, discussion of sexual slavery, mention of cannibalism, Christian elements but it is because I am and I am less afraid of stuffing up Christian stuff than other religions. If you are uncomfortable with any of that move on This man is not nice. Pet names: little mutt, little one and little lamb. Let me know if I missed anything let me know

ALPHABET HERE

Also, I tried to do Gn but as I am a woman, I automatically write with a female reader in mind. But!!!!! I have tried my very best to not mention gender. If something doesn't work please tell me. Reader discretion is advised! Also, I hope I don't need to say this but I will just in case, I do not condone these sorts of actions!!! Or any actions in any of my work. This is pure fiction. Also, all my OCs and the reader are over the age of 18+. and I'm not gonna add google translate because that takes forever and you guys won't even be able to read it so he conveniently speaks the same language as the reader.

Notes: Aaaaa! I have 21 followers! You guys are absolutely amazing! I never thought anyone would want to read my stuff let alone like and reblog. This doesn't take place in any place in particular, if anything I heavily rely on the climate of my home. I was though heavily influenced by Vikings and their nordic culture of that time, however, I had originally planned to make the oc a barbarian of sorts and not a Viking. But my inspiration dive into Pinterest left me with Vikings so here we are. I might write a nomadic barbarian fic later on cause I do see them as quite different in my mind but it depends where this goes, I usually write the notes and triggers before I start writing as a way of planning my thoughts so it might change halfway through.

Also the climatic event in the beginning, in my mind, is the cause of a volcanic eruption somewhere on earth, there was a year of just constant winter due to a massive eruption a few centuries ago and I wanted to include that and showcase how superstitious the people of this time were, seeing the winter as a foreshadowing of terror. And hell they were right.

Lots of love Mae xx

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It was far too early in the season for the cold winds to be here. Your father pretended to not be frightened but you could see it in his eyes. There was a fear lingering. You could hear your parents whispering in worry when they thought you were asleep. You could hear your mother sob as they discussed what it could mean. Your homeland was one of sun and thunder, but never frost, never snow. Yet, a chill had descended onto your lands. A frost had spread across the summer grass. Your bare feet crunched upon what should have been dried pasture, instead, they were chilled by a wicked frost. The sun that you would curse for its harsh warmth was now hidden behind constant grey clouds and you begged for it to return. The floods and storms you ragged against never came. No seasonal thunderstorms after the humidity of the day. There was just darkness. Travellers and merchants from far-off lands, journeying to the capital came through your village, speaking of the darkness that had spread. It seemed like no kingdom or empire was safe. The frost and darkness had come for all.

The first omen of their arrival was the frost itself. It seeped into everything and made the ground as solid as rock, the summer pastures shrivelled up and left nothing but dirt behind.

The second omen was the famine. The harvest failed and the livestock starved. Your father was forced to sell the heifers and cows and slaughter all calves and steers to provide for your family. Still, it wasn't enough. You heard gruesome tales of far-off villages butchering each other for scraps of meat from their bones. Your village was lucky, the sea still provided as much as it could.

The third omen was the dragons. Firey images in the night sky, leaving streaks of light hanging in the air. As soon as they appeared men cried out and women fell to their knees. It was a sign of a terror to come.

The final omen was a raven.

The skies had begun to clear and the winter rains had soothed the harsh scars left behind. Crops had been sown and the frost retreated in the face of the reappeared sun. You had all thought that the struggles of the last few months were over. Your father had been able to buy a cow with calf last week with money you made weaving baskets. She was a skinny thing even with the calf in her belly, but with the winter rain healing the land, you could see her regaining strength.

You had thought it was a crow when you first saw it. It did seem to be a bit bigger than the crows that waited patiently for your fish scraps by the pier. But you had never seen a raven before, so why think anything of it. It had flown in from the sea, flew over the village before fixing its gaze on your mother's garden. Your mother prized her garden, especially her roses, and had cried bitter tears when the frost killed the flowers, leaving thorny masses behind, but they had begun to regrow, leaving your families house surrounded by a beautiful arrangement of daisies and violas, butterfly pea flowers and lilacs. You had your favourites of course. In fact, you were picking them right now, happy to make a bouquet for your ancestors' burial place. As you were sitting and deciding which flowers to choose, the raven landed beside you, you watch in amazement as it plucked a flower from your hand and rose into the air and back towards the sea. Standing up with a giggle you chased after it in play until you reached your property's fence. You watched until it was nothing but a black dot in a sky of blue. If you had known what it had foreshadowed you would have wrung its neck.

They themselves came in the night.

They landed on the beaches and in silence drifted into town. Axes drawn and blood-hungry. The first death was the blacksmith. He was stumbling from the inn, stomach filled with ale. He saw them first, and let out a cry of warning, but it did not save him from a dagger sliding across his throat. The killer let out a howl. His comrades followed. The screams began.

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You had lost sight of your mother in the smoke of the burning village. Fire ragged towards the heavens. The smell of charcoal and blood ravaged your senses. The yelling and screaming were just a constant now. Like how a bird song drifts into the background. You stood immobile calling for your mother, begging her to reveal herself. Out of habit, you called for your father, but you were harshly reminded that dead men can't answer. You watched as the savages ripped men to the ground and let blood flow. They hadn't noticed you yet it seemed. A lone wraith shaking in the centre of town. In the centre of all the murder and mayhem. For a moment you thought you were dead. That the arrow your father had taken for you had indeed struck you and now you were wandering the mortal realm alone and afraid until St Peter called for you.

Your eyes reached towards the heavens and you began to beg for the angels to pluck you from this horror. Your arms wrapped around yourself as tears flowed down your soot-covered cheeks. You were broken from your prayers when you heard your name being called, your mother perhaps? Your eyes rushed to find her. No, you can't see her. But it was enough to have you moving towards the darkness and away from the light of the fire. With your arms still holding you tight, you began to stumble towards the outskirts of town. Once in the fields outside town, you could hide. Wait till they grew bored of your village and left in their ships to torment another village. You were reminded of a time when you were fearful of the dark. But now it was your salvation. Tripping over your feet you struggled to remain standing, leaning on the walls of yet-to-be-destroyed houses and holding onto the rungs of fences. You kept rushing forward, eyes onto the safety of darkness. You were close, only a few more steps.

A beast emerged from the darkness. His face burned with the light of the fire, and his axe shined with delight. His furs were matted with blood and encompassed his shoulder. His arms were bare save for strips of leather circling them. There was blood on his arms and hands as well, dripping onto the handle of his axe and onto the dirt below. You stood still, hoping perhaps you were dead. That he would just pass by and you could remain nothing more but a spirit. If death was without pain you would prefer it to the horrors the beast in front of you was capable of. His face was marked with blood, lines travelling over his forehead and down through his eyes. His eyes flickered with hunger and his mouth was turned up into a grin. He stood feet wide as if he was ready to battle, but his hand was loose on the axe, allowing it to dangle from his palm. He saw no threat in you.

A strange mix of sounds came from his mouth, while his voice was rough and stern, his words were lyrical and filled with rounded sounds and quick sharp notes. It left you confused and almost enchanted, like a deer in the gaze of a hunter.

His voice stopped and his eyes drifted down and then up. He gave a deep laugh at the site of your cowering.

"Come little mutt, stand tall" he chuckled with amusement. You whimpered at the sight of him, a beast of a man denying your freedom. He began to march towards you his axe swinging in his hold. You try to take steps back but he is quicker. You yelp as he pushes you towards a wall, his thick forearm resting against your neck as he peers down at you. You could see the scars littering his face and could smell the stench of blood dominating his body. You could feel the warmth of the blood from his arm smearing all over your neck and chest. You hated to think whose blood it once was.

"Little mutt has no teeth huh? What about claws? hm?" he questioned, joy in your torment in his eyes.

"If I was to fuck you now would you fight me? Would you claw at me or bite at my fingers?" he laughed at your obvious fear. He brought his head down to your neck and sniffed loudly. You cringed as his nose met your skin.

"You smell sweet little mutt. I wonder if you taste just as good"

you struggled as his tongue run up your neck, tears tumbling down your cheeks.

"As sweet as honey!" he cheered. His forearm dug into your neck further as you struggled to escape. He began to shush you, giving out soothing sounds like you would a crying baby as his body stepped forward to meet yours.

" Please don't kill me" you choked, eyes red with fear.

"Never little one!" he bellowed, his face of mock hurt. "Why would I kill you? hm?" he comforted, releasing his arm if only by a fraction. "You will fetch me a high price at the slave markets, little lamb. Men will go mad trying to buy you for their beds" he grinned, showing off his sharp canine teeth. You struggled once more, this time clawing at his arm and chest.

"So the little mutt has claws! Maybe I will keep you for myself. Use you to warm my cock. Would you like that little one?" he teased, he moved his face closer, his tongue darting out to catch the tears on your cheek.

" Get off me" you grunted, desperately trying to remove his arm. he teased you by feigning pity.

"Poor little lamb, you must be so scared. Trapped by a beast like me" he cooed, pushing his arm further into your skin. You watched as his eyes drifted to your chest below his arm. He dropped the axe in his other hand to the ground, it falling flat with a light thud. He looked you in the eyes once more. You could see mischief in them.

"I am torn between keeping you for my bed slave and making a small fortune on another man's desires. Let me see your wares and then I shall decide" he sang, his grin reaching higher and higher with each word. You could only watch in horror as his hands reached for the front of your night smock and ripped it. You tried to grab his wrists but he was too strong. In a mere moment, your smock lay tattered on the ground and you stood bare in the night air. His eyes drank you in, and his hands drifted over your body. He gripped tightly in some places and softly in others. Blood from his hands was left smeared all over you, like rivers on a map. His eyes found yours once more and glee was evident on his face.

"I have decided little mutt. You shall warm my bed and most importantly me" he proclaimed, laughing at the end. "I am to be your master and you the little mutt at my heels. But first, let me dull those claws, hm?"

You stood arms covering yourself confused at his words. You had no claws to dull.

You gave a shriek as he began to drag you into the darkness. His hand was tight against your wrists. You tried to use your body weight to stop him, but it only ended with you falling to the ground and him dragging you through the dirt. You screamed and kicked, shouted and cried. He just laughed.

The dirt turned to soft grass as released you from his grip. You shot up to your bare feet, only to be thrown to the ground and a foot thrown on your stomach.

"I admire your fight little mutt, but as your master, I cannot in good conscious allow you to disrespect me. it would not be natural." he cooed at you, his hair falling into his eyes. You choked out a sob at the thought of what he planned to do. You were both far enough from the town your screams would not be heard and you were both hidden by lush pasture. You began to pray, your words drowning in sobs.

"Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kin-"

"Enough!" shouted, falling onto his knees above you, a dagger glinting in his hand.

"Keep your God, fine, but do not expect kindness from me when you beg for his mercy" he sneered. You watched in terror as the dagger raced towards your head, only for it to land safely in the soil next to you.

"Now little lamb moan sweetly for me, will you?" he smiled, his grin one of filth. You lay there looking up at him in fear. "I said moan" he barked, his hand reaching for your throat. You gave him what he wanted, although it was tarnished by your terror.

"Like the music of the gods" he praised. He removed his hand from your throat and brought both to your knees, lifting them up and slotting himself in between them.

"Look at you little mutt, shaking and cowering in fear and yet I haven't even fucked you yet. You Christians are strange folk. If you knew of pleasure you would be moaning on my cock by now. You yourself would have begged for it. Begged for me to fuck your tight little hole on the ashes of your ho-" you slapped him with a furry. A rage releases from you, with you reaching for the dagger beside your head. His hand reached for yours first and punished it with his strength. He gave off a terrifying laugh as you were forced to drop the knife and he quickly threw it behind him.

"Maybe you aren't a little mutt but a little wolf instead. That fire in you will warm my cock and balls for years to come. But first, let me break you in"

You really did wish that arrow had found its mark in you.

[ryuzakemo128]

Björn Ironside x reader : "I don't ask for your understanding, I don't ask for your trust either and quite frankly I do not want either one from you."

Please and thank you💙

I hope you like this and fits with what you might want.

Tarnished and Unveiled Intentions

Pairing: Bjorn Ironside x reader

Genre: Angst

Requested? Yes

Prompt: "I don't ask for your understanding, I don't ask for your trust either and quite frankly I do not want either one from you."

Content Warning: Possible mention of death, illness, disorders and disease. If any of these topics trigger or make you feel a certain way. I urge you to click off and preserve your mental health. As it's important to care for your mental health as well as your physical health.

You were unwell, bedridden for months, your fragile body refusing to move. Refused to obey. "[Y/N]" Bjorn said, his voice both harsh and commanding. He was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. It was as if he expected you to have told him about this before. As if he expected you to reveal everything to him when he wanted you to. Your lips curled into a snarl, a silent rebellion against him as your anger continued to boil beneath the surface, 'How can he assume he knows anything by demanding it when he wants it? You thought.

"I would have told you before, but I couldn't. I don't expect you to understand what I'm going through." You told him. Your voice was hoarse and strained. His entitlement, his entitled behaviour continued to annoy you. Even now.

You wanted to lash out, but your bones. Heavy as lead would not let you. You wanted to shout at him. But you couldn't find the words, they got caught on your tongue and stuck in your throat. The words between you and him remained unspoken.

His assumption that you would be fine this winter, that you would be able to go out there without any possible injury or illness. His presumption almost killed you, his presumptuous behaviour made you sick and injured. Sometimes almost dead.

His words, his tone, his expectations, his assumptions, they were all so disrespectful. He never once considered your feelings, your safety, your well-being. He treated you as if you were nothing more than a tool at his disposal, something to be taken for granted, something to be discarded when it no longer served his purpose. At least that was how you felt, and how you assumed he felt about you.

But that was not who you were. You were not just a servant or a housekeeper. You were a person with feelings, with a life of your own, with dreams and aspirations. And you deserved to be treated with respect and dignity. This relationship was a sinking ship, and you didn't want to stay on it. Not for another second, not for another day, and certainly not for the rest of your life. It was time to jump ship, to swim to safety, to find your way back to the shore where you belonged. You owed it to yourself. To your future.

"I don't ask for your understanding, I don't ask for your trust either and quite frankly I do not want either one from you." You said to him. A bitter taste remaining on the tip of your tongue.

He didn't protest, didn't argue and he just left you there. Alone. Both bedridden and close to death.

Link: [Divider]

Link: [Header]

Links: [Masterlist 01 / Masterlist 02]

Link: [Vikings Masterlist/ Prompt List]

[saturnniidae]

I think we should have more httyd or rotbtd horror

[asa-writes]

okay so first of all i ADORE your content so much and i wanted to ask if you could write a oneshot for sigurd x reader mayhaps? basically the reader goes skinnydipping in a lake in the woods and sigurd accidentally finds her and eventually joins her and the atmosphere is like magical and stuff- maybe with some cute smut if you’re comfortable with that 🫶🏻

Thank you so much!! Of course, here's the oneshot. I hope it's not too magical for you but this was the first thing that came to my mind...

"The Hunt"

Pairing: Sigurd x F!Reader

18+ Minors DNI!

Word count: 1,1K

Warnings: Smut heheh, light fluff, magic, unprotected sex, magical prn with plot

Sigurd pushed through the dense foliage, his bow in one hand and a quiver full of specially-fletched arrows on his back. He followed the trail of broken twigs, bent grass, and mud puddles left behind by the doe up until he reached the small creek. He scanned the muddy banks for hoofprints, but the tracks disappeared into the shallow water. Taking off his shoes and socks, Sigurd stepped into the cold water, careful not to make too much noise.

As the faint sound of rippling waves echoed up from behind a gigantic boulder that blocked his view of the lake and its secret inhabitant, Sigurd instinctively reached for an arrow and notched it upon his bow. His body tensed as he focused on what lay beyond that massive rock, yet nothing prepared him for the sheer beauty he beheld in that moment. A faint melody floated towards him, so gentle and ethereal that it seemed to come from another realm entirely. He could almost feel himself being transported away by its sweet embrace.

As Sigurd's body tensed, he almost followed the impulse to shoot in the direction of the sound. Then, there you were - a young woman standing waist deep in the lake, illuminated by a thousand stars that were entwined in an embrace with the sun. You both were gazing up into its colours spreading like wildfire across the sky in awe, as a cool evening breeze whispered through your ears. Unveiled and unashamed, you moved towards him in graceful strides, swimming throughtout the lake's surface like a creature from another realm of existence. To Sigurd's eyes it seemed as if your movements held some magical power that enchanted his innermost desires.

Mesmerized by your beauty and dancing gracefully in what seemed like perfect harmony with nature around both of you, Sigurd couldn't help but stare; he felt awed by this beautiful scene playing out before him.

You stood in place, the lake around you a kaleidoscope of light reflecting off the millions of shimmering droplets; your well-formed body slowly rising and falling with the calm ripples of the water before him. Glittering eyes beckoning him to come closer, you spoke with an ethereal voice that seeped into his mind like a dream. "Come forth, Sigurd Snake-in-the-eye", you said in that soft familiar yet distant cadence, "Don't be scared, join me". He smiled at your invitation, mesmerized by the beauty of this surreal moment.

He felt his loins stir as he tried to resist the siren call of your presence. "Who... or what... are you?" he struggled to ask, drawn in by your unearthly beauty. "Why do you know my name? And why are you here?"

You simply chuckled softly at his questions and waved them away with a flick of your hand. "I am no one of consequence," you spoke gently, flashing him an ethereal smile. "I have come only to cleanse myself."

Sigurd cast a wary glance around the forest. Was this all too good to be true, or had the universe conspired in his favor? The doe that had led him here seemed to have a purpose - perhaps the will of the gods themselves. With trepidation and curiosity warring within him, Sigurd took a step forward towards you and began to disrobe himself, watching all the while for any sign of danger. Perhaps this was all meant to be. Maybe fate was steering him towards his destiny.

As Sigurd undressed, your eyes shone like a field of stars on a moonless night. It was as if you had been waiting for him, expecting him to join you all along. You moved closer to him, the water lapping against your rounded thighs, and gave him a coy smile.

Sigurd felt a shiver run down his spine as your soft hand touched his bare chest. Your touch was like nothing he had ever experienced before - it was gentle and comforting yet electrifying at the same time. He could feel his heart rate quicken as you led him deeper into the water.

The cool liquid enveloped Sigurd's body, sending a jolt of arousal coursing through his veins. As you swam together in the lake, it was as if time had slowed down; every moment was filled with an intense feeling of euphoria.

Your lips found his in a passionate kiss, your tongue as sweet as honey. He felt your hands wander over his body, exploring every inch of him with a hunger that matched his own.

They moved together in the water, their bodies entwined, a blur of flesh and lust. You touched him more tenderly than any other woman had, so he decided to do so as well, caressing your cold throat, chest, breasts and shivering thighs.

"Tell me, temptress," he breathed out, feeling your perfect hands gently tugging on his braids, "May I take you? May I touch you? May... may I hold you in my arms?"

You smiled up at him with a look of pure desire. "Yes, Sigurd," you whispered. "Take me. Touch me. Hold me in your arms."

Sigurd needed no further encouragement. He moved his hands over your body, exploring every curve and contour, as he kissed you deeply. He felt your softness against him, your cunt's warmth enveloping him, and he felt himself losing control.

As your bodies moved together in the water, Sigurd knew that this was where he was meant to be and gripped you by your hips, pulling you down until he bottomed out and spilled his seed deep in your hot, fluttering cunt. This was the purpose that the gods had intended for him - to take you. He was lost in the moment, in the feel of your skin against his, in the sound of your moans as you rode your own high out on him, bouncing delightfully on his long, hard member.

He held you in his arms as you moved together, your breaths mingling in the cool night air. It was as if you were two halves of the same whole - two celestial beings brought together by destiny. And Sigurd knew, without a doubt, that this moment would be etched into his memory forever.

As you finished and laid back into the meadow, he pressed a hasty kiss on your forehead and quickly went back to the lake, washing himself and turning around to grab his clothes.

He almost jumped out of the water in surprise, noticing a figure in the distance. It was the doe. It bowed its majestic head and left him naked in the water, galopping away.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Common Knowledge 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, power imbalance, bullying, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Harald Halfdansson, tall & plus-size reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

With your thesis proposal submitted and marked, the real work lies ahead of you. You’ve claimed your spot in the library, a stack of cue cards with your arguments laid out in columns. It’s the easiest way to sort out your information and narrow down your key arguments. It’s a bit messy but you like the visual diagram to parse out your own thoughts.

You receive a few shaded looks from those who pass by looking for a spot of their own. You don’t mind moving over if they do want to sit but none approach. You bend over the table and switch two cards. You’re standing, circling the table as you’re swept up in getting just the right flow.

You back up and hum. You grab another card, jotting down a new point to add and a sudden slam makes you jump. The thump of the large book on the table sends the cards scattering in a whirlwind. You sputter as you look up at the figure across from you.

You can’t hide your surprise. It’s been a week since the smoothie shop incident and not close to long enough. That man stands on the other side of the table smirking, his white eyes eerily calm but smug. What are the odds he’s a student here?

You shake your head and roll your eyes. You step forward and start gathering up the cards. Your dorm room bed would be just as good as a table. As you reach to swipe up a card, he grabs it first and reads your writing, letting out a scoff.

“Hmm, how cute,” he muses, “you’re trying.”

You ignore him. Whatever, he can keep the cards. You close up your books and slip them into your bag. He plants his hands on the table and leans forward, gaze boring into you.

“Running away again?”

“Do you not know how to take a hint?”

“As much as you,” he counters, “I just wanted to show you that I found a copy of my own.”

You glance at the book in the middle of the table and furrow your brow. Really? This is some weird battle you don’t want to fight. You blow out between your lips and keep tidying up your things. Your laptop is closed and slid away before you can nab it.

You grip the edge and try to pull it from his grasp. He easily dislodges it and tucks it under his thick arm. You hiss and look around, flabbergasted. You turn your frustration around and reach for that coveted book. He stretches his other arm in front of you, blocking you as he looms closer.

“Not so fast,” he holds his large hand up, “would you stop and listen?”

“I’m not interested in listening to you,” you puff out, “give me my computer.”

“Would you let me say what I came to say–”

“Bro, no. How did you even find– you know what? Don’t care. It’s weird. And creepy. Give me my computer and leave me alone. I’ll scream.”

“Relax, you’re being dramatic.”

“Dramatic? You want to see dramatic–”

“Would you stop?” His voice rises, drawing looks from a few other students and some hushes. His throat bobs as he peers around, “I’m trying to apologise, alright? I thought…” his eyes meet yours with almost a sheepish tint, “I’d buy you a coffee and we could talk about mythology.”

Your lashes flutter as you try to keep your eyes from rolling so far back they get stuck. You don’t know that you’ve ever met anyone so oblivious. College has introduced you to several characters but nothing like him.

Your mouth falls open and you shake your head. You step forward and latch onto your laptop. He lets you take it. You’re very aware he could keep it from you easily. For all his flaws, he is clearly in good shape.

“I’m trying not to laugh in your face,” you back up and put the book into your knapsack, “so I’ll be very honest and clear with you. You are the most rude, obnoxious person I’ve ever encountered. Free coffee couldn’t even make me spend a single second with you.”

He grits his teeth as his jaw squares, the cleft deepening as he tilts his head. His frustration is laced in confusion. His eyes search you.

“Oh,” is all he manages to get out.

“Right, so, goodbye.”

You swing your bag over your shoulder and snatch your jacket from the back of the chair. You go to step by him and he moves with you. You are actually about to scream.

“Can’t we start over?” He asks.

How many ways can you say no?

You look left and right and your eyes meet an unexpected pair. Oh, you’re not sure if that’s good. Professor Halfdansson raises his hand to give a small wave as he diverts his strut in your direction. You clamp your lips together and turn back to the man in front of you.

“I don’t think so,” you say bluntly.

“Ah, studying are we?” Halfdansson approaches, coming up perpendicular to you and Geralt.

“Uh,” you look between them as the professor gives a thoughtful look to the other man. “Just leaving.”

“This is a friend?” He wonders.

“No,” you answer as Geralt says “yes.”

You have to hold back a snort. You don’t get this. Any of it. Neither of these men seem to have any sort of self-awareness. At least not a concept of reality.

You bite your tongue and rein in the smart retorts flashing through your mind. You make yourself smile, or at least try to muster one. You take a deep breath.

“I have to go,” you say crisply. “Excuse me.”

Geralt is kept at bay by the presence of your professor, though Halfdansson appears astounded by your abrupt dismissal. You’ll have to apologise in class but most importantly, you need to get this goddamn paper done. Without a man hovering around and distracting you.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

Please could I request Ivar with-

Person B washes person A's hair. 💕

Request Info

Gentle Hands

Contains:Fluff

306 words

Comment if you want to be tagged/removed

Ivar washes your hair

The bath in Rollo's palace was insane. It would have fit ten people but right now, it was just you and Ivar. He had pulled you from your shared bedroom with a huge smile on his face, insisting that he show you something on another level of the building.

When you got to the room, he opened the door and the smell of herbs and steam hit you in the face full force, "it's been a long journey, wife, do you care for a bath?"

Now you were sitting behind him with his hands in your hair as he rubbed your scalp, "did you bring me here just to wash my hair?"

Ivar chuckled, "yes and no, we did need a wash but selfishly, I do love it when you allow me to do this."

You leaned back into his hands as he used a cup to rinse the sudsy wash away, then he combed through a mix of oils and fats with his hands, making sure that every strand was coated before spinning you around to talk to you while it sat for a while. "Do you think this will all go well?"

Ivar nodded, "of course, Rollo knows what we want, peace is the only way forward."

You smiled, "I think we should make a sacrifice when we return home, to thank the Gods for allowing our people to have a way to live the way your father wished."

Ivar smiled, "yes, good idea. Now let me finish your hair."

You turned back around and Ivar's fingers found your hair, washing out the thick cream the gentle affection. "I am excited to sleep in a bed after all that time at sea." Ivar smiled, resting his head back against the edge of the tub once your hair was done.

"That makes two of us."

Fin

[meraxesmoon]

I've been having some pretty severe Vikings brainrot going on, so here's some Ivar HCs <3

warnings: yandere content, dark content, toxic relationships, fem! darling, she's floki's daughter, spoilers for vikings

┍━━━━━━━ ˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗━━━━━━━┑

☆ Ivar, who isn't very fond of the idea of his darling being married off to some random man. They're childhood friends, and Ivar thinks that she's too much of a good woman to be married off to some poor excuse for a man. He loves Floki and Helga, and he loves his darling even more, Ivar believes himself to be the best candidate for his darling as a husband.

Not to mention, Aslaug absolutely adores her. She thinks that Ivar's darling is the sweetest thing! I think she probably has healing skills and building skills due to who her parents are, so once they're older, she does a lot for Ivar. For example, she'd concocted a serum to help with the pain of his legs, and she made modifications to his crutches to make it easier for Ivar to get around. Aslaug thinks that she's the perfect match for her son, and probably pushes for marriage between the two.

Protective mommy Helga is hesitant when it comes to marrying her daughter to anyone, but the power dynamic is pretty unequal in this situation, so Aslaug most definitely gets her way and Ivar is married before the next winter comes. It's a rather odd marriage, to most, because nothing really changes. Men in the Kattegat aren't allowed to lust after her, as she is a married woman, and Ivar becomes more confident in himself now that he has a wife of his own.

After the death of Ragnar and Aslaug, Ivar changes quite a bit. However, he depends on his wife emotionally, and I can't see him ever hurting her. He's heartbroken after losing both of his parents, and he feels like the only people who care for him are Hvitserk and his darling wife. He becomes very violent towards other people, though, and his wife most definitely resorts to staying close to Ivar to reduce the number of men and women being maimed by her husband due to his jealousy.

His favorite thing is letting his wife untangle and redo his braids after a long, violent raid. It's almost a guarantee that it leads to Ivar falling asleep.

wanna write for him more, so I will

[mystic-shadows42]

Burden to Bear

A/N: As you can see I couldn’t choose between the two gifs. This ended up longer than it probably should have. Not edited. Enjoy!

Word Count: 2,892

Pairing: Hvitserk x fem!reader (ft. Ivar)

Warnings: Violence, language, kidnapping, taunting, and death

You were a prisoner in your own home. Invaders from the north raided and plundered your land. They hadn’t simply pillaged, they had made camp. They treated themselves to the food, treasures, and women.

At night, you prayed and would cover your ears whenever you heard the screams. The awful screams of someone else’s pain that you could do nothing about. It was too much. Too brutal. You had been lucky to haven’t endured such an atrocious act.

The person who had found you was a fair blue-eyed man. He didn’t yell or use force when he found your hiding spot. He simply gazed at you in admiration. He beckoned you out with soft gentle words. You didn’t want to abandon your safe haven but when others barged in with hostility you found yourself running behind the man seeking any sort of barrier from these bloodied broad men.

Your captor held some sort of power. He walked with a crutch and held no weapon but he was respected for when he spoke on your behalf, they left you alone entirely. 

The man had shown you kindness and kept you in a room. You had been grateful not to be in chains.

You bide your time. There was an advantage with it just being him and no one else. All you had to worry about was the others that were beyond the house.

When the opportunity did present itself, you did escape that was when you learned the hard way how fortunate you had been being kept away. You stumbled upon piles of bodies, an animal sacrifice, people fornicating in various areas, and interrupted some sort of ritual going on. You were beyond terrified and in your state of panic, Ivar had captured you once more but this time you went willingly.

Several days had passed, too many to count. Every day was much of the same: Ivar coming into the room to try and talk, giving you food, and then locking the door.

You were grateful to at least be in a grand room. Though there were no windows. No light to tell you what time of day it was. You felt as if you were withering day by day. A little piece of yourself chipping away. You saw no one else but Ivar and it sickened you to think that you craved a little interaction with the man who held you captive.

Your captor, Ivar would try and coax you to speak to him but you’d turn your head to look elsewhere. He’d speak in a soft comforting voice. He’d tell you all sorts of things such as he would never harm you, provide you with the best care but couldn’t let you go, and how he can give you a life full of happiness if your heart would allow it.

He cared for you which was confusing. This man didn’t know you, just as you didn’t know him. He spoke how his gods whispered in his ear how you were there for a purpose. He took it as a sign that you were for him to love and cherish.

His gods were nothing more than false deities he and his people chose to live by as a way to do inexplicable acts without consequence. So that’s why every night you chose to ignore Ivar even going so far as not eating the food he provided.

You prayed for a miracle. Something or someone to save you from this hell.

****

“I heard you’re hiding a great beauty from me, brother,” Hvitserk spoke as he approached Ivar who was guarding the house that the men had told him about. Word had spread far and wide that Ivar had conquered yet another village but was reluctant to move on, all because of a mysterious woman he wanted to coax into loving him.

Hvitserk didn’t hesitate to jump on a boat and sail here. He hadn’t forgiven his brother for all that he’s done. He wanted to make Ivar pay. Killing him would be too easy so he’d take little by little until Ivar will only be a shell of a man.

“What if I am?” Ivar’s posture was defensive. His blue eyes were bright and alert at the arrival of his brother.

“I’m just a little curious as to why you’d do such a thing? The men have said you’ve been hiding her in this home. She’s left unbound, fed better than most, and isn’t being used for pleasure or for labor work. Why is that, Ivar? Do you have a new obsession I’m unaware of?” When Ivar said nothing, Hvitserk smiled condescendingly. “Let’s have a look, shall we?” Hvitserk took a step forward only for Ivar to stop him with his crutch.

Hvitserk looked down crossed between his inner anger and smugness. He hit a nerve within Ivar and he wanted to keep at it.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that brother.” Ivar dug his crutch deeper into the wood making his point known.

Hvitserk clicked his tongue in distaste. “Why not?”

“We both know why you came here. You’re not here on my behalf but your own.” 

Hvitserk’s mouth quirked into a smile. He would not make it easy on his brother.

“Don’t want me to tarnish your precious jewel as you did mine?” This time when Hvitserk spoke, he looked at Ivar. His expression now became serious as he thought of Thora and the fate that Ivar sentenced her. She was burned alive. One of the worst possible things a person can befall. She was nothing short of sweet and Ivar did that to her. Hvitserk’s nostril flared as he got in Ivar’s face. “What would you do if I were to taint your precious jewel? Would you look at her differently? Would you still want her or would you let me have her?” He asked, cocking his head.

“She’s not to be touched,” Ivar spoke through clenched teeth.

Hvitserk chuckled. “Like you did with Thora?”

Ivar sighed heavily. “It was different with Thora.”

“How was it different? You burned her alive.” Hvitserk had his fists clenched. He had to remind himself not to pummel his brother just yet, afraid that if he did so, he wouldn’t be able to stop. Ivar didn’t deserve to die just yet not until he suffered first.

“If you were in my position of power you would’ve done the same,” Hvitserk shook his head but Ivar kept going. “You would eliminate any and all those oppose to your rule.” 

Each time Ivar spoke it only infuriated Hvitserk more.

“That’s the difference between us, brother,” Hvitserk seethed. “I wouldn’t have ordered a family to be killed. Only cowards have others do their bidding.” He got close to Ivar making sure he’s to hear what he has to say. “If I’m to do something drastic, I’d do it myself.”

He pushed away the crutch from Ivar’s grasp and then kicked his foot before walking past. Before Hvitserk could make it too far, Ivar crawled and grasped his legs tripping Hvitserk too.

They scrambled on the floor kicking up dust and dirt.

Hvitserk was quick to jump on top reaching for Ivar’s crutch and hitting him once with full force knocking his brother out cold. He breathed heavily getting high off the adrenaline he was feeling.

Hvitserk stood up looking around to see that no one was in sight to see the brothers quarreling. He gathered himself and headed straight for the house where Ivar’s prized treasure resided. He checked every room until there stood but one.

He turned the handle only to find it locked. He muttered profanities at his frustration then brought out his knife trying to pry the lock loose. After several minutes, he gave up and decided that perhaps he was wasting his time.

He started to walk away when thoughts of Ivar arose. He thought of his Thora and how helpless she was against his brother. He used that to fuel his anger. He turned around quickly and kicked at the door with newfound fury. It didn’t budge, but at the sound of it, he was sure he could get in if he persisted, so that’s what he did.

Little by little the door started to crack under the pressure. As the wood started to splinter Hvitserk kicked harder than the last. He used all his energy in one final attempt and the door gave way bursting open.

Upon entering the establishment Hvitserk eyed the room disgusted at how big it was. He was angry with the fact that Ivar provided a stranger, no a slave, with this much luxury while warriors slept outside. 

He was so very angry that his Thora was dead by being burned alive while this woman was being doted on by his brother.

His eyes wandered looking for the woman in question. There was hardly any place to hide so he looked at the bed knowing she was under there. He stood on one side before he got down on his hands and knees to look underneath.

He saw her scrambling away on the other side to get away. He smiled then stood upright just as she had. His smile began to falter as they locked eyes, both breathing heavily.

Looking at her felt familiar somehow. At that moment, he didn’t want to hurt her like he intended. He was more confused than anything just like she seemed to be as she stared back completely ignoring the broken-down door that she could just as easily run out of.

Hvitserk kept clenching and unclenching his jaw as he debated with himself. He felt something. A different feeling that had his heart racing, only more soothingly. He took in the features of your face and how brightly your eyes shined. He liked how delicate you looked but also a sense of capability. Knowing that you can hold your own despite not being a warrior. He wanted to approach you carefully without scaring you off.

You looked back at the stranger before you trying to catch your breath. After hearing him trying to break the door down you thought the worse but now he stood there simply staring.

There was something in the way he looked at you that you hoped he wouldn’t do anything to cause harm. It was as if your eyes were communicating what your souls couldn’t.

It was a strange feeling to try and put trust in him. This beautiful stranger. He lowered his head but didn’t break eye contact as he tried to take a step around the bed that barricaded you two.

Your breath hitched watching him try to get closer. He was still dangerous. The fact that he had weapons on him proved so. You clenched your dress trying to stable yourself but not being able to move whether from fright or curiosity.

He raised his hands in the air you gathered as a means to calm you. 

He was only able to take a few steps before he kicked the leftover food you hadn’t eaten. The plate clattering on the floor is what snapped you out of it. He closed his eyes already knowing he messed up. When he looked up you had already taken off towards the door and out of the house you’d been confined in.

You knew the layout of the land but not where they had set out headquarters. All you knew were the areas to avoid the last time you escaped. The best option was to head towards the open hills that led into the woods. It would expose you but if you made it to the woods, there was a chance.

It was a risk you were willing to take. You took off in a sprint ignoring the yells and horns. Your heart was pumping as your only focus was the woods just ahead, so close yet so far.

You didn’t dare look back, fearing that what you see will stop you completely. When an arrow pierced a spot just a few inches away that’s when you began to alternate your running to throw them off course.

Upon entering the woods, you hadn’t looked to see where you were going and tripped on a tree branch. Just as soon as you fell an ax pierced the tree ahead, mere seconds from killing you hadn’t you been tripped.

Your knee burned and your hands were scraped but you swallowed back the pain and continued on. Survival was your only option. You began to breathe heavily growing tired. These men knew how to hunt and would be in their element hunting you in here. You tried not to let those thoughts deter you from your goal.

The sounds grew louder but you kept going.

It all abruptly stopped when you were tackled from behind. Your face was dug in the dirt before you were hauled up.

“Fast little bitch, aren’t ya?” There were a total of five men all circling you. The one that caught you pushed you into another.

“So this is what she looks like,” he gripped your chin harshly as he examined you head to toe. That’s when you spit at him.

“Whore,” he seethed before slapping you to the ground. The man you spat on clutched the front of your dress lifting you towards him. Before he could do anything a sword was unsheathed and a grunt was heard followed by a thump.

The man let you go and stepped back as he looked at something behind you.

You sat up and looked behind to see the same stranger from before. His sword was bloodied and the man he killed was lying face down. He had a different expression on his face now. 

“Hvitserk,” the man spoke in surprise. “We were only trying to apprehend your brother’s possession.”

“He will not be too pleased to see that you have inflicted pain on her.”

Your heart raced at hearing him speak.

The man he spoke to said nothing in return making you wonder what type of authority he held.

Hvitserk wiped the blood on the dead man’s shirt before he sheathed his weapon. He approached you carefully. He bent down on his knees and raised his hand cautiously before touching your face near where you had been slapped.

“Does it hurt?”

You closed your eyes hating that his touch was gentle and how he was making your heart race. This was the enemy. You opened your eyes seeing that he was still here and waiting.

You nodded, “it stings.”

“They’ll pay for ever laying a hand on you. This I swear.”

You believed his words knowing that he’d see it through. He brushed your hair aside and then gathered you in his arms as he began to walk back. As he was walking all you could do was stare up at him in wonder.

“What are you going to do with me?”

He clenched his jaw and sighed. “I don’t know yet.” He seemed to be just as conflicted.

“Are you going to hurt me?”

At this, he looked down at you. “Don’t trouble yourself with all these questions. My brother will take care of you. The best thing for us both is for me to leave.”

You inclined your head to take a better look at him. Ivar was his brother? He was going to leave after your encounter? It was unexplainable but you felt a little down after hearing all of this.

“Take me with you.”

Hvitserk let out a chuckle thinking you were joking then it died down once he saw your serious expression. He stopped walking and lightly touched your bruised cheek. “I can’t guarantee your safety especially since I fully intended on hurting you to get at Ivar. I’m not a good man. None of us are.”

You grasped his hands in yours, desperate to just leave this place.

“I know you won’t let anything happen to me.” You looked down, a bit bashful for what you were about to say. “I feel a connection with you and I know we’re unlikely partners. Ivar will never let it happen and he won’t ever let me go. I don’t have to stay with you long, just somewhere safe.”

Hvitserk gently tipped your chin up to look into his eyes. He was closer than he was before and you hadn’t noticed. “My brother has a temper. He may say he loves you now but betray him and leave with me, there’s a possibility he’ll come to kill you. Are you willing to take the risk?”

You nodded. You were going by instinct and they were telling you to trust Hvitserk rather than Ivar.

You both sat out on that hill looking at each other knowing that there would be a mess once you both left but there needed to be a plan. First, he needed to deal with the men who had hurt you. Second, dealing with Ivar once he awoke. Third, plan the escape. Fourth, leaving it all behind and forgetting the consequences.

That night the man who shot his arrows at you was pierced by multiple. The man who threw his ax was decapitated. The man who slapped you had lost both his hands. The rest were hanged.

The executions were all ordered out by Hvitserk himself.