@alysonhannigan My Sweet Nicky, thank you for years of laughter, love and Dodgers. I will think of you every time I see a rocking chair. I love you. RIP 💔😢
I miss tv in the 2010s every day. You could put anything on air and get a 22 episode order and a five season run. Once Upon a Time was on and it basically spit in your face and told you that Olaf the snowman was Emma's second great uncle twice removed and you just accepted it. Golden age of the silver screen
Imagine tempting Ulf the White into bravery (pt.2)
Pt. 1: (x)
SMUT
Ulf the White x Targaryen!reader
WC: 2.4K
CW: Implied Targcest, MDNI, dub-con, choking, manhandling, riding, p n v, fem receiving oral, riding, face slapping, references to violence, Dom-sub undertones, age-gap (reader is in her 20a), Ulf is a SIMP, derogatory language (to Ulf).
For a second time, Ulf the White flew Silverwing over Kings Landing, drawing out Vhagar. He lured Vhagar and Prince Aemond into Blackwater Bay, winning Queen Rhaenyra’s spies time to infiltrate key points around the Red Keep. Ulf the White was nearly burned twice in his efforts but managed to slip the Stranger’s noose once more.
Quite a feat for a street urchin such as Ulf.
When Silverwing came home to Dragonstone, Ulf was hailed as a hero. Smiling faces and accolades abound, but he could hardly focus. Ulf the White went to look for you almost the instant Silverwing landed on Dragonstone. His heart was racing, hands still clenched, face stinging from the harsh winds. All on his mind was the reward you had promised him.
“Do this task well and you may yet enjoy a treat.”
Oh, how lovely you sounded that night. You spoke to him like a dog… but he could forgive that. As a man who had lived off of scraps and favors all his life, he could withstand a little degradation if it meant you would touch him again.
He was making great progress to your rooms when a maidservant stopped to ask him if he would like a bath. Normally, he would have shooed her away, bathing was a luxury but not as enjoyed as much as food or drink. However, he thought of you and immediately agreed to it. Ulf bathed himself in piping hot water and scrubbed harder than he’d done in years. Cleaning under his nails, applying cologne after he dried off, and sweeping back his hair. With the assistance of a rather confused maidservant, he picked out clothing that “looked suitable but er, were, uh… easily removed.”
It was deep into the hour of the wolf by the time he was done.
Ulf felt just a tad silly to be putting in all this work for just one woman. After all, with his dragon and his feats, he could have anyone. Four pretty wenches could be in his bed right now, happy to have him covered in filth just as much as they would take him clean. The though makes him more confident as he nears your door. His shoulders roll back, and he starts to smile. He knocks on your door and leans against the frame on one hand. And he waits.
And he waits. And… he waits.
His confidence melts and he knocks your door again, albeit a tad louder. In the middle of his third round of rapid knocks the door opens, and he nearly falls into your room. The carefully built façade of confidence is in rubble around his feet as he grins at you sheepishly.
You’re dressed only in a deep violet robe of silk, tied loosely around your waist. He can see more of you than he ever has. The length of your neck, the valley between your soft breasts… hair unbound in loose waves down to your waist. Perhaps you hadn’t answered the door because you were preparing yourself for him? Eager to see your champion who so valiantly— “Oh, its you,” is your greeting to him.
Ulf’s throat feels dry. He puts on the lazy grin he practiced in the mirror and says, “I have completed your task, Princess. Quite well, too. I believe you promised me— a treat?”
Your eyebrows go up at that. Had you forgotten? Had you lied to him? Ulf is biting his tongue to keep it from asking you. With a slow smile, you take a step back and gesture for him to enter your rooms. Oh, thank the Seven. Ulf hears the door close behind him and his heart is racing once more. You circle him, your robe parting above your knee to give him a peek at your long legs.
“I must admit my surprise,” you sigh. “You completed your task with great bravery. My sister made mention of knighting you, in fact.”
Gently, your hand cups his cheek. Ulf’s eyes flutter close to your touch. Your sweetness doesn’t last long, as you push his hair behind his ear and snicker, “Did you run to me, Ulf? Your hair is still damp.”
“Do not mock me,” he squares his shoulders at you. “I think I am not alone in these, uh, desires. Look at you, barely dressed and so ready to give me your sweet cunny that— Ach!”
Your expression changes from serene to wrathful in the blink of an eye. Ulf is gagging on air before he even realizes your hand is around his throat, “I may be giving you a reward, but do not forget your place here.”
Ulf put one hand around your wrist, and you answer by tightening your hold. It shocks him how strong you can be. However, it shocks him more how this alone has brought on a strong wave of arousal. Your eyes flick down, seeing it clearly pressing against his breeches. He shakes slightly at the sight of your vicious smile, “You are a baseborn bastard, and I am a Princess. I could find as much pleasure humping my pillow as I might in taking your cock. Understand?”
“Y-Yes,” he croaks. Truthfully, he would take watching you hump your pillows as a reward.
Shoving him back with one hand, you order him to undress. Ulf is coughing, trying to catch his breath, while simultaneously obeying you. His submission is adorable. It almost makes up for how inadequate he is. You watch him with a hand on your hips as he struggles out of his clothes. Losing your patience, you push him into your bed. Ulf falls back onto your bed with his tunic hanging from his left arm and the laces of his breeches halfway undone. He lets out a loud grunt, swearing under his breath.
You are a true vision as you climb over him, slipping off the top of your robe. Ulf’s mouth falls open at the sight of your breasts swaying in his face. He felt like a young man in his first brothel all over again, stunned to silence by a pair of bare tits. Nipples erect and just begging for his touch. Ulf was nearly embarrassed at how helpless he was right now. Though, to be fair, yours were the first he had ever earned seeing, rather than paid for…
“—What are you waiting for? Kiss them, Ulf. Gods know you might not have another chance.”
Ulf wastes no more time. His lips go to your right breast, peppering it in kisses before latching on your nipple. You hum in satisfaction. His stubble is rough but not unpleasant against your supple flesh. With your hands holding onto your headboard for balance, you add just the slightest amount of pressure against his growing bulge. The whimper that leaves him encourages you to grind down harder. Bare beneath your robe, he can feel your wet cunt against his straining breeches. Grinding slowly, deeply, you ride his clothed cock. Ulf the White is a man not endowed with wisdom, but he is not without some assets. You would never say so aloud.
“Gods Princess, you’re soaked,” he cups your breasts with both hands and smiles up at you. Ulf tweaks your tender nipples lightly and simpers, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I was right before. You want me, baseborn cock and all.”
What an arrogant little peasant.
You lean back, uncaring of the way Ulf whines at your weight on his throbbing cock. Taking him by his hair, you force him to look you in the eye, “You talk far too much for your own good. We should use this mouth properly, don’t you think?”
He gives no resistance as you manhandle him to lay down further on the bed. The pulling of his hair aroused him more than he would like to admit. You crawl over him and position yourself over his face. Ulf raises his hips and quickly shimmies his breeches down as you sink down, using his face as a chair. His erection springs free, his fingers spreading his own precum over the head of his cock. Ulf moans against your cunt and gets straight to work. His tongue laps at your clit, your folds, grunting and moaning shamelessly like a man starved.
You grip the headboard, putting your forehead against it as you moan wantonly. Gods, you wanted to make this harder for him… but Ulf’s tongue is rather talented. You suppose it makes sense; a wastrel must have some redeeming qualities. Heat rises to your cheeks as you find yourself getting lost to the pleasure, breath hitching, “A-Ah! Too much—"
As you try to lift your hips, his grasps your hip with one hand, holding you firm against his face as he switches between suckling your clit and thrusting into your cunt. He was strong. There’s a thrill to this that edges on fear. Ulf could pin you to your own bed and fuck you full with his seed till the morning. The danger is not so unlike claiming a dragon, you think. That brings you closer to your brink. You look back and find his other hand is furiously pumping his cock. Greedy, fucking his own hand while your wetness is dripping down his chin. You can’t bring yourself to reprimand him now. Not with the way your thighs are shaking around his head. It’s a real fight not to cry his name as you keen.
His lips are focused around your twitching clit, his tongue giving it kitten licks that have you crying. Gods, he is completely drunk off of you. Your taste, your cries, your nails digging into his scalp. Ulf thinks he could die under you as a happy man.
“U-Ulf—! Stop… stop!” you’re about to cum. You refuse to let him have this much control over this. He was supposed to be clumsy. Useless. A mere toy for you to grind your cunt against. And now, he’s not obeying you. You need to tell him something that will make him stop. “P-Please…! Inside of me— I want your cock inside!”
Finally, he lets you go. Both of you are panting despite only one of having your air restricted. Your cunt is throbbing hard, walls clenching around nothing as you roll off of him. The lower half of Ulf’s face is wet. His pupils are blown, giving him a wild look that has you opening your legs again. Ulf lets out a sound as he moves to get on top of you. Before he can, your hand rears back and you slap him across the face.
He yelps like a kicked dog, “The fuck was that for?!”
“Do you think women like me let men like you fuck them?” You start to smile as a look of total betrayal crosses his face. Not to be missed either, was the way his cock twitched after being hit.
Ulf holds his battered cheek, he points at you saying, “You bitch, you promised me. You promised me more than a hand to fuck—!”
“Listen better, Ulf, you cannot fuck me. I, however, can and will fuck you.” Putting a hand to his chest you say, “On your back, now.”
He obeys immediately. Ulf’s legs kick to take his breeches off fully. Whether or not he is successful is unimportant as you are straddling him regardless. His hands follow your curves, from your wide hips to your love-bite-ridden breasts. Taking his hands, you pin the over his head, “Lykiri… Lykiri. Iksan aōha kipagīros.”
Ulf swallows thickly, he can’t understand one grunt or sigh of High Valyrian.
You coo down at him, “Genes nādrēsy.” Now. That had a certain tone to it.
Ulf raises a brow and asks, hopelessly, “Are you making fun of me?”
Snickering, you ignore the question by leaning down and kissing him deeply, tasting yourself. The first kiss you have given him through all of this. It renders his mind numb. Your tongue rubs against his own, an intimacy that seems somehow more forbidden than your wet cunt rubbing against the twitching length of his cock. Ulf’s fingers slip between yours while you have his hands pinned. He pushes the boundary, trying to hold your hands as you kiss. You almost miss it.
Almost.
You break the kiss, his head rises and falls in trying to follow your lips. Ulf’s eyes are wet, his chest heaving as it had that day in his tub. He looks so pathetic. It’s everything you wanted and more as you focus your undulating to the tip of his cock.
“Good boy,” you coo. Then, unceremoniously, you impale yourself on him.
All pretense for this night fall away as you ride him. Your hips move fast, hard. The sound of slapping skin soon fills the room as your hips rise and fall on his lap. There’s a pattern of bouncing and rocking to your movements, mimicking the way a man might thrust into a woman at times. It is all to chase your release. You could not care less about Ulf’s pleasure, though he seems to be enjoying you greatly.
His head rolls from side to side as he moans loud, babbling lurid nonsense. You release one of his hands to cover his noisy mouth. With his newly freed hand, he gropes and strokes your body wildly. No true focus other than to feel as much of you as possible. His hand falls between your bodies. You nearly scream when his thumb finds your clit. Ulf huffs against your palm as your thrusting grows sloppy. The dragonseed beneath you attempts to meet your thrusts by digging his heels into the bed and bouncing you. The fat head of his cock hits something deep inside of you that has you seeing stars.
“Don’t stop, don’t stop!” your cry out. Ulf stares up at you, lovesick. You look so beautiful like this. He considers rolling you over to take over. Maybe slow it down to make lov— You grasp his throat. “Don’t you dare stop, or I will cut you from cock to throat!”
Never mind.
Ulf keeps up his thrusting up as you bring your hips down. Both of you are drenched in sweat and your bed is groaning beneath you. You reach your peak suddenly, violently. Keening loudly, your walls clench hard around Ulf’s cock. As you cum, the hand you have around his throat closes around him hard, uncaring. His back arches not long after and his bastard seed fills you, hot and thick. The grip you have on his throat loosens and you collapse on top of him, his cock still inside of you as it softens. Slowly, his arms come around you. Exhausted, you don’t move or complain.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer + art [1/?] (insp)
Judith with the Head of Holofernes, Fede Galizia (1596)
Joan of Arc, Dante Gabriel Rossetti (1882)
A Girl with Sunflowers, Michael Ancher (1889)
The Blonde Odalisque / Resting Maiden, François Boucher (1751)
The Wild Hunt of Odin, Peter Nicolai Arbo (1872)
stormborns
vaporwave
