Dean Winchester goes to war đȘ to protect his twin flame đ„ from SATAN, but he spreads his wings too wide and falls in the darkest pits of Hell. Whilst awaiting Sam like a saddened Orpheus hoping too see his lovely Eurydice, he befriends a Pegasus named Impala đŠ and flies away.
Summary: Aegon humiliates you once again, but this time you are determined to put the King in his rightful place.
Word Count: 1k
Aegon's shattered moans of disturbing pleasure could be heard through the thick stone walls of the Red Keep, like whispers from the pained building itself, quaking in perfect synchronicity with the dragonâs strained roars. You were trembling as you stood outside the massive mahogany doors, and as your knuckles quickly rapped a steady rhythm on the lacquered wood, you let out a shaky sigh.
You were no stranger to your husband's interest in sodomy, but this time he had committed a calumny so callous that you couldn't help but indulge in thoughts of regicide as you waited for an answer other than choked sobs of pleasure-pain. None came.
As you pushed the heavy door open, the hinges creaked, the sound echoing through the dimly lit room. Inside, the sight that greeted you was almost beyond wordsâAegon lay spread out on the bed, face-down, his limbs bound to the bedposts with crimson silk, his naked body glistening with sweat. Aemond, his one-eyed brother, hovered above him, his hand gripping Aegon's throat from behind just tightly enough to make him gasp for air, but not enough to cut it off entirely. You noticed his leather eyepatch was off, and as your gaze meandered further down their intertwined bodies, you found it wrapped around Aegon's member, much like an improvised tourniquet.
Your cold fury boiled over as you watched them. Aegon's cries of pain and pleasure mixed together in a sickening symphony that made your stomach churn. You had tolerated his lecherous behavior, his indulgences with men, women, and others for far too long. But this was something else entirelyâa deliberate, shameless act of defiance. And in your own private chambers, no less.
"Aegon, you bitch!" you snapped, your voice cutting through the air like a whip. The sound startled him, his head jerking towards you, dark lilac eyes wide and panicked. Aemond, however, merely glanced over his shoulder, his lips curling into a twisted smile, as if daring you to stop them from their depraved coupling.
"Get out," you said coldly, your gaze fixed on Aemond. He was holding a dragon whip in his free hand, and the angry red welts on his brother's back were a testimony to its use. He hesitated for a moment, clearly relishing in the discomfort he'd caused, but eventually, he released Aegon's bruised throat and climbed off the bed, moving towards you with a leisurely pace despite his glistening nakedness. As he passed, he leaned in close, his lips brushing against the sensitive shell of your ear.
"He's never going to be satisfied with you," he whispered, his voice a dark, mocking purr. "Not like this. Never."
You didn't flinch, didn't let him see the flicker of doubt in your eyes. Instead, you shoved him away, watching as he sauntered out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him. Turning your attention back to Aegon, you felt a wave of fury and something darker, something more primal, surge through you.
He was looking at you, his face flushed, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps, his silver-gold hair plastered to his forehead. There was a look in his eyesâa mixture of fear, shame, and a twisted, almost masochistic desire. You knew then that he wanted to be punished, wanted to feel your anger, your hatred. And you were more than willing to oblige.
"You've humiliated me for the last time," you hissed, moving closer to the bed. Aegon whimpered, his body trembling as you climbed onto the mattress, straddling his waist. His eyes never left yours, watching, waiting to see what you would do next.
You leaned down, your lips brushing against his ear as you spoke. "Is this what you wanted, Aegon? To be caught like a naughty little boy-cunt, to be punished?"
He didn't respond, only whimpered again, his head nodding ever so slightly. You smirked, trailing your fingers down his chest, leaving angry red welts in their wake. "You like this, don't you? Being degraded, being treated like the worthless whore you are."
Aegon gasped, his back arching as your hand moved lower, teasingly brushing against his already hardening dragon cock. You could feel him shaking beneath you, desperate for more, desperate for your touch. But you weren't going to make it easy for him. Not this time.
"Tell me," you demanded, your voice a harsh whisper. "Tell me how much you want it, how much you want to be punished, you harlot."
"I... I want it," Aegon choked out, his voice barely more than a breath. He is crying, you realised with disgust. "I need it. Please..."
âOn. Your. Knees.â Each word tumbling from your mouth was accented by two consecutive slaps to get your point firmly across. You could only laugh as the King of the Andals and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm knelt in front of you.
"Good," you said, a wicked grin spreading across your face. "I'm going to burn these moments into your memory. Every time you even think about disobeying me, about humiliating me, you'll remember what I'm capable of."
Without another word, you leaned down, biting his shoulder hard enough to draw blood. Aegon cried out, his body convulsing beneath you as you bit down harder, your teeth sinking into his clavicle. He was gasping, sobbing, begging for more, for anything you were willing to give him.
You moved your hand lower, gripping his cock in your hand and squeezing just enough to make him gasp, his hips bucking up against you. You could feel the power coursing through you, the thrill of control, of dominance. You knew you could break him, bend him to your will, and the thought sent a shiver of dark pleasure down your spine.
"You belong to me," you whispered against his ear, your voice dripping with venom. "You will do as I say, or I swear to the gods, I'll make you wish you had. You are my bitch and when I yank your leash, I'll be sure you yelp."
Aegon nodded frantically, his eyes squeezed shut, tears streaming down his cheeks. "Yes, yes... I'm yours. Please, just... don't stop."
You chuckled, a dark, mocking sound that sent a shiver through him. "Oh, I have no intention of stopping," you said, your grip tightening on his cock, making him cry out. "Not until you've learned your lesson, my sweet, pathetic cocotte."
And as you continued your merciless assault on his body, his cries echoing through the room, you knew that this was only the beginning. You would break him, reshape him, beat him senseless, bend him over, tear him apart, ravage him, make him remember who held the real power in the realm. And you would enjoy every moment of it.
ciaooo, puoi scrivere (in inglese va benissimo) una Aegon x Reader angst, magari dove lui fa un poâ troppo lo scemo e quindi lei si stanca e lui ovviamente si pente.
Grazie mille â€ïžâ€ïž
Love u
Yes, of course. The beautifully-written praise-worthy fanfic will come out in roughly 1 hour, but I feel it is incumbent upon me to warn you of dark BDSM themes and a very submissive Aegon.
Summary: When fire meets ice, the very walls of Winterfell seem to tremble. But is the wolf a worthy match for the dragon?
Jacaerys Velaryon sat beneath the sprawling canopy of the godswood, a single white flower caught between his slender fingers. He plucked its petals one by one, watching them drift down to the withered grass like fallen snow. A sigh escaped his lips, soft as the summer breeze, and his fingers, adorned with silver rings fashioned in the shape of dragons' scaly tails, stilled when a bee landed upon his pink nipple. He dared not move, resembling a statue of marble, all sharp curves and delicate lines, carved by a true masterâs hand. He held his breath until the bee took flight, then allowed a small smile to break across his face as he prepared to rise.
But then, a shadow fell over him, long and imposing, blotting out the sun. Jacaerys looked up, squinting against the sudden darkness.
"Good day, my prince," came a husky voice, roughened by the chill of the North.
"You too, Cregan," Jacaerys replied mildly, his voice barely more than a whisper, as though he feared to break the stillness of the godswood.
"The lords of the war council request your presence in the solar," Cregan Stark said. "I had hoped you would care to join us."
Jacaerys let his gaze wander over Starkâs solid frame, taking in the manâs sturdy build. Those legs, long and strong beneath plain woolen breeches; that broad heavy chest hidden beneath layers of soft furs and leather; his hair, brown as autumn leaves, and his hard eyes, grey as winterâs iceâeyes that could thaw even the heart of a dragonlord.
He was lost in girlish thoughts, caught up in the rugged beauty of the Stark, when a soft throaty cough brought him back to himself. Cregan extended a gloved hand.
"Of course, my lord," Jacaerys said, taking the offered hand and letting Cregan pull him to his feet. "Anything you need."
***
The great hall of Winterfell rang with voices of discontent. Lord Umberâs booming shout rose above the rest, his face as red as his hair. âStraining our armies will only increase the risk of wildling attacks!â The room responded with a chorus of grunts and murmurs of approval. âSouthron skirmishes are no concern of ours, I say!â
Lord Manderly, heavyset and lounging in his chair, responded in a bored drawl. âThe South is as much a part of the Seven Kingdoms as the North. Sooner or later, one king or queen will force us to choose a side.â
âThe Iron Throne will not look kindly upon our allegiance to Rhaenyra Targaryen,â Lord Hornwood intoned. Cregan Stark, seated at the head of the long oak table, had listened to enough prattle to make his head throb in annoyance. With a resounding thud, he slammed his large hands on the oak table, sending goblets rattling and silencing his bannermen. A sombre heaviness fell over the room, thick as the northern snows. The Warden of the North took a breath, his grey eyes hard and unyielding.
âWe pledged our support to King Viserysâs heir long ago,â he said, his voice stern. âNever has a Stark broken his word, and I do not intend to be the first. Remember where your loyalties lie, my lords.â
With those words, dark and final as the grave, Cregan rose from the table, his wolfskin cloak trailing behind him like a shadow. Jacaerys Velaryon followed, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corners of his lips.
Once they were alone in the dim corridor of the Great Keep, Jacaerysâs mask of composure slipped, revealing the warmth beneath. âCregan,â he said softly, his voice filled with genuine gratitude, âthank you.â The support of the North meant that his mother would be one step closer to claiming her birthright.
Cregan gave a curt nod, intent on heading to his chambers. But before he could take another step, he felt a firm yet gentle push, his back pressing against the cold stone of a column.
âNow let me show you how a dragon expresses his gratitude,â the prince murmured, a teasing grin curling his full, pouty lips. The words hung in the cold, still air, filled with a heat that made Cregan's blood pulse faster. Jacaerys moved with a lithe grace, every step a promise, every movement a dance of seduction.
Slowly, Jacaerys knelt before the Stark lord, his hands gliding up Creganâs strong thighs. His touch was featherlight, just a whisper of fingers trailing over thick wool and leather, but it was enough to make Creganâs breath catch in his throat. The princeâs eyes were dark, glimmering with mischief and desire, his expression one of pure intent as he let his fingers dance along the inside of Cregan's legs, feeling the muscles tense under his touch.
Creganâs heart pounded in his chest, a heavy, insistent rhythm that matched the stirring in his loins. His hands flexed at his sides, fingers curling into fists as he fought the urge to pull Jacaerys up, to crush their mouths together in a desperate kiss. But he held back, held still, mesmerized by the sight of the prince at his knees, those nimble hands tracing patterns on his skin.
Jacaerysâs fingers found the edge of Creganâs tunic, slipping beneath it, brushing against warm hair-covered flesh. The touch sent a shiver up Creganâs spine, his breath hissing out between his teeth. Jacaerys looked up at him, his eyes half-lidded, his lips parted slightly, his breath warm against Creganâs thigh.
The prince leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of Creganâs leg, just above the knee. Creganâs muscles tensed beneath the tender touch, his fingers twitching with the need to reach out, to bury them in the dark waves of Jacaerysâs hair. He watched, entranced, as Jacaerys continued his slow, torturous journey, his lips brushing lightly up the inside of Creganâs thigh, each kiss a spark, each touch a flame.
The wolf stirred within Cregan, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he felt the heat of Jacaerysâs mouth moving higher. His desire, coiled tight like a spring, grew with every brush of those lips, every teasing touch. He felt himself harden, the ache of want becoming almost unbearable.
Jacaerysâs smirk widened as he felt the evidence of Creganâs arousal beneath his hands. He looked up again, his eyes meeting Creganâs, holding his gaze as he pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin just below Creganâs hip. Creganâs breath came out in a harsh exhale, his control slipping, his need overtaking him.
With a growl, Cregan reached down, his hands tangling in Jacaerysâs hair, pulling the prince up with a rough urgency. Their lips crashed together, the kiss fierce and desperate, teeth clashing, tongues tangling in a frantic dance. It was a kiss that spoke of hunger, of a desire that had been simmering beneath the surface for too long, finally unleashed.
Jacaerys responded with equal fervor, his hands gripping Creganâs shoulders, pulling him closer, their bodies pressing together, fitting like pieces of a puzzle. The princeâs lips were soft but insistent, demanding and giving all at once. Cregan could taste the heat of him, could feel the fire that burned beneath his skin, and he met it with his own cold fury, his own wild, untamed desire.
Their mouths moved together, each kiss deeper, more intense than the last, as if they were trying to consume each other, to fuse together through sheer will. Creganâs hands moved down, grasping Jacaerysâs waist, pulling him closer still, until there was no space between them, until they were one, bound together by the force of their need.
His lips left Creganâs mouth, trailing down his jaw, his neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to the column of his throat. Cregan tipped his head back, a groan rumbling in his chest as Jacaerys found a sensitive spot, sucking gently, teeth grazing over skin.
The princeâs hands moved lower, finding hard planes of muscle, scars that marked his furry skin. He traced them with his fingertips, memorizing the shape of them, the feel of them, each one a testament to the man before him, to the strength and the honor that he embodied.
Creganâs hands moved to Jacaerysâs waist, fingers digging into the princeâs hips as he pulled him impossibly closer, grinding against him, feeling the heat of his arousal through the layers of fabric. Jacaerys gasped, his head falling back, his eyes fluttering closed as pleasure coursed through him, his body arching into Creganâs touch.
They moved together, lips meeting again in a fierce kiss, hands exploring, claiming, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. The wolf and the dragon, fire and ice, together in the dark, bound by a passion that neither could deny. And in that moment, they were lost to the world, to the weight of their titles and the burdens of their duties, lost to everything but each other.Jacaerys gasped, his fingers tangling in Creganâs thick, dark hair as he pressed ever closer, his body melting against the northernerâs like ice before a flame. Creganâs lips moved to Jacaerysâs neck, finding the pulse there and biting down just hard enough to make the prince hiss in pleasure.
âMore,â Jacaerys demanded, his voice breathless, his eyes half-lidded with desire. âShow me how fierce the wolf can be.â
Cregan needed no further invitation. He lifted Jacaerys effortlessly, the princeâs legs wrapping around his waist as it was Creganâs turn to press him against the wall. The cold stone was a stark contrast to the heat of their bodies, but neither of them noticed. Their world had narrowed to this moment, to the taste of each otherâs mouths and the feel of their skin.
They were fire and ice, light and shadow, opposites drawn together by a force neither of them could fully understand but neither wanted to fight. Here, in the shadows of the keep, they were free of the burdens of their titles and the weight of their responsibilities. Here, they were just two dandy men, lost in the madness of each other.
Creganâs hands found the laces of Jacaerysâs lacy smallclothes and pulled, the fabric sliding down the princeâs hips and pooling at his feet. Jacaerys shivered at the sensation, his hands gripping Creganâs shoulders as the northern lord knelt before him.
For a moment, time seemed to freeze. Cregan looked up, his eyes meeting Jacaerysâs, asking a question without words. Jacaerys nodded, a silent answer, a trust given and accepted.
âStay still now, woman,â Stark commanded and Jace whimpered at the order.
Then, Creganâs lips were on him, hot and wet and hungry, and Jacaerys gasped, his head falling back against the stone. The world narrowed to that single point of contact, to the heat of Creganâs mouth and the rough scrape of his beard against sensitive skin.
Jacaerysâs breath came in ragged gasps, his hands fisting in Creganâs hair as pleasure coursed through him, building and building until he thought he might shatter from it. And then, with a cry that echoed off the walls of Winterfell, he did, his body tensing, his back arching, and then collapsing against the stone, boneless and sated.
Cregan rose, his lips curved in a small, satisfied smile as he pulled Jace into his arms, holding him close as the prince caught his breath. They stayed like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other, the only sound their breathing, the only warmth the heat of their bodies.
Finally, Jacaerys pulled back, his eyes bright, a lazy smile playing at his lips. âWell, Lord Stark,â he murmured, âI must say, your loyalty has its rewards.â
Cregan chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that sent a thrill through Jacaerysâs already sated body. âAnd you, Prince Jacaerys, are a demanding wench.â
Jacaerys leaned in, his lips brushing against Creganâs ear as he whispered, âOnly because I know you can handle me, oh Wolf of Winterfell.â
Creganâs grin widened, his eyes darkening with promise. âThen youâll have to show me again, you feisty dragonling,â he said, his voice a low growl.
Jacaerys laughed, a bright, clear sound that filled the corridor. âOh, I intend to, Cregan Stark. Many times over.â
And with that, they slipped away into the shadows, leaving only the faint echo of their laughter and the lingering warmth of their passion behind them.
End.
Hi! Hope you liked it đ„° Any form of feedback is greatly appreciated! đ«¶
The very walls of old Winterfell would have been shaking with the laboured screams of Jacaerys Velaryon had they not been made of hard hard stone. You had been violently shaking too, picking at your nose in obvious annoyance at your two sissy husbands unworthy of their ancient names. You could not take it-them-anymore!
You slammed the heavy oak doors open to find Jace writhing in a bathfub, handsome face contorted in pain, Cregan Stark holding his hand as he pushed, and pushed, and pushed.
âHarder!â you shouted. Cregan shot you a positively angry look but you promptly ignored him. After a few moments of sloshing around, whimpering, and shallow breaths, you heard a baby! You went over, your curiosity pricked. The babyâs face was a cornflower blue and his two wisps of hair cornfield yellow, all Targ like. Jaceâs big milk-filled chest was heaving as he tried to bring the babe to his breast, but Cregan grasped his hand in an iron grip.
âIt is the Lordâs right to be served firstly,â Cregan said quite thirstly.
You stared long and hard, merciless merriment dancing in your lust-filled eyes.
Before you could think straight, you made a beeline for Jaceâs other pink nipple and you sucked voraciously. You two were like Romulus and Remus at Lupaâs tits, drinking in all life had to offer.
âOhhhhhhhhhhh!â the heir to the Iron Throne moaned at your ministrations.
His bleached breeches were damp with birth blood and his juices. Cregan groaned.
He came with an audible squirt. so long and hard that you could not tell any more what you were drinking in hungry gulps. When you glanced down, Jaceâs lower half was like a putrid hamster. Cregan was more composed and unplugged himself when he reached his peak.
You were nowhere near satisfied with your current progress. You sighed.
âBe men, you rotten sissies and unlace your panties!â you cried.
Cregan obeyed at once and in one swift move he was naked as the newborn babe forgotten in a corner of the austere room. Jace simply stood there, watching tiredly, but you would not let him go unpunished for the insolence of experiencing ecstasy without you. You strapped on a trebuchet-like device and bent them over like the pretty subservient maidens they were.
First you took Cregan as your iron nailed finger circled Jaceâs entrance in a circular motion that spoke volumes of your intentions. You pounded them relentlessly, expanding their holes by at least 3 inches.
âAh-ah-oh!â they grumbled in unison.
This time you whipped them till they foamed, not unlike whisking heavy cream when cooking a blackcurrant clafoutis. Your cunt yelled in pleasure.
When you three were well and done, your eyes scanned the room and found the body of a baby thrown carelessly against a hard hard wall. Its head was cracked open like a squished watermelon. Jace looked at it for a second and threw it out the crenel.
âThe things I do for s*x,â he said dreamily.
Thank you so much for reading! đœ Hope you enjoyed it to no end! đșđ«šâ€ïžâđ„đłđČ
