#the haunting of bly manor finale | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

asumofwords · 6 months

Note

So I see you’re going to open up requests soon??? 👀

Lemme just put this one there to marinate because some of the asks have really put the thought in my head with no sign of it leaving me be.

Spooky season is coming!!!!

I rewatch the Haunting series on Netflix every October so I’m kinda feeling a Bly Manor type possession fic. SFA one shot or not, but Aemond’s dead and they were definitely in love. When reader moves on after his death and eventually meets someone she can fall in love with again, maybe she brings him home and Aemond possesses her new man just so he can fuck her again. Bonus points if she doesn’t know the first few times but keeps wondering how her new boo knows exactly what she likes before Aemond finally reveals himself and ultimately, she lets it continue because she gets her Aemond again.

Just some thots

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: Death, murder, sadness, depression, thoughts of suicide, talks of blood and gore, moving on, haunted estate, possession, fear, anger, smut, chasing, blood, choking, slapping, fucking, creampie, degradation, rough sex, angry sex, dub-con, slight non-con, confusion, grief, Cregan being possessed by your late husband, spooky vibes.

Pairings: Ghost!Aemond x Reader / Aemond Targaryen Possession Fic, Cregan Stark x Reader, Possessed!Cregan x reader

Notes: Look.... I'm such a Cregan Stark slut, I'm gonna throw him in wherever I can... Hope you enjoy!!!! Hehehe, I hope I have done your request some justice!!! I really enjoyed writing this <3

Aemond Targaryen was a man that could not be summarised by mere words. You didn’t believe that you could ever find enough of them to describe him, if any could come close to it. He was kind, quiet at times, calculating, but passionate. And that was why you had married him. His passion for you was so strong it almost burnt, the flames of it constantly flickering over you like fire.

You had been married for some time, meeting at University, Advanced History and the Politics of Old, and instantly falling for the quiet man who had sat up the back, hand constantly writing notes on paper. He had this charm that surrounded him, and the day you had gotten the courage to ask him out, pacing in front of your mirror all morning, practising the words over and over in your head and aloud, he beat you to it, seemingly having done the same thing.

You were married a year later, a quick turn around, but happy with bliss and the love that you had for each other. Years flew by together and eventually you began to plan for a child, and Aemond in his excitement, invited his family over to announce this to them. His mother, unbeknownst to him, invited his half-sister Rhaenyra, her children, and her husband, Daemon; A man Aemond had once admired, but now despised.

And because of this, tragedy struck.

At first the evening went well, but with the presence of his nephew, Lucerys, the boy who had taken his eye in an accident at a young age, Aemond’s anger simmered that night between him and his uncle, Daemon, and with the alcohol that flowed heavily from the table during your celebrations, a fight broke loose.

You could still see it. Still see it move behind your eyelids like a film, slow motion, then quick, then slow again.

Aemond’s fist flying into Daemon’s cheek, a man much taller and broader than your husband. You had shot up from your chair to reach them, but Alicent had held you back whilst Rhaenyra tried to pull her husband away from her half-brother, who Daemon knelt over, fist after fist striking the younger mans face. You had screamed when Daemon was finally pulled up and away by his angry wife, concern thrown down to her estranged sibling, her violet eyes roaming him for injury.

But your Aemond, your sweet, sweet Aemond, head strong and stubborn as he was, didn’t know when to stop, and so, jumping up from the ground, face bloodied and lips bleeding, Aemond’s hand had snatched a steak knife from the table, charging for Daemon, who pushed Rhaenyra out of the way.

The next thing you knew, Aemond lay lifeless on the floor, knife in his unseeing eye, blood pooling on the floor around him. You had screamed and ran to him, sobbing over his corpse as Daemon stood in shock, looking at his now bloodied hand whilst Alicent blinked down at her son.

Daemon went to jail, a short term for murdering your husband, self defence they had said, since Aemond made the first move and grabbed the knife. And whilst Daemon sat in a cell, visited by his children and wife, you were left alone in the large estate that you had together, bereft with grief and uncertain if life would ever move on without him.

You had thought about it, once or twice, grabbing a razor or taking one too many of the pills the doctors had prescribed for your debilitating depression, or perhaps reaching beneath the sink to grasp at Aemond’s old pain medication and taking the entire lot. But each time you thought of it, you just couldn’t do it. Too cowardly to go forward with it, which almost always ended with you on the floor where he had died, sobbing into the flagstones.

It had been five years when you met him, five years when you decided to get back out into the world. Or not really decided, more like forced to by Helaena, Aemond’s older sister, who had been your life boat through grieving the loss of her brother. She had told you that Jacaerys, her nephew she had no qualms with despite the family tension, had a friend that you would get along with. Someone kind and gentle, and so far away from being anything like Aemond, that it was a safe bet.

And so one night of a blind date with Cregan Stark, Helaena and her girlfriend Cassandra joining as a buffer, turned into two, which then turned to three, then four, until soon enough, you were falling for the man.

He was courteous. Tall and broad, with long, dark hair and a short beard, or more like stubble that had been left untouched for days on end. He had kind grey eyes, that looked like a winters storm that swirled each time he gazed at you.

And he was different. That’s what you likened as to why you liked him.

He was the complete opposite of Aemond.

Where Aemond was fiery and warm, Cregan was cool and patient, always waiting for you to make the first step. Whenever you would fight, if at all you would manage to get him to react, it would always end with him apologising to you.

Even when you were in the wrong.

That was one thing you hated about it.

He would never rise to your goading, never rise to the bait you would set for him to flare his temper. Sure, he would get angry, his wild grey eyes alight with something, but it would pass as soon as a storm, and he would leave to walk it out, or ask for space.

You missed how it had been with Aemond. How you could goad him into anger, to have him fold you over any surface and have his way with you, rutting into you violently and cruelly, as he ripped peak, after peak from you, until you begged for mercy, tears falling down your cheeks.

But Cregan was different, softer, sweeter, and not at all like your hot headed late husband.

And this, you were thankful for.

In some ways at least.

It had been over a year of dating when you finally asked him to move into the estate with you. He lived awhile away, and you were alone in a house that had close to a hundred rooms and only memories to haunt you. It only felt right to fill it up with one more person.

The estate was old, and although Aemond had died within its walls, you just couldn’t leave it.

You were stuck.

Feeling drawn to its stones and halls, and even the mere thought of parting with it made you breathless.

Though, there was something about the old estate that made your skin crawl.

It had always made you uncomfortable, and it was something that you had voiced to Aemond upon many a times, and he would always assure you, that they could not touch you, whoever they were.

But something was different.

Something had changed in the years past since Aemond had died.

Helaena had once come to the estate, months after the fact, and gone pale, looked right past you as though she was looking at someone there. But when you had turned, there was no-one. Not a soul, or wisp, or a particle. Just air.

But it was cold. And Helaena had told you, whilst staring behind, that Aemond would always be with you.

But you knew he would. You had his memories, his photos, his clothes that you had folded in trunks in the attic, or the blanket that still smelt very much like him that you would curl into on lonely nights and breathe in his scent.

Of course he would always be with you.

He was your first love.

But there was something about the estate.

You just didn’t know what.

It didn’t help that no matter what you did, you felt like you were being watched. But the building was as old as the hills, and your therapist had told you it was likely just your hyper observance and PTSD to blame.

There were no ghosts in the house, no ghouls or monsters. It was just you.

You and the empty walls, and halls that used to house his voice, and his smile, and his laughter.

You were lonely, that much was sure, and although you loved Cregan, you truly did, it would just never match the love you and Aemond had. Not that you were comparing the two to each other in that way. Aemond was fire, Cregan was ice. They were both two very different people who loved in two very different ways. And you knew, much to your grief, that it was time to move on.

Time to move forward with your life.

And so you did. With Cregan. And that feeling of being watched only amplified. The feeling of heat on the back of you neck, being watched wherever you went, multiplying by tenfold with Cregan’s now permanent presence.

The rooms would suddenly get cold, to the point that he had even noted it, but had explained it away; His home back in Winterfell was older than this estate, and it too had cold spots in it.

It didn’t mean anything, it was just the old buildings, with old drafts, and terrible old insulation.

But something felt off since he moved in.

You always felt like you were being watched but it had changed to something more angry. Like something was always in the corner of your eye when with him, especially when intimate. But Cregan, with this kind eyes and unbendable patience, listened to your worries, and ensured you that it was fine, and even if there was an entity in the estate, it could not touch you, nor harm you, and probably didn’t even know you were there, lost in a world of its own.

Yet, you still couldn’t shake the feeling of it. Maybe it was because you were moving on, and feeling guilty about doing so.

You didn’t move into your old room that had been yours and Aemond’s. That was off limits. Closed for good, unless you wished to go in there and sit for a while. It had been over six years, six long years without him, but maybe, just maybe, Aemond would want you to move on.

Yes, you were sure of it.

He would want you to be happy, to move on. Not forget about him, but to continue on with your life without him, despite the feeling that your life had stopped with him the day he was killed.

You still had night terrors about it, picturing his body on the floor, lifeless and cold, blood pooled beneath his head, seeing eye staring up unfocused.

The terrors had gotten worse when Cregan had moved in. You would wake with a scream, and the vision and smell of blood before you, body covered in a light sheen of sweat, and the feeling as though something, or someone, had be pushing down on your chest. And each time, Cregan would be there for you, to ground you, to bring you back to the present and hold you as you sobbed in his arms, and eventually went back to sleep, skin tingling with the feeling of an extra eye on you.

But Cregan made you feel safe.

There were many things about Cregan that you adored. His loyalty to his friends and family, his smile when excited or pleased, the way he would hold you tightly against his chest, head tucked beneath his chin as you inhaled deeply.

And to top it all off, he was an amazing lover.

Sleeping with Cregan was different to what it had been like with Aemond. He was gentler, softer, less rough and violent. Which was something you actually missed. When once you had asked Cregan to wrap his large hands around your throat, he had blushed and looked away, saying he needed time to work his way up to that. And so you dropped it, and respected that boundary.

It wasn’t that the sex wasn’t good, it was. Cregan knew how to bring you to your peak with practised skill. It was just that it wasn’t what you needed. You needed a release. A cathartic bloom of pleasurable pain, submission and dominance, to not be in control, to let someone take the reins and bring you to a warm and fuzzy place that Aemond called ‘Sub Space’. You needed to feel the ache of being roughly handled, to see the bruises of Cregan’s love on your skin the next day or week after, but he was almost afraid of hurting you.

Gods bless that sweet man.

Footsteps clumped from down the hall as the tv softly played the previews of a new show on Netflix. You leant back against the couch, tucked under a thick blanket as you watched Cregan enter the lounge room with two bowls in hand.

“What are we watching?” His deep voice curled around the room, eyes darting to the tv as you scrolled down, trying to find something the two of you could watch.

“I don’t know.” You flicked to the Recommended For You section, the couch dipping beside you as he sat, placing the steaming bowls of pasta in front of you, “Thanks.” You pecked his cheek lightly, before looking back at the screen.

“What are our options?” His fork clinked on the edge of his bowl as he twirled the long pasta up his fork, shoving it into his mouth beside you.

“Pride and Prejudice-“

“-2005 or BBC?” Cregan interrupted.

“2005 obviously.” You smirked, turning back to the tv, “Jurassic Park, Knives Out,” You flicked through the recommendation list, hearing a snicker beside you as you moved past 365 Days, “Gone Girl-“

“Gone Girl? What’s that?” Cregan asked between chews, large hand reaching to place your own bowl into your lap.

You grinned, “Only one of the best movies ever. Have you really not seen it?” You turned to face him, watching as he shook his head. “Gone Girl it is.”

The movie began to play as you settled in at his side, eating the dinner he had made you both. Cregan was engrossed in the film, and made you laugh as he screamed profanity at the tv, already hating Ben Affleck's character thinking he had killed his wife.

Towards the end of the movie however, Cregan was cheering Amy on, getting excited as it went through her step by step revenge plan. You were almost at the crescendo of the film when you felt Cregan shift beside you, his audible stream of consciousness suddenly stopped.

You turned your head to look at him.

The large man was sitting stiff as a board beside you, grey eyes narrowed onto your face. It was as if all emotions had slid away, leaving a cool exterior. You frowned, turning your body to face him completely, watching as his eyes slid carefully over your body.

“Are you okay?” You asked, wondering what had changed his mood so suddenly.

Cregan’s eyes blinked slowly, lids half hooded as he peered at you.

There was something about it that was familiar.

Something about it that sent a shiver down your spine.

And as if it didn’t happen, Cregan blinked again, shaking his head slightly, large hand coming to press at an eye as though in pain.

Your hand reached out to rest on his shoulder, “Hey, are you okay?” Concern written on your features.

Brows furrowed, he winced, pressing the heel of his hand into his eye, “Sorry.” He apologised through gritted teeth, “Migraine came out of nowhere.”

Sympathy rolled through you. Standing from the couch you clicked your tongue, “That’s no good. Let me get you some pain killers.”

Your bare feet pressed into the cold flagstones as you headed to the large kitchen, bending at the waist to rifle in the small medicine box under the sink.

The box was old, something left over from Aemond, with the painkillers still inside that he used for whenever his eye and scar was giving him bother. You spotted the small silver packet of pain killers beside Aemond’s old ones, out of date and not useful to anyone, and yet you still could never bring yourself to get rid of them, as though your brain worried that they would be needed out of habit despite him no longer being there anymore.

Bypassing your late husbands medication, you pulled at the small packet of regular painkillers and made your way back to the lounge room, worrying over Cregan’s sudden pain.

He never usually had migraines or headaches, but it had become something more frequent since he moved in. His doctor had said it could be allergies, or perhaps even the presence of black mould in the old estate, but you had hired mould cleaners, and even mould detecters who brought in an old dog to sniff about the property, and they, not once, found any sign of damp or growing fungus.

Entering the lounge you spotted Cregan, sitting stiff backed on the couch, head immediately flicking to you.

“I got you some pain killers,” You walked towards him, popping two little pills out of the foil packet, “Is it bad?”

Cregan’s lips twitched slightly as he watched you, eyes narrowed, and yet he did not answer.

Must be bad if he’s not talking.

“Here.” You held your hand out, waiting to place the two painkillers into his palm.

Cregan Stark watched you with hawklike eyes, not taking the pills from you. Suddenly he stood, large frame towering over you as he looked down his nose at you, face devoid of any emotion, and a certain strike of familiarity sparked inside your mind.

Why does this feel familiar?

A large hand struck out, grabbing you neck roughly, squeak falling from your lips as you were tugged towards Cregan, his lips finding yours in a rough and bruising kiss, his straight teeth nipping at your bottom lip roughly, tingles climbing up your spine. He kissed you until you were out of breath, hand not releasing itself from your neck, keeping you firmly to him until you parted bare centimetres away to catch your breath, lips brushing against each other as you heaved.

“What's gotten into you?” You breathed heavily, want coursing through you.

The pink of his tongue darted out to wet his lips, though moving slower as though he was savouring the taste of you on him, “I’ve missed this.” Came a deep purr from within his chest.

A smirk pulled at your mouth, “You had me last night.” You teased, nibbling at your bottom lip, wondering where this sudden burst of lust had come from.

Cregan merely grunted as he crashes his lips back against yours, fingers tightening around your throat in a way that you had begged him to do for months, cutting the supply of blood flow making your head spin. You mewled as he broke the kiss, spinning you around to push you over the edge of the couch arm.

Air was ripped from your lungs as he pushed his weight onto your lower back with his hand, fingers ripping at your clothes to reveal your slick folds to the room.

There was no preparation, no warning, just the sudden and sharp bite of his length pushing into your walls. You cried out, hands grasping at the pillows as he set a rough pace, his length dragging in and out of you sharply as he grunted from behind.

Cregan’s weight pushed into your spine as he continues to rut into you wildly, feet dangling uselessly as he fucking you over the arm of the couch, hands gripping the pillows tightly in your hands. It was the first time he had ever fucked you with such vigour, without care, and it set your nerves alight.

You whined beneath him, feeling closer and closer to your peak, slick coating your thighs and his length, the wet sound of flesh against flesh behind you.

“Always such a good little slut for me.” Cregan growled, and the sound sent tremors through you.

Your brows furrowed, a nagging sensation in the back of your mind telling you that something was not quite right. That Cregan would never call you that, had never called you that, and that it was something that Ae-

Blinding white pleasure burst through you as you came, Cregan moaning behind you as he felt your walls tighten around his length. You whined beneath him, body going slack as he sought out his own peak, rutting into you frantically until he came with a grunt, warmth filling your walls.

You slumped against the couch, mind hazy as your climax scrambled all thoughts. A kiss was pressed against your shoulder blade and a small hiss came from behind as your boyfriend pulled out of your core. Too tired to move, and the man clearly sensing that, you were scooped up into two large arms and carried off to your bedroom.

The rest of the evening a blur of being cleaned, given water to drink, and then the soft sheets and warmth of a body pressed up against you in bed, large hand stroking over your hair lovingly as you drifted off to sleep.

When you woke the next morning, it was to a grunt of pain and not pleasure. Cregan was laid on his back, hand once again pressed into his eye as his brows furrowed, desperate to alleviate the pain that settled behind it.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, turning to face him, watching as he tried to compose himself, a soft wince pulling at his features.

“Migraine again.” Cregan whispered into the early morning air.

Your hand out of habit, moved to soothe the hair at the top of his head on the side of the eye pain, in a way that was purely instinctual, in a way that you had for many years with Aemond whenever he would wake in pain, or lay in silence, biting roughly at his own lips to try and get through it alone.

Pressing a kiss to the side of Cregan’s face you crawled out of bed, “You didn’t take the painkillers last night that’s why. I’ll go get you some more.”

You had brought him the painkillers and forced him to take them with a whole glass of water, before settling back into the covers with him, soothing his long brown hair away from his face as the pain slowly dissipated away from his features.

The next week, it happened again.

The headache.

The cool half lidded gaze.

The sudden change in demeanour.

The things that he did and said reminded you so much of Aemond, that you felt immediate guilt for thinking of your late husband whilst in the throws of a rough fuck with your new boyfriend. But this time you took the reins, and told him to slow down, told him that you wanted it softer, more loving, more him.

“Sl-slow down.” You pleaded from below, thighs pressed against your chest as Cregan pushed his whole length inside of you, tip of his cock pushing against your cervix.

His eyes narrowed on you as he grunted, fucking into you harder instead, “No.” He growled, and a small spark of fear sparked up your spine.

Tears welled in your eyes as you pushed at his chest, “S-stop. Cregan, stop.” Your nails dug into his chest as you tried to push him off of you, yet his pace didn’t falter.

Your brain in its confusion pushed out a word you hadn’t used in years, a word that was reserved for you and Aemond only, a word that was to be used if you wanted all things to end.

“Perzys.”

Fire.

Cregan immediately stopped, eyes blinking suddenly as he looked down at you in a moment of confusion, and then concern. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you looked at him, your own confusion and sorrow swirling inside of you.

How did he-

“What’s wrong?”

A tear slid down your cheek as you felt him looking over you, blinking again as though trying to rise from a fog, and yet he had stopped. He stopped with a word that he shouldn’t have even known.

Or maybe you had told him. Maybe you had, a long time ago? Maybe he was confused by your sudden use of the foreign word? Maybe-

“You’re scaring me.” Your words came out breathlessly, all desire having leaked from your body and replaced with a myriad of others.

Guilt.

Fear.

Confusion.

Grief.

It was too real.

It was too familiar.

It was-

“I thought this was what you wanted, ñuha-“ Cregan’s hand flew to his eye, pressing into it roughly as he gasped out in pain.

You scrambled to sit up, pulling his length from inside of you as you held onto his face, soothing his hair away, fear replaced with worry.

“Hey, what’s going on?” You asked in concern, watching as Cregan’s teeth ground down on each other, low grunt of agony passing through his clenched teeth.

“Let me see.” You begged, mind going into autopilot as you gently grasped his wrist, pulling his hand away from his eye as he blinked down at you in surprise for a moment, a multitude of emotions flashing across his face before his hand rose, and then his face crumpled once again, and the heel of his hand pushed back into his eye.

You sprung into action, body already taking you immediately to get painkillers for him, hand reaching for the little yellow pill container before having to grab the others.

Eventually you got him to settle into bed, begging him to see a doctor, before the two of you finally agreed to see one later that week.

And what an uneventful doctors visit that was.

Two MRI’s, CT scans, and blood tests later, the doctor gave him the all clear. No growths to be seen, or unusual brain activity, not even a simple vitamin deficiency; Cregan was the pinnacle of health. The Stark came out of the doctors office with reassurance that there was no malignant growth or anything to be worried about, but a warning that perhaps stress was the causation for his sudden pains. He was given instructions to rest, and so Cregan took sick leave for the rest of the month.

Two weeks into Cregan’s rest, and the both of you were pleased to find that Cregan didn’t have another migraine attack. Nor did his demeanour suddenly change like the last time, much to your relief.

Winter had begun to roll into the realm, and the estate, being as old as it was, became far colder at times, inside than out. The fires were constantly lit to keep you both warm, and it made for a rather romantic setting for the two of you.

That morning you had gone out to get a nice bottle of wine to bring home. You were going to surprise Cregan with a home cooked meal, a nice bottle of red, and then after, if you were both feeling inclined, which you knew you would be, a slow and gentle fuck in front of the fireplace.

You had gone out of your way to avoid him that day, going to the shops to buy ingredients, prepping the dinner as quietly and quickly as you could, lighting candles in the casual lounge room for the two of you, and placing some fluffed pillows before the hearth to lounge in.

It was perfect.

Your dinner was cooked, and you were ready for the evening and with good timing. You heard Cregan walking through the hall as you put his bowl next to yours on the coffee table, placing the nice bottle of wine in the centre as you brushed down the sides of your dress and made sure your hair was perfect.

The dress you wore was tight and black, and although you had thought of wearing heels, there was no need to in your own home, so you went bare foot. Beneath your dress lay a lacy surprise. You waited to see Cregan enter the room, to see his smiling eyes and warm grin at you, but he kept on. Walking straight past the lounge, his footsteps disappearing down the vast hall.

You stood in confusion for a moment.

Maybe he was going to the bathroom.

Maybe he didn’t know you were there or that you had cooked dinner.

But he would have smelt it.

And he would have known.

You waited for a while longer, hoping he was making his way back, but when he didn’t, you began to grow impatient, leaving your steaming dinner behind to go in search for him. In that moment you cursed the vastness of the estate, but knew that Cregan wasn't really one to explore it. He kept to what he knew, and so you went to those spaces.

He wasn’t in your shared room.

Or the dining hall.

Or one of the many bathrooms.

Nor was he in the kitchen.

The estate was cold, and dark, and the coolness of the home creeped up your bare feet and into your spine, sending shivers running down it. You called out his name, hoping he would come to you so that you would eat.

But no response came.

It wasn’t until you were climbing the stairs back to your bedroom that you noticed a light on in a distant room.

A room far down the end of the east wing. A room in which Cregan knew he wasn’t allowed inside. A room in which you had not been inside of for a long, long time.

A pang of hurt and anger rose inside of you as you went towards it, feet slapping against the stones as you got closer and closer, unready and unwilling to be reasonable for such a boundary being crossed.

This was not what you had planned for the evening.

The hallway became shorter, as you got closer, and the air in the hall changed. It became colder. Sharper. More charged. And the anger that you had within you, slowly began to crackle as you came to a stop, spotting Cregan standing in Aemond’s study, his large back to you.

“What are you doing?” You demanded, hurt rising within as he stood in front of Aemond’s old desk.

There was the smallest of whispers of something not being right that began to grow in the back of your mind.

But Cregan did not answer you, nor did he turn to look at you when he would have no doubt heard you enter.

The room opened a wound you thought had been closed.

And Cregan had done that.

You stepped towards him again, no answer still from his lips.

You thought he was better than this.

You thought that he respected this boundary.

What did he want from coming into this room?

Why would he be in here?

You looked at his posture.

Bone straight.

His large hands clenching and unclenching at his side as his head stayed straight on.

Something wasn’t right.

“You shouldn’t be in here.” You told him, voice wary as you stopped yourself mere feet away from him.

Again, no answer.

Did something happen?

Was this a test?

“Cregan?”

And then you heard it.

A low chuckle.

A sound that in your years of dating Cregan, you had not heard once.

And in your years of his absence, you had missed.

It was a chuckle that sent ice running down your spine.

And yet, your feet took you forward anyway.

“Cregan?” You asked again, wariness in your voice as you tried to peer around his side and look at his face.

Was this a dream?

A nightmare?

A hum. All that came from his chest, was a deep and oh too familiar hum.

“Hm.”

Your spine stiffened, and it felt as though the air in the room turned to ice, goosebumps rising on your skin.

“This isn’t funny, Cregan. Get out.” One last attempt of courage, one last attempt of standing your ground, or at least your first attempt, which came and flew and crashed to the ground in flames.

Cregan finally shifted, turning to face you, and although it was the face of your boyfriend, it was the mannerisms of your late husband which caused you to gasp out in fear. On Cregan’s soft lips, was the sharp pull of a smirk that Aemond almost always reserved for you.

“I’ve missed you zaldrītsos.” Little dragon.

Horror flooded you.

“Cregan.” You warned in clenched teeth, afraid that if they were open, they’d chatter, “This isn’t funny.”

Growling, a tear fell down your cheek, your hands clenched into fists as you looked at him.

He had no right to be in this room.

He had no right to call you that name.

To act as he did.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Another smirk, and a step towards you, “Cregan is indisposed.”

Another tear fell down your cheek as you took a step backwards and away, watching as his eyes roamed down your body, “Cut it out, Creg. I’m serious.”

Brown hair cascaded over his shoulder as he tilted his head at you, clicking his tongue, “Oh, I'm deathly serious.” Came his purr-like response.

Your heart raced against your ribcage, blood rushing into your ears as you stared at him in shock and fear.

This-

It couldn’t-

It wasn’t-

“Aemond?” You breathed.

And it was the smile that did it for you. The smile you had prayed and hoped and dreamed to see every day for the years without it, yet now, seeing it up close on the face of your boyfriend scared the living wits from you.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he shifted lightly on his feet, not at all in the clunky manner that Cregan would have, but it in a smooth, calculated way that was every movement Aemond would make, “Have you missed me?”

You couldn’t move.

You couldn’t breathe.

You couldn’t speak, even if you dared to.

It must be a dream.

A cruel dream.

A nightmare in which you would wake from soon.

But it felt too real.

It felt too sure.

He was here.

There, right in front of you. But it wasn’t him.

It wasn’t his body, his face, his voice.

But it was him.

He took another step towards you, and your stumbled backwards, mouth agape as you looked at him, the shadows of the dark lit room falling across his face.

And then there it was.

That Cheshire Cat smile.

“Run."

Your feet bound on the flagstones as you fled in terror, racing down the stairs to try and escape, to leave the estate, to get to your car and go, or your phone, or anywhere that wasn’t near him. To get away from him. It wasn’t him.

It wasn’t him.

It was.

It was him.

Air struggled to get into your lungs as you ran as fast as you could, hands catching themselves on the stone walls, nails biting into them as you caught yourself taking sharp corners, the dark halls and stairways causing your heart to race faster, feeling as though they were closing in on you.

You didn’t dare look back.

You knew he was there.

You knew he was chasing you.

Something you had done together for fun, for pleasure, but now, you were struck with terror.

But there it was, sweet salvation.

The floor crashed up towards you as you landed heavily on your knees, tripping on the last step, not wasting anytime to check for injury nor even feel the blood that dripped down your legs, knees skinned from landing on the ancient stone floors.

But there it was.

The main hall.

And there at the end, your way out.

Your escape.

The front doors of the estate.

You raced for it, heart in your throat, air barely in your lungs as they screamed for a reprieve, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you got closer and closer, fear still crawling up your throat, threatening to break through as a scream.

And scream you did as your body was hauled off of your feet and into the air by a pair of large arms, wrapped around your centre. You kicked and clawed as you tried to get away from him, mind racing a million miles an hour, unsure of what was happening, and if it was even possible, but desperate to get away.

Not a sound, nor a jeer, nor a tease came from the man behind you. Not even a word to reassure you that this was a game, that it was Cregan, that you were safe, that this was just a long planned part of a fantasy you had expressed you wanted and he had denied.

There was no reassurance.

There was no check in.

Because it wasn’t Cregan.

It was Aemond.

And as he hauled you back down the hall and up the stairs, kicking and screaming, back to his study, tears falling from your cheeks, you knew that it was him. You knew that it had been the slightest glimmers of him in Cregan the past month. Those migraines were more, those changes were more, and you had ignored them.

Your hips collided with the desk of Aemond's study as he threw you into it, hands desperate to catch your fall, spreading across the desk knocking over items that had not been touched nor moved for years.

“I’ve had to watch him fuck you, every night.” He growled from behind, as you tried to push yourself up, his body caging you into his desk. There was a flicker of familiarity of the times you had once found yourself in a similar predicament.

“I’ve had to hear your moans and whines, knowing they were for someone else.” He said angrily, pulling at your dress, ripping it upwards as you tried to pull it back down, hands clawing backwards at his arms.

“You’re insane!” You screamed at him, “Get off me, Cregan!”

Aemond chuckled from behind, “You know it’s me. You always did like it rough,” His hands smacked yours away from him, shoving your face down on the desk again, “And poor Cregan just couldn’t do that for you, could he?”

Tears fell onto the desk below you, brain short circuiting as you didn’t know what to do or how to react, “Cregan, this isn’t funny.” You tried one last time, hoping his name would reach him, to snap him out of whatever this was, “Please, stop.”

Two large hands wrapped themselves around your wrists, bringing them both into one as he squeezed, face coming to the side of yours as he growled deeply, “Stop. Calling. Me. That.”

Aemond’s free hand ripped at your lace panties that you had worn for Cregan, tearing them to shreds from your body, the burn of the material hot against your skin. His hips pressed into you from behind roughly, and you stifled a confused and frightened sob.

“I’m going to fuck this little pussy like I’ve wanted to for years.” He emphasised with a grind against your backside, “I’ve had to watch you cry over me, my sweet byka mēre.” Little one, You sobbed loudly at the name, “Ao sagon ñuhon. Iksan dōrī ivestragī jā.” You’re mine. I am never letting you go.

It was him.

It was truly him.

Cregan couldn’t speak Aemond’s native tongue.

Cregan didn’t know the names your late husband had called you.

It was him.

It was Aemond.

You sobbed beneath him, you didn’t know if it was in relief, in horror, or in fear.

You were so confused.

“Valzȳrys?” Husband, You cried, trying to turn your head, but knowing that you would be met with a face that didn’t match.

Long fingers brushed through your folds, finding them slick already, “Shhh.” Aemond quietened you, “Let me take care of my ābrazȳrys.” Wife.

Aemond smeared your slick through your folds with the tip of his cock as he brushed against your bud and then pushed inside of you. A long groan fluttered through his chest, vibrating against your back.

He set a brutal pace immediately, the old, heavy, wooden desk jutting with each thrust, your hips no doubt bruised from the force. Tears still fell from your eyes as you cried out, feeling him pull you by your hair, causing your back to arch up against his front as he fucked into you harder, hot pants in your ear.

Aemond fucked you in a way that only he knew how, pulling mewl after mewl from you with every stroke, large palm squeezing at your throat whilst the other moved to grasp at your hip, pulling you back onto his cock roughly, slick dripping down your thighs as the coil within you began to tighten.

“So fucking tight for me.” He grunted from behind, hand coming to your front to gather some slick from your folds as he parted them further, his cock plunging inside of you from between them, “So fucking wet. I have missed this little pussy.”

His fingers pressed against your bud, swirling in time with his thrusts, causing your pleasure to mount faster and faster, the tears having stopped falling from your eyes as you moaned loudly, head thrown back against his shoulder.

Your release was bounding towards you rapidly, and Aemond felt it.

“Squeezing me so good, you gonna cum for me already?”

You nodded, feeling a smirk beside your cheek as he pressed harder against your bud, “Cum for me.”

The coil snapped, and warmth flooded over your body as your writhed in his grip, walls gripping his cock as you came hard. Aemond increased his pace, fucking into you harder as he squeezed your neck roughly, mind spinning and vision going black in the corners.

You felt like you were floating.

You hadn’t felt like this in years.

Aemond moaned from behind you as your walls clamped down on him, “Such a perfect little pussy.” He thrusted deeply into you, grinding the air out of your lungs as your mouth dropped open, “Made me for me. Only me.”

You body began to feel heavy as he continued to squeeze your throat, mind going fuzzy as you floated in bliss, his cock drilling into your walls, the sound of your slick release obscene in the room as he clapped his hips against yours.

“You’re mine.” Came a growl that sounded just like Aemond’s voice and not Cregan’s, tip of his cock jutting into your cervix painfully, “Forever.”

You nodded weakly and whined, “Yours. Only yours.”

Tears began to spring into your eyes again, knowing that this was Aemond. Knowing that this was him, but also knowing that you could never have him truly. Knowing he was gone, and never coming back, and although you had tried, although you did love Cregan, you would never truly move on from Aemond.

You would always be his.

The grip around your neck pulled away and blood rushed to your head, strange euphoria taking over as you felt his pull out of you from behind. You stumbled forward slightly before he caught you, turning you around and lifting you onto the desk. And although you were staring at Cregan’s face, with his stormy grey eyes and his brown hair, you could tell just by the way his features contorted, by the way he moved or talked or fucked you, that it was Aemond.

And at this, more tears came.

Aemond sucked his tongue at you, wiping away a tear roughly as he pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, and without waiting another second, slid back inside of your walls, a needy moan falling from your lips as you continued to cry.

Aemond began to rub at your clit again, sending blinding pleasure back up your spine. It was almost too much, too intense, added with everything else, your mind was running in circles.

You whimpered and tried to run away from his fingers, which only served to anger him.

“Stop crying.” He ordered, hand slapping at your clit in warning causing you to yelp.

You hiccuped and sniffled, body jolting with every thrust as he pushed you backwards to lay down on the desk, hovering over you, one hand gripping your shoulder to pull you back down on him, the other pressed onto your swollen bud, “You like when I fuck this little pussy?” He grunted, and you closed your eyes, trying to imagine his face instead of seeing Cregan’s.

“You’ve been thinking of me, haven’t you?” He chastised you, tutting meanly as you nodded your head with a suppressed sob, “He could never fuck you the way I can.”

Pleasure mounting within you again, all you could do was nod and babble yes.

This seemed to both please and anger Aemond, his thrusts speeding up as your spine rubbed painfully into the hard wooden surface, “Cregan could never give you what you want. What you need. He’s useless.” A tear tracked down your cheek as you turned your head away, looking at the far wall as he ploughed into your cunt, “It’s only me. Only I can make you feel this good.”

You moaned beneath him as you felt your second peak rising just as rapidly as the first, his hand not once relenting. But your non-answer came at a cost. Pain bloomed in the side of your cheek as you squeaked, slap having caught your attention as Aemond pinched your jaw in his hand to look up into eyes that weren’t his.

“Say it.” He thrust into you sharply and as deep as he could go, sparks of pain rippling through your cervix in a haze of confusing pleasure.

“Only you,” You whined, “Always you, Aemond.”

“Good girl.”

Aemond’s pace increased, determined to bring you to your end as well as reach his, each thrust jolting the desk against the floor and punching the air from your lungs. You knew that by morning you’d be an aching and bruised mess, but that thought only brought you closer to your peak.

Loving kisses were dotted against your cheeks as Aemond soothed the tracks of tears away with his lips. Your hands reaching up to wrap themselves around his shoulders and your legs around his waist, desperate to pull him in closer.

“Please.” You whimpered, but you didn’t know what for.

Aemond’s arms scooped under your back and pulled you closer to him, changing the angle so that his cock pressed deeper and at a higher angle, one that he knew you loved the most.

And it was all that you needed before you fell of the edge with him, head tossed back in ecstasy as you came for the second time, Aemond following you with a long moan, pressing as deep as he could inside of you.

“I love you.” You whispered into his neck, feeling his cock pulse inside of you, cum filling up your walls.

Your hands soothed the hair at the front of his face in a way you knew he liked, and you felt him shudder from above, kisses pressed into the crux of your shoulder and neck as he whispered into the skin.

I love you.

All too soon, the high of your ecstasy fizzled away, and reality came crashing down around you. Your arms and legs tightened around him, small hiss coming through his teeth as your walls clamped around him.

The stinging prickle of tears filled your eyes again, “Please don’t leave me.” You cried, heart beginning to feel as though it was breaking all over again.

Aemond pulled away from you, though not without a struggle, a different face looking down at you with a familiar sign of love. His hand came to brush the tears away from your cheek slowly, before he leant down to pull you into a kiss, your lips shuddering as you poorly contained a sob, “I will never leave you.” He whispered against your lips, “Not now, not ever. I am always here.” He pulled away, soothing your hair from your face as his brows pulled together in a way that you knew pain was coming.

You tried to sit up, to try and soothe his pain, to instinctually run for the medication you had kept all these years, but he stopped you, cupping your cheek with his large hand as he looked down at you, eyes now full of determination, “I am always watching you. And one day, Cregan won’t be a problem anymore.”

You blinked in confusion as you looked at him, your own brows furrowing, but before you could even respond, his eyes shut in pain and a groan whittled through his lips, heel of his hand pressed into the side of his face where Aemond had lost his eye.

“Aemond?” You whispered quietly, unsure what was happening.

Grey eyes opened slightly, looking at you in confusion as he blinked a couple of times, “Huh?” A low groan came from deep within his chest as he clutched the side of his head, “Wha- Wher-“

“Cregan?”

His eyes opened at you again, and then did a sweep of you and the position you were in. You looked no doubt a mess, hair tousled, neck red from where Aemond’s- Cregan’s hands had squeezed, down to your ripped dress, to finally where you were still connected, your combined releases leaking onto the old wooden desk.

Blinking rapidly he noticed the tear tracks staining your cheeks, and suddenly the pain was pushed away by concern. Cregan’s hand came to touch your neck tentatively, fear rising on his features, "Are you okay?” His voice was rushed, “Are you hurt? Did I- Did I hurt you?”

Guilt and pain struck in your chest.

He thought you were hurt.

He thought he hurt you.

You shook your head rapidly, clutching the sides of his face in your hands, “No, no. You didn’t hurt me. Not at all.”

Cregan seemed to relax at this, though there was still confusion as he looked at you, forehead pulled in pain as he tried to piece everything together.

“Did we…”

You bit at your lip, worrying it between your teeth, “Are you okay? Do you remember anything?”

The man closed his eyes for a moment, trying to think, “I remember smelling food, and then I had this urge to go somewhere.“

Your heart began to race in your chest as you looked at him. You wet your lips with your tongue, eyes searching his face for any sign of Aemond left.

What had just happened?

Was any of that real?

What was happening to you?

What was happening to Cregan?

“Hey.” Cregan caught your attention again, lowering his face to your height, “Are you okay?”

Your mouth was dry.

Were you okay?

No.

Yes.

You didn’t know.

“I’m okay.” You lied.

Cregan frowned at your obvious avoidance, “You sure I didn’t hurt you?”

“Positive.” You reassured him, pressing a kiss to his cheek, your stomach turning.

When you pulled away, Cregan was watching you with caution again.

“What?” You asked quietly, fear beginning to rise inside of you.

Did he remember?

Does he know?

Did he-

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You couldn’t help it.

You couldn’t stop it if you tried.

A broken sob fell through your lips like a half laugh.

Had you?

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the general tag list please let me know on the general taglist post here :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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wongyuseokie · 2 years

Text

Mine | JJK

Summary: Jungkook really shouldn’t have ventured into the house that no one else did, and he really should have seen the warning signs, but something about you drew him in, and now, he was in and never getting out.

☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ☁︎ angst | ♕smut | ♥ completed works Word Count: 5647 words

Age: 18+ Pairings: Jungkook x Demon! Female Reader

Genres/AUs/Tropes: Smut, Angst, Horror

Warnings: Unprotected sex, OC is much more than someone who manages a haunted house. Keep reading to find out. Squirting, deception, and revenge at its finest. Mentions of blood and Koo falls over and scrapes his knee. Multiple orgasms, and oral male and female receiving, call it a sinister Pokémon hunt?

Author’s Note: Kinkotober? Halloween smut is based very (EXTREMELY) loosely on the Haunting of the Bly Manor. Also, lowkey based on Taylor Swift’s Blank Space MV, the last scene, where she kills the guy and then gets ready, a new guy shows up at her door again, and the music restarts. You’ll get it later 😅 Authors Note 2: I wrote this fic some time ago, and I wanted to revive it (GET IT) for Halloween. This is my contribution to The Nightmares of Mystic Manor collab hosted by BTS Dream Court and BTS Carnival Net Authors Note 3: I didn't think I'd revive a fic, much less this one, but I could not have done any of it without my lovely friends who took time out of their days to hear me yell about banners and content for so long, thank you @shina913 and @here4btsfics for taking the time to read through this and give me feedback and help beta this! I adore you both endlessly!! 💕 Banner Credits: @classicseffects Cross Posted to AO3 © playmetheclassics 2022. All rights reserved.

Jungkook loved Halloween.

It was the perfect time to play jokes and scare the shit out of people and the perfect time to encourage his “no fear, and YOLO” agenda. But tonight, he had different plans. He was going to do something that no one would dare, and for that very reason, Jungkook had to do it.

There was a mansion on Hill Street. It was rumoured to be haunted. Once upon a time, it housed a mob boss. Anyone who ever crossed him was met with a long and torturous death. He often took care of business at home. People have said that the manor’s walls had witnessed brutal murders. Decades later, the ghosts of the mob boss’ victims continue to roam the halls, wailing and screaming for mercy. and The story was that anyone who walked into that house never came out, and every Halloween, some idiot would venture into that house to never be seen again.

Jungkook laughed at all the rumours, but he was about to become that idiot tonight.

“Dude, just keep your location on, okay? Once you get to the house, just send me a message, and if your ass isn’t out by tomorrow, I’ll call the police,” Jimin warned. He was exhausted from trying to reason with Jungkook.

Jungkook could be as stubborn as a mule, and he nodded, seeing how Jimin finally gave in which made him so happy. “I’m fucking serious. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll kill you before whatever resides in that house kills you first!” Jimin said, and Jungkook nodded, this time taking the words of his friend thoughtfully.

“Noted! Now, I shall see you tomorrow if the house hasn’t killed me before that,” Jungkook jokes, making Jimin glare at him.

God, how he hated Jungkook’s adventurous streak and wished that he could tie him to a chair until Halloween was over. Jimin knew, Halloween or not, Jungkook would still venture into the house, regardless. Might as well let him do it once, get spooked and never try again, Jimin rationalised as he glared at Jungkook, who excitedly packed his bag and laced up his boots.

“Alright, see you never, Hyung!” Jungkook said as he headed towards the door, earning a smack upside his head from Jimin.

“Just go on and get your adrenaline fix! I will see you later, you brat!” Jimin nearly yelled, and Jungkook nodded, giving Jimin a tight hug before leaving.

“Damn!” Jungkook said as he reached the edge of the forest, where the manor was. He couldn’t lie to himself–it was eerie! The entire journey here was right out of a horror movie. It was dark and foggy and oddly quiet. It was just an old house, according to Jungkook, nothing else. Just a stupid old place with horrible rumours.

Jungkook would merely step inside, take a selfie and possibly say hi to a non-existent disembodied soul and then leave. And then brag to Jimin about how he was invincible and how Jimin was too worried for his own good.

However, despite how brave Jungkook was, he couldn’t ignore the feeling that he was being followed or watched as he got out of his car and approached the manor.

Jungkook always had a terrible habit of walking with his head held too high. Often, this meant he would miss a step and trip, and that’s precisely what happened as he approached the manor. He tripped and scraped his knee. He hissed in pain as he got up on his feet, only to jump in fear when he felt a hand on his back.

“Hi,” a small voice spoke from behind him. The voice filled the silence of the forest, and Jungkook swore his heart nearly stopped. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

“Fuck- what the hell,” Jungkook gasped, panting hard as he placed his hand over his chest to steady his erratic heartbeat.

“Jesus, who are you?” Jungkook asked you. There was something about you, he thought, something ethereal and angelic. It was almost as if you were glowing. However, he didn’t dwell on it for too long. It was a forest, and it was foggy, it could have just been his eyes.

“Y/N,” you said, and Jungkook nodded slowly. “Are you following me or something? Who else would come to the Hill Manor?” He asked, staring at you, and you let out a soft laugh that Jungkook could have sworn sounded like music, like a choir of angels singing. But there was an underlying hint of something more sinister behind your laughter. But again, he didn’t dwell on it for too long. After all, ghosts didn’t really exist for him.

“I manage the Hill Manor, so I feel like I should be asking you what you’re doing here? Anyway, what’s your name?” You asked, moving your hand away from Jungkook’s back. And he swore that he felt the part that your hands were just on tingle. It didn’t hurt, but it felt funny.

Again, he didn’t think anything of it.

“Jungkook,” he said, smiling softly at you.

“Fuck, aren’t you nervous to, like, live here? Aren’t there ghosts and shit inside?” Jungkook asked, making you smile. The sweetest smile ever, he thought.

“Ghosts don’t exist, but I’m guessing you’re an adrenaline junkie. Here to prove something to your friends?” You questioned him, and Jungkook nodded shyly.

“Well, it’s a good thing I caught you. Most people try to break in and then run away when they hear my footsteps approach the front door,” you joked, making Jungkook smile.

“Come on, why don’t you come in? Your cut looks pretty deep and needs to be cleaned out. I have a first-aid kit inside and we can bandage it up, then afterwards, you can take as many selfies as you want,” you offered, and Jungkook nodded as he followed you towards the manor.

Jungkook could have sworn that the blood loss was affecting him more than usual. Your movements were so lithe…which made it really strange since the path to the manor was unpaved and uneven. Any normal person walking through this area would be staggering around. But you weren’t walking. You were floating. Your feet never touched the ground, but he thought that maybe he was starting to hallucinate due to blood loss, and again, the forest was foggy.

People don’t float. At least…not normal people.

“Holy shit,” Jungkook breathed out he entered the manor, and you closed the door behind him.

“What? Did you expect bodies and carnage?” You asked, and Jungkook shrugged, making you laugh.

“I manage this house, so I make sure to clean, and care for it. Besides, why would I want to make it look less appealing when my job is to get this place sold?” You explained, and Jungkook nodded as he looked around the house.

“Wait, you actually have buyers interested in this property? I thought the scary stories would have put them off?” Jungkook asked, and you smiled at him and shrugged.

“Well, I guess. I’m banking on finding one of those eccentric buyers that think living in a rumoured haunted house is cool,” you joked, making him grin at you.

“Why don’t you sit down? I’ll grab that first aid kit for you,” you suggested, and Jungkook nodded as he sat down in the living room. Everything looked modern, but what really caught his eye were the oil paintings on the wall. They were portraits, and he could have sworn one of the faces resembled yours. But again, he didn’t give it much thought.

“I can’t take these down. It adds intrigue to the house,” you said as you found Jungkook eyeing the paintings.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that one looks a lot like you,” he jokes, pointing at the specific portrait, earning a smile from you.

“Now, wouldn’t that be crazy?” You said, laughing and Jungkook nodded, agreeing.

It would be fucking crazy.

“I thought you were grabbing a first aid kit?” Jungkook asked as he saw a wet washcloth in your hand and disinfectant in the other.

“My grandma taught me old school methods. She said it’s always important to learn how to treat injuries without relying too much on modern medicine,” you explained, making him nod.

“Will I still get a band-aid?” Jungkook jokes, and you smile, nodding.

“Of course,” you answered as you sat on the couch next to him.

“Lift,” you said, nudging Jungkook’s thigh, and he hesitated. You rolled your eyes and slid off the couch to sit on your knees in front of him.

“Oh no, I can lift my leg,” Jungkook replied quickly, feeling bad for making you sit on the floor. You smiled, shaking your head at him.

“Lean back, let me clean your knees. You have tiny pebbles and dirt on them,” you offered, and he nodded, leaning back.

Jungkook winced when you dabbed his knee with the disinfectant. “Ow!” Jungkook whined, earning a soft chuckle from you.

“I thought a man covered in tattoos would have a higher pain threshold?” You joked, earning a scowl from him.

“That was voluntary pain, this is not,” Jungkook argued, and you shrugged.

“You decided to visit this manor. Despite everyone telling you not to, I’m sure. So… this counts as something pretty voluntary to me,” you said as you dabbed a salve on his wound.

“Are you always this sassy?” Jungkook asked, and you smiled at him.

“It depends on my mood,” you answered.

“And what has gotten you particularly sassy this Halloween evening?” He asked, and you sighed.

“Well, I used to throw Halloween parties here, but we had an incident some years ago where this family decided to bring their toddler. Needless to say, she got spooked. Word got out and we got some bad press. Since then, Halloween has become quite lonely,” you explained, and Jungkook nodded.

“Until you tripped. I was taking a walk, and as I was heading back, I saw you were first staring at the house and then fell over,” you explained, earning a glare from Jungkook.

“You saw me fall and didn’t help?” He asked incredulously.

“I’m helping now, aren’t I?” You spoke, and Jungkook nodded. You smiled, wrapped bandages around his injured knee and stood up.

“Thanks,” Jungkook said.

“Uh, any way I can repay you?” Jungkook asked as you sat on the coffee table across from him.

“I’d suggest joining me for a drink, but I’m assuming you drove here?” You asked and Jungkook nodded sadly.

“Ah, yeah, I’m sorry,” he scratches his neck.

Just then, as if by some force of God or magic, the wind started to howl outside, followed by some lightning and a loud thunderclap, making Jungkook throw his head back and groan.

“Welp, I guess I’m here until that dies down. I hope that’s okay?” Jungkook asked, and you nodded.

“More than okay. What’s your poison?” You asked, and he stared at you strangely.

“I feel like that’s a terrible thing to ask someone in a haunted house,” Jungkook jokes, and you laughed, leaning forward as you stood up.

“Do you scare easily?” You asked, and he looked up to meet your gaze.

“Nope! And I’ll have whatever you’re having,” Jungkook said confidently, leaning back into the couch, making you smile at him as you wandered off to the kitchen to fix him a drink.

A few moments later, you return and present him with a glass of amber liquid and ice. “Here you go!” Jungkook mouths his thanks as he accepts the drink. He took a sip of it, then immediately grimaced at the intense, burning feeling that went down his throat.

“Fuck, what is that?” He asked. He didn’t exactly hate the taste, but it certainly didn’t feel like anything familiar that he’s tried before.

“Whiskey, but it’s kind of an old treasure from this house. One of the previous owners had it, and well, I guess it got stronger over time?” You chuckled.

Jungkook’s eyes widened in awe. “So…we’re drinking a dead man’s liquor,” he laughed, “That’s got to be a solid reason to haunt you!” You roll your eyes at him.

“Why are you so damn convinced that this house is haunted?” You asked, and Jungkook shrugged.

“Where there’s smoke, there’s usually fire,” he said wisely, earning a chuckle from you.

“Alright, ghostbuster, would you like a tour of this manor?” You asked, making Jungkook’s eyes light up, nodding enthusiastically. “Finish your drink, and I’ll show you around. When we’re done,I’ll leave it up to you to decide whether or not this house is haunted,” you said, making him smile.

“Deal, but I do want a selfie with a ghost,” Jungkook jokes. You stifle a smile in response as you watch him down the rest of his drink.

“Oh, wow- I can see why this place would scare someone though,” Jungkook gasped as he followed you up the grand staircase that led into the hallway where the bedrooms were. “So if I opened the door to one of these rooms, would I see a spirit?” He asked playfully, earning a nudge from you.

Just as Jungkook laughed, a flash of lightning illuminated the second floor of the manor. He swore he saw someone behind you, just a shadow, but it wasn’t yours.

He immediately dismissed it.

“Scared yet?” You teased, making Jungkook glare at you.

“Here,” you said, handing him a bottle of liquor. “Take another sip of courage.” Jungkook grabs the bottle from you and takes a long swig, making him shudder. He would never get used to that burning sensation but at least it soothed his nerves.

“Okay, I’ll say this- this place is quite creepy,” Jungkook said as you guided him along the first floor and to another set of stairs.

“Come on, we haven’t even gotten to the best part,” you said as you climbed up another set of stairs, only for Jungkook to grab your wrist slowly.

“Wait, can I walk ahead?” He asked–showing off a bit–, waiting for you to tease him, but you just smiled at him.

“Are you scared?” You asked. There was no humour in your tone. You were honestly concerned.

“Spooked,” Jungkook admitted, and you smiled at him.

“Sorry. Why don’t we take a little break? We can relax in my room. It’s a lot less creepy,” you said, making him nod.

There was something so eerie about the hallways in this house, almost as if someone was lying in wait, ready to pounce at any point and drag him into the shadows…where he would meet a slow and painful death.

Jungkook’s grave thoughts are interrupted when you grab his hand and guide him to your room. He flinched at the contact because your skin was painfully cold to the touch…but then again, the entire house felt frigid. He thought that maybe you needed to sit in front of the fireplace or something to warm up but judging by the light clothing you had on, it looked like you were already used to the house’s arctic nature. You did live here, after all.

“Here,” you said, letting go of Jungkook’s hand as you opened your bedroom door. You let him in first and turned around to close the door behind you, not bothering to lock it.

“Yeah, this room is a lot more, I guess, bright?” Jungkook said, not knowing what to say. He wanted to say that this was the only room in the house that didn’t look insidious or scary. You walked closer to him, placing your hand on his back. He recoiled slightly but relaxed when he turns to face you.

“It’s okay to admit that you’re scared. I wouldn’t judge. Not at all. My first three months in this house, it was hell. I’d stay awake all night and wait ‘til broad daylight to get some sleep. But you get used to it, you know,” you shrug Hearing that gave Jungkook a small sense of comfort.

“Why don’t you sit?” You said as you guided him to your bed, and Jungkook nodded, kicking his shoes off and sitting on your bed, wincing slightly when his wounded knee grazed your mattress.

“You okay?” You said, approaching him and standing in between his legs. Jungkook nodded, smiling at you.

Jungkook didn’t know what exactly it was, but there was something magnetic, practically hypnotic, about you. He first felt it when you touched his back when he fell, and it never went away. You were drawing him in, and for some reason, Jungkook felt at ease. It wasn’t like you had wings, devil horns, or fangs. You were just a person…with a strange job.

“I’m just going to change into something more comfortable, but why don’t you make yourself at home?” You suggested, and Jungkook nodded as he settled further into your bed, allowing the soft sheets to caress his skin.

Jungkook fished out his phone to message Jimin and update him. He did breathe out a sigh of relief when he saw that his phone hadn’t mysteriously died upon setting foot into the house. That would usually happen in all horror movies.

Jungkook shot Jimin a text with his location, replied to a few other messages, and sent Jimin a selfie and a quick note about how you helped him out. Jimin replied, ‘use protection,’ making him chuckle as he placed his phone on your bedside table.

When you emerge from the bathroom, Jungkook nearly chokes at the sight of you.

“Y-you’re glowing…you know that?” Jungkook stutters, and you smile at him.

“What?” You asked, laughing as you climbed into the bed sitting inches away from Jungkook.

“You have this glow around you. Literally, like an angel, a halo if you will,” Jungkook said, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“I’m guessing that yo’re single? Your pickup game is pretty weak,” you teased, and Jungkook pouted at you.

“Hey!” He scoffed.

“It’s true, I am single, but that wasn’t a pickup line! I was merely stating a fact,” he said, and you smiled, inching closer to him.

Jungkook was painfully aware of the fact that your version of changing was simply removing your hoodie, leaving you in your tight tank top and leggings that hugged every inch of your legs. You weren’t wearing a bra, he could tell.

He tried to be a gentleman, but he was only human. Your hardened nipples were poking through your shirt, and Jungkook wanted to latch his lip around them while his hand played with the other.

“Then tell me…what is your game like?” You asked, your voice low, and he smiled at you.

“I don’t talk a lot. I prefer to show,” he said, staring directly at you, making you smile at him.

“Show?” You cocked an eyebrow, playing along with him.

“I can demonstrate…if you like?” Jungkook asked, and you nodded.

“May I?” He asked, and you nodded, yelping slightly as Jungkook wrapped his arm around you and pulled you onto his lap. “You’re so cold,” he said as he wrapped his arm around your waist, his fingers moving to inch up your tank top slightly and settling on your skin.

“I guess you’ll have to warm me up?” You said, making him smirk.

“And here you are saying my pull game is weak?” Jungkook teased, earning a playful frown from you, and laughed.

“Fuck, Y/N! If I start, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop,” Jungkook said, and you smiled at him.

“Then don’t stop,” you whispered, and Jungkook groaned as you moved to place a soft kiss on his neck.

“Fuck- shouldn’t I at least take you out on a date or something first?” He asked, and you smiled, sitting on his lap.

“You wanted to pay me back for fixing up your knee? This can be it,” you said, and Jungkook grinned.

“Fuck, I came here with the intent of taking a selfie with a ghost,” Jungkook joked as he pulled you in closer, and you laughed.

“Well, just say you fucked one,” you joked as he laughed along with you.

“Come here, let me show you how grateful I am,” Jungkook said as he pulled you in for a kiss, and you moaned, immediately kissing him back with his lips gently massaging yours. He moved away when he felt you tug at his shirt and lifted his arms, allowing you to take off his top.

“So good,” you mewled as you took in his body. His abs seemed to trail down endlessly. Jungkook smirked before pulling you back in for a kiss, this one more desperate, making you moan. He took it as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

His hands moved to the hem of your tank top, and he yanked it,off your body, exposing your breasts to him.

“Fucking hell, your tits are amazing,” Jungkook moaned in approval as he wrapped his lips around your hardened nipple, while his other hand massaged your other breast.

“May I?” he asked, as his hand slithered down to your cunt.

“Fuck- Jungkook, please,” you begged, and he shamelessly smirked at your state. He pushed you off his lap and onto the bed, laying you on your back. Jungkook’s hands went to your leggings and pulled them off along with your panties, groaning and moaning when he felt how wet you were.

“Fuck, all this for me?” Jungkook asked, making you sigh in pleasure. His hands trailed up your thigh and stopped, spreading your legs apart further, laying down between them. You could feel his breath on your cunt, and it didn’t help that he gently blew on your cunt, making you buck your pussy into his face.

Jungkook gripped your thighs tighter and pulled you close, his nose hitting your clit making you moan at the touch.

He moved his mouth to wrap around your cunt, sliding his tongue up and down your folds. He was listening to your moans, waiting to see when his tongue would meet the spot that would have you cumming. Your thighs started thrashing in his grip, and he figured that he found the perfect place.

He moved and wrapped his lips around your clit, his tongue jutting out and harshly flicking at your clit. Your hands went to his hair, knotting themselves in his soft curls. Jungkook slipped two fingers into your cunt, moved them in and out of you making your walls tighten at the onslaught.

“Fuck- Jungkook! So good,” you breathed out. Jungkook hummed into your pussy, the vibrations making you clench even tighter. He enjoyed the praise, always eager to please. He kept moving his mouth, sucking and flicking your clit, while his tattooed fingers continued to pump in and out of your pussy.

You felt something snap, and you pulled at Jungkook’s hair. You fell apart on his tongue and fingers. He wasted no time lapping up your release.

It was almost inhuman how quickly you undid Jungkook’s trousers and shrugged them off. Within seconds your lips were wrapped around his cock.

Jungkook was thick, and your hands wrapped around the remainder of his length as you took him and started to suck him. He let out a sound that sounded like a mix between a low growl and a strangled whimper as you continued to suck him.

You grazed your nails along his thighs and he let out a shaky breath, bucking his length into your throat, making you gag slightly. You hollow your cheeks and bobbed your neck up and down his length, sucking and licking until you felt him still, releasing in your mouth.

Jungkook couldn’t get enough of you. His eyes drank you in; his mouth was desperate to taste you again. He approached you and lifted your legs, placing them on his shoulder, his mouth immediately finding your cunt.

Jungkook dove straight in, his thick tongue flicking against your swollen clit. Your hands made their way into his hair. He pushed in three fingers this time and it didn’t take much before you came on his tongue. Jungkook lapped at your release while you whimpered in oversensitivity.

“Let me kiss it better?” Jungkook offered.

You rolled your eyes at him, “Just fucking do something.”

Jungkook smirked as he dove straight in. Again. He started by running his tongue along your folds, moaning at the taste. He gently grazed his teeth against your clit, making you buck your face against his mouth. He wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked while his tongue constantly ran over your swollen clit.

“More,” you begged as your head fell back into the bed. Jungkook complied and slipped three fingers inside you as you moaned at the stretch.

Jungkook moved his three fingers against the inside of your pussy and kept hitting against the rough patch of the skin. His tongue kept running over your clit while his three fingers thrust in and out of you at a fast pace.

“Fuck! Jungkook, I want to cum,” you whimpered as he kept fingering and licking you. Jungkook moved his fingers faster, and you felt your orgasm wash over you, your thighs threatening to snap shut around Jungkook’s head.

“Mm?” He looked up and smirked when he saw how fucked out you looked. Jungkook helped you ride out your orgasm with his fingers and tongue, and you were practically mewling as you tugged on his hair. He loved knowing that he could do that with just his tongue.

Jungkook rubbed his cock against your wet folds several times and then pushed in. “Fuck,” you hissed. “Fuck you’re tight,” Jungkook groaned.

You hissed as the stretch was quite intense after three orgasms, but he felt so good. “Move,” you whispered, and that’s all it took for Jungkook to lift your legs and place them on his shoulders, allowing him to hit deeper inside you.

His thrusts were rough, and each time he would withdraw only to push back harder and deeper.

Jungkook’s thrusts started to get more uneven as he closed in on his orgasm. He reached down and rubbed at your swollen clit, making you cum around his cock. Not long after, he came inside you, making you moan at the feeling of him pulsing and spurting into you.

He removed your legs from his shoulder and moved down your body. Jungkook’s mouth found your cunt, as he licked his cum out of you, making you orgasm yet again. You whimpered, tugging at his hair and pulling him up to hold you.

You came around his tongue whimpering in pleasure, but Jungkook wasn’t done. He got off his knees and pulled you into his arms. Your back was pressed against his chest, and he spread your legs wide open as he trailed two fingers down to your cunt.

He slipped his fingers into your cunt and started pumping. Jungkook wasted no time. He had one goal: to make you cum as many times as humanly possible.

“Fuck,” you whined as you grabbed his tattooed arm. Jungkook moaned as he sucked on your neck. You felt your vision fade as you came hard and practically snapped your legs shut and curled into Jungkook’s embrace.

“Fuck, that was-” you stopped speaking when you saw you had squirted all over his hands. “That was fucking hot,” Jungkook said as he pulled you closer to him.

“Happy Halloween, I guess?” Jungkook said, laughing, making you smile as he pulled you into his arms. “Fuck- so good,” you said, curling into his chest and placing soft kisses on them.

Jungkook found your kisses intoxicating. They were making him dizzy, but maybe that was just a testament to how good your kisses were. You smirked triumphantly when you noticed that he, like many, fell into a deep sleep when you pulled your lips away from him.

And he would stay that way for a while.

“This fucking moron,” Jimin cursed as he got out of his car. It had been a day since Jungkook left on his stupid adventure. He hadn’t called or returned home since telling Jimin that he was with a female who kept him occupied.

The fact remained, he willingly entered an alleged haunted house. Anything could have happened to him…

Jimin stepped out of his car and glanced at the manor suspiciously. Why would anyone in their right mind ever venture into this house that was beyond eerie and looked like it was straight out of the multiple horror movies Jungkook frequently watched.

The thick fog made it hard to see, but he swore that the ground he was walking on was smooth until he tripped. While Jimin was prone to falling off most objects, the ground was even, so why did he stumble and graze his knee, and why did it almost feel like he was pushed? He looked around but saw no one.

Jimin shook his head, cursing when he saw his knee bleeding. He hissed in pain as he got up on his feet, only to jump in fear when he felt a hand on his back.

“Hi,” a small voice spoke from behind him, the voice filling the silence of the forest, and Jimin swore his heart nearly stopped. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea, and perhaps he could go on with the rest of his life without wondering if Jungkook was fucked and killed by a demon.

“Fuck!” Jimin yelled, panting hard as he placed his hand over his chest to steady his erratic heartbeat.

“Jesus, who are you?” Jimin asked you. There was something about you, he thought. Something ethereal and angelic. It was almost as if you were glowing. However, he didn’t dwell on it for too long. It was a forest, and it was foggy. It could have just been his eyes.

“Y/N,” you said, and Jimin nodded slowly.

“Are you following me or something? Who else would come to the Hill Manor?” Jungkook asked, staring at you, and you let out a soft laugh that Jimin could have sworn sounded like music, like a choir of angels singing. But there was a hint of something more sinister in your laughter. Again, Jimin didn’t dwell on it for too long. After all, ghosts didn’t exist for him.

“I manage the Hill Manor, so I feel like I should be asking you what you’re doing here. Anyway, what’s your name?” You asked, and Jimin smiled, replying.

“Jimin.”

You smiled, blushing.

“You must be Jungkook’s friend. Jungkook described you so well and spoke about you nonstop,” you lied.

“He’s- uh, recovering. Why don’t you come in, and I’ll get you a band-aid for your knee?” You suggested continuing your lie, and Jimin nodded.

You seemed harmless, and you smirked as Jimin followed you into the manor. You did the same thing with Jimin, flirted, fixed his grazed knee, and planted a soft kiss on his cheek, saying how good of a friend he was, and that was enough.

If a man kissed you, they’d be fine. But if you initiated the kiss on any part of their body, that was when they would fall under your spell, enraptured, bound, and kept.

The first step was to establish some physical contact, and you did that by pushing the men down the minute they stepped towards the manor.

Then you would appear. Act as a regular Florence Nightingale and try to heal their wounds, and then, once you are done, you would make them fall deeper with each touch.

And with every touch, the poor souls would forget why they were ever in the manor to begin with.

All they’d know is that they wanted to spend their time in the manor ravaging you, and you would let them, gladly.

And when you were done with that, you would kiss them. A final kiss, a kiss which had the magic to put them to sleep as you moved them into another room.

A room where all your lovers and conquests would stay, be well fed and taken care of. But they could never leave, and if they tried, then you shuddered to think what would happen. You hated to ever kill one of those handsome, gullible men.

Which is precisely what you thought when you moved Jimin to his private room. He could never leave, but only you could enter. There were seven rooms in the house for this purpose, and you would take your sweet time filling them.

It made you laugh at times. All the signs were there, the old whiskey, the portrait that had your face on it.

It was your manor. You ruled it and haunted it.

You were left heartbroken by a man once—well, several centuries ago. But with the perks of being an immortal and a succubus, you decided that you would get rid of the wings, and the tail, and adopt a more modern look and lure men in.

No man was ever going to leave you, you’d ensure it. You smirked as you locked Jimin’s door and checked in on Jungkook as he was still sound asleep. You knew he had five other friends, and one by one, you will capture them all and keep them.

Had they been wise, they would have paid attention to the rumours because, indeed, there was no way to leave once you entered this house. They were all yours.

“All mine,” you said, caressing Jungkook’s soft face as you closed his door and took his phone to message his friend Taehyung. And once he texted that he was once his way, all you had to do was quietly wait by the forest, trip him up, and you’d have another one.

In the end, you could say, “Finally, they’re all mine.”

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