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nebulaafterdark · 1 year ago

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The Rats

Aegon ii Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Summary: Aegon attempts to make peace with Rhaenyra after being forced to usurp her throne. Lucerys’ death complicates things.

18+ ONLY, MDNI. Targcest, smut, angst, violence. S2 SPOILERS

“I can’t be ‘Aegon the Magnanimous.’ No one knows what Magnanimous means.” Aegon drawls, slumped over in his throne. The hour is late and there are many places he’d rather be. Namely with his beloved wife, who he’s scarcely seen, since taking on his duties. Their children will already be asleep, but if they wrap things up here soon, he may have a few moments with Y/N before bed.

“Aegon the dragon cock.” One of the piss drunk men raises his cup to the king.

“That’s more like it,” Aegon claps his hands together.

The men hoot and holler at the name. Dissolving into laughter.

“Speaking of,” Aegon rises to his feet, “I must get back to my wife. I did not wed her to admire from afar.” Aegon tosses back the remainder of his wine, throwing his gauntlet down beside the throne. “Good evening, gentlemen.”

He wastes no time, taking the stairs two at a time up to his chambers. His queen is already abed, waiting up for him with a bit of light reading. “What story is that now, my dearest love?” Aegon asks, pulling off his boots.

“It’s a book about the plague.” Y/N bends it open at the spine, setting the bound pages on the bedside table.

“Seems a bit morbid.” Aegon frowns, “especially in these times, wouldn’t you say?”

“Do you have something better in mind, your grace?”

Aegon doesn’t miss the bitterness in her voice. “You are my equal, here of all places. Don’t do this to me, please. Do not ice me out, I cannot bear it.”

Y/N sighs, crossing both arms over her chest. “Helaena is frightened of the rats. I’ve been looking into their behaviors and customs.”

Aegon flops onto the mattress, unceremoniously. “The rats?”

Y/N nods, “to be honest, I’m not particularly fond of them either. Although, they are interesting.”

“No vermin shall touch you so long as I live, darling girl. The only thing nibbling your toes will be me.” He wiggles his foot against hers for emphasis.

Y/N huffs a laugh. Allowing the silence between them to hang heavy.

“I am sorry about your brother.” Aegon says, despite ordering his own brother, Aemond, away at the news and holding her through sobs, he’s yet to say the words. “I cannot stand your suffering. It’s made it nearly impossible to be away from you to perform my duties.”

Y/N brings his hand to her lips, kissing the knuckles.

“I want you to attend the petitions,” he decides. “At my side, in my lap, seated directly on my cock; whatever suits you.”

“Directly on your cock?” Y/N chortles, “your mother would have my head.”

“She will do no such thing, you are queen. You may do as you wish.”

“You spoil me,” that’s what everyone says anyway.

“You’re mine to spoil. They’re jealous is all.”

“Shall we practice then? For the hearings?”

“If you wish.” Aegon rolls onto his back, sliding both arms behind his head.

Y/N grins, devilishly as she slides off his clothes, allowing his cock to spring free. Her own nightgown and small clothes follow before she swings a leg over his hips and slides down his length.

“Seven hells,” Aegon groans.

His wife leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“A tenth of my flock has been taken, your grace.” Aegon tells her, repeating one of the smallfolk’s concerns.

“Your what?” Y/N blinks at him.

“Sheep,” he continues, “a tenth of them gone, taken by your guard, just before winter. What say you, my queen?”

“Give them back.” Y/N sighs as his hands finally land on her hips, guiding her movements.

“That’s what I said,” Aegon hums, thrusting up to meet her.

“Did they listen?”

“No.” Aegon purses his lips, “they might need them to feed the dragons.”

“It’s much harder to concentrate this way, my king.”

“I know,” he coos, “but you’re doing so well.”

“The dragons,” Y/N pants, “have never required sheep from the smallfolk before.”

“We have never been to war.” Aegon says, through gritted teeth as she clenches around him.

“My mother will want revenge for Lucerys.”

“And I want this matter resolved peacefully.” Aegon assures her, “still I cannot give my brother up for the slaughter.”

“I don’t see how this can end peacefully now,” Y/N laments, feeling the coil in her belly tighten. “It will end in fire and blood.”

“What would you have me do?”

Y/N shakes her head, “We must stop Aemond from claiming Harrenhal at the least.”

“Consider it done.” Aegon beckons her down for a kiss.

The clatter of metal against the floor breaks them apart, “what was that?” Y/N’s eyes search the room.

“Twas only the wind, my dearest love.” Aegon smiles up at his wife.

The hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention. “No. Something is wrong.”

“I agree,” Aegon takes her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it to a taut peak. “You stopped moving.”

“Aegon,” she warns, “please.”

“Shhh,” he gentles her back to a steady grind. “I’m here. You are safe.”

Y/N offers a shaky smile. Still something seems amiss, though she can’t think much more about it with Aegon’s free hand toying with her pearl.

“Cum on my cock, then we will look into it, if you feel so inclined.”

Y/N nods, bouncing faster, harder. Trying to ignore the worry twisting at her gut.

Aegon’s bottom lip is caught between his teeth. “Fuck, I love you.”

“I love you.”

“More than anyone or anything, save for our children. I want you to remember that…always.”

Y/N nods, feeling herself teetering on the precipice. “I-” she wants to say it back, only her brain doesn’t seem to be working.

“Hush, sweetheart.” Aegon groans, because he knows. Rubbing his fingers harshly against her pearl to push her over the edge. Shaking and crying her release as she milks his cock. “Good girl.” Aegon fills her pulsing cunt with his spend.

She leans toward her husband, capturing his lips as they ride out their high. Once she has caught her breath Y/N rolls away, off of the bed, shuffling back into her nightgown.

Aegon follows her lead, redressing in his tunic and trousers. “Head to the children’s room, wait for me there. I’ll have the guards help me search the floor for any sign of…rats.”

Y/N wrings her hands, knowing how silly it sounds. “Thank you, Aegon.”

He closes the distance between them, pressing his lips to her forehead and cheek. “You’re more than welcome.” He watches her leave the room before heading in the opposite direction. Where is everyone? The keep is never so quiet, even at night.

Y/N scampers down the hallway to the nursery, it takes a moment for her mind to make sense of the scene before her. Helaena with a knife held to her throat by a strange man. His counterpart hovering over the children’s beds with a blade at the ready.

“What are you doing?” Y/N breathes, clutching a hand to her chest.

The man holding Helaena shoves her aside.

Y/N catches the woman in her arms, smoothing down her white tresses. Helaena clings to her. “It’s ok.”

The children sleep better together, they always have. Besides the maids prefer Aegon and Y/N’s children close to Aemond and Helaena’s for practical reasons, until they are older.

“Which of them are yours?” The first man demands.

“All of them,” Y/N lies. “All of them are mine.”

“You have but four children,” Cheese insists. “Here lie six, tell me which are yours and I will spare them.”

“If I don’t tell you and you’re wrong, my mother will have your head.” Y/N clenches her jaw. “For all I know of our true queen, this was not her request. So who’s was it?”

“A son for a son, that’s what’s fair.” Blood insists.

“What did they offer you? Gold?” Y/N wonders, “I’ll double it if you leave now.”

The men look to each other, undecided.

“Or you could take me instead. I’m worth more to my mother than any bounty.” Rhaenyra’s eldest child offers.

————————————————————————-

Aegon completes his sweep of their chambers, along with the rest of the royal floor. Nothing is amiss. He moves to the children’s quarters and finds Helaena, curled up on the floor. “What’s happened?”

Helaena takes her brother’s outstretched hand. “They wanted to kill the boy.”

The boy? “My boy?”

Helaena shakes her head, “mine.”

Aegon looks to his nephew, still sleeping soundly. “Where is Y/N?”

“They took her instead.”

“Where the hell is Cole?” Aegon demands. “Where in the seven hells is anyone?”

“I don’t know,” Helaena sobs.

Part 2

#house of the dragon #hotd smut #aegon targaryen x you #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #hotd aegon #aegon fanfic #aegon targaryen smut #aegon targaryen fanfic #aegon imagine #aegon smut

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bonbonly · 29 days ago

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𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐧… 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨

✶ you didn't make enough money for the night, and your pimp!f1 driver decides to take matters into his own hand... ✶ driver's involved: carlos sainz jr., lewis hamilton, max verstappen, oscar piastri ✶ warning(s): dubcon, p in v, slapping, fingering, cunnilingus, deepthroating/blowjob, slapping, brief threesome (reader not involved) ✶ author's note: the person who wrote this ask, i want you to know you have no idea what you just started 😭😭😭 this is a slightly dark fic so you have been warned!

"how much did you make?" you'd asked a girl in front of you. you were last in line, as you always were told to be. usually, it would excite you and you'd dangle the fruit in front of the other girls, boasting about how you were the favorite of the bunch and spoiled to the max. but this time was different. you stared at the pitiful stash of cash in your hands, eyes narrowing at the way the other girls in front of you seemed to carry a bulk with them, generously paid by whoever they had spent the night with.

"400." the girl in front of you beamed, before her eyes flickered down to your hands. you awkwardly hid your earnings behind your back, a sheepish smile on your face as she snorted, clearly loving the way the tables had turned against you. when the guttural "next!" echoed from the dark office, she let her eyes rake over your body before strutting off with what you could only deem as newfound confidence.

too bad for you, you were practically shaking in fear of having to face your pimp. these past few weeks had been a bit tough and you didn't know necessarily know why. it seemed that your usual spot wasn't being frequented as often considering the underground club had been raided by the police. you knew you should've moved elsewhere but the thought of abandoning a place that used to bring you such good luck irked your poor brain so you stuck it out.

you glanced down at the money in your hands, beginning to count, "5, 10... 20, 30, 35, 55..." you gulped, 55 dollars? was it really that bad for you? that was 20 less than what you even made last week! you sighed, debating if you should walk out at the moment and save yourself from the embarrassment but you knew better than that, he'd always find you, wouldn't he? not when the other girls would rat you out in a second just to snatch your title as his favorite. you turned your back to the door, taking a slow step away when the door creaked open and the girl from earlier stumbled out with a smile,

"he's waiting for you," she said in a way that made your blood boil, a teasing edge with a high pitched squeal that made nails on a chalkboard seem better than this. you sighed, nodding your head as you pushed past her slipping into the dark room, gently placing your earnings onto the table. it looked pitiful next to the stacks around and with the little courage you had left in you, you finally looked up to meet your pimp's eyes...

💋 lewis hamilton

"what the fuck is this?" pimp!lewis asked, leaning back in his chair. he gestured to the money on his table, before his hand came forward to drum against the wood.

"m-my earnings?" you meekly mumbled, awkwardly looking away. you hated the way he scoffed, as if you were pathetic.

"baby, what happened?" he sighed, curling his two fingers towards him as he beckoned you to come around the table. you shrugged, trying to hold back your tears. your feet padded against the cold tiles, bottom lip trembling with those wide eyes that always had any man weak to his knees. as you climbed onto his lap, he leaned forward and inhaled the scent of your hair, petting it softly, "what's wrong? you're usually the one that brings the most to the table, honey."

"i-i don't know!" you squeaked out, burying your face into the crook of his neck. "i... i swear i've been doing everything and it just... i can't leave that spot, you know the other girls won't let me join them."

he pinched the bridge of his nose, an exasperated sigh on his lips as he shook his head, "you've done this before, sweetheart, you just need to... well, here let me show you, yeah?"

he adjusted you onto his lap, your back pressed against his chest, and let his hands wander down to your thigh, tracing soft circles against the flesh. you whimpered, softly, trying to tell him that you weren't really in the mood at the moment considering you felt like a failure for not doing your job properly but he shushed you with his lips pressed against your ear, his fingers sliding up your inner thigh, inching closer and closer to make you squirm uncomfortably against him.

"see baby, this is the problem isn't it?" lewis stressed, "you're too stubborn for your own good-"

"n-no, that's not it!" you cried out, trying to sit up but his free arm shot out and wrapped around your waist, pulling you back down,

"you know better than to do that," he hissed, his tone sharp and you slumped against him, tears forming at the corner of your eyes. his touch softened slightly, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, "listen, just listen to me, okay? you just need to listen and do as you're told. the other girls have told me all about your attitude problems when a guy you like tries to pick you up, sweetheart."

his fingers slipped under your panties, toying with your clit as you let out a soft gasp, stiffening above him. you could feel the way his lips smirked against your face as he continued, "stop thinking, stop resisting. look at you, you're a perfect little slut aren't you? you're my good girl, are you not?"

"i-i am," you whispered, your mouth falling open as his fingers continued to rub slow, hard circles on your sensitive nub.

"mhm, yes you are," he smiled, "and you know what good girls do? they do as they're told, shut that brain off for me, baby. when you're out there, you put aside that pride, you understand? this isn't about you, sweetheart, this is about the money."

he picked up his pace, his free hand lifting your shirt up to grope at your tits, pinching your nipple and the double stimulation had you throwing your head back, your first orgasm crashing through you. a strangled moan escaped you, and as you gasped for air and started to come down from the high, you could hear him unbuckling his belt, adjusting you so he could slip his throbbing cock into you.

"w-wait," you whined, "g-give me a break, please!"

"what did i just tell you?" lewis scoffed, "tsk, tsk, tsk, sweetheart you're not leaving until i know for sure you can get your brain dumb for any cock, now shut up and take it baby," he clamped his hand over your mouth, notching the tip of his cock into you as he fucked you relentlessly for hours, until he was sure you were just a dumb little slut.

💋 carlos sainz jr.

pimp!carlos was on the phone when you had walked in, his fingers toying with the telephone cord as he leaned back against his chair.

"no, no," he enunciated, "no, i don't want lando for tomorrow. the fuck you mean he's busy? that whore always knows when i want him and how i want him. tell him if he doesn't call me back by next week, i'll fuck his ass so hard, he won't be able to work for the next month. la puta audacia de él..."

carlos paused, a hand covering the microphone as he jerked his head to his table, "vamos, déjalo princesa."

you gulped, watching him turn back to the phone, no doubt planning one of his lavish yacht trips with his colleagues. you'd heard lando's name brought up occasionally at times, but you never dared ask who he was. you just knew that after charles, lando was his favorite. it was a tier list, it was you then charles and then lando. at least charles worked for carlos, all you could remember was that lando had somehow gotten lucky and went off to suck off some other pimp's dick and became much more popular among the elites. you shook your head, not wanting to think too much about it and meekly placed the money onto the table.

carlos' eyes flickered to the money and his jaw dropped for a second, and then he slowly looked up at you in disbelief. his hand tightened around the handset of his telephone and he let out a low growl, "call me back."

he hung up abruptly and spun around in his chair to face you with a large scowl, "the fuck is this, puta?" he grabbed at the money, counting them before recounting them, almost as if he thought he was dreaming. 55 dollars, seriously? he glared at you, storming around the table as he grabbed the back of your neck, bringing you closer,

"is this a charity, mi zorra?" he spat, "the fuck do i do with this money? you know what the other girls bring, don't you?"

"i do, i do!" you squeaked out, tears filling up your eyes, "b-but it's been so hard i don't-"

"hard? you know what's hard?" he barked, "hard is having my bitch fuck other men and be fucking worthless in the end. you're wasting my time, my money, like... do you not see what i'm seeing?"

he pointed at the money, shaking your head roughly by the hair as you whimpered. "cut the water works," he snapped, dragging you around the table. he sat down, tossing you over his lap.

"you're doing this one purpose, i swear, siempre poniéndome de los putos nervios," he fumed, shaking his head. he hiked your skirt up to your waist, roughly kneading your ass before he landed a hard blow to the flesh, watching it jiggle and redden under his touch. you let out a pained gasp, trying to wriggle away and explain to him, but he paid no mind. again and again, he made you count it all out and everytime you missed a number or cried a little too loud, he'd start right back over. he was a furious man, you should've known better than to piss him off like this.

he has you cockwarming him when he's done with you, ignoring your pained whimpered every time your ass pressed down too hard against his body. your cunt's all leaky and wet, squelching at the slightest movement that makes you moan softly. he's on the phone again, desperately trying to speak to lando who was too busy sucking off mr. brown. of course brown had his own policies and every time the old man would start yapping, carlos would clamp a hand over your mouth and start roughly thrusting into you, ignoring your little wails. it wasn't until brown asked what that noise was did carlos let you moan and whine out loud, your noises flooding into the telephone.

"give me lando and..." carlos paused, watching you bounce on his cock despite the way your red, sore ass seemed to be screaming in agony. he hated having to share you, you were his little bitch not some other man's but he figured if he could get you making more money now, he wouldn't have to worry about you later, "and i'll hand her over to you for a night. 500 dollars?"

"300," brown scoffed on the other end, "i'm not payin' that much for a slut i don't even know."

"400 for you and your friends," carlos hissed and when he finally heard the word 'deal' he sighed in relief and hung up before wrapping his arms around your waist, thrusting up to match your bounces. you arched your back, moaning wantonly as he pressed a kiss to your shoulder,

"una chica tan buena, and as soon as you get back, i'll remind you again...and again..." he emphasized his words with harsher thrusts, "who you really belong to, princesa."

💋 max verstappen

pimp!max verstappen snickered as soon as you had walked into the door, he'd heard from the girl before you that you weren't really bringing much in the first place but damn, he hadn't expected that low from you. he took note of the way you were standing before him, nervously fidgeting with your hands, a worried expression on your face.

"how much?" he asked, taking a sip from his glass of gin tonic.

"55," you whimpered, watching his eyes dart to you immediately. he snorted, nearly choking on his drink as he shook his head, laughing darkly. the sound grated your already fried nerves, and you already knew what was about to happen.

"here, do me a favor," max began, throwing your own money back at your face, "take this shit and get the fuck out of my face, you dumb bitch. i gave you one job, yeah? one fucking job and it's too much to ask from you, isn't it?"

you panicked, shaking your head, "no, please! i've been trying my best, please!" you walked around the table, getting on your knees like you'd done for him a countless times, muscle memory. "please, i'll give you the money you want next week, i promise!"

"next week?" max sneered, "there is no next week for you, you worthless cunt. do you even know how much the other girls bring? you're staining my empire, you hear me? you're ruining my fucking reputation, get up and get out."

"maxie, please!" you pleaded, and a sharp crack echoed in the room as his hand connected with your face.

"don't fucking call me that," he hissed, grabbing you by your hair as he shoved your face onto his crotch, "you have no fucking right to call me that. you think i'm gonna be cooing over you, calling you schatje and other sweet names when you haven't been doin' shit?"

he could feel the way your legs wrapped around his feet, slowly grinding your hips against the tip of his shoes as tears streamed down your face. even at a time like this, you knew how to please him. you were a slut, through and through - his slut. "you want to stay?"

you nodded your head, your tears coating his pants and he grabbed hold of your jaw, tilting your head up to meet his eyes, "then prove it. show me that you're actually good for something."

that was all you needed, your hands flying to unbuckle his belt, pulling down the zipper of his pants with your teeth. he couldn't help but chuckle, running his hand through your hair. he was only this hard on you because he knew how good you were, you were just lazy and stubborn some times, just needed a good kick to your rear to get you back in line. his cock sprang out, eagerly calling out to you as it glistened in the dimly lit room with beads of his pre-cum rolling down his tip. your tongue glided over his shaft, eyes focused on him just like he taught you and soon you shoved his length down your throat, gagging slightly. it had been a while since you had given a blow job to a client, since all the ones you'd fucked in recent times only wanted your pussy before leaving. you were being gentle, trying to familiarize yourself with max's girth but the man had very limited patience. he watched you bob your head at an agonizingly slow place, lips wrapped around the tip before you sank back down and then ran them right back up his shaft.

he nearly felt himself softening.

so, considering that he was doing you a favor, he grabbed the back of your head and forcefully shoved you down, your nose touching his pubic bone as you gagged and cried. your hands splayed against his knees, trying to pull up but he held you in place, bucking his hips up at a maddening pace,

"you're too fucking slow," he grumbled, "but it's okay, schatje, you'll learn. you always learn, don't you?"

he fucked your face with wild abandon, ignoring your desperate whines and sobs. he grabbed your hair and yanked your head back slightly to see the mascara streaming down your face, your lipstick smudged as he laughed between a groan of pleasure.

"fuck, look at you," he bit his lip, continuing to thrust into your throat deeper and deeper each time, "you're gonna take my cum down your throat, yeah? swallow every drop, schatje, don't you dare waste any of it."

he bucked his hips against your face a few more times before cumming down your throat, shooting ropes of his seed into your mouth with a soft, low groan. as he took in deep breaths, he held you firmly with both of his hands. your throat seemed to constrict around his length, some of his cum dribbling down your chin before he finally released you from his hold. you coughed and gagged, but you still licked your lips and swiped some of his cum off your face to lick it off. he smirked, before shoving you away as you sprawled out on the floor.

"one week," he exclaimed, raising a finger up, "one week, you make above 200 dollars and i won't kick you out. now go on, get back to work. you don't get a break after bringing in 55 fucking dollars, schatje. go on."

you stumbled out of the room with a dizzy head, the taste of his cum still staining your tongue.

💋 oscar piastri

one look from pimp!oscar was enough to make your knees buckle - out of fear, out of love depended on the scenario itself. today was the first option, and you could tell as soon as you placed the money on the table that he wasn't in a good mood. he blinked a few times, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he fought to rein in his temper. he didn't even have to say a word for you to be crawling up to him, hands folded together as you whined out loud,

"i'm so sorry, im sorry! i'll do anything to make it up, i really will!" you grabbed hold of his arm but he shrugged you off, as if you touching him burned his skin. he snorted, rolling his eyes as he looked away from you.

"sorry," he repeated, a sarcastic smile growing on his face as he rolled his eyes, "huh.. sorry...?"

you gulped, knowing that if he wasn't even looking at you that you most likely buried your own grave. you were his favorite, even if he didn't say anything, he'd always let you on his lap and he'd pepper kisses all over your face. that was the pimp!oscar you loved, the one sitting before you now was the one that you hated but you knew this side the best, because knowing him beneath his mask of indifference was what had you in his good graces all this time. you watched as he poured himself a glass of whiskey, the only sound in the room being your ragged breathing and the clinking of glass with sloshing liquid. he took a sip, sighing loudly before calling out for one of the other girls and as if on cue, three girls emerged into his office with wicked smiles on their faces. you knew them, you hated their souls so much after the way they always seemed to be so jealous of oscar always choosing you.

i guess this was their revenge.

you found yourself tied up with ribbons, gagged with your own panties as he forced you to watch him undress, his eyes only fixed on the other prostitutes that seemed to be basking in the moment. he had his fingers pumping inside one girl, his tongue swirling on another's clit. you cried out loud against the binds, whining as you wanted desperately to be a part of this sinful act. it felt weird not to be next to him, enjoying his attention and praise. this was however your punishment. your eyes remained transfixed, watching the way his thick cock stretched out one of the girls' cunt, his veins bumping against her gummy walls as she threw her head back, nearly screaming at how good he felt. his lips latched onto a nipple, sucking harshly before flicking the peak around with his tongue, his thumb running down to circle her clit.

you watched orgasm after orgasm explode in front of you, your own pussy dripping wet and craving for attention. it was unfair, you wanted to scream and lash out but you knew you deserved this after bringing in that stupid sum of money. these girls had earned their moment with him, no doubt bringing in the highest amount of money after their work. you whined out loud, hips bucking up against the chair you were strapped on. oscar took a small break finally, drinking his glass of whiskey as he approached you, wiping away your tears with a swipe of his thumb. his hand danced down your body, smirking at the way you arched into his touch, desperate for your own pleasure. he cupped your heat, fingers pushing along your folds as he spat out,

"of course, you're fucking wet, you pathetic cunt."

he harshly slapped your clit, your cries music to his ears before he pulled away, returning back to the girls as you sobbed and writhed against the ribbon binds, whining and begging through muffled screams at how you'd do better next time.

but oscar never liked empty words, not until they were fulfilled with meaningful actions. and poor you, you'd have to wait until tomorrow morning before you could start proving yourself to him.

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deikshen · 3 months ago

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The Shen Qingqiu who is kidnapped by Bingge in the post Bingge vs. Bingmei, then Shen Qingqiu decides: "oh, okay. You want me, you'll have me, you little shit."

And he turns into the absolute troll. He takes all he can out of being little shit on the internet, his spoiled rich kid days, scathing criticism. He even abandons the appearance of an elegant immortal master, he turns into chaos and a pain in the ass for Luo Bingge.

He gives women's liberation speeches to the harem wives, and more than half of them file for divorce, convinced that their marriages were a legal sham. He brings chaotic monsters to the inner garden saying they are harmless puppies (for Shen Qingqiu they are!!!) and spends coffers and coffers of gold paying servants to do things like learn modern songs and play them randomly in the demon court, or just spending it on little things that he's clearly getting ripped off on purpose.

He even argues with Bingge himself !! about his marital decisions, how disgusting Xin Mo is, his horrible taste in decorations, that can't solve everything with sex and blood. Strategy!!! Wasn't he at the peak of strategists for a reason!??

He also turns into a spoiled bitch. He demands extremely specific meals that must be made by Bingge, takes two bites, and (lies) that his Bingmei's meals are better. He demands to have fans made of a specific, very expensive material only to beat Bingge with them until they are ruined every time he does something Shen Qingqiu doesn't like. The finest silks in his robes, which also end up ruined when he runs through the gardens after short-haired beasts. The best jewels of the crown arrangement... For Shen Qingqiu to use to break the beads and play with them inside a cloth bag as a "stress reliever".

He intervenes in sessions of the demonic court, devastates everyone with hostile comments, humiliates and insults everyone. He's more of a bitch than cruel, slightly sinister, excessively spoiled. Ha!! As if Bingge could stand that. He'll give it back as soon as he loses enough patience!!

...

... Contrary to Shen Qingqiu's plans to completely scare away Luo Bingge, everything he does, the chaos he becomes, the headache he definitely is, only makes Luo Bingge wants him more.

When Bingmei comes to rescue him with a reforged Xin Mo and a lot of anger, Bingge comes to him and says: "How do you deal with all his whims? How do you keep him entertained without him getting bored and causing chaos? You can't really do it alone!!! I'll come with you and help to please Shizun!!!"

Bingmei has no idea what whims thing his counterpart is talking about. As Bingge further begins to tell him (with absolute fascination) all the things that kind Shizun has done, how he has behaved... Oh boy, Bingmei is SO jealous!!

How come he hasn't had the chance to see him like this!? How his Shizun, his beloved, doesn't allow him to see that side of him!?

And Bingge, that awful, shitty imposter!!! That enormous privilege of spoiled Shizun only should be his!!! Bingmei takes a deep breath, and, determined to make a deal with the devil if necessary, decides he needs to see his Shizun be a brat.

... Then maybe he can act a little like... Bingge. Just for a little while. Just to watch Shizun like this until he realizes he would come to rescue him. Bingge allows him to pretend to be himself on the condition that Bingmei allows him to visit their Shizun in their own world... Just to spoil him.

Bingmei chews over the option and reluctantly accepts it, as long as he doesn't try to kiss or touch his Shizun ("without his consent" Bingge insists. "If Shizun asks for it, this one will do it.")

So, Bingmei just... behaves like Bingge. He wears half gloves to hide the scar on his hand, and approaches Shizun only to be treated like a little shit, mocked, criticized and watch Shizun run after a wild thunder bird of prey, offering... Rats? Shizun is holding dead rats with his bare hands!? Walking barefoot on the grass!? And he is so free, so loose, so little from the distant immortal master that Bingmei has to escape so as not to fall on his knees, hug him and cry.

He'll definitely make his Shizun feel that free with him too, damn imposter who somehow got there first!!! And Bingge just watches him collapse, gives him a pat on the back and a look that is, simply and foolishly, his own.

Obsessed with Shizun. Adoring him. Wanting to please him. Wanting to fulfill his whims, allowing him everything, accepting everything for him. His word is law and his decision is truth. If Shizun strikes, it's a pleasure; if Shizun insults, it's a gift. Because Shizun also can't help being sweet, kind, concerned, and because they've both fallen so hard that Bingmei can't even get angry. Which version of him wouldn't fall to his Shizun, is the real question?

They'll spoil Shizun. And Bingmei will find a way for his Shizun to be that free even with him. And he will get that!! No matter what he has to do about it! Even if he has to keep pretending to be the imposter Bingge until he learn what made Shizun break free so much, he'll have the freedom from Shizun to be as critical and spoiled as he deserves!!!

#svsss #svsss au #svsss ideas #bingqiu #luo binghe #shen qingqiu #original luo binghe #scum villain self saving system #post bingge vs bingmei #the kidnapped shen qingqiu (for a silly bingge)#bingge and bingmei sharing having been wifebeamed by shen qingqiu #shen qingqiu is just being a spoiled brat #to irritate and annoy #and ends up conquering two great m #poor shizun he doesn't know what's coming #bingge and bingmei working together for the greater good #(the greater good: spoil shizun)#possible polyamory? we'll see

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horchatakoo · 2 months ago

Text

The More You Struggle, The Tighter I Hold

Synopsis: Jungkook has given you everything, so he doesn’t quite appreciate it when you choose a broke college boy over him. Themes: chaebol yandere jungkook, rich brat reader, mind conditioning, manipulation, age gap, older jk, nsfw, smut, dubcon, crempie, pregnancy kink

Jungkook has spoiled you rotten for as long as he can remember—lavishing you with expensive gifts, funding your every whim, covering your wishlist without hesitation. Free trips abroad for you and your friends, extravagant dinner dates, even pulling strings to get you into your dream university when your grades didn’t quite meet the requirements. A simple call to the dean, a casual mention of your "relation," and suddenly, doors that should have remained closed swung wide open for you.

He has always been there, protecting you, guiding you, offering advice like a good older brother would. And for years, that’s exactly how you saw him—a doting, dependable presence, someone you could always rely on.

But Jungkook never wanted to be just seen as an older brother.

He wanted more.

Maybe it started the first time he met you, when your father brought you to one of his meetings with Jungkook’s grandfather. You were just ten years old then, a shy, quiet child clinging to the edges of the conversation while he, at sixteen, regarded you as the little sister he never had. Someone fragile, someone to protect.

At least, that’s what he thought his feelings were.

Until you turned seventeen.

That was when everything shifted. Your body began to change—your hips, your chest, the graceful curve of your waist.

Your innocence took on an unintentional allure, oblivious to how you moved, how your body would be pressed into him when you came running to hug him, how you smiled, or how your presence began to unearth something dark and possessive inside him.

That was when Jungkook stopped seeing you as his little sister. And started seeing you as something else entirely.

He saw you as a woman, a woman that should belong to him, rather than that of a younger sister, but you are oblivious to that fact.

Jungkook’s help isn’t limited to just you—it extends to your entire family, ensuring their unwavering favor, shaping their perception of him as a saint, a savior, a blessing from heaven that they could never repay.

When his grandfather retired as chairman of the Jeon Conglomerate, Jungkook stepped into his rightful position, making sure that your family reaped the greatest benefits from his power.

But those benefits didn’t come without cost…

He had orchestrated everything. Pulled the right strings, made the right moves, and watched as your family’s company crumbled under carefully placed pressure—only for him to appear at just the right time with an outstretched hand and an offer too generous to refuse.

A lifeline. A godsend.

Your father and brother were given prestigious positions within his empire—roles they were woefully unqualified for, yet perfect for keeping them satisfied.

Jungkook knew your father had been embezzling funds from the Jeons for years, a rat biting the very hand that fed him. But Jungkook never stopped him. He never exposed him. Instead, he tolerated it, even allowed it, letting your father gorge himself on wealth that Jungkook could make back in mere minutes.

Because money has never been an issue to him,

It’s not what Jungkook wanted the most…

You are.

Your family had been consumed by greed long ago, blind to the noose tightening around them as they dug their own graves.

And Jungkook?

He only watched in quiet amusement.

He had always known their sins would serve him one day. That when the time came, their insatiable hunger for wealth and status would tip the scales in his favor.

After all, they were nothing more than beggars dressed in wealth—always grasping for more, always willing to sell whatever was necessary for a place at the Jeon table.

Even you.

And why wouldn’t they? Everything they had—every luxury, every privilege—existed only because of him.

If not for Jungkook, your family would have sunk into bankruptcy long ago.

You were almost just like them—you couldn’t live without gold under your feet. The only difference was that you never took advantage of anyone, never used people for your own gain.

You weren’t capable of something like that.

In Jungkook's mind, a kind and innocent thing like you isn’t capable of such sin.

You were just... spoiled. If that was the right word for it. Born into wealth, raised in luxury, never knowing what it was like to beg for anything.

And Jungkook was fine with that.

More than fine.

Because once you became his, he planned on spoiling you even more.

For a long time, everything unfolded just as Jungkook had planned—until he received the most offensive news from you.

“Kookie, meet Hoseok. We’re in the same college department… he’s, um, my boyfriend.”

You introduced him shyly, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you wrapped your arms around your boyfriend’s slender frame.

Jungkook sat there, his glass of wine in hand, gaze locked onto the two of you. He looked at Hoseok from head to toe, trying to process what you had just said—as if hearing it aloud would somehow make it more real.

Here you are, standing beside a guy who looked like he had thrown himself together in five minutes—jeans, Converse, and a wrinkled T-shirt that was probably the first thing he grabbed from his small closet.

An attire that's entirely not suited to a luxurious dinner place like this

His nervous smile only made the contrast more jarring.

And then there’s Jungkook, in a perfectly tailored suit, polished shoes, a Patek Philippe watch on his wrist—an image of wealth and power that felt completely at odds with this moment.

“You never told me anything about this… guy, baby,” Jungkook finally spoke, his voice cold as he set his wineglass down.

Of course, you're twenty now. It's only natural that you’d have a boyfriend. But he never imagined it would be this soon, especially since he’d never seen you show any real interest in relationships.

He always thought your attention was his alone—that no unworthy man could ever steal it.

But it seems he was wrong.

In his mind, maybe he should’ve arranged your marriage with him sooner.

Hoseok stiffened at the way Jungkook called you baby, but he quickly shook off the thought. You’d told him before that Jungkook was like an older brother—maybe this was just how he spoke.

“Well, I always forget,” you said casually, taking a seat and gesturing for Hoseok to join you as you skimmed through the menu.

Jungkook only hummed in response, swirling the wine in his glass.

“U-uh, hi, sir,” Hoseok finally spoke up, his voice tentative, trying to break the tense silence.

You had warned him before coming in that Jungkook might come off as strong and intimidating, but that he was actually sweet underneath it all.

But nothing about Jungkook’s aura felt sweet to Hoseok.

Well—at least to you, Jungkook was sweet.

Jungkook certainly heard Hoseok’s attempt at a greeting. He even glanced at him briefly. But he didn’t acknowledge him. Instead, his attention remained fixed on you.

“Baby, do your parents already know about this?” His voice was calm, but there was something heavier beneath it, something unreadable.

You tensed for a second but quickly recovered. “Kookieeee, please don’t tell them. You know how they can be sometimes. I only told you because I knew you’d be happy for me,” you said with a sweet smile.

You were definitely wrong about that.

None of this made Jungkook happy. Not even a little.

But he chuckled softly, watching how you tried to act cute in front of him, hoping to convince him to keep your little secret.

"Fine,”

Hoseok sat there, feeling increasingly uncomfortable—the way Jungkook’s presence seemed to dominate the space, the way the dynamic between the two of you didn’t quite sit right with him.

This wasn’t how normal childhood friends act, even if you say that you're very close with Jungkook.

Still, he chose to remain silent. He wasn’t about to speak out of turn in front of a man who looked like he could crush him for even the smallest mistake.

Jungkook drained the last of his wine, then glanced at his wristwatch before rising from his seat.

“Well, you two have fun,” he said smoothly, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. “Order whatever you want.” He said as he handed you his black card.

“But Kook! I thought you had cleared your plans for tonight?” Confusion flickered across your face.

“Yeah, I know, baby. But you know how it is. I’m a busy man.”

That was a lie.

He had indeed cleared his schedule. This night was supposed to be just for the two of you. But Hoseok’s presence had ruined his appetite.

My driver will pick you up at eight,” he continued, slipping his hands into his pockets. “You know how your mom doesn’t like you coming home late.”

“Uhh, sir… I actually intend to bring her home myself—”

“Alright, baby?” Jungkook cut him off, his voice gentle but firm, like a parent dismissing a child.

The conversation was already over.

You hesitated for a second before nodding. “Okay…” you murmured, the slight sadness in your voice betraying the unspoken truth:

Jungkook didn’t like Hoseok for you.

And he never would.

And just like that, the night ended with you being picked up by one of Jungkook’s driver after you and hoseok finished eating dinner that jungkook had paid for.

Hoseok might not say it aloud, but he hated it…

Hated how Jungkook had effortlessly covered the bill when he could’ve just taken you somewhere he could afford.

It felt like a reminder—like a quiet way of putting him in his place.

And it didn’t help that you wouldn’t stop babbling about how good the food was.

“God, that steak was delicious! It tasted almost the same as the ones we had on our Europe trip…”

Hoseok only hummed in response, already annoyed, his fists clenching at his sides as the two of you stepped out of the restaurant. And there it was—a sleek black Mercedes waiting in front of the restaurant, Jungkook’s driver standing there to greet you.

“Good evening, Miss Y/N.”

You barely noticed Hoseok’s stiff posture beside you. “My driver’s here. Bye, Hoseok!” you chirped, flashing him a small smile before slipping inside the car without a second thought.

Hoseok stood there for a moment, watching as the car pulled away, his jaw tightening.

If that’s how Jungkook reacted, then what more if your parents found out you were dating him?

And though you had always been so kind to Hoseok, he couldn’t help but feel like he was beneath you—like he wasn’t someone worthy of standing by your side.

A week had passed since that dinner. The one where you introduced Hoseok to Jungkook like it was nothing, like it wouldn’t shift the earth beneath your feet.

You honestly thought things were going fine.

But Hoseok had been… gone.

Not in the literal sense—no, he was still enrolled, still somewhere in the city—but he hadn’t attended any of your shared classes, hadn’t shown up at the student publication office where the two of you spent almost every afternoon.

His name no longer popped up in your notifications, no missed calls, no good morning texts.

Just... silence.

A gaping void where he used to be.

You reached out to people, trying not to sound desperate.

But the responses were all the same:

"I don’t know." "Ask someone else." "We’re not getting involved in your drama."

Drama?

What drama?

Everything was going fine. Wasn’t it?

Something in you says that he's avoiding you, but you refuse to accept that, because everything was just fine. Instead, you convince yourself to believe that maybe something has just happened that doesn't concern you, perhaps a family emergency that he has to take care of.

But why is he not messaging you if that's the case? The longer the silence dragged on, the more it chipped away at your patience.

Until finally, you decided you’d had enough.

If he wasn’t going to face you at uni, then you’d confront him at his apartment. You need to get your answers to the questions that have been bugging your mind.

You didn’t bother texting. You didn’t even knock.

The spare key he’d given you months ago still worked.

The lights were off when you stepped inside. Your first impression was that he might not be home—you were halfway through calling his name, just to make sure he really wasn’t there, when you heard something from the bedroom—faint, but unmistakable.

A moan.

You stopped cold.

Your heart plummeted straight into your stomach.

No.

No, no, no.

You moved before you could think better of it, storming down the short hall toward his bedroom. The door was cracked open just enough.

You pushed it.

And instantly wished you hadn’t.

There he was.

Hoseok.

On top of someone, some girl you barely recognized from one of the campus orgs. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, her nails digging into his back, both of them breathless, gasping, fucking like they had no care in the world until they felt your presence that caught them off guard.

You felt stupid—after all those days of searching for him, calling and worrying, wondering what could've happened to him, only to find him enjoying himself between some other girl's legs.

A strangled noise left your throat as you stumbled back a step. Your vision blurred for a second, and the ringing in your ears drowned out whatever garbled excuse the girl tried to throw on as she scrambled for a sheet.

Hoseok didn’t even flinch.

Didn’t even look guilty.

He didn’t bother covering up. Didn’t even look surprised anymore. Just annoyed.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, pulling away from the girl beneath him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. You were frozen, the image of him and that girl still burned behind your eyelids.

“You stalking me now?” he scoffed, reaching for his jeans without shame. “God, I should’ve known you wouldn’t take the hint.”

“The hint?” your voice cracked. “You disappeared on me, Hoseok. You ignored my calls, ditched class—what the fuck was I supposed to think?”

He rolled his eyes, zipping his pants. “That it’s over. That’s what you should’ve thought.”

Your stomach dropped.

“But… you didn’t even—”

“Didn’t even what? Text you some sappy breakup message?” he sneered.

“Why would I waste my time on that? It’s not like we were anything serious.”

Your breath hitched, refusing to believe what he just said, though it was crystal clear.

"You told me you loved me!"

“Yeah, well,” he said, grabbing a shirt and carelessly pulling it over his head, “I say a lot of shit. Doesn’t mean I meant it.”

The girl behind him giggled under the covers, which only infuriated you further, and Hoseok didn’t even glance at her. His eyes were on you, and they weren’t kind like how it was before.

“Look,” he said, “That Jungkook guy? He opened my eyes, alright? You’re nothing but trouble. Ever since I got with you, my grades lowered, fuck, my scholarship's even hanging by a thread. My future is on the line. You dragged me into your chaos and I’m finally fucking done.”

You blinked back the sting in your eyes, confusion tightening in your chest. How was Jungkook even involved in this?

“No… Jungkook wouldn’t do that,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “He’s not like that.”

“Oh yeah?” Hoseok barked a bitter laugh, eyes blazing. “Well, he fucking did.”

“Go cry to your sugar daddy or whatever the hell he is to you. I’m done.”

You were speechless.

As much as you hated Hoseok for cheating on you, there was one person you blamed even more—Jeon Jungkook. The tears came before you could even begin to process it all, a sob breaking in your throat as the pain swallowed you whole. Hoseok didn’t spare you a second glance; he shoved you out of his dorm like you were nothing, slamming the door shut in your face.

You felt betrayed...

not just by Hoseok, but by Jungkook.

How could he sabotage the one relationship that meant the world to you? How could he be so cruel and manipulative, as if destroying what you had would somehow bring him any satisfaction?

It didn’t make sense. None of it did.

Jungkook had always been your angel, your protector. The thought of him being the one pulling the strings, the one who ruined you, didn’t make sense.

You wanted so badly to believe that Hoseok was just lashing out, making excuses for his betrayal. But no matter how tightly you clung to that hope, his words rang with a cruel kind of truth that you couldn’t ignore.

You didn’t even know how you got here.

After all the drama, the shouting, the betrayal—after all the tears you’d shed in Hoseok’s hallway just this afternoon—you should’ve been curled up in your bed, buried under blankets, trying to sleep the pain away.

But here you were.

At Jungkook’s building.

At his penthouse.

Driven by rage, betrayal, confusion, everything tightening in your chest until your body moved on its own.

You barely remembered how you got through the lobby. The security guard looked up from his desk and blinked in surprise, but when he saw your face, something in his demeanor softened.

“Miss,” he said gently, “You can go right up. He said you’re always welcome.”

Of course he did.

You hated how familiar this was—how the elevator doors opened to his private floor like the building itself was trained to welcome you. You hated that your trembling fingers still remembered the code. The moment the door swung open, his scent was already wrapping around you like a trap.

And you hated, most of all, that he looked happy to see you.

He was standing in the middle of his massive living room, wine glass in hand, dressed in a soft brown sweater and slacks, like the world hadn’t just been shattered around you.

His smile bloomed the moment your figure came into view.

“There you are,” Jungkook said, voice warm and slow, eyes twinkling as he opened his arms for you.

“Come here, angel. I was just thinking about y—”

Instead of a tight hug, all he got from you was a slap in his cheek.

The slap rang louder than you expected.

His cheek snapped to the side, skin blooming red where your palm struck him.

He didn’t move.

Didn’t react.

Just stood there with his face turned, lips slightly parted, as if you’d short-circuited something in him.

Silence.

Then slowly, his eyes returned to yours as his calm demeanor didn't change.

A slow smile curled at the corner of his mouth—too knowing, too soft, too smug.

“Ah,” Jungkook murmured, the hint of a chuckle in his voice. “So you found out.”

And that was the only confirmation you needed. It was all his doing. A part of you had already known it was him, but you needed to hear it from him, and he delivered.

Your throat tightened, but no tears came this time. You were all cried out.

“So you really did it,” you whispered. “You ruined us.”

Jungkook tilted his head as he eyed you intensely. “Ruined?” he echoed, like it was a foreign word.

He let out a breathy laugh, tongue poking against the inside of his cheek.

“No, baby. I didn’t ruin anything,” he said softly. “I just reminded him of what he already knew.”

You stared at him in disbelief

His eyes dropped to your swollen, puffy face—red-rimmed eyes and cracked lips. He stepped closer, not to console, but to admire.

“I hate seeing you cry,” he murmured, brushing a knuckle against your cheek.

You slapped his hand away.

He didn’t flinch.

“You had no right,” you snapped, voice trembling with restrained fury. “Hoseok and I—what we had, it was real. He loved me. We were—”

“He was weak,” Jungkook cut in smoothly, “and undeserving.”

“You don’t get to decide that!" You shouted at him as your face flushed red from anger.

“I do,” he said calmly, like he was explaining something to a child.

"Don’t you get it, Y/N? You belong to me. After everything I’ve done for you, for your family, and you still dared to choose him? I was being generous, patient, so fucking kind with you. But let me make one thing clear."

He steps closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as he grips your chin a little too tightly, leaning in until his lips nearly graze your ear.

"I don’t share. No one touches what’s mine."

Your breath hitched, skin prickling where his words lingered against your ear. It all started to make sense—every sweet gesture, every moment he showed up exactly when you needed someone, the silent ways he looked at you like you were already his. His care had never been brotherly. Not even close. You had been so foolish, blind to the possessiveness hiding behind his soft smiles, mistaking his obsession for affection.

And now that the truth was out, there was no going back.

Your legs felt unsteady as you took a step back, but Jungkook didn’t let you get far. His hand slid from your chin to the side of your neck, gentle yet firm, anchoring you in place.

“You manipulated Hoseok,” you whispered, the realization choking out of you. “You wanted to ruin us.”

He didn’t even flinch. His thumb caressed the curve of your jaw, voice steady and low.

“No. I had to ruin him. Because he was in the way.” His smile curved, slow, and sinful. “He was holding onto something that never belonged to him in the first place.”

Jungkook, you used to know, the boy who used to laugh with you, protect you, was gone. In his place stood a man whose obsession clung to you like a vice, dark and suffocating.

He looks like he could kill in this moment, as you keep on throwing hurtful words at him

“You’re fucking insane! I don’t ever want to see you again! I swear to God, I’ll leave the country if that’s what it takes to get away from you!” you screamed, ripping his hand off your neck with every ounce of strength you had. He was too strong. It took force, and it hurt.

You see, Jungkook had always been patient. Painfully patient. If he hadn’t been, he would’ve taken you years ago.

But now? Now the thread had snapped. And the moment those words left your mouth, something inside him broke.

Leave?

You were going to leave him?

After everything he gave you? After everything he destroyed for you?

“No, baby. You’re not fucking leaving,” he said lowly, eyes dark as he stalked toward you like a predator. He gripped your arm hard, making you stumble back, his breath hot against your face.

“Let go! I’ll tell my father everything!”

He smirked. “Oh yeah? Want me to dial him for you?”

You tried to fight him, lashing out like a wild animal. The vase by the table shattered as your arm knocked into it, and you didn’t even think—you just grabbed a jagged shard and held it up, hand trembling, eyes wild.

“Stay the fuck away from me, you psycho!”

He stared at you with that maddening calm, like you were amusing. Like, your resistance was cute. And then he stepped forward with lethal grace.

He knew his flowering words and soft tone wouldn't work with you in this situation, you left him with no choice but to use a little bit of force in order to tame you.

“You really think I’d let you hurt yourself over something this stupid?”

In one swift movement, he twisted the shard from your fingers, faster than you could react. Before you could scream, his hand was in your hair, the other on your waist, and your head slammed into the wall with brutal force.

The last thing you heard was your name on his lips before everything faded to black

Your head throbbed painfully as consciousness slowly crept in. The ceiling above you was initially unfamiliar—until the soft fabric brushing against your skin, the scent of expensive cologne, and the dim glow of the city lights pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows reminded you exactly where you were.

You're still in his penthouse... in his bed.

You shifted, realizing you were wearing one of your pajama dresses. One you hadn’t worn in ages. One you hadn’t brought here.

A soft voice broke through the fog in your head.

“You’re awake,” Jungkook murmured beside you, his fingers gently stroking your hair, eyes filled with something unsettlingly tender. “You hit your head, baby. I had to take care of you.”

For a fleeting second, you saw him—the version of Jungkook you used to know. The kind smile. The boy who was always there. But you forced yourself to push that illusion away. That version of him is just an illusion, a facade to his true, dark intentions.

You scrambled off the bed in a panic, nearly tripping over yourself as you ran to the door. Locked. Every other exit—locked. No keypad, no handle you could pry open. You darted from one end of the penthouse to another, only to find nothing but dead ends.

“It’s no use,” Jungkook said calmly, standing from the bed, his hands tucked into his pockets as he watched you look for an exit.

“You’re staying here now. I’m not letting you run away from me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” you snapped, voice cracking with disbelief.

Then you saw it—all your designer clothes, your bags, your makeup, your shoes, tucked neatly in his walk-in closet like they belonged there.

Like you belonged here.

You spun to face him, breath short and broken.

“You moved my things…”

“I’ve been preparing this for a while,” he simply said as he slowly walked toward you.

“This is insane,” you whispered, eyes wide with disbelief, your voice trembling before it exploded into a scream. “My parents—they’ll come for me! You’re gonna pay for what you’re fucking doing!”

Jungkook chuckled low, dark, and slow, like he found your defiance amusing. He stepped closer, eyes gleaming with possessive fire as he tilted his head. “Come for you?” he echoed, voice almost mocking. “You mean your greedy parents who work for me now?”

He leaned in, voice dipping into a growl against your ear as he added, “Sweetheart, they’re the ones who sent all your things here. They were more than happy to hand you over to me."

And that’s when it hits you—you’re alone in here, with no one to run to. Even your parents betrayed you, their only daughter, all because they were too blinded by the money Jungkook has.

"No! This is impossible. My parents wouldn’t do that—Jungkook, please," you begged, falling to your knees as you wrapped your arms around his legs. At this point, you didn’t even know why you were begging him. Desperation? Hope? A final plea for the version of him you once knew?

But empathy was the last thing on his mind.

Instead, the sight of you, broken, pleading, lips trembling as you whispered his name, only turned him on.

There was something so intoxicating about having you like this, so helpless and pretty on your knees, as your plump lips were wet with your tears.

Sooner or later, he'd have you crying for something else.

"Shh, sweetheart," he cooed as he crouched down to meet your level, brushing your hair back with a gentleness that contradicted the madness in his gaze. "Stop crying. You’re going to learn to love it here. This is your home now."

Indeed, you had no choice but to stay in his penthouse for these past few weeks, trapped in his world with no way out. Your days blurred into one another, a monotonous loop of routines: a cold, solitary bath, forced meals, and endless hours spent staring at the city skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows. You waited for Jungkook’s return, your mind spiraling as the isolation ate away at your sanity.

The silence was maddening. The lack of human contact drove you to the edge, and desperation took hold.

You missed the life that you once had, partying and going out with friends, attending classes, and so on, so you tried to escape, of course.

The first time, you managed to hurt one of his security guards as you scrambled your way out, though it was of no use as there were too many of them.

The second time, you threatened to harm yourself with a kitchen knife if they didn’t let you out.

That was when Jungkook decided that enough was enough. He began working from home, his eyes always on you, keeping you under his watchful gaze, with every sharp tool that he thought you could use to hurt yourself are now hidden or moved away.

"Ahhh... please stop!" you pleaded as a harsh slap landed on your bum. You were bent over, turned around with your tummy pressed against his knees as he spanked you (if that makes sense).

"Fucking stubborn woman! What did I tell you about lying, huh?!" he growled, landing another slap to your ass. The dress you were wearing had ridden up, exposing your bare core—he hadn’t allowed you to wear any undergarments.

You didn’t know why, but your body had been so needy and hot these past few days. You’d been getting wet out of nowhere, so turned on that you ended up touching yourself in the bathroom whenever he wasn’t around—too embarrassed to let him see you like that.

And just like now, you were already soaked from the way his rough palms met your skin, each slap sending a sting of heat through your core, making you tremble with want.

It was humiliating… and unbearable.

But of course, Jungkook knew everything.

He’d been slipping aphrodisiacs into your meals every time he forced you to sit on his lap and eat like a baby. And yes—he knew how you secretly touched yourself, thanks to the hidden cameras planted all over the house. He got off on watching you fall apart when you thought he wasn’t looking, addicted to how lewd you’d become under his control.

“Dirty whore,” he sneered, fingers suddenly sliding down back and forth to your slick folds. “You’re even getting wet from this, huh?”

You shuddered instantly, a sharp moan ripping from your throat as his fingertips grazed your sensitive pussy lips before spreading it with his fingers, exposing just how soaked and desperate you truly were.

“Look at you,” Jungkook muttered, almost amused as he ran his fingers along your soaked slit, spreading the slickness just to watch you twitch. “Dripping all over my lap like a fucking slut. Getting off on being punished?”

You whimpered, face flushed with heat, your fingers curling into the fabric beneath you as his touch sent sparks down your spine. His voice was low and mocking, but it lit you up in the worst way.

“You act like you hate it,” he said, dipping one long finger inside you without warning, “but your cunt tells me the truth.”

A breathy moan escaped you, hips jerking as the digit curled deep inside. He moved slowly at first, dragging it out just to watch your body react. Then he added a second, scissoring them apart, stretching you as you gasped.

“Such a filthy little thing. Bet you’ve been dreaming of this, huh? My fingers inside you while you grind your pathetic pussy on the bathroom sink,” he hissed into your ear, his fingers now pumping with more force. “You like being watched, baby? Knew I’d see you eventually?”

You couldn’t even form words anymore—just broken moans and whines as your walls clenched around him.

Then came the third finger.

You cried out, your legs trembling as he stuffed you full, knuckles deep now, fucking you rough and slow, like he wanted to feel every desperate flutter inside you. The stretch burned and thrilled you at once, leaving you clawing at his thigh, right on the edge.

So close. You were right there. Vision hazy, thighs slick and shaking, pleasure curling so tight it hurt.

But then he stopped.

Just like that—everything halted. He pulled his fingers out, slow and wet, leaving your cunt clenching around nothing.

You gasped, back arching as if trying to chase the feeling, your body trembling with frustration.

“N-no—please!” you cried, writhing against him, your once stubborn self now long gone, like a passing rain as you begged “Please, Jungkook… don’t stop, please—I need it, I need you—anything!”

He held his slick fingers up to your lips, eyes dark with twisted satisfaction. “Anything?” he smirked. “Then beg like the needy little cumslut you are.”

Without hesitation, you nodded, eyes glassy, lips parting as you leaned in—desperation burning in your gut.

“Yes—please, Jungkook. I’ll be good. I swear. Just—please—”

But he didn’t wait for you to finish.

He pressed his fingers against your lips, the same ones slick with your arousal, and you moaned as you eagerly opened your mouth, sucking them in like they were his cock. Tongue swirling, lips sealing tight around each one, you cleaned them with such obedience it made his cock twitch beneath you.

His jaw clenched as he watched you, his breath shallow, eyes dark and gleaming.

Fuck.

The drug worked.

He knew it would, but seeing the result was another thing entirely.

There you were—his once defiant little brat—on your knees, brain fogged, drooling around his fingers like they were candy. Completely unaware. Completely his.

So sweetly fucked up that you didn’t even care anymore that you were locked in here. That he owned your body, your mind, your every breath.

And now, after all your pathetic little protests, you were begging him to touch you? To fuck you?

Thought you hated me, sweetheart. Thought you wanted to escape.

His cock throbbed at the thought—how far gone you were. How easy it had become to twist your desire into obedience.

And he wasn’t even close to done.

Jungkook slowly pulled his soaked fingers from your mouth, watching your tongue chase after them like you couldn’t stand to be without the taste.

“Good girl,” he muttered, voice thick with hunger. “You want to be fucked that badly, huh? You want to be ruined?”

You nodded, whimpering as you pressed your thighs together, slick leaking down the insides of your legs. “Yes—please, please—kookie"

That was all it took.

He gripped your hips with bruising force and dragged you down off his lap, flipping you over like a ragdoll onto the plush carpet. You barely had time to gasp before he was yanking his sweats down, cock already thick and hard, veins throbbing with anticipation.

“Then take it,” he growled, grabbing your thighs and spreading you open. “Take all of it, slut.”

He slammed into you in one brutal thrust.

Your back arched, a choked scream bursting from your lips as he buried himself to the hilt—stretching you so deep, so full, it knocked the air from your lungs. There was no time to adjust. He didn’t give you that luxury. His hips were already snapping into yours, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing off the walls as he fucked you raw.

“God, listen to you,” he hissed, grabbing a fistful of your hair and yanking your head back. “Crying on my cock like you were made for this. And maybe you were, huh? Just a filthy little hole to fill up and break down.”

Your mind was gone—drugged, drunk off him, off the stretch and the heat and the possessive grip he had on your body. Your moans turned to sobs, pleasure slamming into you over and over, your nails clawing at the floor as he pounded into you without mercy.

“Gonna come?” he mocked, voice ragged, hips grinding against you with devastating precision. “You’re already close, aren’t you? Fucking pathetic. All it took was a few slaps, a little drug in your food, and now you’re creaming all over my cock like a whore.”

You could only moan his name in response—broken, needy, soaking him with every thrust. The coil in your gut tightened so violently you couldn’t breathe, your body ready to shatter.

He leaned down, lips brushing your ear, his voice like poison and silk.

“Then come for me,” he whispered. “Let me feel this ruined cunt squeeze around me.”

And just like that—you snapped.

Your orgasm hit like lightning, legs trembling, walls clenching around him so tight it dragged a feral groan from his throat. He didn’t stop—riding you through it, fucking you harder, chasing his own high.

“Take it,” he grunted. “Take every fucking drop. Gonna put a baby in you, gonna make you round and full"

With one final thrust, he slammed deep, spilling inside you with a guttural moan, cock pulsing as he filled you full. Your body jerked, overstimulated and wrecked, tears sliding down your cheeks as you lay there trembling under him.

Breathless and used

And Jungkook—still buried deep inside you—grinned.

The room still smelled like sex.

Your body was limp in his arms, skin marked with his touch—red, bruised.

Jungkook hadn't let you move much after he’d fucked you into the floor. He'd simply gathered you into his lap, his cock still wet with your slick, and held you there, stroking your hair like you were the most precious thing he ever ruined.

“I think it’s time,” he murmured against your temple, voice soft. “You’ve been good lately.”

Your lashes fluttered as you looked up at him, dazed and exhausted. “Time… for what?”

“To go see your family.”

Your breath caught.

He chuckled. “Under my watch, of course. couldn't let you be naughty"

Jungkook knew he couldn’t keep you locked up forever. That would only risk bringing back your stubborn streak. No—rewarding you with a bit of freedom was the smarter move. After all, you were already too blind to see that any of this was wrong.

You should’ve felt uneasy or angry, like the first time he brought you here. But you didn’t.

Not anymore.

Now, you understood.

Jungkook was right. He did know what was best for you. You were wrong to think the man you once loved was gone. He wasn’t. He never left. He just needed to tame you—to show you who you truly belonged to.

“Thank you, Kookie,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around him, clinging to the only person who ever really saw you.

clearly pleased—finally seeing you with the man they had always wanted for you. It wasn’t just approval in their eyes anymore… it was pride. As if they, too, had finally earned their seat at the Jeon table.

You sat quietly beside Jungkook, his presence towering even in his silence. His hand rested on your thigh beneath the table, firm and possessive. Every so often, he’d squeeze—his palm sliding just a little higher, fingers teasing slow circles into your skin, right where it made you press your legs together.

And then he walked in.

Hoseok.

He wore an apron now, working as a server at the restaurant your parents had chosen. His eyes widened when he spotted you, tray in hand—probably shocked to see you after the messy breakup you had with him.

You should have felt mad that he was there—should’ve remembered how deeply you once loved Hoseok, loved him enough to choose him over Jungkook, again and again.

But you didn’t flinch.

Didn’t even blink.

Because now you knew. You remembered what Jungkook told you—what he made you see.

Hoseok had never loved you. Not really. He’d cheated on you. Lied. Gaslit you into thinking it was your fault.

Only… he hadn’t done it on his own. Jungkook had orchestrated it all—manipulated things behind the scenes to tear you away from him.

And you weren’t even mad about it anymore.

Because he’d been right all along.

You didn’t belong to Hoseok. You never did.

Jungkook squeezed your thigh again and leaned in close, his voice low but unmistakably proud.

“We’ve been trying for a baby,” he said loud enough for Hoseok to hear, tilting his head just so. “Finally setting a date for the wedding too.”

You blushed on cue, eyes falling to your lap, but you didn’t pull away when he kissed your cheek—didn’t protest when his arm wrapped around your waist and tugged you closer.

Hoseok’s mouth twitched like he wanted to say something, but then he nodded stiffly and focused on serving your family before he turned back to the kitchen, defeated.

Good.

Jungkook’s fingers traced idle circles on your hip, slow and smug.

“That’s right, baby,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear.

“You’re mine. Always were”

#jungkook #bts fanfic #yandere jungkook #jungkook oneshot #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts #jungkook x reader #fanfic #bts yandere #bts oneshot #yandere

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secretlypeerless-cucumber · 3 months ago

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There is a rat on An Ding Peak.

Shang Qinghua is not sure when they managed to weasel their way in, but there is for sure a rat amongst his children.

What's heartbreaking is that his own kids won't tell him who is suspicious! Traitors! This wasn't supossed to happen! He taught them too well.

Snitches get stitches is so frustrating when you are the one who needs information! Worse of all, he can't even go to Cucumber-bro to complain because he now has the Original Goods hanging from him at all times! His life is so hard.

He thinks he narrowed the possible mole down to two new disciples who came to the sect at 16 last selection. He hadn't seen them yet, because like anyone they are very busy at all times, but word of mouth tells him they are; twin sisters, smart and quick like snakes, beautiful, and as lazy as a house cat. Why someone like that would choose An Ding of all places to blend in Shang Qinghua can't say, but he is so close to catching them.

And as luck will have it, he sees a group of his children tailing a pair of ponytails swaying on what little wind there is, sadly they rounded a corner and Qinghua only saw their backs, but most importantly. Why are his children not working?! They do not have time for them to follow the moles like lovesick puppies! This must be their plan; to enamor all his disciples and bring ruin to CQM via lack of resources. Shang Qinghua might just need to kill a child.

After following them for a while, the girls separate from the group and slink off to the forest without looking back once. This is his oportunity.

"Shidi needs to up security on An Ding, this is too easy." Um... What? "Shidi is good at many things... security might jut not be one of them."

He is confusion. Um hello little spy, WHY ARE YOU CALLING HIM SHIDI?!

Ah... Twins... This is just Cucumber-bro and the Original Goods.

...At least it wasn't a spy?

But it got worse.

Shen-Shixiong and Cucumber-bro must have known he was there because he now sees them EVERYWHERE.

Im the canteen? There they are, eating prim and proper like a king's favorite concubine. In the warehouses? There they are, sleeping on a shelf or perusing the wares. On the offices? There they are, again! Reading the accountant books like they were high literature.

The worst part-

"Shizun! Shizun!"

-is that they know he can't say no to them, for fear of having Yue-Dage come for his head. That man is really going crazy these days.

With a tight smile, Shang Qinghua turns arround to see his undercover shixiongs running towards him -like spoiled children- and hide behind his back while some Bai Zhan disciples run to them. Oh god they are haunting Bai Zhan too?! "Um... What were my disciples up to?..."

"Shizun, those brutes were badmouthing An Ding-"

"So we taught them a lesson-"

"And now they want to fight with us."

Shang Qinghua is crying tears of blood, trying so hard to stay standing. Ah, Cucumber-bro, why must you get along so well with the Original Goods?! He prefered when you only raged about his writing!!!!

Previous - Next

#Dichotomy AU #shang qinghua #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #shen jiu #svsss #svsss au #jiuyuan #Finally in the headspace to create again #Sorry for the wait this was supossed to come out the next day #Also send prayers for SQH he is so stressed

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the-unidentified-author · 4 months ago

Text

Use Your Words | Cregan Stark | House of the Dragon

Cregan Stark x Female Wife Reader

Warnings/ Tags: SMUT[NSFW}, smut, minors DNI, established relationship, Cunnilingus, fingering, consensual!, hes a big man, one orgasm after another, Cregan on his knees, a little bit of roughness, mention of Alcohol, frustrated reader, Biting? ...

Summary: You're the wife of Cregan Stark and he helps ease a little frustration you're feeling.

A/N: Thank you to that RAT BASTARD (in a loving caring way) on here who wrote about Cregan tying up his hair before he eats out his wife, I have been able to think of literally nothing else. This Fic is entirely inspired by your lil post. Now I can’t remember your user name but I demand you reveal yourself (jk only if you want to girly pop)!

Word Count: 3,336

Not my gif, if its yours and you would like me to remove it just ask <3

You let out a deep sigh and threw your quill down, sinking back into the worn leather of your chair, feeling every creak it made under your movements. Your eyes, tired and strained, you rubbed them gently, trying to massage away the pain caused by the long hours spent squinting at parchment. The candle next to you flickered with a final dance, its wax dribbling into a small puddle, threatening to extinguish itself as the shadows began to creep in. You were far from done with the daunting task of addressing invitations to the seemingly endless names on Cregan's list. The night had already drawn in, and you wanted nothing more than to sleep, but there was still so much to do.

The room was dim, the fire in the hearth now a mere glow, its embers laboriously clinging to life, whispered memories of flames, silently begging for another log to reignite their fervour. The faint, jubilant cheers of men resonated through the stone corridors from Cregan's bustling feast; it was a symphony of boisterous laughter and clinking tankards, hints of celebration murmured among the echoes. They had finally conquered the hunt, returning triumphantly with deer, the spoils of their tireless adventures in the wilderness.

Cregan, always the visionary, had decreed a grand feast to herald the upcoming weekend, with promises—rumbling like the laughter from below—that it would be the day he returned home with the great winter stag, that had eluded him on the last three hunts. The very thought made you clench your teeth, a mix of envy and longing to be part of such adventures, yet tethered to this desk with duties that seemed to multiply by the minute. Still, you leaned forward, picking up the quill once more, determined to drown out the sounds of the celebrations and finish your task before you retired to bed.

The sound of footsteps echoed up the corridor towards you, their pace loud and hurried, a sharp contrast to the slow crackle of the dying fire. Heavy boots against stone, each step seemed to vibrate through the walls, accompanying the ghostly flicker of firelight. You placed your hands flat on the desk, feeling the rough grain beneath your fingers, and stood up with a sense of anticipation. You steeled yourself, ready to unleash your pent-up frustrations on whatever unfortunate soul dared interrupt you.

With a loud crash, the door swung open in one swift motion, slamming against the stone wall with a resounding thud that echoed through the chamber. It threatened to rebound and strike the intruder, but a strong-arm shot out, stopping its swing by placing his hand flat against the ancient wood. A large hand, calloused from years of swinging weapons and weathering the elements, steadied the ancient wood against the wall.

The figure that filled the doorway was unmistakably your husband, Cregan Stark. His presence seemed to command the room, as if even the shadows bowed to his entrance. The dying light of the fire danced across his broad shoulders and rugged features, highlighting the strength and vigour that made him a leader among men—a hunter triumphant. His eyes, bright with the thrill of victory, found yours, sparking a familiar blend of emotions that simmered beneath your practiced composure.

"Wife!" he bellowed, a great smile spreading across his face as he laid eyes on you. "I have found you at last." He seemed a little drunk, something else that irritated you. Here you were slaving away, and he was doing nothing but partying and celebrating.

His presence was like a gust of wind forcing its way into your sanctuary, stirring the air with energy and purpose. Despite the warmth that spread through you at seeing him—a warmth that radiated from the heart, unwelcome at this time, yet familiar. You fought to keep a semblance of calm on your face, reminding yourself that he was the reason you had such a mountainous number of tasks to do.

"Cregan," you replied, rolling your eyes and slumping back down into the chair.

He strolled into the room with an effortless ease, a man at home in his surroundings, but noticeably absent from his usual assortment of garments. His cloak and sword, which typically adorned his broad back, were nowhere to be seen. Instead, he wore only his boots, trousers, and a casual shirt. The strings that normally fastened the top were loose, offering a tantalising glimpse of his strong chest beneath. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing muscular forearms crisscrossed with veins, you tried to stop yourself from staring.

In one hand, he carried a tankard of ale, droplets of condensation working their way down its sides. As he surveyed the room, his eyes landed on the dwindling fire. With natural grace, he stooped to pick up a piece of wood, and with a practiced flick of his wrist, he tossed the large log with ease onto the embers. The fire responded with a sizzle and a new burst of warmth, casting flickering shadows that played across his stupidly beautiful features. He turned to you, his face still twisted into a smile. Then he moved towards you, stepping around the desk and leaning backwards against it.

"How are you, wife?" He asked, taking a swig from his drink. "Why are you not enjoying the festivities below?"

You scowled at him, "Well, someone has to plan your feast." you argued, anger boiling up at of you. Not so much at him, but more so at the amount of work he seemingly didn’t realise he had given you.

"Ah that can wait, you should come with me." he reasoned, his hand moving to your shoulder and trailing, carefully down your arm until he held your hand in his.

"No it can’t, if you want the Lords to arrive on time, then I need to send the letters by tomorrow at the latest.” you snapped, pulling your hand from his.

His eyebrows creased into a frown as he looked down at you.

"Come on now, I will help you with them in the morning," he reasoned, placing his tankard on the desk next to him and standing.

You moved to resist his advances, turning your head as he leaned in to kiss you. You tried to create some distance between the two of you by standing and moving away from him, but a firm hand reached out, pulling you back towards him with an unyielding grip. Your back was pressed against his strong chest, the heat of his body permeating through the layers of fabric that separated your skin from his.

As Cregan's arms circled you, enveloping you in a warm embrace, you couldn't help but feel his strength and the weight of his muscular frame. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his stubble scratching softly against your sensitive skin. The sensation sent a shiver down your spine, and you tried to resist the way it made you feel, a mix of unwanted arousal and lingering resentment.

You wouldn't admit it, even to yourself, but feeling him against you did water down the rage you were feeling towards him. Yet, you were adamant that he wouldn't get off with stressing you out so completely so easily. Even as his arms tightened around you, his grip firm and unrelenting, you could feel the tension in his body, the subtle shifts in his stance that betrayed his need. He wanted you, there was no denying that, and you were adamant he would have to work for it.

"You're not going to get out of this, that easily," you spat out, the anger bubbling up within you, threatening to spill over like a pot boiling over on the fire. "You dumped this grand idea of a feast on me out of nowhere and then ran out the door on a hunt with your friends, leaving me to flesh out all the details and make this into something that people will actually enjoy."

The stress of the day and the long hours you had put into planning all rushed out, a torrent of words that were fuelled by frustration and resentment. You could feel the tension in your body, your hands clenched into fists at your sides.

The room seemed to grow smaller around you, the air thick with the weight of your unspoken grievances. Your eyes flashed with a mixture of hurt and defiance, challenging him to deny leaving you to do everything while he enjoyed himself.

Despite your anger, there was a part of you that couldn't help but feel a lingering sense of longing for him, for the closeness and intimacy that his presence always seemed to bring into your life. But at the same time, you were determined not to let him off the hook so easily.

"I'm sorry." he said, his big storm grey eyes seeming sincere with a hint of something else in them.

He stepped closer and this time you didn’t stop him, as he gently cupped your face in his hands. His lips met yours in a tender kiss, soft and reassuring, like a whisper of promises yet to be fulfilled. You let out a small sigh, the sound a mixture of surrender and relief, as if the weight of your burdens was momentarily lifted. He pulled away, and the moment seemed to linger, as he looked down at you.

"I accept your apology." you whispered, all the hostility you had been feeling moments ago ebbing away.

"Oh wife," he smiled, a devilish glint finding its way into his eyes. "I haven't finished apologising yet."

You frowned, a mixture of surprise and perhaps a hint of anticipation, as he stepped closer. His hands felt like warm, steadying anchors on your waist, grounding you.

And in one swift movement, he picked you up, effortlessly lifting you as if you weighed nothing whatsoever. Your heart skipped a beat as he settled you down onto the desk, the cool, smooth surface a stark contrast to the heat that was rapidly building between you.

He began to kiss at your jaw, his lips hungry and insistent as they moved down your neck. Each touch of his lips was like a bolt of lightning, sending jolts of electricity coursing through your veins.

His hands, too, were alive with a feverish intensity as they tugged at your clothing. But then, just as suddenly as it had begun, he stepped back, leaving you feeling slightly breathless and more than a little disoriented.

He smiled at you then pulled the leather tie from his wrists and brushed his hair back out of his face, pulling his shoulder-length hair back, tying it up out of his face. As he brushed his hair back out of his face, you couldn't help but marvel at the sight of him. His shoulder-length hair, now tied up and out of his face, emphasised the rugged, masculine beauty of his features. It was a stark contrast to the more polished, refined elegance of the world outside this intimate cocoon.

And yet, even as he stood there, his hair pulled back and away from his face, there was a sense of wildness that still seemed to cling to him. It was as if, even in this moment of tender intimacy, he refused to be tamed or domesticated, choosing instead to remain forever untamed and free. Cregan Stark, The Wolf of The North.

You looked at him, your eyes reflecting the confusion that you were feeling in that moment. It was a look that seemed to intrigue and amuse him, a spark of mischief shining in his eyes as he took in your expression.

His lips met yours once more, this time in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, the sensation one of pure, unadulterated pleasure. As he pulled away, you couldn't help but feel the intensity that was fast becoming unbearable between the two of you.

His hands, which had been momentarily still, now returned to your dress. With fast movements, he pulled it up over your knees, revealing the smooth, expanse of your thighs beneath. He then bundled the fabric up at your waist, and then kissed you again, one hand keeping your dress up and the other moving to your hair to guide your head as he kissed you.

But then, even as you revealed in the sensation, you felt his hand dip beneath your shirt, his fingers tracing along your inner thigh. The sensation was like a bolt of lightning, sending jolts of electricity coursing through your veins.

He was teasing you, you realised, playing a game of tantalising anticipation. Each touch of his fingers was like a promise, a hint of the pleasures that were yet to come. Then he pulled away from you, and his hand moved to your chest, to guide you back. You leant backwards, steadying yourself against the desk with your arms. Then slowly he dropped to his knees, pushing your skirts out of the way. You felt a soft kiss on the inside of your knee, and then another a little further along. Then his teeth nipped slightly at the supple skin of your inner thigh, and you moved your legs to press them together at the sensation, but his strong arms kept your legs firmly apart as he kissed closer and closer.

"Cregan, please, enough of this." you whispered, still trying to cling to the anger that had almost dissipated entirely.

"Please what?" he asked as the kisses moved closer to your pussy, his hot breath also seeming intent on teasing you.

"Stop." you whispered, still trying to argue with him. The word sounded pathetic and as if to emphasise just how pathetic your plea sounded, he licked your cunt. One sweeping movement from the entrance of your pussy right to the clit, drawing a moan from your lips.

Then he pulled away, you looked down at him, angry again, but this time that he had actually stopped.

"Cregan," you whined again, tilting your head back, not happy with how much teasing you seemed to please him. And irritated that he had actually stopped.

"Come on now wife, use your words." he whispered, placing a kiss on your inner knee but not moving to continue.

"Cregan just fucking eat me." you pleased, the words coming out quickly, tinged with anger.

He grinned, he seemed to take great pleasure in the knowledge that he had won you over, that despite your initial resistance, he had managed to break through your anger in the best way he knew how.

And then, as if to seal the deal, he delved back under your skirts.

One quick lick, and then he flattened his tongue as it started to move in a way that made it obvious he was apologetic. Each movement of his tongue seemed only to have one goal, and that was to bring you to release as fast as he could. Cregan was not the sort of man that lost. You clenched your teeth and tried to hold out, trying not to let him have this win so easily. But he was your husband, and he knew your body better than he knew his own. You balled your fists on the table trying to pull yourself back from the edge, but he sent you falling over it. You came hard, screaming his name as you tilted your head back.

He didn’t give you a moment to recollect yourself, instead he moved his tongue over your clip, as one of his fingers gently pressed inside you, curling up towards your bellybutton.

"Cregan" you gasped, rolling your hips to the motion of his finger, your hands returning to the desk the paper at your side bunching up into your fist as you tried to get purchase on something to ground you.

He didn’t respond, at least not with words. Instead, he removed his finger and replaced it with two that sent such a wave of pleasure coursing through you that for a moment, you could swear that you could see stars on the back of your eyelids. His fingers stroked up against something inside you made it feel as though every nerve ending in your body had been set on fire. Those two fingers in conjunction with his tongue fanning the flames, pushing you to the edge of another release again. You gripped the edge of the desk, your hips bucking involuntarily as you surrendered to the intense pleasure coursing through you. Even as your climax hit, the intensity of his mouth and fingers never wavered, continuing to guide you through this earth-shattering experience.

"Fuck," was the only word you could push through your lips as he still didn’t relent as he ate your pussy.

In fact, the word seemed to spur him on, as though hearing you spout profanities amused him. Perhaps it was the fact you were usually so reserved and well-spoken, that when he broke down those walls and exposed your inner animal, it turned him on more than anything else.

You were racing towards another peak again, and this time he seemed determined to push you there as fast as he could, as though he himself were becoming impatient. You knew that he got impossibly turned on when he went down on you, unable to go more than a few rounds before he had to feel himself inside you. This was the longest he had managed, and you wondered if he was torturing himself as much as he was attempting to torture you. You squeezed your eyes shut and screamed his name as he brought you to the edge for what felt like the hundredth time. You attempted to squeeze your shaking legs shut, Finally, he emerged from between your thighs, the scent of your arousal clinging to him like a trophy. He placed both his hands on the desk, leaning towards you. Immediately, you leaned forward, your hands moving instinctively to his broad, muscular chest. He kissed you deeply, his lips warm and inviting against yours. Then, he tucked his head into the crook of your neck, allowing you to hold him for a moment, your heart still racing from the intensity of your shared experience. As you both came down from your high, you took comfort in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, the sound of your breathing slowly returning to normal.

Once your breathing steadied, and you felt ready to speak, you gently pulled away from him. It was then that the sharp scent of ale suddenly assaulted your nostrils, causing you to wrinkle your nose slightly in surprise.

"Gods, Cregan, I'm sorry I knocked over your drink." you said, righting the tankard, now empty.

He shrugged. "There are better things to drink back in our room," he whispered, his voice low and intimate, sending shivers down your spine.

He moved his hands to your waist, pulling you closer to him, his body a beacon of warmth and comfort. His scent, a mix of woodsmoke, leather, and the crisp scent of the outdoors, enveloped you, a familiar embrace that you couldn't resist.

"How about we return there and have a drink," he suggested with a smile, "before we continue our evening entertainment." His eyes twinkled with mischief, hinting at the pleasures that awaited you both. He leaned down, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

"Continue?" you asked, looking up at him with a mixture of curiosity and anticipation. The firelight danced across his features, lending an almost ethereal glow to his already handsome face. "I think you have more than apologised Cregan," you responded, a hint of amusement in your voice.

"Yes, I have apologised," he murmured, his voice rich and deep, "but now I need to thank you for working so tirelessly." He pressed a soft kiss to your lips, a gesture that sent a new wave of desire coursing through your veins.

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