Sigurd Snake-in The-eye Vikings

So it appeared that she was to start paying her way on her back with this absolutely massive, broad-shouldered, tattooed, aptly-named wild warrior. Gideon was a large man, but this modern viking put him to serious physical shame; if Gideon’s dick had split her in half in agony, Iris could only imagine what this monster’s cock would do to her. She just hoped that he left her able to walk… and able to fuck the rest of the boys downstairs, because of course they’d be close behind. She knew there would be blood soaking and staining her thighs before things were done, long before they decided that they’d used her up. Stopping her jumbled thoughts, Iris slowly lowered herself to her knees. **** Liam “Viking” Callahan thought the job was done. Evidence buried. Debt paid to The Road Devils MC. Then he drives out of the Utah mountains with a secret in the back of his van: a terrified woman running for her life. Iris has spent six months planning her escape from Gideon and the Garden of Divine Light. She’s barefoot, freezing, and desperate enough to gamble on a stranger who looks dangerous... but still safer than the hell she left behind. So she hides. And prays. When the Road Devils discover Iris, the truth unravels: a cult, a tyrant, and a woman who fled into a winter night wearing nothing but a nightgown and borrowed boots. She’s broken, but not defeated. Iris wants her life back... her body, her choices, her fearlessness. The only man she feels safe with is the towering, gentle Viking. As trust turns into desire, neither of them sees the danger closing in. Gideon wants his “property” returned... and he won’t stop until he gets it.

BASTARD SON OF THE VIKINGS Palermo does not forgive. Neither does it forget. When Guerrero Valenti, the feared leader of the Vikings, vanished, the city exhaled a dangerous calm—but only for a moment. In the shadows, enemies waited. Rivals sharpened their knives. And one woman bore a secret that could ignite every street in the city. Lucia Romano carried the child of a man who had disappeared into legend and rumor. A son who had not been claimed, not protected, not named. The city whispered of him with venom: the bastard of the Vikings. The boy was fragile, but he was a storm waiting to erupt. And every night, Palermo tested him. Masked men tried to snatch him from his crib. Fire, steel, and blood became his lullabies. Yet he survived. Every threat only sharpened his instincts, every scream hardened his mother’s resolve. But whispers spread faster than steel through the night—rumors of a man returning. A shadow that would claim everything, sparking fear in every heart: Guerrero Valenti. The father who abandoned him. The legend whose name alone commands obedience. The storm that will rise, carrying vengeance, blood, and fire. And when he comes, Every man who dared call the bastard his enemy will fall. Every street, every roof, every whispered corner will bow to the son of Guerrero Valenti or be washed in blood. This is the story of survival. Of fire and steel. Of a mother and her son. Of a father’s return. Even the earth is getting ready to absorb blood … the blood of those who call the legitimate son of the Vikings a “BASTARD", and collect necks........the necks of those fallen by the sword of GUERRERO VALANTI. And upon his return Heads will bow to the one they called a BASTARD .

My adopted sister won the Elixir Challenge by stealing my potion. To her shock, she was informed that the event was a selection event for the future wife of the Serpentkins' future head—the same heir who was infamously impotent, barbaric, and hideous. When the Serpentkins sent over a proposal letter, demanding her hand in marriage, my fiance panicked and promptly took my adopted sister away for a quick marriage and even consummated. Once the deed was done, she returned triumphantly, showing off the mark on her lower back. "Well, what are you going to do now, Winnie?" she gloated. "Your fiance is mine now, and you'll be twenty-five in three days. If no one comes to pick you up, you'll just be dumped into the hands of some wife-beating Rogue who is ageing and unwanted…" Actually, she was wrong—I had a choice. I went to the parlor where my parents—who were busy fixing the mess my adopted sister made—were, announcing, "If she refuses to marry the future head of the Serpentkins, I will!"

Made by the blind god Hoder in Asgard, at the instigation and cunning of Loki, the god of playfulness and deceit who once again wanted to joke with a drama that happened in Asgard, Ragnar is cast out of the gods. He is then sent to Midgard and begins a man's life. Having received a physical trait that does not adhere to the image of the great viking, he is quickly rejected by the men around him. However, Hoder, his creator, never ceases to watch over him. Ragnar fortuitously meets The Seer, The Völva and he is pushed into a particular world of The Yggdrazil from where his quest begins. He made even more fortuitous encounters and falls into countless "Vikingest" adventures strewn with pitfalls and trials that will test him and prepare him for his "true" destiny.

The Kumiho my father chose for me hated me. He hated that he was my pet. When I turned eighteen, I decided to give him his freedom. However, it turned out that he was in love with one of our servants’ daughters, Rachel Lenford. I was crushed, but I could only accept it. I woke up from a good dream to find a silver-ringed giant python coiled around my body. It hissed at me while flicking its forked tongue. "Why do you like him so much? How about trying me out? I'm better than he is." Trying this snake out? How would that work?

My name is Lennie Sherman, and I am a python handler. However, I gradually realize that the python doesn't quite like me. Every time we meet, it will always use its tail to hit my private part and then hiss in my face.