#ulf white x reader

[eveenstar]

double the bastard, double the...what's the saying again? | Ulf White x fem!bastard!reader - PART I

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You were the bastard daughter of another bastard daughter, funny, isn't it? Well, not to you. Your mother was another one of Princess Saera's bastards, who worked her entire life to escape her own mother's shadow, but it lingered in the blood. In her hair. In her heart.

It seemed the apple didn't fall far from the tree, as she got impregnated by some stupid Lord that had heard tales of the "white-haired beauties" in the depths of King's Landing. Then, you were born, with silver-white hair of your grandmother and the eyes of your unknown father.

Your late mother, bless her heart, did all she could to not have you end up like her or her mother. No, she promised you were destined for greater things. Her dreams told her so. She swore it til her grave.

After your mother passed, you took refuge with her half-brother, Hugh, always munching on your mother's words over and over again. Your once silver hair was dyed brown, despite your friends' insistence that you shouldn't hide who you are. Let the royals see their doings.

But you knew they cared little. They could have King's Landing be a city of bastards and not give one single fuck about it.

When war came to your doorstep, you were not one to pick sides. Aegon or Rhaenyra, they were all the same. They didn't put food on your table, did they? What matters is that you stayed alive for one more week.

It didn't stay like that for long, no, no, no.

When the news came that Rhaenyra was recruiting bastards to Dragonstone, your mother came to you in a dream. You saw her, standing by one of the brothel's windows, humming a soft lullaby as she held babe-you in her arms.

"It is fierce out there, I shan't lie to you." She whispered. "But we are fiercer. We are the blood of dragons, my sweet girl. I know you will achieve what I could not, and I beg your forgiveness for such."

Now, here you stood before Rhaenyra. But you weren't alone. Next to you were Hugh, a girl named Nettles, the local drunk Ulf White, and a handsome young man called Addam of Hull.

"You have done what was deemed impossible." Proclaimed the Queen.

But not to us, you wished to reply.

Your dragon, albeit smaller than the rest, was an unnamed one when you claimed her. So you took it upon yourself to name her Golden Tooth for her yellowish scales and shy nature.

Still, doubts crippled in your mind. You were to fly to battle with a dragon, likely to never return. Your hand was forced on the matter; it was either starve to death or honour your mother. You wished to not partake in a siblings' war, but you couldn't bite the hand that feeds you. And that hand was Rhaenyra's.

"Wench! Another one of these little birds!" Interrupted Ulf of your thoughts. You looked up from your breakfast.

"You eat like a pig." Hummed Nettles, sitting besides you.

"Ah, ah," Tutted Ulf with a toothy grin. "Like a dragon."

"There's a difference?" Snickered Nettles in return, and you couldn't help but laugh with her. At last, you could use a feminine presence in this stone cold keep, one that wasn't a noble, that is.

Even if Prince Jacaerys and his betrothed despised your group's presence on Dragonstone, you knew he knew they were desperate. Without you, they were nothing.

You mustn't think like that, you reprimanded yourself, this is an honour.

Is it?

Training and practicing High Valyrian and dragon commands was...harder than expected. It seemed you and Ulf were the odd ones out, taking great difficulty in the pronunciations and proper commands. Silverwing was confused, and Golden Tooth believed you merely wanted to play. As if she was a dog and not a dragon!

It was frustrating. Even your good friend Nettles was better than you in this, and despise her innocent teasing, you were growing frustrated.

"Dra-cá-ryze."

"That's not how you say it."

"Shush, girlie. I was born for this."

You scowled at Ulf's words, standing back and watching as he ordered Silverwing to burn a sheep.

"Dra...cáryze!"

The dragon huffed, a brief cloud of smoke leaving its mouth.

"It's dracarys, not dracáryze."

"Ehh, what's the difference?" Ulf brushed it aside with a scoff, but the faint pink of his cheeks did not go unnoticed by you. Yet, you remained unamused.

"How are you to fly into battle with a dragon you do not know how to command?" You inquired. Ulf glanced at you, then to Silverwing, and smiled again.

"This lady knows what to do. She's smart, I tell you that. "She flew us to King's Landing without as much as a word!"

"And nearly got you both killed by a scorpion." You added.

Truth be told, you were never even remotely an acquaintance with Ulf back in King's Landing. You knew who he was, sure, a drunk and funny man who loved to boast himself as "Ulf the Dragonlord." But he wasn't the type of people you preferred to stick around with.

Now that you get to live with him, you regret staying in the city. He was...nothing like a dragonrider (not that you had met many of them). He lacked the grace, the poise, and the looks of one.

Well...

Now that he was bad looking, especially with the new wardrobe Queen Rhaenyra provided you. But he could use with some Valyrian braids, and maybe some brooming, and....

"Aye, girlie, y'starin'." You blinked. Ulf was standing in front of you with a sheepish grin on that stupid face of his. "Can't command a dragon whilst daydreamin', can't'cha?"

You huffed. "You know, I'd call you a bastard but I forget you already are one." You said as you stormed off. "And a stupid one at that!"

"That was mean." Nettles laughed as she jumped on your bed, falling beside you. "But hilarious. The man needs to be put in his place."

"How in the Seven Hells did he claim a dragon such as Silverwing? He's a complete idiot!" You sighed, frustrated. "And his manners at the table, speaking to the Prince and the Queen? I..."

Nettles rolled on her stomach, leaning her head against her hands. "Why are you so bothered? If he's truly that useless, that will be proven in a real battle."

You sat up, running a hand through your hair to adjust it. "Well.. I... Death is a bit much, don't you think? I don't want him dead, I just wished he would shut up and behave for a moment."

Nettles hummed, a cat-like smirk plastered all over her face.

"I know a few ways men can be silenced."

"Nettles!"

Supper had been served two hours ago, yet few little had joined the table. Queen Rhaenyra was absent, and so was her son, Prince Jacaerys. Lady Baela ate very little and kept to herself, merely glancing at Ulf whenever he was being too loud.

Addam was also absent.

Nettles had preferred to stay with Sheepstealer, under her vow to you that she'd eat something later.

The room was eerily quiet aside from your hushed conversation with Hugh about training and how you loved that Targaryen female attire had pockets (of all things you should be worried about).

Much to your displeasure, Hugh, too, wasn't one to stick around for supper. You knew your sweet stay at Dragonstone was coming to an end, and that war was waiting beyond the sea, with the Stranger waiting to bring some of you with him.

Two hours had passed, and you munched on your thoughts instead of the delicious (cold) food that lay before you. You couldn't bring yourself to eat anymore, not when there was a battle inside you. You were afraid, not only for yourself, but for your newfound friends and allies and....your dragon. Something you never thought possible.

I did it, mummy. I did it. I made you proud.

You hoped she was proud. You hoped you had made something good out of your lineage.

"Are you gonna eat that?" Asked Ulf, his eyes practically feasting on your cold plate. You said nothing, merely passed it along to him.

You must have underestimated him because Ulf hesitated in taking your plate, staring at you for a moment. Usually, you'd be laughing with Nettles or Addam while teasing Ulf for his lack of manners or proper conduct.

Not today, it seemed. Ulf wasn't sure if he liked that. It was enough to have everyone on Dragonstone sulking and glaring at him -- them -- everywhere they went. But you? You were the entire sun in the stone fortress. Despite your insistence and giving him a hard time during practice, Ulf found you interesting. Especially when his antics made you laugh, even if it was at him.

"Seems like the princeling got to you too."

"Excuse me?"

Ulf leaned back on his chair, resting his feet on top of the table as he munched down on a chicken wing. "Pouting doesn't suit ya."

"I'm not pouting." You frowned. "I'm worried. As you should be. As we all should be."

"I'm worried, alright. Worried all this food will go to waste. Where's everyone at?" Ulf looked around, but saw only the servants taking the food away, as if expecting him to ask for more.

"We're going to die, Ulf!" You suddenly snapped, bringing the man's attention to you. You'd never seen him so bewildered. "We're not knights, no matter what the Queen says. We're just...pawns in this war. We have no part in this."

Ulf said nothing. For the first time, he found himself speechless. He knew you were right; he wasn't a fool. Well, he was, but not blind. He knew what was coming, but he chose to live in the moment. What memories would he have to remember when the Stranger came for him? Sulking in a palace?

"And I don't want to die. I don't want Hugh to die. Or Golden Tooth, Gods, do the dragons know we are making them slaughter their own kin?" Exasperated, you ran your hands up and down your face. "They're not....We are not-"

Suddenly, a rough and alcohol-filled kiss was pressed to your lips, silencing you. Ulf leaned back, a proud smile on his smug face as he looked at you.

Had the bastard just....

You stared at him, wide-eyed. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

"Couldn't help myself," Ulf grinned, "You women love to worry, y'know that?"

The grip around your cup tightened, threatening to spill on him at any moment. But you couldn't. Your cheeks were growing redder than any of Golden Tooth's fire. The cheeky bastard!

"Ulf."

Hugh stood at the entrance of the chamber, holding a sword in his hand. His glare could be felt across the room, like Vermithor himself had just walked in.

"It's time for training."

Ulf took one last sip of his wine, clearing his throat.

"Shit."

[vhaemystheberserker]

WRITERS!!! MAKE ULF THE WHITE AND HUGH HAMMER FICS AND TAG ME, AND MY LIFE IS YOURS!!!

[irmawrites]

Night encounter

Summary: Living in Dragonstone, claiming a dragon, it all seemed surreal to Ulf. Having a Targaryen princess in his bed all to himself even more so.

Rating: Explicit [18+], MDNI.

Pairing: Ulf the White x Targaryen!Reader (appearance isn’t specified, she's his niece but she could be Rhaenyra's daughter or Alicent's daughter, it’s all up to you)

TW: smut with a tiny bit of plot, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), p in v sex, slight degradation, corruption kink, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, dom/sub undertones, afab reader, not proofread.

Word count: 2017

Author’s note: hi everyone! Not too long ago I received the following request: "I was wondering if you would do one where Ulf is infatuated with the daughter of Rhaenyra and Harwin after meeting her after he claims Silverwing and could it possibly progress into smut?". To say that I was delighted to receive a request for Ulf would be an understatement. I am literally obsessed with this character and I really wanted to write something for him <3 HOWEVER I am incredibly sorry it's filthy, it's inappropriate, honestly I'm almost ashamed I wrote it ahaha

I should probably mention that English is not my mother tongue, so please excuse my grammar mistakes!

From the first moment he saw you, Ulf knew he had to have you. Such a sweet little thing, all soft smiles and happy giggles. A real ray of sunshine. He and you may have been related, but you couldn't have been more different. Uncle and niece like the moon and the sun. Where he was rude and boorish, you were polite and gentle. Where his lack of manners and unkempt appearance worked against him, your tact and polished looks made you stand out among all the inhabitants of Dragonstone.

But while he appreciated your sensitivity and gentleness, he couldn't help but wonder what it would be like when he finally robbed you of your innocence.

And a little voice in the back of his mind kept telling him that it was just a facade, a role you only played in public. You weren't the perfect princess you pretended to be, of that he was almost certain. After all, hadn't he noticed your eyes wandering to his fingers several times while he licked off the meat juices that stained them? And then there was that one evening, during a meal, when your hand had wandered to his thigh. You had gently brushed his crotch, where a bulge was already stretching the linen of his breeches, without even looking at him, too busy laughing with Jacaerys. The older man remembered clearly how he had had to excuse himself in a hurry, feigning sudden fatigue and retreating to the chambers assigned to him. That night he had imagined your lips wrapped around his impossibly hard member, your silver curls between his fingers and your eyes locked with his as he pressed your nose against his pelvis, forcing you to take more, always more. He had come with a loud grunt, painting his palm white, and then swore he would have you. It was almost a matter of life and death for him at that point.

Perhaps the Seven had heard his plight, if they existed, for they soon offered him everything he wanted on a silver platter.

Claiming Silverwing was the achievement of a lifetime, and yet it seemed like a dull moment when he opened the door to his bedroom and found himself face to face with the woman he had been lusting after for weeks. Dressed in an almost transparent silk nightgown, you looked like one of his heated dreams. Instinctively, he even pinched the skin at the crook of his elbow to make sure it was all real and you weren't a figment of his wild imagination. "I couldn't sleep," he heard you say, your voice almost shy, "with this storm." Oh, but he knew that your nocturnal visit had nothing to do with the lightning that tore across the sky, or the thunder that shook the walls of the fortress. If you were there, it was simply because you too were unable to resist the tension between the two of you for a single minute longer. "Come in," his hand automatically came to rest on your waist to guide you inside, "I wouldn't want to keep a princess waiting".

If asked, Ulf wouldn't have been able to explain how he ended up in bed with your body pressed against his. Maybe it was you who had taken his hand and made him lie down beside you. Or maybe it was he who had persuaded you to slip into his arms, into his sheets, to find some welcome comfort. Everything seemed a blur now, especially as your buttocks pressed against his crotch.

You wiggled your hips. Maybe accidentally, maybe consciously, he didn't know, but the effect was the same. He could feel the warmth of your body under the layers of fabric, and he was desperate to show you what happened to women like you in the arms of men like him. It felt like a punishment, forcing himself to remain chaste and not give in to his desires in such a situation. Not to touch you when you were so close to him and his length was already so painfully hard.

He moved his lips to your ear, his breath caressing your skin. His hands slid down your chest and he let his thumbs lightly caress the two small, hardened buds. "Tell me to stop," he whispered as his fingers slid lower and lower, grazing the hem of your underwear in the hollow where your thigh met your hip, "tell me to stop if that's not what you want". "That's exactly what I want," your voice sounded like a breathless moan as your hand rested on his, as if to encourage him to give you more, " and I want you to continue."

The idea that he could take what he wanted, do what he wanted, made his head spin.

Between your legs, his fingers found your wet folds. "You're soaking wet," he breathed as he traced your slit from your entrance to that sensitive spot that sent shivers down your entire body, "we've barely started and you're already soaking wet." It was almost inconceivable that a beautiful, delicate princess like you would agree to give herself to a gruff old man like him. "How does it feel, here?", he asked as he kissed your neck, your back still pressed against his torso as his index finger circled your little pearl beneath the fabric of your underwear. "It's... It feels good", your voice was choked, a broken moan, "warm". Ulf gave an approving grunt. "And here?", his tone became more authoritative, and soon two of his fingers were inside you, stretching you just right. Tired of waiting, he barely gave you time to get used to the new sensation before he started moving back and forth, leaving you breathless. "Answer me". He could already feel you clenching around him, the friction against your inner walls something you'd never felt before. "I can feel your fingers inside me," you finally managed to answer, and to reward you he pressed a little harder against that sensitive spot that made you see stars, "I feel... full." He couldn't help smiling against the soft skin of your neck. "Don't worry, sweetheart," as if to back up his words, he pressed his fingers impossibly deeper, burying them in your wet warmth, "you'll feel even fuller soon."

He withdrew them almost immediately with an obscene noise. That would leave you empty, he knew, but he also knew that he wanted you to come around another part of his body for the first time, and not just on his fingers.

"Undress," the older man ordered, pointing vaguely with his chin at the little bit of clothing you were wearing. A satisfied smile appeared on his lips as you stood completely naked before him, kneeling between his thighs. "Such a pretty body," his voice sounded almost distracted, his fingers busy sliding down your sides as if to show you were to his liking, "a pretty mouth too, I wonder what it would look like around my cock." He saw you bite your lower lip before finally answering, emboldened: "Perhaps I could show you." Your hands rested first on his chest, brushing against the linen of the tunic he wore for the night. Then they slid lower, much lower, replaying a scene Ulf had seen a hundred times in his dreams. Your fingers undid the drawstring that held his breeches together and he had to remind himself not to make you pick up the pace, to give him what he wanted right then and there.

A curse escaped him as your hand finally wrapped around his manhood. It looked so big, massive, between your forefinger and thumb, which couldn't quite touch. And when your lips finally brushed the head, where he was already weeping for you, he threw his head back on the heavy silk pillows. It took all his strength and resilience not to close his eyes from the pleasure he felt from your back and forth movements and the wet warmth of your mouth. "You're doing so well," he growled as his hand made its way to the back of your head, finding refuge in your silver locks, "sucking my cock so well, like the perfect little whore you are." Around his member he could feel the vibrations of your audible moan. It seemed you liked it when people didn't really treat you like the princess you were supposed to be, but more like a cheap slut from a seedy pillow house. A discovery that couldn't have made him happier.

The vision was royal, the sensation divine. He felt like a king, he felt like a god, with a dragon under his feet and a Targaryen princess pleasuring him with her mouth. He had everything that he had ever wished for and yet he wanted more, needed more.

Bloody greed.

His grip on the back of your head tightened, forcing you back a few inches. His gaze fell on your red, swollen lips, glistening with spit and something else that testified to your sinful actions. You smiled at him, obviously proud of yourself, and he couldn't help but kiss you, tasting himself on your tongue. "On all fours," he ordered, right against the skin of your neck, his voice hoarse with desire. The order may have been short, the tone a little awkward, hurried, but you understood immediately what he was trying to tell you. With your face now pressed into the pillows and your hips raised, Ulf could hardly believe that this was your first time, and yet. One of his hands cupped his still aching manhood while the other gripped the flesh at your waist. Captivated by the sight of his member disappearing into your wet heat, his eyes couldn't leave the spot where the two of you were joined for a single second. "Fuck," he groaned as he gave you time to adjust to his presence, "such a tight cunt." Despite his vast experience, he had never tasted, never felt anything like this in his dull life of Flea Bottom brothel escapades and quick embraces with nameless prostitutes. Perhaps it was because he was now living with real royalty, or perhaps it was because your exchange was different, more intimate, almost affectionate.

He withdrew almost completely, the friction against your inner walls agonisingly delicious. Your juices had left his member soaked and glistening, a sight that drove him deeper into you this time, the headboard hitting the wall with a thud. "M... more," you begged as he pulled out again, your voice like a broken moan that made his head spin with desire and possessiveness. The older man was more than happy to comply, quickening the pace of his thrusts. Soon the pleasure became too strong, too great to articulate anything coherent. He wanted to tell you how good you felt, how perfect you really were around him, but the words remained stuck in his throat and only grunts managed to break through the barrier of his half-open lips. But you weren't any better. Beneath him you were a mess of moans and gasps, your fingers gripping the sheets tightly. You were close, he could tell, you had grown impossibly tight around him, and he was tired of making you wait. So, in an act of mercy, he let his own fingers slip between your thighs to briefly rub your pearl and finally, finally, push you over the edge. He joined you almost immediately, his approaching climax accelerated by the rhythmic clenching of your walls around him.

It was probably foolish to pour into you with white ropes, to fill you in a different way this time. But when exactly had Ulf ever been responsible? The sight was simply mesmerising, the mingled evidence of your release flowing from your still clenching hole as he withdrew. So divine that he could hardly tear his eyes away. And as you pressed against him, seeking the warmth of his arms, your noses brushing together in an achingly tender touch, he mused that he was prepared to do many more foolish things to keep a thing as sweet as you by his side.

[oosleepyfaeoo]

I'm so ready for the Hugh and Ulf "i can fix him" fanfics

(also Addam looks so GOOD ugh i can't handle HOTD men)

[redeyerhaenyra]

Sigh.. now writing for Ulf the White..

[38teirrah83]

Which one should I publish, first? An Aemond x OC fanfic or a Jacerys (his name isn’t the same , since he’s not a Velaryon in this AU) x OC fanfic? I already started writing the Aemond fanfic and it takes place in S1 EP8, while the “Jacerys” fanfic takes place in between S1 EPS 7 - 10 (it’s a sequel to a Rhaenyra fanfic, I plan on writing). I’m indecisive about which one to write first, tbh. I like show Aemond and want to explore that more but the endless (ig) alternatives about Jacerys parentage is also very interesting, that I can’t pick which one I want to do first. I intended on these ones being one-shots, at first, but then realized the vision I have for these stories are longer than I thought.

Or should I just fuck it and just write a Aegon x OC fanfic, first? He’s not as bad of a person (never marry’s Helaena and the Dyanna (and possible others) situation never happens), in this one, and I actually intend on this being a one-shot. This seems more likely, thinking about it. This is my “first time��� attempting to actually write a story, so I hope this turns out well.



[divinesolas]

Distain

summary: Jacaerys' disdain for you and your dragonseed friends is no secret but he seems to hold a particularly hatred for you. you have no reason why until he shows his true colors after a near death incident.

jacaerys targaryen x dragonseed!reader

w.c: 1.8K

a.n: this idea randomly popped up in my head today so i rushed to write this before i forgot hope you guys like it <3

perm jace taglist ! (open) @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @jacesvelaryons @earth4angels @itsemohours @valdezthg

You nervously tug at your new riding clothes uncomfortably. Unlike some of your friends you were not so confident in your dragon riding skills. Especially not today and especially not with your riding partner. Ulf bumps his elbow a little too harshly into your arm and you stumble slightly as he laughs. “Dont worry pretty girl this will be fun.” You let out a shaky breath and look at addam and hugh who send you sympathetic looks. The two of them having gotten far too advanced to continue dragon training with you.

You ignore him as you spare the group of four once last glance. Rhaenyra attempts to looks pleased but you can tell something is eating away at the back of her mind. The prince is the one who catches your eye the longest. He does not like you. He does not like any of you he’s made that very clear but you he seemed to dislike the most. When he finally locks eyes with you its only a split second before he whips his head away and glare out into the ocean his hair blowing in the wind.

You have no clue what you could have done to upset him in particular. You know how his rumored heritage, it does not bother you but it clearly bothers him. He does not seem as upset with ulf and hugh who have white hair but holds a particular anger towards you despite the fact you do not. You have tried to be nice, send him smiles at dinner or offer him a towel after training practice but all your efforts have been ignored. He is not cruel to you, especially not as he is to ulf, but he simply acts like you do not exist and that hurts your feelings more.

You swiftly turn away attempting not to think about the prince anymore and make your way towards sheepstealer who perks up at you as you approach. “vēzot.” (up) Your girl hums as she stands up. “lykirī.” You wince at your own pronunciation, you spend your nights in your dark room only alit with a single candle your desk with a book as you try your best to perfect your Valyrian. You climb up onto sheepstealer and pat her neck lightly before you shakily grab onto the handles. Sparing ulf one last looks who has a sinister look on his face and you sigh.

“sōvēs!”

The four of them watch the two dragon riders glide around in the air. rhaenyra turns to addam when he lets out a shaky breath, “is something wrong?” addam merely shakes his head, “Of course not.” The two targaryens do not miss the look the two dragonseeds share. Jacaerys purses his lips as he narrowly glares at the two. “spit it out.” his mother lightly says his name and hugh readjusts his tunic. “ulf has been, very um, forward, with the girl these last few days, we mean no offense to him your graces we simply worry for her.” addam nods along as his eyes turn to the dragons in the sky.

Rhaenyra turns to jacaerys who keeps his eyes locked onto the dragons in the sky, a blank look on his face before huffing lightly, “He would not act out of order knowing we stand here watching.” The words manage to silence the group but they all know her words are not exactly true.

You attempt to ignore ulfs calls as you continue to drift around in the air. A light smile gracing your face as you grow more confident in your movements. The smile drops when ulf pulls up next to you and grins. “we should race.” You shake your head and grip the handles tightly in worry. “I am not interested.”

You attempt to drift away but he eagerly continues to soar next to you much to your annoyance. “Oh don’t be a chicken pretty girl lets just play a little. If i win you give me a kiss.” you gag at his words as your face twists in disgust. “I would never!” Ulf gets too eager to get a bit closer to you and the wind gets too strong, you dont even hear the words he says, something about beating you somewhere but he is far too close and silverwings tail wacks you and you slip off your dragon.

The group watches in horror as your screams fill the air. Addam quickly pushes off the wall and shakily steps back eager to go towards his own dragon. Hugh turns to the group alarmed, “she should be fine right? she should hit the water?” “she cannot swim.” Before anybody else can reaction hugh is shoved out of the way as the young prince races with fury towards his own dragon. “vermax!” The young dragon eagerly skitters towards the prince sensing his desperation.

You don’t know what to you. You can lightly hear your name being called from above probably ulf? or maybe its coming from shore? you look over to where the group was and see nobody there any longer. You’re going to die. The last thing you see before your body harshly hits the water is the blue sky and a blurry dragon soaring through the sky.

You don’t expect to open your eyes ever again but you do and it hurts. Your body aches and you begin to cough as soon as you can your throat dryer than ever. A hand suddenly brings a cup up to your lips and without any regard you eager drink from it. The other hand cups your jaw, The water easily slides down your throat and you let out a sigh of relief once the glass is empty. another substance is brought up to your lips and you drink that aswell. It burns as it goes down but it is not enough to irritate you, clearly some sort of medicine as it leaves a nasty taste in your mouth.

The hand on your jaw lingers there lightly and your warm at the affection before it is pulled away. You turn to see who the mysterious person is and harshly gasp leading you into another fit of coughs. “my prince!” “do not speak.”

You wish to look away from him but you can’t. He looks a mess. Much unfit for the usually very put together prince you see day to day. His hair is a mess, he’s still wearing the clothes you had seen him in earlier, and his face is red as you rummages through the bottles on the desk beside you. “what happened?” “do not say anything.” “i wish to know.”

sighing at your insistence he leans over you as he speaks and you try not to flush at the proximity. “i had managed to get you out of the water in time. you have been laying here for two days time. ulf has been harshly punished for his actions.” he says the word harshly like venom on his tongue but by the look on his face you can tell he is not satisfied. Your mind spins at his words as realization dawns on you. you have been out for days. Addam must be worried sick. But you grow bothered as another realization hits you. “have you been here this whole time?” He ignores you as if you had not spoken a word, continuing in his own world. “you are on bedrest for a week, if you are not better by then we will need to kick up the medicine you take,” “when was the last time you slept?” He pauses and his hand shakes lightly as he overpours the liquid into the cup. “You should not be talking.”

“you ignore me my prince.” He leans back in his chair after lightly throwing down the medicine before glaring at you. “Everyone thought you dead. The maesters had said you were unsavable. Bruises up and down your body. What would i have,,, what would have happened to my mother cause should you have died? It is foolish.”

You try not to linger on his words too much but he finally dares to look in your eyes and he can tell you’ve caught his slip up. “I’m sorry my prince It is my fault-” “Do not say such a foolish thing!” You flinch at his tone, “It is that mongrels fault. He should be ashamed of himself yet he still prances about as if he is not a disgrace to nature.”

You faulter at his words, knowing he is surely talking about how he is a bastard just as you are. You turn away from him, not knowing what else to say allowing the silence to linger in the air. You can feel his eyes on you but you do not dare look at him. “You must know.” your brows narrow in confusion, “Of my affections.” Your eyes widen and you freeze. “My prince…” “If i have not been obvious enough then allow me to lay then plain and clear now.”

“you hate me.” “I never have.”

You shake your head in denial. “You ignore me.” “because i can hardly contain myself around you. Who do you think is the one to have the cook make the pink cake every night as you seem fond of it? who do you think is the one who requests a hot bath to be ran for you even before my own? the one who had your dragon riding clothes made? the one who stands watch at every practice every training session without the request of the queen the one who rushes to help you because the thought of you injured makes me sick.”

You are silent. he takes this as an opportunity to continue. “I should have rushed in at the first sign of tension. Offer to go with the two of you. but i had been blinded in my own anger. and now here you lay….”

You finally dare look at him and his head is hung while his hands are cupped, shaking as he attempts to compose himself. His glossy eyes widen when your bruised hand comes to cover his and he looks up to see your strained face. He brings his hands closer to you to relieve you of the ache. The two of you stare at one another for a couple long moments. The sounds of breathing and the rain outside lightly hitting the window.

You are the first to speak, cutting the tension in the room swiftly. “I’d like to be friends my prince. And if it grows into more, i would rather enjoy that.” Jacaerys nods and lets out a sigh of relief. “That would be nice my lady.” The two of you lightly smile at one another, a new found hope fills the air.

[novaursa]

What about a Jace x sister

Where he fell in love with her and in the same time he is not ok with it. He might be the only Targaryen related who thinks that’s not okay to loved their related. But no matter how he can stopped loving her, she might have a look more “Targaryen” with white hair with some black in it (narcissia Malfoy style?)

He always do some weird shit to be closed to her without drow to much attention, And when they finally get really closed their mother call all the bastard to become dragon rider. And Ulf find them in the Pit and try to get something from them in exchange of his silence.

Jace wake up and choose violence 🫣 and just say no and fuxk her in front of him and say that if he say anything he make sure his dragon will eat him

Sins of the Blood

- Summary: Jacaerys always loved his sister, more than he should. It was wrong, he knew it, but the dragon in him claimed you as his long ago.

- Paring: sister!reader/Jacaerys Velaryon

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. Requests are closed!

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 4 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

- A/N: I've bonded the reader with Grey Ghost for the plot.

The sea breeze dances through the open halls of Dragonstone, carrying with it the scent of salt and the distant roar of the waves. You stand with Baela and Rhaena on the sun-warmed terrace overlooking the cliffs, the three of you bathed in the golden light of the setting sun. Your laughter rings out, clear and melodic, mingling with the cries of the gulls that circle above.

Jacaerys Velaryon watches from a distance, his heart heavy with conflicting emotions. He knows he should not be here, should not be watching you so closely, but he cannot help himself. You, his sister, the only daughter of Rhaenyra, have been a constant presence in his life, a source of both comfort and confusion. His eyes trace the silver streaks in your hair, a reminder of your Targaryen blood, mingling with the deep brown inherited from your true father, though only you, he, and his mother know the truth.

He remembers when you were children, how you would chase each other through the halls of the Red Keep, your laughter infectious, your bond inseparable. He had always been protective of you, even when you didn’t need it. You were fierce, a dragon through and through, and yet, as you stand now with Baela and Rhaena, there is a softness to you, a grace that makes his breath catch in his throat.

"Do you remember the first time we flew together?" Baela’s voice pulls him from his thoughts. She grins at you, her violet eyes bright with the memory.

"Of course," you reply, a smile tugging at your lips. "I thought Jace would never let me ride my own dragon, he was so worried."

Jace feels a pang at your words, both pride and regret mingling in his chest. He had always been overly cautious with you, more so than with Luke or Joffrey. Perhaps he had always known, even then, that his feelings for you were not entirely brotherly.

Rhaena giggles, leaning in closer to you. "He’s always been that way, hasn’t he? Always the protector, always looking after you."

You shrug, though the warmth in your eyes betrays your affection. "He cares. That’s just how he is."

Jace clenches his fists at his sides, torn between the pride that swells in him at your words and the guilt that gnaws at him for the thoughts he cannot seem to banish. He knows it is wrong—this desire that burns in him like dragonfire—but it is also undeniably a part of him, a flame that refuses to be extinguished.

Take what is yours. The words echo in his mind, a voice that is both his own and something darker, something ancient. The blood of the dragon runs hot in his veins, urging him to act, to claim what he believes is his by right. You are his sister, yes, but you are also so much more. You are the embodiment of everything he has ever wanted, ever desired.

You turn then, as if sensing his gaze, and your eyes meet his. For a moment, the world seems to stop. The laughter of Baela and Rhaena fades into the background, the sound of the waves dulls, and all he can hear is the pounding of his own heart.

"Jace," you call out, your voice breaking the spell. "Come join us!"

There is no hesitation in your invitation, no hint that you are aware of the storm raging inside him. You are just his sister, inviting him to share in the simple joy of the evening, oblivious to the battle he fights within.

He forces a smile, masking the turmoil beneath, and steps forward. "I was just enjoying the view," he says, his voice betraying nothing.

Rhaena giggles again, nudging Baela. "See, I told you he’s always watching over her."

Baela laughs, a sound like the tinkling of bells. "It’s because he’s a good brother."

The words cut deeper than they should, a cruel reminder of the line he cannot cross. He wants to be a good brother, he truly does. But the blood of the dragon does not care for such boundaries. The blood of the dragon demands more.

As he approaches, you smile up at him, that same smile that has always had the power to calm him, to soothe the fire within. But today, it only stokes the flames higher.

"Are you alright?" you ask softly, your eyes searching his face for something he cannot give.

He nods, the lie slipping easily from his lips. "Of course. Just… thinking."

You raise an eyebrow, a knowing look passing over your face. "You think too much, Jace. You always have."

He laughs, though it is a strained sound. "Someone has to, with you lot always running headlong into trouble."

Baela snorts. "As if you don’t love it."

He shrugs, unable to deny it. "Perhaps."

You laugh then, a sound so pure and unburdened that it twists something deep in his chest. How can you be so carefree, so unaware of the darkness that haunts him?

The conversation drifts to other things—plans for the next dragonride, the latest antics of your younger brothers—but Jace finds it hard to focus. His eyes keep returning to you, to the way the setting sun catches in your hair, to the way your eyes sparkle when you laugh. Every moment is a battle, every word a reminder of what he can never have.

Take what is yours. The voice whispers again, insistent, relentless.

He pushes it down, burying it beneath layers of duty, of honor, of love for his family. But it is there, always there, a part of him that he can never truly silence.

As the sun dips below the horizon, casting the world in shades of orange and gold, you turn to him once more, your expression soft, almost tender.

"Thank you, Jace," you say quietly.

He frowns, unsure of what you mean. "For what?"

You smile, and it is a smile that breaks him, because it is so full of warmth, of trust, of love. "For always being there. For always watching over me."

He swallows hard, forcing down the lump in his throat. "Always," he promises, and it is both a vow and a curse.

You reach out, your hand brushing against his arm, and the simple touch sends a shock through him, setting his nerves alight. For a moment, he forgets himself, forgets everything but you.

But then Baela speaks up, her voice pulling him back to reality. "We should head inside. It’s getting late."

You nod, but your eyes linger on his for a moment longer, as if searching for something, something you cannot name.

Jace watches as you turn away, following Baela and Rhaena back into the castle, your laughter fading into the evening air. He stays behind, his heart a tumult of emotion, his mind a battlefield.

He knows what he feels is wrong. He knows that he should push these thoughts away, should bury them deep where they can never see the light of day. But he also knows that the blood of the dragon is not so easily denied.

As the stars begin to twinkle in the darkening sky, Jace makes a silent vow to himself. He will protect you, he will care for you, as a brother should. But he will also fight this desire, this hunger that threatens to consume him. He will not let it destroy him, or you.

But deep down, he knows that it will be difficult.

And as he watches the last light of day fade into night, he wonders if it ever truly will be.

Months have passed since that evening on the terrace, and yet the fire within Jacaerys Velaryon has not dimmed. If anything, it has only grown stronger, a persistent heat that simmers beneath the surface, threatening to consume him at every turn. He has thrown himself into his duties, into training and studies, hoping that the rigor will burn away these unwanted desires. But nothing works. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot escape the pull you have on him.

Today, he finds himself wandering through the halls of Dragonstone, his mind restless, his heart unsettled. The castle is quiet, the stillness only amplifying his thoughts. His feet carry him to the library, a place he knows you often retreat to when you seek solace or simply a moment of peace. He tells himself it is a coincidence, that he has come here to study, to distract himself with books and knowledge. But deep down, he knows the truth.

As he enters the library, the scent of aged parchment and ink greets him, a familiar comfort. He pauses in the doorway, his eyes scanning the room until they find you, seated near the window, the light of the midday sun casting a soft glow around you. You are engrossed in a book, your silver-streaked hair falling over your face, your expression serene. The sight of you, so peaceful and unguarded, sends a wave of warmth through him, and before he can stop himself, he is walking towards you.

You look up as he approaches, a smile tugging at your lips. "Jace," you greet him, your voice soft and welcoming. "What brings you here?"

He hesitates, his mind racing for an excuse. "I thought I might find you here," he admits, the words tumbling out before he can catch them. "I wanted to see if you needed any help with your studies."

You raise an eyebrow, a playful glint in your eyes. "Since when do you offer to help with my studies?"

He shrugs, trying to appear nonchalant. "I just thought... we haven't spent much time together lately. I miss it."

Your expression softens at his words, and you close the book in your hands, setting it aside. "I’ve missed it too," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper.

He can feel the tension between you, a charged energy that crackles in the air. The pull is stronger now, a magnetic force that draws him closer, and before he knows it, he is sitting beside you, his body instinctively leaning towards yours.

"What are you reading?" he asks, his voice rougher than he intended.

You glance at the book, then back at him, a small smile playing on your lips. "A history of Old Valyria. I’ve always been fascinated by our ancestors, by the dragons and the blood magic they wielded."

"Of course," he murmurs, though he hardly registers the words. He is too focused on the way your hand rests so close to his, the way your eyes seem to shimmer in the light. "Our blood is strong, isn’t it? The blood of the dragon."

You nod, your gaze holding his. "It is. It’s what makes us who we are."

The words resonate deep within him, a reminder of the truth he has tried so hard to ignore. The blood of the dragon is what binds you together, but it is also what drives him to the brink of madness. The fire that burns in his veins is not just a curse, but a part of him, a part of you. And he is no longer sure if he can continue to fight it.

"I wanted to ask you something," you say suddenly, breaking the silence that has settled between you.

He blinks, trying to focus. "What is it?"

You hesitate for a moment, as if gathering your thoughts. "I was wondering if you could help me with my dragon training. Grey Ghost is so much more... spirited than he used to be, and I thought maybe you could help me understand him better."

Jace swallows hard, the thought of spending more time with you, alone and away from prying eyes, sending a thrill through him. But it is also dangerous, more dangerous than anything he has faced before. Still, he finds himself nodding. "Of course. I’d be glad to help."

You smile, a smile that warms him from the inside out, and he knows he is lost. He cannot deny you, cannot deny himself any longer. The pull is too strong, the fire too fierce. And as you rise to your feet, gesturing for him to follow, he feels that pull tighten, like a chain around his heart, binding him to you.

The two of you walk side by side through the corridors of Dragonstone, the silence between you comfortable, yet charged with an unspoken tension. Your presence is a balm to him, calming and yet igniting something deep within, something he can no longer ignore. Every brush of your arm against his, every glance in his direction, fans the flames higher, until he feels as though he might burst from the sheer force of it.

When you reach the courtyard where the dragons are kept, you turn to him, your eyes bright with excitement. "Let’s start with the basics," you say, your voice full of eagerness. "You’ve always been better at this than I am."

Jace shakes his head, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. "It’s not about being better," he says, trying to keep his voice steady. "It’s about understanding them, forming a bond with them."

You nod, your attention fully on him now, and he feels a surge of pride at the trust you place in him. "I know," you say softly. "And I trust you to help me."

The words strike him like a blow, the weight of your trust almost too much to bear. He wants to be worthy of it, to be the brother you believe him to be. But he also wants more, so much more, and it terrifies him.

As you step closer to him, your arm brushing against his, he feels that pull again, stronger than ever. He knows he should move away, put some distance between you, but he cannot bring himself to do it. Instead, he finds himself leaning in, his body drawn to yours like a moth to flame.

"You know," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, "I’ve always felt safest when I’m with you."

The confession catches him off guard, and he looks down at you, his heart pounding in his chest. "Why?"

You smile up at him, a gentle, almost shy smile. "Because you’ve always been there for me, Jace. No matter what."

His breath catches in his throat, the intensity of the moment almost too much to bear. The pull between you is undeniable now, a force of nature that neither of you can resist. And as you stand there, so close that he can feel the warmth of your breath on his skin, he knows that he is about to cross a line that he can never return from.

But before he can act, before he can make the decision that will change everything, you reach out and take his hand in yours, your fingers curling around his. The simple touch sends a jolt of electricity through him, and he is lost, completely and utterly lost.

"Jace," you whisper, your voice trembling with something unspoken.

He looks down at you, his heart in his throat, and he knows that this is it. This is the moment he has been dreading, the moment he has been craving. The pull between you is too strong, the fire too fierce, and he knows that there is no going back.

But then, as if sensing the turmoil within him, you give his hand a gentle squeeze, your eyes full of warmth and understanding. "Thank you," you say, your voice soft and sincere. "For always being there."

And just like that, the moment passes. The tension between you eases, and you step back, releasing his hand. The pull is still there, still strong, but it is no longer overwhelming. For now, it is enough to simply be with you, to feel your presence beside him, to know that you trust him.

As you turn your attention back to the dragons, Jace takes a deep breath, steadying himself. The battle within him is far from over, but for now, he has won a small victory. He has resisted the pull, resisted the fire. But he knows it is only a matter of time before the dragon within him demands more.

And when that time comes, he is not sure if he will be able to resist.

The winds howl around the jagged peaks of Dragonmont, the volcanic heart of Dragonstone. The sky above is dark, thick clouds swirling in ominous patterns, but here, beneath the shelter of the mountain, you and Jacaerys find solace in the company of your dragons. Vermax and Grey Ghost, their massive forms partially obscured by the mist that clings to the rocky terrain, rest quietly nearby, their watchful eyes ever alert.

The air between you and Jace is charged, as it has been for days now. Since the arrival of the Dragonseeds and the beginning of the Red Sowing, there has been an unspoken tension, a shared anxiety that neither of you has fully voiced. Today, it seems, that silence is about to be broken.

Jace paces before you, his brow furrowed, his steps uneven. "I can’t help but worry," he finally says, his voice low, almost a growl. "Mother’s decision to let these Dragonseeds try to claim the dragons… it could destroy everything. The only thing that sets us apart, that makes us legitimate in the eyes of the realm, is our bond with the dragons. What happens if anyone can do it? What happens if they succeed?"

You watch him, feeling the weight of his concern settle over you like a heavy cloak. You understand his fear; it echoes within you as well. "They are Targaryen bastards, Jace," you say softly, trying to find the right words. "The blood of the dragon runs in their veins, even if the world doesn’t see them as we are seen. But you are right to be cautious. We cannot control what might happen if they succeed. But we can control how we respond."

He stops pacing, turning to face you fully. His dark eyes are intense, filled with worry and something deeper, something you’ve seen growing there in recent days. "What if it shatters everything? What if the realm no longer sees us as the rightful heirs? If they can claim dragons, what does that mean for us?"

You rise from your seat on a smooth outcropping of rock, moving closer to him, your steps slow and deliberate. You can feel the warmth of the dragons nearby, the heat from the mountain beneath your feet, but most of all, you feel the heat radiating from Jace, a fire that matches your own.

"We are more than our dragons," you say, your voice steady. "We are the blood of the dragon, yes, but we are also our mother’s children, the heirs of House Targaryen. That will not change, no matter what happens with the Dragonseeds."

Jace’s gaze softens as he looks at you, the storm in his eyes momentarily easing. "You always know what to say," he murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper. "But I’m still afraid. Afraid of what this means for us, for our family."

You reach out, your hand finding his, and the contact sends a spark through you both. "Then we face it together," you say firmly, your fingers tightening around his. "Whatever comes, we face it together, as we always have."

For a moment, there is only silence between you, the kind of silence that speaks louder than words. The dragons are quiet too, their presence a comforting weight in the background. Jace’s thumb brushes over your knuckles, and the simple touch sends a shiver down your spine, the connection between you deepening with each passing second.

Without thinking, you step closer, and suddenly the space between you is gone. You can feel his breath on your skin, warm and unsteady, and the intensity in his eyes is almost too much to bear. The pull between you is stronger than ever, an undeniable force that you can no longer resist.

"Jace," you whisper, your voice trembling with something unspoken, something that has been building for so long.

He doesn’t reply, at least not with words. Instead, he leans in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that is both hesitant and eager, as if he is afraid you might pull away. But you don’t. Instead, you kiss him back, your hands moving to cup his face, pulling him closer.

The kiss deepens, all the pent-up emotions of the past weeks, months, perhaps even years, pouring out in that single moment. It is as if the fire that has always burned between you has finally found release, and there is no stopping it now.Jace’s hands find their way to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you can feel the desperation in his touch, the need that mirrors your own. "I’ve wanted this for so long," he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with desire.

"So have I," you admit, the words coming out in a breathless rush. "Jace, I—"

He silences you with another kiss, more urgent this time, and you can feel his hands moving to the fastenings of your attire. There is a moment of hesitation, a final chance to turn back, but neither of you takes it. Instead, you help him, your fingers trembling as they work to undo his clothing as well.

The air is cool against your skin as your garments fall away, but you hardly notice. All you can focus on is Jace, on the way his hands move over your body, on the way he looks at you as if you are the only thing that matters in the world. And perhaps, in this moment, you are.

He guides you down onto the warm rock, his movements careful, almost reverent. The heat from the mountain seeps into your skin, mixing with the heat of his touch, and you feel yourself trembling, not from fear, but from anticipation.When he finally joins with you, the pain is brief, a sharp sting that quickly fades, leaving only the overwhelming sensation of being completely and utterly connected to him. Jace pauses, his eyes searching yours, as if waiting for your permission to continue.

You nod, your voice caught in your throat, but the look in your eyes says everything. "Please," you whisper, and that is all it takes.

He begins to move, slow at first, almost tentative, but as the moments pass, the hesitation fades, replaced by a growing urgency, a passion that neither of you can control. You cling to him, your fingers digging into his shoulders, urging him on, meeting his every movement with your own.

The world around you fades, the sounds of the dragons, the wind, the distant roar of the sea, all becoming nothing more than a distant echo. There is only Jace, only the fire that burns between you, the flames that consume you both, driving you higher and higher until you feel as though you might burst from the sheer intensity of it.

Just as you reach the peak of your union, lost in the sensation of him, you hear a sound, the soft crunch of footsteps on the volcanic rock. Your eyes snap open, and you see him—Ulf the White, one of the Dragonseeds, standing a short distance away, his expression one of surprise and amusement.

Jace’s movements slow as he becomes aware of the intruder, but he doesn’t stop, his body still pressed intimately against yours. His eyes narrow, and you can feel the tension in him, the protective instinct that flares up at the sight of another man watching you in such a vulnerable moment.

Ulf’s smirk widens as he recognizes both of you, his voice carrying an easy confidence as he speaks. "Well, well, what do we have here? Prince Jacaerys and his fair sister, indulging in some… private time, I see."

Jace doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze locked on Ulf, his body shielding yours from view. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, dangerous. "You will leave now, Ulf. And you will speak of this to no one."

Ulf’s amusement doesn’t fade. "And if I don’t? I imagine this little secret could be worth quite a bit."

Jace’s expression hardens, the dragon within him rising to the surface. "I have another proposition for you. Leave now and never speak of this, or tell someone… and Vermax will feast on your bones."

The threat hangs in the air, thick with the promise of violence. Ulf’s smile falters, the realization of Jace’s seriousness sinking in. He glances at the dragons, both Vermax and Grey Ghost now fully alert, their eyes locked on him, and he takes an involuntary step back.

"Fine," Ulf mutters, the bravado gone from his voice. "Your secret’s safe with me, Prince Jacaerys. I was never here." With that, he turns and hurries away, casting one last nervous glance at the dragons before disappearing into the mist.

Jace watches him go, his body still tense, but as the danger passes, his attention shifts back to you, his focus returning to the moment you had both been lost in. The fire that had momentarily cooled begins to burn again, his hands finding yours, his gaze intense.

"I will marry you," he says, his voice rough with emotion. "In the traditions of our ancestors, in the ways of Old Valyria. You are mine, and I am yours, for now and forever."

The words send a shiver through you, the weight of them, the promise in them, filling you with a sense of certainty, of belonging. You nod, your voice trembling as you respond. "Yes, Jace. Yes."

And as he moves within you once more, the world around you falls away, leaving only the two of you, bound together by the fire of your blood.

[beautifulblooms]

Meetings are hard - Phillip Graves x Male Reader SMUT

I want to degrade this man so fucking bad so uh, yeah, this is literally just humiliating him repeatedly. Enjoy!

CIS Women and Female Aligned people, please DNI, this story and all of my others are for non-binary, masculine aligned and male readers!

Dear god, this man, always well put together and looks like he knows what he’s doing. But he’s ruined as soon as he realizes his boyfriend can see him in it. (Y/n) had always enjoyed teasing Phillip whenever he put on formal wear, but he loved it. Loved seeing his commander of a lover in things that were only worn occasionally. It gave him a sense of pride to see him in something so flattering. But it came to a head when he needed to attend meetings with the Shadows or other. All (Y/n) saw was another opportunity to tease him and make him struggle to control himself.

“A-as for our next- ha- next mission, we’ll be going to Urzikstan- and helping the ULF with some… some Konni group.” Every second was a nightmare for Phillip, one word was barely out of his mouth before he wanted to moan and whine like a slut. No matter how much (Y/n) turned up the vibrator stuck inside him, he refused to crack to show that man an ounce of power over him in front of his Shadows. But damnit it was hard to keep it together, to not just walk across the room and demand that his boyfriend fix the problem he started. And all (Y/n) could do was grin from the other side of the meeting room, his eyes locked forward and a hand holding his head up and the other in the pocket of his jacket, holding the remote control to the vibrator.

“We’ll be- ngh, be heading out in three days at 0900, be…be ready Shadows.” With that final white knuckle grip to the table, Phillip pulled back only to swiftly grab a file folder and bring it over to cover his crotch, where there wasn’t a very obvious tent, but it was surely enough for someone to notice it. And that someone was already very away how turned on Phillip was, and he felt the same.

(Y/n) eagerly followed the commander out of the meeting room and gave his ass a playful smack once they turned down the hallway leading to the barracks. “Someone’s struggling to keep his composure, want me to help you out there, commander Graves?”

Phillip couldn’t help but let out a muffled moan at (Y/n)’s smack to his ass, and a small groan at his teasing, his eyes flickering over to his boyfriend for a moment. “Not funny, Lieutenant. You started this problem, and you better damn well end it.”

The threat was empty coming from him, and they both knew it, so (Y/n) simply laughed a little before grabbing Phillip by his arm and pulling him into their shared room of the barracks, pinning him to the wall with a smirk. “So what? You want me to take that vibrator out and fuck you myself? That’s cute coming from you, sweetheart.”

“Stop teasing me (Y/n), I know you wanna fuck me, you’ve been a bitch all day just leaving this- ngh, in me.” Right as he complained, the other man turned up the strength of the vibrator, determined to get Phillip to crack under the pleasure, it always worked, what was new today?

“Desperate little whore, just begging for someone to fuck him properly, but only good boys get what they want. So, ask nicely.” His words held a sharp tone, (Y/n) knew how to get what he wanted, and he gripped Phillip’s jaw to turn his eyes forward again, the vibrations getting stronger once more as his leg pushed between the other man’s to rub against his crotch.

The commander’s breath hitched as he let out a small whine, feeling (Y/n)‘s thigh rubbing against his dick through his pants, something about being treated so humiliatingly was always a turn on, always made him want to be good. “P-please, sir…fuck me, ill- ah~ I’ll be good.”

“Now that’s a good boy.” (Y/n)‘s words came out husky as he pulled his leg back and instead grabbed Phillip by his hips, pushing him further into the room until his legs hit the bed, and he consequently fell down on top of it, his dick leaving a small tent in his pants, even hard he was still adorably small. “Spread ‘em, let me see you.”

Phillip followed the order without much hesitance, his legs spreading as one hand went down to start unbuckling his belt, only for it to be slapped away by (Y/n)’s hand with a small tut. “Don’t be greedy, you’ll get what you want, be patient.” The other man let out a small whine as his hips bucked up slightly into his boyfriend’s touch, it took everything in him to not just flip the two of them over and ride him like there was no stopping him. (Y/n) smirked slightly ad his own hands moved to undo Phillip’s belt and pants, pulling them down slowly and teasingly along with his boxers, the sight of his small but stiff as a rock dick made him smile.

“Excited now, aren’t we?” Phillip turned his head away in embarrassment at the teasing before one of (Y/n)‘s hands came up to grip his jaw and turn his head back. “Look at me when I take what’s mine.” The other man didn’t waste a second before grasping Phillip’s small cock in his hand and starting to jerk him off, his movements quick and slightly rough, knowing full well that it was only making the vibrator stuck inside him worse to deal with.

“Ha- (Y-Y/n) please~.” Phillip’s hips bucked up into (Y/n)‘s hand, his walls clenching around the vibrator bullet inside him as his eyes fluttered slightly, one hand coming up to grasp his boyfriend’s upper arm, trying to control himself with the pleasure. The blonde commander was so close yet so far, and he knew damn well that his orgasm was in the other man’s hands, quite literally with (Y/n)’s hand gripping and moving along his length with harsh strokes.

“Awww, is someone getting desperate?” The other man taunted Phillip with a smirk, leaning down to press a few kisses to his neck while nipping at his skin. The hand wrapped around his boyfriend’s dick started to move faster while the other slipped up his dress shirt and started to pinch his nipples gently through the fabric, eliciting more moans and whines from Phillip.

The commander’s head fell back against the pillows as he tried to hold himself together, even as his hips bucked up into the hand on his cock and the vibrator still buzzing violently inside him. “(Y/n)- sir please…’m so close.” Almost to accentuate his point, Phillip’s hips bucked up again as he started to clench around the vibrator, which only seemed to make things worse for him as his orgasm got closer.

“Then use this little dick of yours like you should and cum for me.” The order was harsh and husky against the blonde man’s neck as his boyfriend continued to jerk him off, a small smirk on his face as he heard Phillip let out a louder moan while his hips stuttered and he came, shooting a load across his hand and chest. “That’s a good boy.”

Pulling his hand back with a small laugh, (Y/n) let his tongue come out for a moment before he got a better idea and moved his hand closer to Phillip’s mouth and looked at him sternly. “Clean up your mess, slut.” The harshness of the order nearly set the commander off for a moment before he opened his mouth and leaned forward, his tongue gently cleaning off his boyfriend’s hand.

“And I wonder how the Shadows can be scared of you, you’re just my little toy, ain’t ya, baby?” Phillip’s eyes were half-lidded as he looked up at (Y/n), his tongue slowly pulling back into his mouth as his head fell back against the pillows before speaking. “Yes…your toy, sir.”

[vhaemystheberserker]

Season two of House of the Dragon is making me lose my mind, Hugh and Ulf already have me in a chokehold, but seeing their characters come to life? Might aswell put me in a straightjacket 💀

[lokimostly]

Dreamless

Loki x Reader Word Count: 1,448 Warnings: night terrors, injury, jam-packed with angst and fluff Summary: A sequel to Sleepless, a drabble I wrote a few years ago. Cheers! x 

Just because you slept in the same bed now, didn’t mean you slept soundly.

It was different, yes. Loki, who rarely rested and often spent his nights poring over old tomes, moved from his desk to the bed in order to watch over you. He was quick to notice your whimpers and pull you away from your dreams. More often than not it was his hands cupping your face that roused you from sleep, not the morning light coming through the curtains. Fear and pain ebbed away under the tenderness of his touch and the low rumbling of his voice when he held you against his chest, brushing the baby hairs away from your clammy forehead, pulling you back to the reality that treated you so much more kindly than your sleeping mind. The man who was once like forbidden fruit behind guilded doors now cradled you in his arms, whispering promises and stringing together stories to calm your racing heartbeat.

There were lulls. Sometimes you went for weeks without a bad dream. You would wake up entangled and slightly suffocated by the pressure of Loki’s body on top of yours, blinking in the rosy light of dawn. Those mornings were long and lazy and wonderful, like drinking sweet tea during midsummer and eating sugar-coated fruit. You swore his lips tasted like honey whenever you kissed them.

But when the forces of Asgard were called to fight in Vanaheim, your home, you knew that you would take home the clashing metal and battle cries, the pouring blood and tearing flesh and all the foul torments of war. It would mean the end of your clean streak and the beginning of a new set of terrors.

You hadn’t expected to be wounded. The reach of your enemy’s lance cut deep along your ribs, and it wasn’t until long afterwards – your body strewn across the bloodstained grass and counting every ragged breath – that Loki found you. While the softer part of you wanted to melt into his touch, bury your face in his neck and wish a way the pain, the battleworn warrior in you gritted her teeth and refused to cry out when he lifted you up and took you through the Bifrost.

It was different, yes. Your visit to the infirmary was brief and you left quickly, unlike the other times when you found yourself bedridden there for days. Loki seemed to take it upon himself personally to care for you in every way, battle wounds included.

By the time you found yourself in his bed again, night had long since fallen. The end of summer on Asgard brought the stars above into full splendor. Most evenings were filled with streaking meteors, and more studious astronomers turned to their rooftop telescopes to get a better look at the galaxies stretching outwards and lighting up the dark.

Normally, Loki would be doing the same: sitting on the banister of his balcony, staring up at the stars as the long watches of the night stretched by. Tonight, there was a different task on his mind.

He had escaped the battle relatively unscathed, thanks to a skillful combination of seidr and pure luck. There were a few cuts and grazes, as always – a piece of his hair had been chopped, much to his chagrin, which would have to be braided until it grew even again – but for the most part he returned home dirty, tired, and unharmed. You, on the other hand, needed to be cared for.

For once it wasn’t your dreams that was the problem. You couldn’t fall asleep at all. The pain on the right side of your ribs blossomed and burned no matter what position you were in. You twisted and turned cautiously, trying to find something that would work because by the Nine you were exhausted –

Loki’s hand, previously holding his place on the page of the book in his lap, reached over and pressed gently to your ribcage. Green seidr wrapped around his fingers and spread through your skin, dulling your pain and slowing your mind. You barely had time to murmur a ‘thank you’ before the magic put your mind to sleep.

It didn’t last.

Loki was pushing his hair away from his face and frowning over a confusing passage when you surged upwards with a shout, tearing yourself away from your dreams and pulling at the tender stitches in your skin at the same time. Burning pain exploded like a lit match and you gasped, holding your side.

He abandoned the book without a second thought and leapt up, catching you against him when your supporting arm wobbled and pressing kisses to your temple. “Easy,” he murmured, the start of a continuous stream of comforts without thought. Guilt riddled his insides. How could he not have seen? Stupid, selfish, more absorbed in his books than in you sleeping fitfully beside him …

You couldn’t sleep unaided.

There was a bright streak of light from past the balcony and Loki’s green eyes flitted momentarily past the billowing curtains, where a curving meteor danced across the black and left a white streak. The breeze hit his face – cool and crisp, the first signs of autumn – and he felt you shiver in his arms.

Loki had an idea.

Carefully as he could, Loki tucked his arms around you and lifted you upwards, cradling you against his chest. His fingers snatched the ends of a blanket strewn lazily across the bed, and he carried you out to the balcony.

The wind was intermittent and cold. The sweat that had formed on your skin during sleep chilled you, and the warm burning of your side only seemed to make it worse. Loki sat down on the large, cushioned bench outside and pulled the blanket over you – the warmth of his chest against your back, and the comfort of the blanket around your front. His hand slipped beneath the cover and gently replaced yours over the bandage, and he pressed another kiss to the side of your head.

“Do you see the stars?” He asked, his voice low and a little hoarse. A redundant question, but it was a start. You could only shiver and nod, curling deeper into his arms.

“Shall I tell you my favorite constellation, or would you like to go first?”

Your skittish eyes, still red-rimmed and shaking, drifted upwards. The sky was a dark mix of brighter hues: nebulae and galaxies scattered across like seeds along the ground, painting webs of pink and blue and purple.

Your eyes found the three-starred belt of Orwandil and you pointed, shakily, to his blinking outline. Loki’s chest vibrated when he hummed in approval, pulling you closer. “A good choice.” You felt his elegant fingers press into your skin, and a sudden surge of warmth – the wound in your flesh was being stitched together with seidr.

You shifted. “Loki, save your energy.”

He reached up with his free hand and tucked a piece of your hair back. “I’ll spend it as I wish. Ask me which constellation I favor.”

You smiled faintly, tiredly, and let your head fall back against his shoulder. “Fine. Tell me your favorite.”

“Hmm.” Loki’s green eyes looked upwards and the colors of the sky reflected gently in his bright eyes. His face looked a little more hollow – healing magic was an expensive effort – but he took a deep breath and continued on. “Ulf’s Keptr,” he said finally.

“I don’t know that one.”

Loki reached up with his free hand and pointed. In the sky, a string of stars lit up in a faint green line, outlining the picture of a wolf holding a sword between his teeth. “Fenrir,” he explained quietly, returning his hand beneath the blanket. “Guarding the entrance to Hel.”

You laughed sleepily. “Of course.”

Loki’s lips turned up in a smile and he drew circles on your skin with his thumb. “Shall I tell you about the rest?”

By the time the sun rose and Asgard’s sky turned pink with dawn, your eyes had fallen shut. Loki didn’t move. He held you fast against him, telling you about the maps of constellations even though you had fallen asleep long ago. Your wound was almost gone now – his energy had been depleted for a long time, but somehow he still managed, weaving seidr and speaking softly to keep you away from bad dreams.

The curtains spun and whispered against the floor as the breeze turned warm and dew melted off the grass of the gardens below, and Loki carried you back to bed, where both of you slept soundly.

-----

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[saelwen]

The Bird Who Couldn’t Sing

Myth!Loki x Oc!Mute!Reader

Chapter 1

Masterlist

Summary: For centuries the folk of the north have been conquering and killing everything in lands beyond the vast sea, with the help of their Gods.  In which the girl's village, named Emily, was a victim of these cruel acts. After being mistreated and bowing to the will of all, given as a consequence of all these cruel events, Emily was mute for a lifetime. But something changes your horrible life. The day her village is being invaded by Vikings, she caught the eye of a certain Nordic god, who was disguised as one of them. Since she was the only one who wasn't screaming and begging for her life. Follow the journey of Emily as she discovers the world of the Norse Gods.

Warnings: Angst, blood

Words: 2k

Throwing the dirty cloth into the bucket, making some of the filthy water splatters on the cold stone floor of the tavern. I let out a tired sigh, rubbing my hands together, trying to smooth the sore muscle from scrubbing the floor all day.

Looking up, I saw how vivid the room was. Singing and cheerful laughs sounded around the warm area. The smell of mead hovered in the air along with burnt firewood. There were some men sitting on the comfortable chairs by the huge fireplace, a while the others were dancing or on the corner of the room with some woman.

This was the custom of every night in the tavern. The men of the village always went here after a long day of work, to drink and eat all night. For escaping from their loud wives or to drown their problems in large cups of fresh mead.

I’ve worked here since my twelve years, serving and cleaning the floor given that I have mouths to feed in the home.

I live with my three older brothers, Richard, Ethan, and John and also my father, Eduard, in a small old cabin. It’s was very isolated, with gigantic trees all around it. My mother died giving birth to me, she had lost a lot of blood and with that, she didn’t make it.

With her death caused by me gave as a result of my father never have liked me. Making my life a living hell, hitting me, making me work since dawn to late in the night.

He also made sure that I heard the praises that he gave to my older brothers, always saying of how proud he was for them and bragging how his sons are such good fighters and that they will make good husbands for a big family. While I was punched every day by him and sexually harassed by Elijah, the owner of the tavern.

Also, my father was the one took my voice away.

When I just a little baby, he had come home after a long night of drinking. My brother, Richard, couldn’t calm me down for I was a very vocal child.

“Why that little devil is crying? Make her stop or I will!” He said a while throwing a bottle of rum to the wall, making my cry louder. My brother in panic, tried everything in his power to calm me down but nothing worked. Grumbling something under his breath, my father grabbed me by my tiny leg and put on the wooden table. He took the dagger out of his belt and put the sharp tip on my throat “Since you don’t shut that fucking mouth, I will make sure that a single sound will never leave your filthy mouth!” With that he pierces through my soft skin with the sharp blade, cutting my vocal cords. Taking my voice forever.

Touching gently the scars on my throat, I pick the bucket and walk outside to dump the dirty water. As I step outside, the cold air hit my face like tiny needles, making my skin sting and a little numb. I throw the water to the bushes and put the bucket down. There! All done.

I wrap my arms around me, trying to block the cold. Lifting my head, pieces of my black hair fall back from my pale face. A small smile forms on my lips as I see the huge moon shining like a pearl that I see on the expensive necklaces that the noble ladies in the village wore.

The stars surrounded her, making little draws on the vast black canvas in the sky.

It’s was early November so the soft grass and the tall trees were with a light layer of white snow. There are still some people walking around the cold streets. Couples cuddling into each other to warm themself while watching the bright light of the moon illuminating the lake in front of the village.

“It’s true! I’ve heard from some traders that came here this morning!” I heard a tall man said to his friends as they enter the tavern, interrupting my thoughts. “Oh come on, Harry! Those traders tell those tales to scare us. There aren’t monsters attacking villages here in England! The only monster that we have here is the old crazy woman that lives in the woods...Come! Let’s have some drinks and pretty ladies on our lap.” His friend said while putting a hand on his shoulder.

Frowning, my gaze follows them inside, seeing them ordering mead and plates of warm stew. Weird... This is the second time I’ve heard of these such monsters.

The first time I’ve heard was in the market this morning, some traders and old ladies were gossiping about some weird events that are occurring in some villages in England. Saying that large beast, full of armor were attacking and stealing those poor people, leaving only destruction behind.

Shrugging my shoulders, I move my gaze back to the shining moon, her light making my deep blue eyes shining like stars. Not wanting to go back inside, where the fat old man will be waiting for me. I walk down the wooden stairs and went to my safe place, the lake.

Since I was a child, I would always come here when I was down or to run from the wrath of my father. The sound of the soft water and frogs was something that calms me, sending me to a safe place.

Sitting down on the cold grass, I wrap my arms around my knees, putting my chin on them. A small smile spread on my face, seeing a duck family cuddling together in the small bushes in the water. The duck mother wrapping all her little babies with her wings to protect them from the cold. How I wish to have a family that cared for me like that...

As I was so engrossed by the cute family before me, I didn’t notice the man walking behind me. A pair of disgusting hands wrap around my small waist and pull me into a plump chest.

“Were you trying to run for me, little slut?” a voice that I'm too familiar sounded behind me. The smell of mead hit my nostrils, making my stomach twist. Elijah...

His hands start to massage my hip and plump legs, making a shiver of fear run through my body. “You should be inside and cleaning the vomit of the drunken men on the floor...You know how I like to see you on your knees...so vulnerable...so beautiful.” I close my eyes as a tear escape from my eye, feeling the wet gross kisses that he was planting on my neck.

Suddenly, we heard people screaming and running in the village. Elijah stopped his movements and stood up “What is this time?” he grumbles under his breath. I shot up from my seat, my legs shaking from the events before.

I frown as I smell smoke in the air. Lifting my head, my mouth hangs open as I see the village on fire. What’s happening? “What the fuck?!” he whispers, running to the street. In a panic, I follow him, not knowing what to do but I quickly regret as I see a large man with an ax on his hand and beheading Elijah in front of me.

My hands flew to my mouth as I let out a soundless scream. The beast of a man stood in front of me with a wicked smile. He was wearing a strange armor, he had fur shawl around his shoulders and some metal plates on his chest, arms, and legs. His helmet was all closed, I only could see his dark eyes and a huge beard. Who are they?

Turnings around, I start running into the dense forest but his large hand grabbed tightly my arm, pulling me into him. I hiss in pain from how tightly his grip was, making my white skin red.

“Oh! You are a pretty one!” his voice was rough and deep. The beast pulls me along with him, taking me to the burning village.

Tears were running down freely from my blue eyes as I see the scene around me. There were a bunch of men like the one who was pulling me. They were killing every man in the village, stealing their treasures and burning their houses. The young women were being put on a circle, with chains around their necks and wrist and the older women were left behind with nothing with them.

The screams of agony and wails were all I could hear. My eyes widened as I see my father and brothers on their knees in front of our house, with two large men beside them. I could hear the pleading words of my father, trying to escape his death.

The men laughed evilly, mocking them for being such cowards. They lift their heavy axes and decapitated them. My body was shaking with fear as I watch their heads rolling down to the floor, I know that I should be crying for them but I feel nothing for they have made my life a living hell. At least I don’t have to deal with them anymore...

The man throws me into the group of young women and wraps some chains around my wrist but when he was putting the other chains on my neck, he let out a huff “Fuck!” he screamed.

He throws the chains to the ground and huffs. The men that were beside him, looked to him in confusion “What is it, Ulf?” one of the men asked a while looking at me up and down.

“This bitch is broken!... I like them when they scream. Just kill her! She’s useless.” he said a while pulling me off the rest of the women.

My face was soaked with tears, I dig my heels on the dirt to try to stop him but that only made him angrier. He grabs a fist of my hair and pulls me harshly, pulling soundless screams from my lips.

He pulls out a dagger from his belt and put the cold blade on my neck. I shut my eyes tightly, thinking the way I will die was the way that my father took my voice.

As I feel the sharp blade pierce my skin, I heard a man shouting something in a strange language. The cold blade disappears from my neck and the man throws me to the dirty floor. “Really? You want her?...you are a weird one, Snákur!” the man whose name is Ulf said with a mocking voice.

I lift my head, seeing a large man but more slender than the other, walking towards me. He took his helmet off and I gasp. He had long beautiful red hair, looking almost like the flames that were burning the village. His eyes were pure green and I notice the mischief in them, his feature was sharp as the blade that was in my neck minutes ago and there isn’t a single hair on his face. I’ve never seen such a beautiful man in my life.

He bends down so his emerald eyes were directed to mine, a smirk grew on his thin lips “Oh...have some good plans to do with you, Kjære!” he said a while stroking gently the scars on my neck. He picks me up and took me to his horse. The steed was all black and have some scars and some hairless spots in his onyx coat, looks almost like a battle horse but nevertheless beautiful.

The man by the name of Snákur, put me on the horse, chaining my hands together. Then he climbs to his horse, sitting behind me. A shiver runs through my spine as I felt his warm breath hit my neck. Where are they taking me?

“To your new home, Kjære! Don’t worry. You will like it there!” he said a while ordering the horse to walk forward. I turn my head to him, confusion on my face. How did he know what I'm thinking? I heard him let out a small chuckle and he wrap his strong arm around my waist, pulling me into his warm chest.

The men put all the village treasures and the women in the wagons, lock them in cages and leave. Taking us to our new nightmare.

I look back and saw the village where I grew up, being burned to the ground. All my memories destroyed.

The stories were true...the monsters raided our village and left behind vast destruction.

Snákur- Snake

Kjære- Darling

Hey Guys!! So what do you think of this chapter? I hope you enjoy this story! Feel free to comment and tell me what you think!! 

Taglist is open!! If you want to be tag click---HERE

XOXO

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[x-reader-theater]

God Forgot Us (And the Devil Didn't Want Us) {Soulmate AU} [3]

Relationship: Slave!Rami Malek X Viking Leader!Male!Reader

Summary: You are the leader of a viking tribe of nomads, a small group of people who moved from one place to another frequently. Or you did, until your father died and you sat them down in one place. You are a benevolent ruler, putting yourself at the level of your fellow warriors, and your wife. That is until you finally take a sex slave, a 

Warnings: Allusions to sex, maybe some cursing I don’t really remember, and there is still angst, like always.

Word Count: 4,277

A/N: Hello. I know I haven’t updated in a while, and I said I would post this when I reached 500 followers, but I haven’t. The reason I’m posting it is because it’s my lovely lovely girlfriend’s (@roger-bang-the-drum) birthday today! So go wish her a happy birthday, and this one’s for you. But in all seriousness, the only reason I haven’t been posting is because I’ve had no motivation to. I don’t get reblogs, and when I do, no one comments on anything. Also I’ve been really depressed because one of my stories that I just posted about is continuing to get notes even though I hate it and I want it to just go away. Anyways, please reblog and comment, and my inbox is always open. Let me know if you want more. I have 15 chapters total planned out, so if you want to see more, tell me. 

Sweden 865 AD

“Now, if we move our men this way…” your wife says, picking up the wooden soldier Njall's boy made, and she places it on the other side of the river, by the bridge. “We can block their path, trap them on the bridge, force them to fight one at a time. We have the numbers, we could flush them out!”

Everyone in the room nods in agreement, a few of the other women voicing some agreement too, although quietly. You nod, but pick up another soldier from the same place, and move it away. “I'm not putting more men in danger. Not if we don't have to. We'll still have the numbers.”

Everyone else nods in agreement, though the men more than the women. “Yeah!” Njall exclaims. “Just because some men want to die gloriously in battle doesn't mean we should have to sacrifice all of them!”

“But it wouldn't be a sacrifice!” Your wife exclaims, but you step forwards.

“It would be, if they get overwhelmed, or there's a troop out there we don't know about! No! My word is final,” you say, and your wife rolls her eyes. “Go, we have work to do.” Everyone gets up, and walks out, talking about the meeting as they go.

“Your father would say you’re weak,” your wife says to you.

You roll your eyes as you adjust your furs. “I am not my father. And I never will be. He died in battle a coward, almost destroying our entire clan! I will never become him!” You say, walking out of the war hut.

“[Y/N]! [Y/N]!” You turn and see your second hand, Ulf, run up to you. “There’s-there’s…” He's panting, and you laugh, placing a hand on his fur covered shoulder.

“Ulf, Ulf, calm down! Take a breath!” You say, laughing at the smaller man.

He takes a few breaths, and swallows before speaking again. “There's a new load of some good ones. Slaves. You get first pick, and everyone's waiting for you.”

You nod, and let him lead you to the fire pit in the middle of camp. Anytime there was a wedding, ceremony, or something the witches needed from you, to talk to the gods, it would be there, in the center of camp. You hadn't needed to move camp since you became leader. You managed to keep all rival clans away, and with the sea next to your camp, you were able to fortify the bay you gathered your fish from.

As you walk into the center of camp, you see a crowd of the higher nobles, and some of the lower one's as well, looking find any scraps they could of the new ones. Looking over their heads, you see a pretty good pick. One for everyone, that was your rule. Except for you. You were able to take more, but mostly, you didn't take any. They weren't your thing, you didn't like sex with the slaves anyhow. They were very good for cooking and cleaning, but usually they would just be sold because your children were good for that. Your children were too young to have any slaves of their own, fight, or be a leader. That is why you put Ulf as your second in command.

You push through the crowd, and take in the new slaves, their hands bound in front of them, the women with simple sack dresses, and the men with cloth tied around their waists. You see some bigger women, they looked to be strong, as well as some men who looked busy as strong. Definitely more of the other men's type, but as you go down the line, you find you are more drawn to the skinniest of them all. His hair is cropped short, curly, and he's darker than everyone else in the line. He doesn't look scared, he looks defiant, but his beautiful eyes betraying him. They were scared, and the colour of the sky on a sunny day, rare where you lived. His head was up high, and as you lean in, looking at his gaunt face and his dimpled cheeks, you grin, and his facade falters for just a moment.

You pull back, and point at the boy, and say loudly, “I want this one. The rest of you, take your pick.”

Everyone cheers, it's rare for the chief to take a slave, let alone a male one, but Ulf walk up to you, and whispers, “Are you sure you want that one? He just looks so frail… what about the one on the end? He looks like he'll put up a good fight!”

You shake your head. “No. I want this one. Tell Hjarkke to get him ready for me in my chambers. I would like to have my way with him.”

Ulf nods, and runs off towards the slave you mentioned, and you go about your day.

You push your way into your living quarters, and see the boy sitting at the edge of your bed. He's grabbing his knees, his knuckles white, and he's whispering to himself as he shakes like a leaf. You clear your throat, and the naked boy jumps, startled. You shush him, and walk slowly towards him, as he closes his arms over his body, and turns away from you.

“Don't be afraid little one,” you say quietly, but he doesn't move. “I'm not here to hurt you.” You reach a hand out, and just brush his skin, but he jumps away, and hugs himself closer.

“Don't touch me,” he whispers, and hearing his voice is a shock. You realize he's much older than he looks. Good. He could be good to talk to.

“Okay. Okay,” you say, putting your hands up, but you don't move away. You also don't move closer. “Will you tell me your name?”

He's silent, and you don't say anything either, hoping that he'll at least say something. As you go to speak, he finally says something. “Rami.”

“Rami,” you say, testing his name on your lips. “Rami. That isn't from around here, is it?”

He shakes his head, and looks over his shoulder at you. “I'm not from around here.”

You crack a smile at that, and stand up. “I gathered that much.” He lets out a quiet laugh, but cuts himself off, like he didn't mean to show that much to you. You crouch beside him again, closer this time, and look up into his beautiful eyes. “Do not think you need to hide yourself from me. I'm not as scary as I look,” you joke, but he doesn't move. You sigh, and reach a hand out. He flinches, but you don't move. You just let your hand rest in mid air. He reaches up, and takes your hand, placing his against yours. You don't move, just let him explore.

He pulls away, and you get up, turning to your pile of furs. You pick up a large one, and hand it to him. “I have a feeling you'll want to get dressed. I would like to talk.”

“So, you've been king for ten years now?” He asks, and you laugh at him.

“No little one. I have their leader. I am no no king,” you explain, and Rami nods. “Kings are selfish, greedy, power hungry. It never works out for them. They die young, are killed in battles…”

Rami moves closer, sitting beside you on your bed. “Still, it's impressive.”

You smile and lean back on your hands. “I guess it is…”

Leans over and smiles as you look over at him. Even with him on his knees on the bed, you were still only at eye height. “What made you decide on me?” Your eyes widen, and you look away, but Rami moves your chin so you're looking at him in the eye. “No, I want you to look at me when you say it.”

You sigh. “I chose you because I was drawn to me. I think the gods were telling me something about you was different.” You look up at the ceiling of the hut, towards the sky, and smile as a light breeze blows past you. All the windows are closed.

“You can talk to the gods?” Rami asks, and you nod. “Wow,” he breathes out.

You smile and laugh at him lightly, before getting up and taking off your furs and light armour you always had on. “Come now little one.” You hold your hand out, and he grabs it. “We should sleep now. It's always good to get sleep. It will make you stronger.”

Rami smiles and nods, and you slip into bed with him. Halfway through the night he moves over and you wrap your arms around him.

“[Y/N]!” You look up from where your attention was previously, playing with the children and teaching them how to correctly hold their wooden swords and sticks. You see Ulf running up to you, and you quickly say goodbye to the children.

You walk over to Ulf, who's with Njall and Henrik, who are playing a Tafl game. “Ulf, Njall, Henrik,” you greet, and Ulf moves over, giving you a space to sit.

“So, [Y/N], how is your slave treating you?” Ulf asks, raising his eyebrows.

You shrug, and watch as Njall moves a piece. “Adequate.”

Ulf scoffs. “Just adequate? Then you should have picked better!”

Both Njall and Henrik laugh along with Ulf, but you don't. You just crack a polite smile. “How have yours been?” You ask Ulf, knowing he wants to talk.

“Well Helle is so sweet, but she's too delicate. I traded her with Sten because his brother, Sven, likes girls like that but Sven will only trade with Sten…”

You let Ulf rant for a while, just nodding and commenting when appropriate. You also watch the game, not very closely, but it gave you something to do.

“Yes!” Njall exclaims, pounding his fist on the table. “I finally beat you!”

Henrik grumbles out something you can't understand, and just gets up, walking away. Njall follows after him, trying to comfort him in his loss. Ulf moves so he's sitting across from you and props his elbows up on the table, resting his face in his hands.

“So, I had a question.” You motion for him to continue, and you pick up a piece of wood from the ground, and take out your knife. You start to carve into it. “What has been happening with your wife?” You have to stop, almost cutting yourself as you look up at Ulf. “I'm only asking because you've been spending an awful lot of time with that slave of yours…”

You set down your knife. “The reason I am spending time with him is because I enjoy his company. My wife is my partner, smart, and good with strategy, but we had our children. That is all the use I have for her,” you explain, and Ulf nods.

“Yes, I suppose that's true. I saw her going into Nasir's hut a few nights ago.”

“Well whatever she does with her time is not my concern.”

“Alright, alright. Just letting you know.”

“Thank you.”

You get up, and Ulf scrambles behind you. He joins you at your side, and nods. “Alright, well, you probably have some leader duties to attend to.”

You shake your head. “Not at all. I am going to see my slave. I have something I wish to speak to him about. You may go away at any time.”

Ulf nods and walks away dejected, and you walk towards your hut.

You grunt as you land another blow on Njall, who shifts slightly to the side, but doesn't fall. The training swords were useful, but they didn't show the full effect a sword could have on a person's body. You shift again, your foot going in front of you, and lean back, holding your sword above you as Njall strikes down towards your head. You struggle with Njall for a few moments, before you push his blade off yours, sending it to the side, his hands still on it, and you step forwards, shouldering him in the throat. He clutches his neck and stumbles back.

Grunting, he shakes himself off, and you let out a huff, a smirk playing on your lips. He rushes forwards.

You see yellow, all around you, but that's not what you're trying to accomplish right now, inspecting the decor. You've been trying to get a move down for a while, but you just couldn't. You move your leg back, get down on your knees, and swipe upwards with your curved sword. It's slightly tilted, and doesn't cut through the air quite right.

You grunt, and try again. Standing up, you put your foot back, get on your knees, tilt your sword just a little further…

“Yes!” You exclaim as it cuts through like butter. The disgusting wobble of the blade doesn't sound, and you hear the sharp cut of a blade slicing through thin air.

You blink, and look around. You're back in the woods, and Njall is on the ground next to you. You drop your arm and get up from your kneeling position. You hold out a hand, and Njall takes it. You pull him up, and he looks at you confused.

“What? How?” He asks, slightly out of breath.

You look up at the skies. “I do not know. Perhaps the gods gave me another vision, but it wasn't of the future, or the past, it was of me, in another time…” you trail off, looking down, and then at Njall, confused.

“You were given another vision from the gods?” He asks, surprised.

You nod. “Yes, but this one was different. It wasn't of a battle…” You shake your head to clear your thoughts. “Never mind. I'll think about it later. For now, go finish your training for today with some of the younger warriors.”

Njall nods and walks off, and you sit down, your head in your hands as you think about what just happened.

“You had a vision from God?” Rami asks from your chest.

You smile and look down at him, as you shift, the sticks underneath your back slightly uncomfortable. “Not God, but Gods. Plural.” Rami nods, and lays back down on you chest. You wrap your arm around him. “It was odd though. It wasn’t like anything I’ve seen before…”

You sit up and Rami sits in your lap. You lean down and kiss him, softly on the lips. He starts to deepen the kiss, running his hands through our hair, and you growl. He bites your lip, and you pulls back, just staring at him. He’s grinning at you, blood on the corner of his mouth, and you grin, licking the blood away from your own mouth.

You pull him close again, blood mixing with spit, and you close your eyes.

You feel silk underneath you, and a body above you. You’re flipped, and the lips on your yours move down to your neck. You wrap your arms, smaller than you remember, about a smooth, bare waist. You press him further down, and your bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. You hum as you throw your head back, and your back arches. You feel a rush of pleasure roll through you.

You open your eyes and see-

You gasp as Rami disengages his lips from your collar bone. “Are you okay?” He asks, and you nod, catching your breath. “Was it another vision from the gods?”

You don’t answer, just sit in silence, thinking. You were with someone else, and were on something soft, and smooth, not like the forest floor or your own bed. Rami shifts closer to you, and your arms wrap around him, and pause as your bodies fit together like in the vision. You kiss his hair and spend the rest of your time contemplating it.

“If we send them around the back, they’ll get the element of surprise,” Your wife says, moving one of the wooden soldiers around another one.

You sigh. “I’ve explained this to you before. If we do that, we’ll have to split up our troops. I’m not sending half my troops from this position. The Bridge is their only way to get to us. We need to fortify it.”

“But if we kill them, we won’t need to fortify the bridge in the first place!” Your wife yells.

You stand up, and yell back at her, “Spreading our troops thin and getting them killed wouldn’t help either!”

Your wife stands up, and stands with you, chest to chest, when Njall stands up, walks to the table, grabs another piece and places it behind the enemy piece. You step back, but your wife doesn’t move. “I’ve been corresponding with that troop. They’ve been bored for months. You always forget about them because they’re so close to camp. Send them to flank, and you don’t have to spread yourself thin,” Njall says, and you nod, clearing your throat.

“Yes, that sounds like an effective plan. Can you do that for me?” You ask, and Njall nods. “We’ll reconvene in the morning.”

Everyone quickly gets up, and leaves. Your wife turns to you. “You should have heard me out.”

You turn quickly to her. “Oh, and you were going to say that? We can’t just send our men into battle outnumbered! You need to respect my decision and listen to your leader!”

You storm out of the war hut, and run into Ulf, who’s standing there, waiting for you. “Hello sir!” He greets, cheerily.

“Not today Ulf,” you say, waving him off, and making a beeline for your hut. Before you can enter, you feel a hand on your shoulder. You’re spun around and you see our wife standing before you, hands on her hips.

“We need to talk,” She says, and you sigh. “Why are you so snappy? Is it because of your new toy?” You go to speak, but she stops you. “I think you love that… that play thing more than you love me…”

You sigh, and grab her hand. “Of course I love you. You’re my wife. But I just can’t talk right now, okay?” You kiss her knuckles, and she nods.

“Okay. But I expect us to talk later.”

You nod and hold her hand until it slips from your grasps, and your hand falls to your side. You enter your hut, just in time to see someone exit the back. You frown and follow them. Walking into the woods, you see them go further, and start to jog to catch up with them. You turn around a tree, and feel someone cold press to your throat. You turn your head slowly and you see Rami standing there, pointing the knife at your throat.

“Is it true?” Rami asks.

“Is what true?” You ask, keeping calm. You’ve been in positions like this before, a traitor or an escaped slave, wanting to get revenge on the leader for their strife. That’s how you got most of your scars. You rarely fought in battle.

Rami presses the knife further into your neck, and you lean back slightly as you feel it prick your skin, but you don’t break eye contact. “Do you really love her more than me?”

“No.” You lean into the knife more as you say this, but barely feel it, your adrenaline fuling you. “I don’t love my wife. I never did. I love you.”

Rami doesn’t say anything, and slowly lowers the knife, before dropping it on the ground. You fall to your knees and look at his feet in front of you. Rami place a hand underneath your chin, and lifts your face so your eyes meet again. He leans down slightly, and you lean up, expecting a kiss, but Rami doesn’t close the gap.

Instead, he takes his other hand, and grabs your hair, tugging and pulling up, wrenching your head towards him. “You’re mine.”You nod.

Though it hurts, and let Rami take you that day.

You feel hands in your hair, running through your long locks, pulling at the knots that are in it. You look up and see Rami has his fingers tangled in your hair. He has a serene look on his face. You smile and let him continue. He undoes a plait in your hair, and smiles at the crimped piece he holds up. He drops it, and moves somewhere else, taking a few strands of your hair, and braiding them together.

Rami moves closer and puts your head on his lap. He leans down, and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. You smile, and don't move. You just watch as Rami's face goes red, but he continues anyways. He presses a kiss to your temple, your cheek, your nose. He stops right above your lips, and just hovers there. You can feel his warm breath hit your lips, and you just look up at him. You feel his breath catch, right before he leans down and captures your lips in his. You let him do the work, and he places his hands on your cheeks, pushing you down so he can kiss you harder. It's everything you want.

Rami pulls away, and he smiles down at you breathlessly. You lean up and kiss him again, quicker this time, but it still feels incredible. He rubs his thumbs over your cheeks and you smile.

“Thank you,” he says, falling onto the bed. You climb next to him, and he curls around you. You want to ask what for, but he's already asleep.

You smile at Rami from across the little clearing, peeling some bark off a nearby tree with your knife. He scampers back towards you, and plops himself in your lap. You laugh, and lean back against the tree that was supporting you. You kiss his shoulder and he laughs, shivering underneath your touch. You rest your chin on his shoulder, and kiss his neck.

“What are you making there little one?” You ask, and he just keeps shaving it down.

“I don’t know yet…” He trails off, and you nod.

You lean over, and kiss his cheek. “I need to get up. I’m gonna go piss.”

He nods and tuns, still looking at the knife, but kissing you nonetheless. You pick him up, and move your legs up, before sitting him back down, leaning against the tree. You get up, and walk off, walking a few minutes into the surrounding woods, before taking a deep breath, and taking your piss.

It’s silent, and you look around, looking for any sort of wildlife as you finish up, but find nothing. You frown, concerned, but ignore it, starting to walk back. You get about a minute away, before you feel something cold, and sharp pressing into your back. You stop walking immediately, and turn to look, but the sword is pressed further into you, and you feel hot blood dripping down your back.

“Why him?” You hear someone say. No just someone, but Ulf. you sigh, and turn around anyways, but the sword is pressed into your throat. You wince as it pinches you, but you hold your ground, your head held high. “Why a slave.”

“I don’t know what you mean Ulf,” you respond, your voice never wavering.

He grunts and moves the sword down to your heart. “You tell him everything. Meanwhile I’m stuck running errands for you, and I can’t even be in war meetings! I am to be leader, I must know what is going on!” He exclaims.

“I am teaching you patience!” You yell back, and Ulf’s face goes red with rage.

“I don’t want patience I want to be KING!”

You stare at him, stunned, and reach for your own sword, but seeing your move, he plunges the sword forth, into your chest, and your arms go limp. You fall to your knees as you stare up at Ulf, the trees surrounding him like a wooden throne. His yellow teeth are pulled into a sneer, and your face goes slack, losing the ability to emote. Looking down at you, you see Ulf has pure rage in his eyes, as well as jealousy. You feel the sharp twigs digging into your knees and focus on that pain, letting it ground you, helping you stay conscious.

Ulf bends down and looks you in the eye, face to face, and you try and snearat him, but it’s useless. “I shall be king. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me. Have fun in Hel.”

He forces the sword into you, pushing to the hilt, and you fall back, your eyes closing, and Ulf pulls the blade out, before walking away, leaving you to die.

Rami looks up as he suddenly notices [Y/N] gone for longer than he should be. He sets the piece of wood down and gets up, placing the knife into his belt. He goes the way [Y/N] went, carefully watching for something, anything, any sign of him, but there’s nothing. Nothing, until Rami sees [Y/N], laying on the ground, a pool of blood surrounding him. Rami rushes over and falls on his knees next to his lover’s corpse, and he frantically checks to see if [Y/N] still lives.

It doesn’t matter. He was gone. Rami screams out in anguish as he looks at the wound only a sword could have caused, and takes out his own knife, plunging it into his chest, leaving him to die next to his love, their blood mingling on the forest floor.

[vhaemystheberserker]

Please, someone, Im starving for Ulf the White smut, I'll take x reader and even x characters, Im grasping at crumbs, I've read every single one on Tumblr and ao3 😭🙏