#viking writes

[thevikingwoman]

Saw a post on Finish your WIPs February and I was not going to do any of that, except Solas and Iwyn insisted. It was fun writing them again.

Originally started in 2021, for a kinky bingo prompt of "infidelity", here's Solas and Iwyn enjoying some art, and each other - acting on their attraction to each other after Iwyn's husband leaves.

Fandom: Dragon Age | Words: 4114 | Read on Ao3

Iwyn Lavellan x Solas | Modern AU | smut Rating: Explicit. Infidelity, smut, fluff, angst, Iwyn is lonely, her husband is a bit boring, Solas is lonely too, nothing new here though, oral, piv sex, safe sex, casual relationship

Casual Fun

There is a surprising amount of rich, beautiful people at the museum. Solas knows many donors are more interested in getting their name in the brochures – or even better, in brass on the entrance pillar –but they still attend events to mingle and make sure everyone else knows they are there.

It’s still more crowded than he anticipated. The foyer is busy, a string quartet plays, and the trays of canapes and sparkling wine are quickly refilled.

The patrons of the arts, all dressed up. It doesn’t matter why people are here – the museum is free Wednesdays and Sundays, and hands out scholarships to young artists and that matters. Solas doesn’t much care about making connections or socializing, but he does care that there is money for the arts, and this is why he donates himself, of course.

It’s the opening of the A. Brenhan exhibition – a renown Orzammar artist who rarely allows his works to be shown on the surface. Solas had hoped to see the collection relatively undisturbed, and initially the throng of people had dashed his hopes. When he makes his way to the special exhibit on the second floor, he realizes he was wrong. Very few people wander the exhibit. It seems everyone is more interested in the spectacle that is themselves.

He spends some time on the charcoal sketches. It’s mostly architecture. Forgotten Thaigs and empty corridors and old houses. The story behind them is more interesting than the sketches themselves.

Most people actively browsing the gallery are in pairs or small groups. Like himself, they might have a more serious interest in the art, or simply worry about missing out. While he appreciates the peace and quiet here, he does wish he had someone to discuss the art with.

Solas moves to the next part of the exhibit, what Brenhan is most known for. Oil paintings on large canvasses, larger than Solas is tall. The kind of work you hang in museums, or maybe in mansions of some of the very rich. No matter, the artist’s fame is well deserved. Most of the paintings feature Dwarven architecture, ancient and modern both, but above them an impossible sky. Brenhan is a traditionalist, and has never left Orzammar, and doesn’t truly know what the sky looks like. The effect is eerie and unsettling, and meant to be so.

“I can’t decide if I love it, hate it, or just find it odd.”

Solas is startled by the woman next to him. He’d not noticed her, or assumed she was part of the group that moved on.

“It’s captivating nonetheless,” he offers.

“I agree. It’s one of the more interesting exhibits recently.”

He turns to her, and she is captivating too. Her dress is a shimmery white, contrasting with her tan skin and red hair piled on top of her head. Diamonds drip from her pointed ears and her green eyes sparkle. As she moves, his eyes are drawn to the high slit in her dress and her tall heels.

He quickly looks back at her face, and she smirks at him.

“Do you often attend the openings?” he asks, and realizes this is almost as cliche as do you come here often? He wanted someone to talk to, and now he wants to sink into the floor.

“Most of them, if I can.” She smiles and holds out her hand. “I’m Iwyn.”

He takes it, and she gives a firm handshake.

“Solas.”

“So, Solas, are you familiar with Brenhan’s work?”

“Some. I have not seen such an extensive collection before. From what I understand it is the most comprehensive exhibition of his works. Outside Orzammar, of course.”

“Yes, I’ve heard so too. I did see some of his work in the Museum of Modern Art in Denerim, but it was only a few. I do find his work intriguing, and a lot more impressive in person.”

“It’s the scale of it. It doesn’t translate well to a catalogue.”

Iwyn agrees and they talk more about the paintings, moving from one room to the next in the exhibit. He learns that her interest in art is recent, and he has plenty of knowledge he can share with her. Her own insights are unique and interesting still, seeing the soul and emotion of the pictures without the baggage of art study. The conversation is invigorating and easy.

Sometime later, an elven man joins them. He’s a little shorter than Solas, with a square jaw and long dark hair gathered in a bun at his neck. He leans over and kisses Iwyn on the cheek.

“Hello, dear.”

“Solas, this is my husband Halier. Halier, Solas is an art enthusiast and he’s been sharing interesting thoughts on the exhibit.”

Solas heart drops in chest and he instinctively puts space between him and Iwyn. He’s enjoyed their conversation immensely, and working to steer the conversation away from the art and towards leaving for drinks. Like a fool, he’d ignored the large diamond ring on her finger. It went with her earrings and bracelet.

Halier grunts and thrusts out his hand, and Solas can do nothing else but take it.

“Solas. I’m sure I’ve seen you before – where do you work?”

“I’m a partner at Evanuris Wealth Management.”

“Of course. I must have seen your picture in your office. I’m a partner with Lavellan, Lavellan & Sabrae Law Firm.”

“Very nice.”

Solas isn’t here to discuss business. Most days, he doesn’t hate his job, or the family business, and he’s glad it allows him to support the arts like this, but he also doesn’t want it to consume his life. He isn’t here to discuss business.

“Are you done here?” Halier directs his question at Iwyn, but does not wait for her response. “I’d like to get out of here, I have that early flight tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t mind staying a bit longer. Take the car, I’ll grab a cab.” Iwyn fishes a valet ticket out of her clutch, and lightly kisses Halier’s cheek. “Don’t wait up.”

“I won’t. I have to be at the airport at 6am. Goodnight, dear.” He takes the ticket, and nods at Solas. “Solas, nice to meet you. We can discuss business at some other time, perhaps. Thank you for entertaining my wife.”

“A pleasure.”

Solas watches as Halier leaves, but his attention is soon back on Iwyn.

"My husband finds these things terribly boring,” she says. “We're donors, and he likes his name on something cultured along with the tax deduction, but that's it."

"And you don’t find these things boring?"

“I like the events, and the art. Especially with interesting company.”

He doesn’t know how to interpret that, with her sly smile and sparkling eyes and husband retreating down the stairs.

“The art is certainly better with good company.”

He closes a little of the space between them, and he wants her to forget her husband existed. Fuck.

“I’d love to look at the final part of the exhibit. Do you want to join me, Solas?”

She brushes past him, her fingers skimming his arm as she gestures towards the last room they have not explored. He’s no idea if it’s deliberate, but the heat of her sears him through his jacket.

They spend another thirty minutes, at least, taking in the final room. The art is interesting, but more and more he finds himself staring at Iwyn. She catches him, at one point, causing him to quickly avert his eyes and stumble over his words.

Iwyn puts a hand on his arm.

“How about getting some drinks? It seems you’ve lost interest in the art.”

“I’m looking at a different type of art, even more interesting and beautiful.”

It slips out before he can stop himself, but she just gives him a crooked smile.

“Let’s get out of there, Solas.”

-

Iwyn takes Solas to a nearby bar. There’s a risk someone would know her and her husband, of course, but she’s willing to take it. Halier already knows she was talking with him, and they’re just here to talk a little more. Maybe, she admits, she wants to more than talk. She likes his eyes on her, the intensity in them when he looks at her. She likes his voice, and the way he called her beautiful just earlier. Brazen and rebellious.

The bar is nice enough, a regular upscale bar matching the surrounding office buildings, galleries, art museum, restaurants, and symphony hall. She thinks it was featured recently in the nightlife section of the local newspaper, but she isn’t sure. Iwyn orders the featured drink, The Divine’s Night Off, with crystal grace infused gin, brown sugar syrup and Navarran orange liqueur. Solas orders a fruity pink grapefruit vodka concoction.

They make careful small talk, at first. About art, and the museum and the ballet (Solas is a fan, Iwyn isn’t) and other arts that the city offers. They carefully avoid talking about work or what Solas does for a living. It’s clear that his company and her husband’s do some business, and she doesn’t want to think about that.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you at the donor evenings before. We – I try to go to most of them.”

“I have been a donor for a while now, but the last two years I’ve been in Kirkwall. For work.”

Solas makes a face, and she grins. No one really likes Kirkwall, not even the people from there.

“Happy to be back in Wycome?”

“Most certainly. Kirkland is boring at best, and polluted and prejudiced at its worst. It is a relief to be back. Though I must say that I did not expect the event to be that enticing.”

His voice sends shivers down her spine.

“I’m very glad you’re here, Solas. It made my evening a lot more exciting so far.”

“So far?”

“It could become more exciting.”

“How so?”

“I’m sure you can figure it out.”

She’s bored and lonely most of the time, if she’s honest, and Solas offers something new and different. She wants his hands all over her. She wants to fuck him. There are many reasons she’s still married to Halier, but mediocre sex isn’t one of them. She never thought of meeting someone like this, flirting like this. The thrill of it is lightning in her veins, and the fact that Solas knows about her husband intensifies it.

Solas takes a sip of his drink, and traces the edge of his glass. His fingers are long and elegant.

“I would very much like to. Figure it out, I mean.”

She’s made up her mind, and she doesn’t want to wait anymore. Iwyn is out of her comfort zone, but there is something about Solas that draws her to him. She needs to know if he feels the same, and she’s no reason to hide her intentions.

“Sweet talker.”

“Iwyn, I…” He pauses, and looks serious. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

“Solas,” she says, as she reaches across the table and places her hand on top of his. “I know a hotel, nearby.”

“Yes,” he replies, to the question she didn’t ask.

They pay for their drinks and slip out into the cool night. It has rained while they were at the bar, the wet sidewalk reflecting the lights from the street. Boldly, Iwyn pulls Solas close and kisses him, soft and quick. He freezes, and she’s about to apologize when he pulls her close again and kisses her back. This time there is nothing soft or gentle about it.

“We should probably find that hotel,” she mumbles when they pull apart. As much as she wants to keep him close, she also wants him naked. Solas seems to agree, nodding and taking her hand. It’s only two blocks to the hotel, and they manage without too many stops for kisses. The entrance is well lit, gold handles in the glass doors.  

She hesitates in the lobby, but only briefly. She is certain. Solas hand is at the small of her back, as if it belongs there. As if they’d checked into a hotel together a million times before.

“Can I help you?”

The human behind the counter looks very bored. It’s quite late, and the lobby is empty.

“We need a room for a night. We don’t have a reservation.”

Solas is close and she draws on the confidence in his presence. He wants to be here. She wants to be here. What they’re doing is no one else’s business.

“Sure.” The girl taps on her computer. “Nightly rate 399. Credit card and Id, please?”

“Let me,” Solas says smoothly, and she supposes he right. It’s not that she can’t pay, but it’s better it’s not her name. Some part of her doesn’t care, craves the danger of it. But she’s not quite ready to self-destruct her life.

Solas hands over his cards, and the girl dutifully enters his information into her system. She hands them two keycards. She looks too tired and underpaid to ask about their lack of luggage.

“Room 906, elevators are down and on your right. Checkout is at 11am tomorrow.”

Solas thanks her, hands Iwyn one card, and starts down the hallway. Iwyn grabs his hand.

“One moment.”

She heads to the hotel convenience store, determined and casual all at once. She looks at the little stand of toiletries – deodorants, cotton buds, razors.

“Do you have any condoms?”

The dwarf behind counter grunts, and pulls out a silver cardboard box from a cabinet behind the counter.

“19.99.”

She hands him her credit card, and puts the box in the purse when the transaction is complete. The dwarf grunts again, and fiddles with his phone.

Iwyn hurries after Solas, and puts her hand in his when she catches up.

-

They slip inside the room, and the door closes with a soft thud behind them. Iwyn pushes him against the wall, and catches his lips in an eager kiss. He slips his hand through the tall slit in her dress, caressing her skin, like he’d been wanting to all night. He kisses her neck, she gasps.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says. He pulls back and really looks at her. A thought occurs to him. “Does your husband know you’re here?”

He isn’t really certain why a beautiful woman wants with him, and her husband is certainly handsome enough. If he’s part of someone’s kink he’d like to know.

“No. Does that bother you?”

He shakes his head.

“Good.”

Iwyn walks to the bed, and drops her dress on the floor. It pools around her feet, leaving her nude except her lace panties and tall heels. She twists off her diamond ring and drops it on the bedside table.

“He won’t know anything,” she states.

She is breathtaking. He tentatively touches her arm, her shoulder. Runs his fingers across her collar bone, and down her chest. She gasps when he cups her breast briefly, before skimming over her ribs, resting his hand on her hip. He follows with kisses, all the way down the body until he kneels before her. He frees her legs from the dress, folds it, and toss it on a chair.

“If he did know – your husband – would you be in danger?”

She laughs at this, and cuts herself off. She looks at him earnestly.

“Thank you, Solas, for asking. I wouldn’t be. He would be severely disappointed, I suppose. Just like he severely disappoints me.”

He kisses her knee.

“I will endeavor not to, in that case.”

“Very good.”

The way her voice drops when she praises him sends a bolt of arousal straight to his dick. So does the fact that she’s here, with him, while her husband has gone home alone.

He runs his hands up her legs, and kisses her lace covered sex. She gasps, a low involuntary sound, completely lovely.

“Sit down, please?”

She does, sitting herself on the bed behind her. Before he can lean in closer, she lifts one foot, pressing her heel against his chest.

“You’re overdressed, Solas.”

“Of course.”

He takes off his jacket, and unbuttons his shirt. Iwyn crosses her legs, and follows every move with hooded eyes. He hopes he measures up. With his chest bared he leans over her and kisses her, deep and hungry.

“Everything, Solas,” she says.

He complies, taking off his shoes and dresspants and socks and boxers. There’s no elegant way to go about it, but Iwyn is just sitting on the bed, leaning back on her elbows with a small smile on her face. She smiles wider when he’s finally naked, and he’d happily suffer a little awkwardness to put such a smile on face.

Iwyn uncrosses her legs.

“Now where were you?”

Solas slides down in front of her. “Right here, I believe.” He slides his hands up her calves, past her knees. She yields to his gentle pressure, and lets her legs fall open. He kisses the inside of her thigh, and again, his lips caressing her silken skin all the way up to her lace clad mound. He kisses the lace, and she moans deliciously when he breathes hot air against her. He draws his head back to look at her, glorious above him, and caresses her with his fingers. He slips two inside her panties, touching her slick heat. Iwyn bucks against him, his other hand firmly holding her left leg.

“More,” she growls, and he draws her panties aside, leaving her clit exposed, pink and swollen. He teases it, and rubs against the sides of it, and then he presses down on it.

“Like this? Softer? Harder?”

“Harder, softer. Alternate.”

He smiles, and does as she asks, causing her to gasp and writhe. She is alluring, her half-covered sex arousing, her wet cunt inviting. He wants to taste her, to make her scream. He keeps working his fingers, and kisses the inside of her thigh. When he reaches the top, he licks up her cunt, reveling in her taste. She moans, a deep throaty sound and he groans too. He looks up at her, her shiny red lips parted, her cheeks flushed with desire.

“More?” he asks.

“Yes, please. Now.”

“I think I’ll get rid of these first.”. He smirks at her, moving his hands across her panties. They’re pretty, but in the way. He pulls the fabric a little up, making the lace rub against her clit, and then down. She lifts her hips easily, allowing him to slide them all the way down her legs. He carefully pulls the panties over the heels of her shoes, leaving them on her feet.

He doesn’t tease this time, no matter how inviting the soft skin of thighs is, but sits right up between her legs and spreads his palms over her hips. Her legs part wide for him, and he lowers his mouth to taste her again. He licks and sucks her sensitive folds and her swollen clit.  He’s rewarded with a low moan, her head thrown back. He adds his hand, his fingers teasing her opening. Iwyn takes the opportunity to throw her leg over his shoulder. She’s wet and soft, clenching around his fingers, her juices coating his chin. Her heel digs into his back, pressing him closer to her, a beautiful counterpoint to her sweet taste.

She is all his, right here, even if it isn’t so outside this room. Not that she belongs to anyone but herself, not truly.

Solas keeps working his fingers, his tongue until she shudders around him, moaning and trashing against him. He lets her come down carefully, gently easing her out of her climax. Her leg slips to the floor and she relaxes into the bed.

“That was – very good.”

“Yes?”

“You did good,” she says again, firmer this time. His already hard cock jumps at it. He wants her and he wants her approval more. He wants to be good enough for her. He’s here with her, and her husband isn’t. He’s the one who slides his hands all the way down her legs, and gently takes off her shoes, kissing her ankles. He’s the one who crawls into bed after her when she swings legs up to stretch out on it.

He’s the one who asks her, “what can I do next?”

“Touch me,” she says. “Like you care.”

Solas is suddenly furiously angry, overcome with a need to punch Iwyn’s husband in the face the next time he meets him. He won’t, of course, and refocuses his attention on Iwyn. He just met her tonight, but he does care. He wants to touch her, to please her, right here in this downtown hotel. He also wants to talk art with her again, to get to know her better. He shoves that thought to the back of his brain. Being the one the satisfy her will have to be enough.

“I do care, Iwyn.”

She looks stunned at his earnestness, perhaps like she regrets her vulnerability. He patiently lets his fingers wander up her torso, feather-light. Iwyn recovers and smirks.

“Get on with it, then.”

He does, his hands wandering across her chest, teasing her nipples as he dips his head to kiss her. He learns what makes her moan, what makes her arch her back. Her hands are not idle either, sliding up his body, digging into his shoulders. He groans when she traces one finger up his cock, and wraps her whole hand around it. She pumps it slowly and all thoughts flee his mind, his hands randomly touching her, needing to feel her skin beneath his hands in any way he can. Iwyn sits half up, and kisses him.

“Lay back, Solas,” she says, extracting herself from under him.

He does, laying back and lets her continue to do as she pleases. Her hand is back on his cock as she grins, her other hand holding him firmly down when his hips jerk. He’s so hard it aches, and he almost can’t hold it together when moves faster, twisting her hand a little.

“I’m going to fuck you.”

“Please, please, Iwyn.” He’s ready to beg for anything, has been since he first laid his eyes on her.

She lets go of him, and finds the packet of condoms, opening one. Her nails are expertly manicured, a deep green color. The diamond bracelet glints against her wrist. She rolls the condom over his cock.

Seated above him, she drags her nails across his chest, her cunt hovering out of reach. He wants. He needs, he needs her now.

“Please,” he says again. “I need – “

She lowers herself on him, heat surrounding him, perfect and far too slow. When he moves, thrusting his hips up impatiently, she puts a hand on his chest.

“Stay still.”

Her eyes are burning, and it’s not a question. A demand. A test. He complies and grows impossible harder. Iwyn moves with agonizing slowness. His hands find their way to her waist, supporting, but not changing her pace, letting her stay in control. They’re both panting, eyes caught in each other.

Finally, Iwyn moves faster, leaning more on her weight on his chest as she collapses a little forward. He grips her hips tighter, and she nods. Now he moves with her, into her. It’s tight and hot and wonderful, and he moans her name as he throws his head back. Iwyn brings her own hand between her legs, and they both move faster, erratically. She trembles above him, glorious and beautiful, and his own orgasm takes him by surprise, intensity coursing through him.

Iwyn collapses fully on his chest, and he wraps his arms around her. She sighs and kiss his neck, as she slides off him, then tucks herself into him. Solas deals with the condom, and lets himself enjoy her warmth next to him.

"I don't normally do this," she says.

"Neither do I."

"Fucking a married woman, or engaging in one-night stands in general?"

Both. Either. He just nods, and kisses her brow. She idly caresses his shoulder. It feels far too comfortable.

“I’m glad I did,” she says.

“As I am I.” 

They lay intwined, and he holds her. A minute. An hour. A moment. Long enough to pretend this belongs to him.

She slips away well before dawn. Home, he supposes, to her husband, or an empty bed he has left. Back to her real life.

She kisses his cheek.

"Thanks, Solas. I had a good time."

He squeezes her hand.

"Me too," he says, and he smiles, as wide and genuine as he can.

Casual fun, another man's wife.

The door clicks shut after her.

#dragon age #dragon age fanfic #solavellan #solavellan fanfic #iwyn x solas #writing about Iwyn #AHH it was so nice to write them again #they are happy and married in almost every timeline #here they get to be messy #just a bit #had 3000 words of this just lingering in my wips #very happy to throw it out there #finish your wips #viking writes #published 2/29/2024 #leap day seems apt for leaping back to solavellan #solavellan hell is eternal

[thegothicviking]

If you are interested in poetry or Rammstein fan fictions than please go follow my other blog 👉 @viking-writing (this is were most of the updates on the WIP Rammstein fan fiction series will be posted along with my poetry and other scribbes!)

I am literally writing a novel for you guys! The 1st is gonna be a long one! And I am terrified that y'all will hate it! 😭

#just wanted my new mutuals and followers to know that if you like rammstein and fan fics #I will be cooking/brewing something for you and I hope you like fantasy and gory stuff #personal viking #writing fan fiction #viking writes

[ghouljams]

thinking about Soap and how physical he is with everyone except you. Spare touches only because he knows if he touches you once he'll want to do it again and again. Anyone else and he won't even think before touching them. Leaning against Gaz when he's dozing off, clapping Ghost on the back just because he can, he loops an arm around people's shoulders when he laughs too hard, but if you offer him a hand up off the ground he won't take it. You figure it's a boundary thing, but he's friendly like that with people he's just met too!

It's really only when you start flirting, start dating him, that suddenly it all barrels into you like a train. Then he can't stop touching you. Constantly playing with your fingers, rubbing his hands against your sides, resting his chin on your shoulder, toying with the hem of your shirt, pulling you into his lap to hug close. There's not a moment in his company that he doesn't have a hand on you. He gravitates towards you, a moth to your flame, and neither of you are particularly interested in getting him to stop.

#cod x reader #x reader #ghoul speaks #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap modern warfare #soap mactavish #soap cod #soap mw2 #this is cuz I'm writing more viking!soap and he's so fun #I love the idea of him saying he's going to court the reader properly #and not doing that because other things get in the way #yet somehow reader falls for him anyway

[writingoddess1125]

WE SEE YOU MOTHERFUCKERS!

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing #vikings fanfic #vampire fanfiction #fanart appreciation #fanfic #x reader #x fem!reader #x male reader #one peice x reader #marvel x reader #vikings x reader

[valeskafics]

"A Political Arrangement" - Harald Sigurdsson x Canute's Daughter!Reader

a/n: first time writing for harald, hope you all enjoy! combined a request for harald x canute's daughter with harald x virgin!reader ❤️

Summary: A political arrangement turns into something more when you marry Harald Sigurdsson.

TW: profanity, innuendo, sexual situations, afab reader, she/her pronouns, harald being annoying and presumptuous, fingering, oral f receiving, overstim, p in v sex, breeding kink if you squint, size kink if you squint

Word Count: 2,400 words

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Vikings Valhalla characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated ❤️

When your father told your mother that arrangements had been made for you to marry Harald Sigurdsson, Prince of Norway, she refused to listen to any of your protests. She told you that when she was a young woman, she too was sent off to be married, to your father, the King of Denmark, and that arranged marriages aren’t all as awful as they seem. You refused to listen to her, storming off to your chambers, handling the news in a less than ideal manner. Your mother tries to help you realize that you can very likely sway your father to support Prince Harald when the time comes for him to become King of Norway, thereby making you a queen in your own right. But it still involves marrying some Norseman you hardly know.

When you arrive in Kattegat, you find the village to be quite charming. The people are friendly and greet you politely. Then, you see him. Harald Sigurdsson himself. He approaches you, a broad smile on your face. However, rather than being enchanted by his presence, you find his grin to be a bit too smug and self-satisfied.

You’re going to bring this viking down a peg if it’s the last thing you do. And find a way out of this.

“So, Princess, you are my intended?”

“It would appear so,” you reply coolly.

“It seems I am lucky to be so,” he says, his eyes running over your body as he steps closer to you, “Are all Danish women as beautiful as you, beautiful princess?”

“Are all Norsemen as forward as you?” you retort sharply, telling him your name before adding primly, “But you may refer to me as Your Royal Highness.”

Harald can’t help but grin at your comment, finding your behavior quite refreshing, “A princess of Denmark. Daughter of the great King Canute,” he says, circling you, running a finger up your arm, all the way to your chin, “Why is it, princess, that Danish women are so beautiful? What is the secret behind your beauty?”

“We bathe in the blood of virgins,” you say dryly.

He bursts into laughter at your words, moving to run a hand through your hair, “Not just beautiful, but a sharp mind as well,” Harald’s eyes dart down toward your soft lips as he adds, “I am looking forward to our wedding night.”

“I am sure that you are,” you scoff,” striding past him, “But you assume that there will be a wedding night. I have every intention of getting out of this.”

“Ah, but sweet princess, I do not wish for you to leave just yet,” Harald says, catching you by the hand, pulling you back toward him so that you stumble against his chest, “You are like a flame and I am a simple moth who is captivated by your glow.”

“Fly into the flame and burn then,” comes your sassy retort as you pull away from him, walking toward the tent that you’ve been told is for you.

Harald follows after you, grinning mischievously, leaning in as he lets the tent flaps close behind him, “That’s no way to treat your future husband,” he arches a brow as you roll your eyes and open your trunk, rummaging through it, speaking up again, whispering in your ear, the low timbre of his voice sending shivers up and down your spine, “It is not polite to ignore me, little one.”

You turn around, your nostrils flaring with rage as you glare up at him, “Considering you are not yet my husband, it is not polite for you to be in my tent at all, Prince Harald,” you pause before adding, “And do not call me ‘little one’!”

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush up against him, your chest against his, a smirk playing on his lips, “I cannot help myself. You and your curves have taken my mind hostage.”

“The Danish kill their hostages,” you snark, feeling the way his hips press against yours as he holds you tight.

Harald chuckles at your snark, his hands moving lower, “Danish women may kill their hostages but you will find that Norsemen are good at convincing their women out of doing so.”

You gasp sharply when his hands grope at the supple flesh of your ass, squeezing as he lets out a moan, “You can’t just grab me like that, you great big brute!”

“And why not?” he retorts, grinning devilishly, “You’ll be my wife by the end of the night, whether you will it or not.”

You scowl at him, your gaze fiery in a way that makes Harald feel as though he will boil over with lust at any moment, “I have no intention of marrying you!”

He brings his lips to your ear, nipping at your earlobe playfully before he jests, “Do you not, Princess? That’s quite alright. We can bypass the marriage ceremony. I can just take my fill of you right now.”

You reel your hand back and slap him as hard across the face as you physically can. Harald lets the slap come, knowing full well he deserves it. He winces slightly at the sting but can’t help but continue smiling at you, quite enjoying your fiery temper.

“You have no idea how attractive I find it when you stand up for yourself,” he says, placing a hand on your cheek.

You do your best to ignore how nice his calloused palm feels against your soft skin and instead continue glaring up at him, “Of all the obnoxious, pompous, egotistical-”

“Obnoxious, pompous, egotistical, yes,” he teases, pressing his lips to your jaw before murmuring, “Soon to be your obnoxious, pompous, egotistical husband.”

You shove past him, walking out of the tent toward the longhouse, or anywhere you can go to get away from him, “In. Your. Dreams. And you call yourself a Christian and me the heathen?” Harald smirks as you eye him up and down, “I have met stray hounds with better manners than you.”

Harald bursts into laughter and you do your best to ignore what a pleasant sound it is as he stands beside you, “Is it so terrible to think that I find you beautiful? You know,” he leans in, whispering conspiratorially, “I have never met a Danish woman who did not find my advances endearing.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” you reply, a tartness to your voice that Harald finds enticing.

Your marriage ceremony comes and goes. First, a Christian ceremony to honor Harald’s faith, then a pagan one to honor yours. You go to your marriage bed, realizing that for better or worse, this is your life now. Your mother’s words return to your mind as you change into your nightgown before Harald arrives. That wedding this man could make you a queen. And you suppose Harald isn’t the ugliest man in the world… Rather, he’s quite charming… And handsome…

Dammit, have you become one of the Danish women who find his advances endearing?

He enters the room, a spring in his step as he walks toward you. He removes his furs, then his tunic, revealing the broad planes of his muscular chest and torso to you. The man is built like a god, you think. If Harald notices you admiring his form, he keeps it to himself, instead just pulling you close to him.

He frowns in concern at the way you avert your gaze, “What’s wrong, my bride?”

“I…” you sigh, “For all my bluster,” you gaze up at him, “I have not done this before.”

“You are a virgin?” he asks gently, all his earlier cockiness and bravado gone when you nod, “Do not worry. I will be gentle with you, sweet princess.”

And for some reason, you believe him. He presses his lips to yours softly, snaking his tongue into your mouth and allowing it to dance against yours as he cups your face in his hands as though it is a fine piece of porcelain. And for a moment, you forget about this all being a political arrangement. Rather, Harald is a man and you are a woman. Two people who desire each other. His lips move down to your neck, kissing it slowly, softly, nibbling at your skin. Harald begins undoing the laces on your nightdress, watching as it falls to the ground, leaving you completely bare before his gaze. Your arms immediately go to cover your chest, but Harald has none of that, taking your hands in his, pressing a kiss to each of your wrists.

“Do not be afraid of me,” he murmurs, “I have loved you from the moment I saw you get off that boat, and I was even more certain of it when you slapped me for my advances.”

You laugh softly, though it turns into a moan as Harald’s lips move to your breast, his tongue laving attention over one of your nipples, suckling at it greedily as he pushes you to lay back on the bed. Your hands tangle in his hair as he lays on top of you, mouth moving to your neglected breast, teasing you with his tongue, nipping gently, just enough to make you let out a squeak of surprise. He chuckles before pulling back and grabbing you by the ankles, pulling you toward him, tossing both of your legs over his shoulders.

“Can I taste you, my wife?”

“Taste?” you repeat curiously.

Your question is cut short by Harald’s tongue licking a stripe along your cunt. You let out a tremulous breath as he teases you, never fully moving his tongue inside you, rather lapping at your entrance, almost torturing you. You buck your hips against him, feeling his beard tickling your inner thighs as he proceeds to bury his tongue in your wet folds. You gasp, grabbing onto the bedsheets, writhing against them as he continues to lick at you, the warm muscle of his tongue fucking you and sending you closer and closer to your peak. The lewd noises he makes, the moans he lets out that vibrate against you, all serve to send you careening over the edge, white hot pleasure like you’ve never known before washing over you as you spill yourself on his tongue.

You lay back on the bed, gazing up at the ceiling in a blissful haze, catching your breath. Harald’s lips find yours and you wrap your legs around his hips, kissing him back, clinging to him as though your life depends on it. You feel him push a long, thick finger inside you, making you throw your head back against your pillow, mewling his name as you squeeze around the digit. He curves it in a come hither motion, pumping in and out of you, excruciatingly slow, before adding a second finger, then a third, filling you up more than you’ve ever felt before. You know he’s preparing you for what’s to come, but you lose any semblance of rational thought when he brushes up against a spot inside you that has your eyes nearly rolling back in pleasure, your head lolling to the side. Harald seems to know he’s found your sweet spot and makes sure to stroke it over and over as he moves his fingers in and out of you, bringing you to your peak again, mouthing at your breasts again.

“My goddess,” he murmurs as he maneuvers the two of you so you lay on top of him, “Are you ready for me?”

You nod eagerly, “Yes, my husband… My king… Please take me…”

He lifts you up by the hips, slowly lowering you down onto his cock. He’s large and thick and so warm, filling you up perfectly. It stings at first, but that goes away after a few moments, leaving you with only a feeling of perfect fullness. Harald lets out a low moan at how you squeeze around him almost painfully, deliciously tight, your warmth enveloping him. He gives you a moment to adjust to his length and girth, smirking at the way your head is thrown back in ecstasy as he bucks his hips up against you, holding you in place with his hands. He sets a slow, languid pace as he fucks you, moving one hand to play with your sensitive pearl, rubbing and pinching at it gently, loving the way you squeeze around him every time he touches it. He sits up to mouth at your chest again, lifting you up and down, bouncing you on his lap, watching the way his cock disappears inside your tight little cunt each time. He feels his stones tighten as he suckles at your breast, one hand playing with your pearl while the other sets a breakneck pace as he fucks up into you.

You bury your face in his neck, letting out a choked gasp as you near your peak, your body and Harald’s moving in tandem until finally, you spill yourself, your arousal coating his cock, whimpering, “Harald…”

He flips you onto your stomach, holding your hips as he slams into you over and over, fucking into you at a newer, deeper angle, his stones slapping against your ass as he lets out something akin to a growl, “I know you can handle more, Princess.”

He fucks you until you reach your peak once more, reaching his own soon before he lays down beside you, pulling you close to him. He kisses you softly, laying like that in perfect silence for a long moment. Your breathing is heavy and your eyes are hazy as you gaze up at him.

“My princess,” he murmurs after several minutes of holding you, feeling himself begin to harden against your thigh, “Are you ready for me again?”

You look at him, eyes wide, “A-again?”

The two of you lay side by side as he sheathes himself in you with a slow thrust, your face buried in the crook of his neck. This position is more intimate as you cling to him and he holds you close, slowly rolling his hips against yours. He seems intent on making this last, moving at a lazy pace, eyes gazing into yours as he holds you.

“My king,” you sigh contentedly as your husband makes love to you.

“My queen,” Harald echoes your sentiments, thinking that he cannot wait to live his life with you.

#harald sigurdsson x reader #harald sigurdsson x you #harald x reader #harald x you #vikings valhalla x reader #vikings valhalla x you #my writing

[earlgodwin]

"We had each other. Now, you have Victoria and she will never leave you. Do you know how much I envy you? And how I will miss you?” 

#the cutest brothers! love how self-depricating ernest is <3 #it's crazy how they wrote off ernest in s3 as if he wasn't like...the third main character after albert and victoria?? lol #what's with those period dramas and how they always waste david oakes' talent by writing him off? #vikings valhalla were smart enough to keep him for 3 season though #itv victoria #victoriaedit #itvedit #david oakes #tom hughes #jenna coleman #perioddramaedit #perioddramacentral #cinemapix #tvarchive #weloveperioddrama #filmgifs #smallscreensource #gifshistorical #dailyworldcinema #by jen

[gloriousburden]

i think they should make a movie where the writers actually like thor and loki

#how many more times are you gonna butcher their characters? #we need to talk more about how shitty the writers treat thor too. his writing in endgame was so… #you know… just because he’s a quote on quote rich kid space viking (words of taika waititi) #he still deserves a character arc from writers who actually understand what they’re working with and respect him/his fans. #fans who they (the writers directors and the studio in general) would be nothing without btw. #thor and loki deserve better #anti avengers endgame #anti thor ragnarok #thor ragnarok criticism #avengers endgame criticism #anti taika waititi #thor #thor mcu #loki #loki mcu

[thevikingwoman]

I had thoughts and needed them out. After witnessing the details of G'raha's plan, Meryta feels upset and unsettled and needs some time to think.

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV | Words: 736 | Read on Ao3

Meryta Khatin | Shadowbringers: The Unbroken Thread | angst Rating: Teen. Anger, reflection, MSQ coda, mention of death and dying. Four Lords spoilers too

Choices

Meryta doesn’t go to the Amaro Launch, even though that’s what she tells Lyna when she hands her back the key to the Umbilicus. Instead, she grabs her pickaxe, and sets out for Lakeland. The Facet can always use more ore, and right now the work of it somehow seems appealing.

She does not mine.

Instead, she ends up lying in the flowers, gazing up at the unbearably bright sky. The light cracks inside her head. Endless. Noisy.

Her fault.

No. That’s not true. The Exarch – G’raha Tia, had a plan, with Urianger an accomplice. And it failed. Her part in it was not up to her, and not discussed. If she’d known, perhaps she could have…

She closes her eyes against the burning light. It doesn’t stop. She wonders if the light leaks out of them, like it leaked into her limbal rings after they killed the Lightwarden in Amh Araeng. If anyone would notice it, in the brightness all around.

She is tired and motionless and has given up on the pretense of mining. She thought moving her body would feel good and she briefly considered pulling a mark from the board – but it would be worse, if she got killed by some powerful beast, which could absorb her aether and become a most terrifying Lightwarden. Ravaging through the land, set upon the Crystarium.

So, instead she grabbed her pick and now she lies here.

She should be dead.

No.

G’raha should be dead, had planned to die, so she could live.

The light is so very loud inside her skull and she wants to scream, her hands fists at her side, tears running down her face.

They made the choice for her, as if she’s some kind of child.

The stillness sweeps over her, she can’t even hold her own anger, the suffusing light too oppressive, too heavy. She thinks of Tenzen, who gave his life to save the world – his world; her world. Binding Koryu at the cost of his life, making that choice because he had to. Because he wanted to. The memory of him living on through stories, and through his beloved auspices. The auspices who loved him, loved him enough to trust him to make that choice for himself.

Is she not loved enough to do so?

Mayhap that isn’t fair. Mayhap it would have worked, had it not been for Emet-Selch’s interference. Bastard acian. Perhaps there would have been no other options, their plan the best course of action. Except – why does she get to live? The fervent description of her legacy, the way G’raha spoke of the hope she will bring. Would have brought to a broken world. A legacy that may not come to pass. All of their plotting to make sure she survived, as is she is somehow more important than anyone, because of what he’d learned of her in the future they worked so hard to not come to pass. She’s not that person. She didn’t choose to be that person, not yet. Did Tenzen choose his legacy or did it choose him? At least no one made the choice for him while he was still living.

Perhaps she should thank Emet-Selch, and this only fuels her anger. All for naught, and she’s halfway glad of it. The plan so intricate, and yet so very simple. Take the light. Go off and die. All these scholars and she just has her weapons and her fight - and yet they choose for her to live instead of them finding a solution, consulting Y’shtola, Alphinaud, anyone. Instead of asking her.  

She fists her hand in the blanket of flowers beneath her, tears them out in clumps. Grass, flowers, trees above.

Blinding light inside out.

Anger burning in her chest, drowned by the light.

An acian with a gun.

She knows what she must do.

She will go and find G’raha, as she promised Lyna. She will kill Emet-Selch if she has to. And she’ll save G’raha, and she will take the light wherever he intended to, into a rift, and save this world too. They will have to let her, have to help her do this. She will make that choice.  Not G’raha, not Urianger, nor any other friend who’d try to stop her.

She will hold on to the light, keeping it locked inside her a little longer.

Long enough for her to make her choice.

#meryta khatin #final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #ffxiv fanfiction #ff14 fanfiction #viking writes #writing about meryta #she is SO very upset about the whole deal #and I wanted to dig into her feelings #also wanted to talk about emet-selch and his gun #ffs #shadowbringers spoilers #first published 3/28/2024

[ghouljams]

I have more thoughts about Viking Soap but I just needed to let you know that your story is making me GNAW ON THE BARS OF MY CAGE, FOAMING AT THE MOUTH, HOWLING AT THE MOON.

I can’t get over how gentle he is, how he would do anything but god the angst potential, stolen away from a place you’ve always known to a whole different group of people, pretty much forced to join them and continue practicing your skills to help people you consider evil, an enemy even. The emotional turmoil of becoming friends with some and GOD even falling in love with one? Especially the one who whisked you away!

I can’t wait to read more!!!!!

Sincerely,

🥛 Mayo anon

I love viking!Soap, love the juxtaposition of his gentleness with the fact that he is y'know a viking. I love that he isn't who the reader thinks he is, and yet he's exactly who they know him to be. He's big and strong, he's made for violence and will enact if given the chance, but he's also kind and understanding.

I have so much planned for their story. Finding your place in a strange new world, realizing you have a choice in who you want to be and the fear of making the wrong choice. Learning to live with grief, and learning to forgive yourself for leaving. Falling in love with the man that you blame for the path your life has taken, realizing he never had a choice either... y'know normal fic stuff

#ghoul speaks #cod x reader #x reader #🥛 mayo anon #viking!soap #I have one scene in particular that I have written and I won't get to share for ages #but that I fucking love and it makes me want to just write viking soap all the time #this is his au and he's the star baby

[valeskafics]

Headcanons for Spicy Times with Harald Sigurdsson & Leif Eriksson

TW: profanity, innuendo, she/her pronouns, AFAB reader, bondage, knifeplay, blood kink, daddy kink, oral m and f receiving, p in v sex

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Vikings: Valhalla characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated ❤️

Harald Sigurdsson

-this man is obsessed with your ass, loves fucking you from behind so he can smack it, watch it jiggle, squeeze it

-very very dominant, enjoys choking you and pulling your hair a little bit

-bathtub sex is a MUST for him

-gets VERY horny after battle, so you'd best believe you're going to get railed after the two of you get home

-goes absolutely feral if he sees blood on you, loves seeing you as his strong valkyrie princess

-lets out the sexiest groans when you suck his cock, loves fucking your mouth and the way you look when you gaze up at him

-can and will sneak out of a feast and fuck you against the longhouse outside

-slight blasphemy kink in all honesty, likes asking you who's making you feel this good (not god) when the two of you are fucking

-overstim king, loves eating your pussy over and over until you're a whimpering, sobbing mess, thighs shaking, almost unable to breathe

-pussy slapping, very much so into it, loves the way you cry out his name

-as much as he loves rough, feral sex, his favorite is intimate, slow sex, where the two of you are lying in bed side by side and he can gaze into your eyes as he fucks you, watching the way you respond to him, memorizing each little expression you make

-if any saxon lord looks at you the wrong way or he feels like you were even slightly flirting back, be prepared for him to spank you and then dom the fuck out of you

-likes the idea of tying you up and teasing you, will be very down to do it if you're into that

-modern harald would definitely have a daddy kink, loves calling you his pretty girl, sweet girl, kitten, little one etc

-degradation kink, loves telling you how dumb you look, all fucked out on his cock, barely able to speak

-aftercare king, will run you a warm bath and wash your hair, massage your shoulders (but usually it lands up with the two of you fucking again, animals)

Leif Eriksson

-this man is a SWITCH, he can definitely dom you but he enjoys when you turn the tables on him

-EDGING, SO MUCH EDGING, he's MEAN about it, but then he'll praise you a bit condescendingly like "oh, my sweet girl, i know you can take a little more, you're strong, no?"

-heavy blood kink, when he's gone all berserker and shit he will fuck you so rough, and if you've been fighting by his side? gonna go absolutely feral

-hair pulling, both on you and him, loves it when you rake your nails across his scalp

-obsessed with your tits, always squeezing them or sucking on them when the two of you are fucking and his big rough hands just feel so fucking good

-enjoys giving oral way more than receiving, he enjoys it when you suck him off but he swears he could eat your pussy for hours

-enjoys it when you choke him or leave scratch marks down his back

-love bites to the max on both of you tbh

-his favorite position is when you ride him or sit in your lap as you fuck him, he loves being able to look at you, big on eye contact

-lowkey into knife play, enjoys it when the two of you experiment with that in the bedroom (or a bit of rope)

-PRIMAL PLAY, goes insane at the idea of pretending to hunt you down in the woods

-not averse to the idea of a threesome with harald (and the same goes for harald tbh)

#harald sigurdsson x reader #harald sigurdsson x you #leif eriksson x reader #leif eriksson x you #harald x reader #harald x you #leif x reader #leif x you #vikings valhalla x reader #vikings valhalla x you #my writing

[lananis]

sherlock this, merlin that, where are my queer vikings people I’m still not over this shit

#vikings #athelstan #ragnar lothbrok #if you watched vikings s1-3 with your family and knew something fruity was going on you are entitled to financial compensation #also the writing tanked so badly holy hell

[meraxesmoon]

What if they have baby sis that is an unburnt dragon rider somehow 😶

Hear me out imagine ragnar finds some strange looking rocks (dragon eggs) and they hatched in the readers lap

Ragnar thinking: my daughter 5 and already is a fucking goddess... My sperm is amazing im going to valhalla

Aslaug: yea shes my daughter so it checks out

But the people of kattegat would be so scared of the 3 dragons flying with their mama (or is it sister?)

What do you think their names would be? And their colors?

Also... I feel like hvitserk and ivar are the only ones who she would let her dragons come closer because they are her favorites and they can sense it 💀

I LOVE THIS!!!

Yeah, he'd be the type to pick up some rocks with scales and think 'bringing these home is such a great idea, lol'.

But they turn out to catch the eye of his youngest child and daughter (Name). She gets attached to the rocks and carries them around with her around Kattegatt. At night, she keeps them warmed on a brazier and sleeps close by. She does this because her uncle Floki told her myths of dragons and how they laid eggs, so she assumes that they're dragon eggs.

One day, while she's cradling them in her lap during dinner the eggs start to crack open, three eggs reveal three tiny dragons, and they latch onto the source of warmth they'd felt for months on end; Little (Name) Lothbrok. You've got to imagine how the rest of the family reacts to this. Aslaug thinks that her daughter just has these three little winged lizards, but then they keep getting bigger!

As for her dragons, one is black, one is blue, and then the youngest dragon is a soft pink. I've decided that baby Lothbrok is very slay, so of course she'd have a pink dragon. They're so protective of their mommy, too! If anyone (stupidly) tried to hurt her, all three baby dragons would attack and burn them.

The black one would be Morghul, the blue would be called Nyrax, and the pink one would be Syraxes. Since they live in Kattegatt, the dragons would grow very large due to not being caged in a certain space. In about eight or nine years they're absolutely huge, bigger than one of Ragnar's ships. I imagine they eat a lot of fish, and baby Lothbrok spoils her children <3

Morghul is the oldest of the dragons, having hatched first, and he's very grumpy. Nyrax has a very social personality, however most people are terrified of her, so she only seems to get on with her siblings and (Name). Syraxes is the closest with (Name) and is the prettiest lizard anyone has ever seen. However, she has a horrid temper, and often snaps at humans and her fellow dragons. Morghul tolerates Ivar, and Nyrax likes Hvitserk, but Syraxes specifically only likes her rider.

The dragons probably go on raids, as well.

dracarys :3

#cw: yandere blog #cw: yandere content #cw: yandere #yandere vikings #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere content #yandere #kay writes

[bigmammallama5]

Vǫlva

On the evening of the fifth day Lena spotted the tops of the Uppsala territory posts in the misty dusk. It marked the line into neutral ground, and a sigh of relief rippled through the caravan as they passed between two pillars. Lena sucked in a deep breath as her horse plodded past the nearest post and looked up at it, her face chilled from the dew as she clutched at the reins and the high pommel of her saddle.

And then something tapped gently at the back of her mind.

Lena froze in her saddle and listened, her heart in her throat as the tapping continued.

Greetings.

Or, the second and most likely final fic of my enjoyably messy Viking/Seer AU, this time from Lena’s eyes. Please read the tags and author’s note before proceeding, and I hope you enjoy reading! <3

#supergirl #supercorp #i need a writing tag #viking au #arting #yes arting bc i did some real face editing yesterday and i always forget how challenging it is #ima need mrs benoist to be in a few iron age and or medieval age productions so i can have some freaking source material my god #WEH okay ill stop messing with this yeet