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jiminjamms · 9 months

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sex therapy :: 25. messed up

chapter tags/warnings: naoya fucks toji's ex-wife again. aggressive sex. creampie-ing. misogynistic! naoya. hurt/comfort. naoya views women as nothing but a hole. broken marriage. heavy angst. infidelity/adultery. family drama. strong language. manipulation undertones. corruption.

word count: 4.1k

notes: thank you always for all the support! on to the plot for our final arc! this beginning excerpt is a rewording from a line in “spy x family” (any fans out there?) that i believe captures the dynamics in our characters as well. enjoy! likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated. xoxo

fic masterlist | 01. 02. 03. 04. 05. 06. 07. 08. 09. 10. 11. 12. 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18. 19. 20. 21. 22. 23. 24. 25. 26. 27. 28. 29. 30. 31. 32. 33.

❝ Every person has a self that one conceals, a side not shown to anyone else. Not to friends. Not to lovers. Not even to family. Behind lies and painted smiles, individuals shield their true natures and desires…and, in doing so, the world thus maintains its thin veneer of peace. ❞

Who in the world was Toji Zenin?

The Toji that you had always known was Toji Fushiguro, so what was your husband’s cognomen doing besides your sex therapist’s first name on the latter's university diploma?

Even Google seemed to deny that Toji Zenin existed.

Showing results instead for ‘Toji Fushiguro.’

No, that was not what you wanted!

One step forward in understanding this enigmatic man might as well be three steps backward because, each time you thought you had learned something about him, you only come to the realization that nothing much had been discovered at all.

But as investigations via search engines, social media sites, and Wikipedia pages proved futile, sources that could quell your curiosity dwindled.

So, you turned to your last resort.

“Who’s Toji Zenin?”

“What—”

Across from you, the raspberry macaron in Mai’s hand stopped by her lips as the girl snapped her focus from the pastry to your unanticipated question, with Maki visibly turning stiff in the adjacent chair. The three of you sat surrounding a small table in the twin’s private lounge, located in the northern wing within the Zenin residence.

Visiting the central family property was not uncommon ever since your engagement and wedding earlier this year, but the architecture would never fail to impress you. The mansion itself resembled the Imperial Palace more than anything—an edificial centerpiece defined by the elegance and simplicity inherent in traditional Japanese design, with latticework embellishing the wooden exterior and, inside, carefully painted doors opening into tatami rooms.

Given that Mai and Maki were back in Tokyo for their summer breaks from universities abroad, the sisters established themselves as your close friends and had brought you into their tea room, adorned with European furnishings that would come off as atypical compared to the Japanese heirlooms elsewhere in the residence. On the table sat an imported tea set from England, at the center a French-inspired pastry tower prepared with caramel-topped croquembouches, chocolate-covered profiteroles, and the like.

In great admiration, the sisters had been barraging you with inquiries about your life back in your bachelorette days, asking about your volunteering trip to the Philippines or the charity auctions in Dubai.

Now, with the shift in discussion, the sisters exchanged an uneasy look.

An entire conversation appeared to be held in the way they traded glances. The usual sparkle in their eyes faded, which must mean the girls were remarkably uncomfortable, but Mai forced a polite smile as she placed down her macaron.

“Y/N,” she began carefully, “May we ask how you know Toji?”

Even though she tried to spin the question as casual curiosity, her apprehension could not be more obvious.

“I don’t know him, really,” you lied. While dishonesty went against your morals, watching the twins’ shoulders fall with relief was enough to assuage the guilt. “He’s just…” My friend, to put things in the mildest terms. “He’s just a name I have heard. That’s all.”

Maki dabbed at her mouth with a lace handkerchief, not making a big deal as she added, “Toji’s a cousin.”

So, the Zenin last name on his diploma was not a coincidence at all.

Such a groundbreaking discovery should have thrown you into a whole whirlwind but, to be frank, the realization did not come off as too surprising at all. If anything, Toji as a member of the Zenin family was the perfect explanation to why Toji seemed so astute, why he would talk like he knew more about Naoya than you, and—as Geto had once said—why Toji was ‘not where he could possibly be.’

While Toji’s reason for opting for the Fushiguro name remained a mystery, what you did know now was that he was indeed affiliated with the twins before you by blood, which—by extension—must mean that Toji would also be a cousin to…

…your husband.

Wait.

An unsettling chill ran down your spine.

“Cousins, as in,” part of you didn’t want to know the answer, “distant cousins? Or…?”

“No,” the older twin interjected matter-of-factly, not knowing the full background behind your seemingly innocuous question. “First cousins.”

Ah, so the closest type of cousins possible, which was exactly what you had hoped not to hear. With this additional information, you tried to hide the clamminess in your palms. What would be the best word to describe this void now? Did you feel disappointed? Misled? Betrayed? Toji certainly had known that you were wed to his younger cousin, yet he willingly chose to hide his background as he kissed you, touched you, and fucked you.

A reversal from your sentiments before, you currently felt both disgusted and hurt.

Why did Toji keep this information from you? What sick person derived satisfaction from having sex with his first cousin’s wife? You were so damn stupid for placing all your trust in him. Looking at the situation now, he was just another iteration of the same manipulative and disrespectful man you had been trying so hard to avoid.

“Are you close with Toji?”

Mai shook her head. “No. We don’t talk to him anymore.” Her comment struck as odd. Anymore? Had they once been, then? Before you could ask, her gaze darted around in caution before she leaned forward and said lowly, “For your information, Naoya got into a huge dispute with him earlier this year.”

That’s quite recent.

You understood that Mai and Maki had been uncharacteristically tight-lipped as they did not want to slander the family heir in front of his wife. Blissful ignorance was what the twins must be thinking, hoping to preserve the peace between you and your husband. However, what you had yet to reveal was the broken marriage that had been masked for everyone’s sake, disguised by a pretense that all was well.

Which was why, on that note, the timing could not have been more perfect as a tall young man with ombre hair and hazel eyes flung open the door in one unforgiving slam, rattling the fine china and startling the seated individuals inside.

“There you are, you whore!”

Your eyes widened with shock upon seeing Naoya Zenin in the entryway, your husband’s scowl icy and malicious. He came stomping toward you as his eyes held a dangerous hostility that was impossible to ignore, and you could oddly sense an impending doom when he stormed with zero regard for anything in his path, kicking aside a potted plant and toppling over a ceramic vase.

Standing up, you tried to hide the confusion that befuddled your already mish-mashed brain.

Today was Tuesday.

Was he not supposed to be at work?

“Naoya,” you began calmly, cognizant of the onlooking sisters behind you, “this is not the right place to—”

“You’re such a fucking desperate bitch, aren’t you?” His words were sharp and bitter, his glare filled with hatred like a fire doused with gasoline. Before you could request clarification, he stopped steps away and swung his right hand up, pressing a black business card to your stunned face, the paper crinkled from his intense grip and rendering you petrified in your stance.

No, this couldn’t be…

From your peripheral view, you watched Mai and Maki place their hands over their open mouths as they read Toji Fushiguro’s calligraphed name on the business card that also had in obvious words: 'sex therapist.' Shame racked your stomach. Merely minutes ago, you convinced the twins that Toji was to you nothing more than a name, and now, karma bit you back like a bitch.

With your voice evaporated, you croaked.

“Where did you find that?” You had been sure that you placed the badge away.

Naoya used his anger to crumple the card and tossed the now useless paper ball to the side. “In your purse,” he gritted, “How long were you planning to hide this from me?”

The ensuing guilt suffocated you. “I—” I don’t know.

Sensing the weakness in your will, Naoya burst into a maniacal laughter that cracked through the air, creating a disconcerting symphony. He bent forward, shoulders convulsing with every diabolic and mirthful guffaw.

“You’re so god fucking pathetic, woman. Do you have any idea who Toji Fushiguro is? That bastard is Toji Zenin, you ignorant slut—he is my cousin. Well, I guess I never told you about him, though, because he doesn’t fucking matter anymore anyway. I don’t know how you ended up crossing paths with him, but this is hilarious!” The man kept cackling and roaring like he had gone insane. “Were you two brewing shit about me? Actually, let me guess since you’d gotten hold of this business card: did you have sex with him? Did you have sex with Toji? Going around fucking your husband and then your husband’s cousin is nothing to be proud of. Tell me, did you meet the other sex therapists as well? Did you get stretched out by them, too? Whose dick did you like best? Whose? Whose? Is that what you like, being passed around and used like some sick trophy? What a fucking animal! How dare you disrespect our marriage. How dare you disrespect your own hus—”

Your hand lashed out before you could suppress the impulse and delivered one resounding slap across Naoya’s face. You watched him shut up and stumble backward, clutching his cheek.

"Ow!"

For a moment, the world seemed frozen still: the sisters gaping in complete stupefaction, your husband staring at the ground wide-eyed, and you heaving from the incoming emotional onslaught.

”How dare you…How fucking dare you disrespect me!” The coalescence of anger, agony, and resentment—bottled up in your heart for months upon months—was now being released as you dissolved into tears. “What the hell is wrong with you?! How could you say such messed up things? You are sick in the head, Naoya, you know that? Out of respect for myself, how could I possibly respect you?!” The only sound echoing in the room became your uncontrollable cries, sobs that escaped past your lips in raw and muffled bursts. Torn apart by sorrow, you could hardly breathe from how constricted your throat had become, your knees wobbling and weak. “Y-You have no idea how lonely and miserable I have been since I walked down that aisle. For the past six months, you—as my husband—have done absolutely nothing but make me feel like a rat in my own home, a mistress in my own marriage!”

“Fantastic! Exactly what I wanted to hear, I am glad I have made your life horrible!” Naoya snarled, not caring for how everyone else’s eyes widened at the scathing statement. Unbelievable. Truly, painfully unbelievable. Did your husband really just say that to your face? He could not give a shit that you wept pitifully, instead catching your shaky wrist in the tightest grasp possible as he added on, “My only regret is that I had not made your life even worse.”

“What the fuck!” you heard Mai gasp as a gut reaction.

What the fucking fuck, indeed.

While you had been subject to Naoya’s verbal harassment during these many weeks, for him to tell you that he wished he had tortured you further was beyond heartless. The searing ache that burned your skin might as well be fatal because your respiration turned erratic like someone had trapped you inside a bubble.

Hyperventilating, you subsisted on shallow gasps.

“Don’t go around thinking that you’re any better, alright? You’re calling me pathetic for sleeping with your cousin, but have you considered that I had been placed in that position because, since the start, you’ve been cheating on your wife?”

Yelling at his face allowed you to release more tears from your lachrymose eyes. Now, Mai and Maki must truly be appalled at all these revelations. What happened to the fairy-tale marriage you had told them about? Well, that never existed to begin with, and with these thoughts in mind, you found a sadistic satisfaction in watching your lawful spouse fume with deep-seated rage.

“That’s right,” you mused with derision, “we’ve been two sides of the same coin all along.”

Naoya clenched his hands at his sides, disgusted to have been compared to you. “Do not put me on the same level as—”

“No. No, you don't get to talk! All you have done since we have been married is for you to talk and complain and bitch about everything, but now, this is my turn,” you screamed in return. “I…I hate you!” and you pointed right at him, “In fact, I despise you. You never tried to see what I had to tolerate to stay with an asshole like yourself because you had been too busy sticking your dick into another woman while you could hardly look at me! No wonder your cousins worried about me. No wonder Toji told me to file for a divorce. Because you, Naoya Zenin, are a total piece of shit!”

His momentary pause hinted at the tiniest self-actualization that flickered within him. Perhaps he finally realized how you had been feeling now that you freely spat out all the turmoil that had been chaining your soul. He took one additional step toward you, torn between whether he should keep up with his anger or succumb to remorse for hurting you.

But, knowing this man, he—of course—opted for the former.

“I never,” he seethed lowly, “wanted this marriage.”

Maybe you truly have become deranged or maybe you genuinely found his statement funny, for you began to emit tearful cackles in your laughter.

“Now, that is one big fucking lie.” Since your earliest encounter, Toji had suggested that Naoya solely regarded you as nothing more than ‘a sweet, innocent fuck,’ and the longer you had stayed with your husband, the more you began to acknowledge how these accusations were all true. “We all know that you’re going to be nothing without me. A CEO who could hardly keep his wife for half a year? What a loser. What makes you believe that I wanted to be married to you? Who do you even think would want to do business with you after this? You never had respect in the real world because all that respect rests upon me.”

While you never fully understood Naoya, your words must have snapped a particular chord in him because he suddenly lunged forward.

“Fucking cunt—”

But before he could get too close, you darted away from him. “Don’t touch me!” you shrieked, voice shrill from the top of your lungs. “Do not ever touch me again. If you want to lay your dirty hands on someone, go touch your girlfriend instead!”

That’s right, he had another woman who he doted on far more than he could appreciate you. This wedding band, this engagement ring on your left hand meant absolutely nothing. Toji had been spot on—why the hell did you cling onto stupid shit like this, twisting the jewelry as if that would save your messed-up union? Without further empathy, you slid off the two rings and hurled them toward your husband’s chest before the circlets clinked upon hitting the ground.

At first, Naoya scoffed. He watched the ludicrous scene with a comical gaze, and when his brain processed what he just saw, he quickly fell onto his knees. All at once, he tossed his head back and let out a chortle—a full-bodied cachinnation that took the room completely aback—as his hysteria mounted.

“Good, good, good!” His screeches were like those of a maniac, his chuckles haunting, throaty, and lacking in sanity. “I’m glad that you’ve come to show the witch that you have been all along! Look at yourself! No wonder no one wanted you!”

Unable to be a bystander any longer, Mai stood up and hurled toward her cousin. “Shut the hell up, Naoya!”

But the said man was quick, using one powerful movement to punch the older twin first. “You shut the hell up, scum. Unless you want to be pummeled to the point where people will feel sorry to look in your direction.”

“Watch what you say!” and when Naoya turned to the new voice, the evil glint gleaming from his brown eyes appeared ablaze.

“Oh? Someone’s bold, too. Shall I bully you first then, Maki?” the timbre in his disdainful laugh crescendoed into unhinged amusement. “Say one more word, little girl,” he taunted, his imp-like face riddled with mockery. “C’mon. I dare you. I will throw you into the courtyard and beat your ugly face up. That’ll bring back warm memories from the good old days, huh?”

The younger twin gritted her teeth, her sister reaching for her arm as a signal to back down and stay levelheaded.

Meanwhile, once Naoya rose from the floor, he nonchalantly kicked at the rings because those emblems of your union had always been meaningless garbage anyway.

“If wanted to leave this badly, then fucking leave,” he deadpanned, his tone the calmest he had been this whole time. “I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

Those were your husband’s last words as he walked away, leaving you sobbing and shuddering with a lost soul and sore heart. While weeping and gasping, you had to endure watching his figure fade from view, all while wanting to stop the uncomfortable distress that heightened with his departure. You were huffing, panting, trying to stop your trembling.

The second Naoya slammed the door behind him, Maki ran up to your side and embraced your shaking form, all while you bawled and clutched at yourself. Her expression remained strong, but her palms were damp as they pressed onto your back, her arms quavering slightly as she soothed your cries.

“Sh, don’t cry. My sister and I are here, okay? Mai and I will protect you. Everything will be alright.”

Despite her reassurances, she sounded nearly as broken as you appeared, especially when your hand violently trembled because nothing could save you from the agony that drowned your tattered soul. You felt the disgusting urge to throw up—you were completely broken inside. In a futile attempt, you sought to regulate your breaths with one deep inhale.

Yet, at some point, Maki peeled back and she mouthed something.

Was she talking to you?

Why…why could you not hear her?

She sounded so muffled, as though you were underwater.

Why did everything sound so far away?

With your throat constricted, you could not breathe. Gagging. Gasping. Big, huge gulps of air, but the oxygen failed to enter your lungs. You couldn’t breathe. You could not fucking breathe.

You gripped the fabric by your chest and your other hand sought for something else to hold, but you ended up on the ground anyway. Choking. Coughing. Was something foaming at your mouth? Something warm and wet spilled from your orifices. Were you vomiting? Why were you vomiting?

Holding your body upright, Maki was the only reason that you had not remained on the floor like a fool, but even she stared at you with concern and…horror? Why did she look so scared? Was she screaming? She looked like she was screaming, but her face appeared all contorted like you were looking at her through a fish-eye lens.

After a while, you could not even see her or her sister anymore because your vision turned spotty and then black.

See!

Open your eyes, and see!

Why could you not see?

When your hearing returned to some degree, the sounds that filled your ears were frantic shouts and endless clamor.

“Call Toji! He’ll know what to do. Hurry, where is your phone?” It was Mai. Scrambling. Bags were being opened. Items being tossed. “Call Toji, now!”

A phone started to ring.

Buzzes and buzzes and more buzzes as the waiting intensified.

Then voicemail.

Hello, this is Toji Fushiguro.

“He is not picking up!”

Unfortunately, I am unable to pick up the phone right now.

“Get…”

But please leave your name and number—

“Get Megumi.”

—and I will return your call as soon as possible.

“What about Tusmiki?”

“Tsumiki is still in London at university, idiot! Call…Call Megumi!”

“Okay. I know, I know! I’m calling him already!” someone screamed back. Was this Mai? Was this Maki? You could no longer tell, but the same person shouted, “Wait, wait. He is calling back. Toji is calling me back.”

“Then pick up the phone!”

“Toji…” one of the twins started, the cracks in her tone making her sound like she was weeping too, and her words composed your last bits of memory before the world dissolved completely. “Please…help us.”

Even labeling Naoya Zenin as ballistic would be far too much of an understatement.

The rage, wrath, and sheer indignation that swelled in his every capillary surpassed the twenty-five years' worth of virulent rancor that he had for his fucked-up family.

Since when did you get so goddamn arrogant? Naoya wanted to hurt you, ruin you, and do everything in his power to sabotage you.

Not just you, though. Because that would be too easy.

But also his father, his cousins, his ex-coworkers, and—most importantly—Toji.

Such ill feelings were what led the Zenin CEO to practically leap into the Mercedes-Benz that awaited him at the entrance to his family home, and he immediately ordered his chauffeur to press on the pedal toward a very certain condominium several kilometers away.

Fifteen minutes later, a very surprised Mari opened her door and an enraged Naoya greeted her, shoving her against the wall and colliding his lips into hers for a fierce kiss. His actions lacked passion, only charged with aggression as he stripped her and threw her onto the living room sofa. He could hardly care that he treated the woman as though she was nothing more than a prostitute, while the latter mistook her boyfriend’s rage for desperation, and she begged for him to pull at her hair and force his tongue down her mouth.

At some point, Naoya drove his mistress’s face into the couch cushion and dragged her hips to have her ass raised high. He was too clouded by fury and too blinded by anger to think twice before he forcefully penetrated the woman. He fucked her raw and held her close, jostling her body as though she was a ragdoll, eliciting her loudest mewls that cried for his name.

“J-Just like that!” she whimpered, eyes rolling to the back of her head as he pummeled into her dripping hole, paying no mercy for destroying her with his ruthless pace. Her knees gave out from under her, and she crumbled from the sofa and into the carpet, only for him to tumble too to follow the socket he needed to keep his dick soaked.

“I need to break you,” he hissed.

Fuck, he was going to come soon.

His nails left crescent marks on her flesh, his hands burning her scalp as he tugged her strands and met her buttocks with hard thrusts, and he knew he was going to come.

Feeling the first of his seed trick into his mistress’s life-giving cavern, he toyed with the idea of giving Tsumiki and Megumi a baby sibling. That would be fun. He could then imagine the subsequent mortified reactions from his deplorable cousin and from his wretched wife (whom he would hardly call himself married to anymore, anyway). The fantasies, everything that he would do to spite those who had wronged him, had Naoya cackling as his viscous cum spurted from his tip and deep into his mistress’s womb.

He pulled out once he made sure that every single drop had been milked from him, his ejaculate dribbling from her pussy like someone had taken a bite from a cream-filled donut.

Rolling into the carpet and onto her back, a panting Mari took two fingers and pressed his precious seed back into her cunt. “That was so hot.” A lazy smile pulled across her face. “Thank you for the unexpected visit.”

Naoya completely dismissed her comments as he tucked himself back into his pants, not in the right mood to respond.

“Cool. Clean this mess up,” he demanded instead, “I’m leaving for work.”

He ignored the woman’s ensuing pleas to stay at least five minutes longer. Unlike her, he had better things to do, and he rushed out as he fetched his phone from his back pocket and surveyed for any messages he might have missed while he had been away.

But when he turned on his screen, his most recent notification had his blood turn cold.

last chapter || next chapter

end notes: The absolute fury in the argument, the complete panic between the twins, and the maniacal temperament in our husband…so much packed in this chapter! If you can’t tell already, my favorite POV to write from is Naoya’s, ha. Also, I took some creative liberty here to convey the intense emotions, so let me know what you think! Hugs to all.

taglist: @dissociatingdiva @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @nemoyr @huangfairy @shadowarchon @203steph @agentdedf1sh @cloudybabes @lynn-writes-things @illicitwriter @7oji @kikuchimi @chaoticjojofan @musicisme333 @kumocchin @s-guru @mwahilovemylife @hey-gurls69 @cloudsinthecosmos @moon-mumu-moon @kazscara @skilerfrostfairy @funicidals @nico707 @proteovaldez @tsukiyohanayome @marimoares @qirbys @puffaloxx @sakanoshitaa @arizzu @kissditrio @lewd-bunny14 @mistyheart @szired @supsii @yvy1s @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi @the-cosmos-network

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privateinvestigatorsuniverse · 6 months

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kckt88 · 1 month

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A Dragon's Heart III

Summary:

As Aemond struggles cope in the wake of Viserra's departure he makes a confession to Alicent and Aegon confides in Rhaenyra.

Warning(s): Angst, Arranged/Unwanted Marriage, Swearing, Family Drama, Dragons, Infidelity, Uncle/Niece Incest, Smut, Oral Sex, Semi Public Sex, P in V, Revelations, Referenced Character Death.

AEMOND x O.C

Word Count: 8,600

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0

The atmosphere in Storm's End was thick with tension, the sombre weight of the funerals lingering like a storm cloud over the ancient castle.

The discussions regarding the succession had been heated, with various lords and ladies voicing their opinions on who should inherit Borros Baratheon’s seat.

The halls had echoed with disagreements—some advocating for Rhaegar, others for the unborn child Viserra carried, some for Cassandra or Maris. But none had found consensus, and the shadow of uncertainty loomed over the castle.

Rhaenyra and Daemon, their faces stern and resolute, had stayed behind after the ceremonies, not just to pay respects but to ensure that House Baratheon’s future was secured—and their own interests protected.

The arguments had been many, and Daemon’s temper had flared more than once, his hand often hovering dangerously close to the hilt of Dark Sister.

In a private chamber, away from the prying eyes and ears of the castle, Rhaenyra, Daemon, and Cassandra faced each other.

The tension in the room was palpable, a silent battle of wills playing out between the three of them.

Cassandra broke the silence first, her voice cold and biting. "I wonder what would the Lords of the realm think if they knew of Viserra's affair with the Queen's one-eyed brother? And that her children are really bastards?"

Daemon’s hand clenched around the hilt of Dark Sister, his knuckles whitening. The underlaying insult towards his daughter was almost more than he could bear, and it took all his restraint not to unsheathe his sword then and there.

Rhaenyra, sensing the rising tension, interjected calmly. "There is no need for anyone to know of anything, Lady Cassandra. We can keep this matter between us—if you agree to my terms."

Cassandra's eyes narrowed; suspicion etched into her features. "And what terms would those be?"

"In exchange for your continued silence, I will name you Lady of Storm’s End," Rhaenyra stated plainly, her tone leaving no room for doubt. "Furthermore, I will arrange a marriage between you and Lorian Tyrell and your firstborn child, regardless of their gender, shall be named the heir to Storm's End, plus I will lower your taxes for the next two years-"

Cassandra hesitated, the offer tempting but the bitterness of her loss still fresh. "And what of the murder of my father and sister? Am I to believe that justice will be served?”

Rhaenyra’s expression remained composed, though a flicker of annoyance crossed her eyes. "My council is investigating the incident, but as of yet, no conclusive evidence has been found."

Cassandra scoffed, her anger simmering beneath the surface. "It’s obvious who the culprit is—Aemond. He had more to gain than anyone with my father out of the way. He’s now free to marry Viserra, and by that marriage, he will be the future King Consort."

Daemon let out a harsh, mocking laugh, the absurdity of the accusation too much for him to contain. "Aemond? Do you truly believe he had the means or the opportunity? He was never been absent from his duties. There were countless witnesses who can attest to that."

Rhaenyra nodded in agreement. "The notion is ridiculous. Aemond wasn’t involved. His every movement is accounted for."

Cassandra opened her mouth to argue further, but Daemon, his patience finally worn thin, cut her off. "Enough. You will accept the Queen’s generous terms in exchange for your silence, or House Baratheon will burn."

As if on cue, the castle shook with the echoing roars of Caraxes and Syrax, their fury filling the air, a reminder of the power Daemon and Rhaenyra wielded.

Cassandra stiffened, her face paling as she realized the seriousness of the threat.

Glaring at Rhaenyra, Cassandra finally relented. "I accept your terms."

As Rhaenyra and Daemon turned to leave, Daemon paused, leaning in close to Cassandra, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. "Mind your tongue, Lady Cassandra. Speak ill of my daughter again, and you will regret it."

Cassandra swallowed hard, her defiance faltering under the weight of Daemon’s words. She watched silently as they left, the door closing behind them with a finality that left her feeling as though she had narrowly escaped a dragon’s maw.

Outside the chamber, Rhaenyra glanced at Daemon, her expression a mixture of relief and irritation. "Must you always resort to threats?"

Daemon smirked, unrepentant. "Only when it’s necessary, my love. Now can we leave this fucking castle"

"I think it best-" replied Rhaenyra.

"Do you think perhaps we could make a stop on our return journey to the Red Keep?" asked Daemon smirking.

"To what end valzȳrys?" questioned Rhaenyra, as she straightened the golden crown on her head (Husband).

"I find myself wanting my wife-come ñuha idaña perzys. I know of an inn we can make use of" replied Daemon as he took Rhaenyra's hand and practically skipped his way back to where Caraxes and Syrax were waiting (My twin flame).

Another week had passed, and Aemond’s mood remained dark and volatile. The confirmation of Cassandra’s acceptance of Rhaenyra’s terms had brought little comfort; if anything, it only deepened his frustration.

Despite the successful negotiations, Viserra was still kept away on Dragonstone, and the distance gnawed at him, a constant, unbearable ache.

His frustration boiled over during a training session in the courtyard, Ser Erryk Cargyll had been his sparring partner that day, and things descended into chaos pretty quickly and it took three guards to drag Aemond off Ser Erryk before he nearly beat the man to death, leaving the seasoned knight bruised and bloodied on the ground.

After hearing about the attack, Alicent could no longer ignore the feeling of uncertainty that swirled in the pit of her stomach, she had grown increasingly concerned by Aemond’s behaviour and she needed to speak to him.

She found him the dimly lit library; the heavy silence of the room was only broken by the crackling of the fire.

Alicent approached him, her expression a mix of worry and frustration. "Aemond, we need to talk," she began, her voice firm but tinged with concern.

“About what?”

“I’m worried about you” replied Alicent

"I'm fine, Mother-" said Aemond not looking from the book in his hands.

Alicent’s eyes narrowed, her patience wearing thin. "You are not fine. Your actions speak otherwise. Beating a knight nearly to death, avoiding your family—this is not you."

Aemond’s grip tightened on the book, his knuckles turning white. "I said I’m fine."

"Stop lying to me!" Alicent snapped, her voice rising with a mix of anger and desperation. "You're not fine, Aemond! You're falling apart, and I can see it as clearly as everyone else. You’ve always been the strong one, the composed one, but now-now you’re crumbling, and I don't understand why!"

Aemond’s control finally cracked, and he slammed the book shut, the sound echoing through the library. "I can’t cope with being separated from Viserra any longer!" he shouted, his voice raw with emotion. "I need to see her, to feel her and I want my son!"

The silence that followed was deafening. Alicent’s eyes widened in shock, her hand trembling slightly as she processed his words. "Your-what?"

Aemond scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Oh, come on, Mother. Don’t act so shocked. Deep down, you knew that Rhaegar is my son."

Alicent shook her head, her voice faltering. "No-no, that’s not true. He’s Borros’s son, you couldn’t—"

“I was the one who lost an eye; you have no excuse to be so blind!" Aemond interrupted, his voice cold and cutting.

Alicent’s shock quickly turned to anger, her voice trembling with emotion. "How could you be so foolish, Aemond? To get involved with a married woman, to father a bastard—"

"Because I love her!" Aemond’s voice was loud, filled with a mix of pain and defiance. "I’ve always loved her"

Alicent stared at him, her expression a mix of disbelief and horror. "How long has this been going on?"

Aemond’s eyes were dark, filled with a storm of emotions. "Since the night of the Driftmark petition," he admitted, his voice low.

Alicent gasped, her face paling as the words sunk in. "You-you’re lying," she whispered, unwilling to believe it.

"I’m not," Aemond insisted, his voice steady. "-After the fight with Jacaerys, I followed her to her chambers, and I took her maidenhead. Then at Storms End after she offered her hand in marriage to Borros, I went to her room and spent the night fucking her. Then on her wedding day I fucked her before the ceremony, she spread her legs for me and it felt so good-"

Alicent’s hand flew out before she even realized what she was doing, the sharp crack of her slap echoing through the library.

"How dare you be so vulgar!" she spat, her voice shaking with fury and disbelief. "What happened to my dutiful son? The one who was always so perfect, so obedient?"

Aemond’s eye hardened, a cold smile playing at his lips. "I grew up" he replied, his voice laced with bitterness. "I grew tired of being the perfect son who works for everything and receives nothing. So, I saw what I wanted, and I took it."

Alicent’s heart ached at his words, her mind reeling from the revelations. The son she thought she knew was slipping away from her, consumed by his love and obsession for Viserra.

"Aemond-" she began, her voice softer now, almost pleading. "This path you’re on, it will only lead to more pain. Please, think about what you’re doing."

Aemond’s expression didn’t waver. "I’ve thought about it more than you know, Mother. I will have Viserra and Rhaegar back, and no one will stand in my way."

With that, he turned and left the library, leaving Alicent standing there, her heart heavy with the weight of her son’s choices.

Aegon found Rhaenyra in her solar, the room lit softly by the afternoon sun streaming through the high windows. She was seated at a large wooden desk, a quill in hand, reviewing parchments with a furrowed brow.

He hesitated at the doorway, unsure of how to begin. Rhaenyra glanced up, noticing his presence, and offered a small, polite smile. "Aegon," she greeted him, setting the quill down. "What brings you here?"

Aegon stepped inside, his usual bravado replaced by an uncharacteristic seriousness. "I need to talk to you. It’s about Aemond."

Rhaenyra’s expression grew more concerned, her attention fully focused on him. "What about him?"

Aegon sighed, running a hand through his silver hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. "He’s not doing well. The separation from Viserra and Rhaegar-it’s tearing him apart."

Rhaenyra looked at him, her gaze searching. "Yes. I’ve noticed his temper has been worse lately”

"It’s more than that," Aegon replied, his voice strained. "Aemond’s losing his mind. Granted he’s always been intense, but this-this is different. He’s on the edge, and I’m afraid of what might happen if we don’t do something."

Rhaenyra leaned back in her chair, considering his words. "I sent Viserra and Rhaegar to Dragonstone for their safety and to quell the rumours”.

Aegon shook his head, his tone more urgent. "I understand that, but Aemond can’t cope without them. He’s never known what it’s like to be loved unconditionally. Our mother, for all her attempts to be a good mother, isn’t as loving or nurturing as she should’ve been-"

"Aegon" whispered Rhaenyra.

"-Aemond has spent his life trying to prove himself, to earn love that should have been freely given. Viserra-she’s the first person who made him feel like he was worth something, that he was deserving of love. She completes him in a way no one else can."

Rhaenyra’s eyes softened as she listened, her heart heavy with the truth in Aegon’s words. "I never realized-"

Aegon pressed on, his voice thick with emotion. "Aemond is falling apart without her. He’s been isolated and unloved for so long that when he finally found someone who loves him as deeply as Viserra does, it became everything to him. Without her, he’s lost."

Rhaenyra’s gaze dropped to the parchment in front of her, her fingers tracing the edges absently. "But the scandal—"

"Scandal be damned!" Aegon interrupted, his voice rising with frustration. "Aemond deserves to be happy! He deserves to have the love that’s been denied him his whole life. It’s too late for me—" He paused, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. "—but not for Aemond. He has a chance to have what I’ll never have. Please I beg you sister, don’t take that away from him."

Rhaenyra’s heart clenched at his words, the raw emotion in his voice piercing through her own concerns.

She had seen Aemond’s growing instability, but hearing Aegon’s plea, the way he laid bare Aemond’s pain and longing, struck a chord within her.

She nodded slowly, her resolve softening. "I never wanted to hurt him, Aegon. I just wanted to protect them all"

"I know," Aegon replied quietly, stepping closer to her. "But keeping them apart is causing more harm than good. If Aemond is kept away from Viserra and Rhaegar any longer, he’s going to have some kind of breakdown. And when that happens-I’m not sure if anyone will be able to bring him back."

Rhaenyra let out a long breath, the weight of Aegon’s words settling heavily on her shoulders.

She looked up at him, seeing the earnestness in his eyes, the desperate hope that she would listen and act before it was too late.

"I’ll send for them," she finally said, her voice soft but firm. "Viserra and Rhaegar can return to the Red Keep”

Aegon’s expression softened with relief, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Thank you. You’re doing the right thing."

Rhaenyra nodded, her mind already racing with the arrangements that needed to be made. "I hope this will be enough to bring him back from the edge."

"It will," Aegon assured her. "Viserra’s love will be enough."

As Aegon left the solar, Rhaenyra sat quietly, the decision she had just made echoing in her mind. She hoped, for Aemond’s sake, that it would be the right one.

Aemond stormed into his chambers, his mood as dark as the night outside. The maid who had been tidying up startled at his entrance, quickly bowing her head.

Before she could offer any words of welcome, Aemond snapped, "Leave. NOW!" His tone left no room for argument.

The maid quickly gathered her things and hurried out of the room, the heavy door closing behind her with a muted thud.

Alone at last, Aemond began to strip off his armour, piece by piece.

The chest plate, the pauldrons, the vambraces, all discarded with little care, until he stood bare in the dim candlelight.

He wrenched off his eyepatch and moved to the basin where a bath had been drawn earlier, the water still warm. He sank into it, letting the heat seep into his tired bones.

For a moment, he closed his eye, trying to shut out the world, trying to wash away the frustration and anger that clung to him like a second skin.

After the bath, Aemond dried himself off and dressed in a loose cotton tunic and sleep pants. He glanced at the food tray the maid had left behind, his stomach growling faintly. He picked at the food, eating only enough to quiet the gnawing hunger before pushing the tray aside.

He tried to settle down with a book, one of the many he had collected over the years, hoping to lose himself in its pages.

But the words blurred before his eye, his thoughts too tangled to focus. The strain in his eye worsened, a dull headache forming at the base of his skull.

With a frustrated sigh, he snapped the book shut and tossed it aside.

He lay down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind racing despite his exhaustion. His thoughts inevitably drifted to Viserra and Rhaegar.

How he missed them. The emptiness in his chest was like a gaping wound, one that no amount of duty or distraction could heal. He felt foolish for being so consumed by it, for feeling so dependent on their presence, but he couldn’t help it. They were his world, and without them, he was lost.

He thought back to the older women he had bedded before Viserra and he realised that whilst they may have taught him how to pleasure a woman, he himself had never experienced true pleasure until he was with Viserra.

The sex with the women felt good at the time, but after it always left him feeling hollow and empty to the point where he thought something was wrong with him, seven knows Aegon offered bragged about his conquests and the delights of the women he bedded, or sometimes the men if his drunken ramblings were anything to go by.

Aemond never truly understood it until Viserra. Fucking her was euphoric, and it always left him wanting more, no matter how many times he sheathed himself inside her, it was this feral need inside of him to possess her at all times.

Daemon told him that Targaryen's would often call to their own, their dragon's blood singing for one another. Maybe that's what is was.

Was it the reason why Daemon was so insistant in his pursuit of Rhaenyra, and why they would often be seen sneaking off somehwere, but then why wasn't Aegon or any of the others like that?

Did it only affect certain Targaryen's or did finding their perfect mate awaken something inside of them?

As he lay there, his thoughts began to spiral. What if something happened to them? What if Viserra fell ill again on Dragonstone, and he wasn’t there to protect her? The thoughts gnawed at him, feeding his anxiety until finally, exhaustion began to pull him under.

His heavy eyelid drooped, and he surrendered to sleep, hoping it would bring him some peace.

But peace was not to be found. His dreams were vivid, almost cruel in their clarity. He dreamt of Viserra and Rhaegar, holding them close, feeling their warmth, their love. For a brief moment, he was content. But then, it twisted into something darker.

He saw Viserra, her face pale and frightened, Rhaegar crying in her arms. Aemond tried to reach them, but his feet were stuck, as if rooted to the ground. No matter how hard he strained, he couldn’t move.

And then Borros Baratheon appeared, his face twisted into a grotesque mockery of life, his dead eyes gleaming with malice.

He wrapped a hand around Viserra’s throat, squeezing as he dragged her into the darkness.

Rhaegar’s cries for his mother echoed in his ears, desperate and filled with fear. Aemond fought against his invisible restraints, but it was no use.

Just as the nightmare seemed to reach its peak, Aemond suddenly felt a soft touch on his cheek. His heart stuttered as he heard a sweet, familiar voice.

"ñuha jorrāelagon" (My love).

He opened his eye, the nightmare dissolving into nothingness. Before him, sitting on the edge of his bed, were Viserra and Rhaegar.

Viserra’s hand was still on his cheek, her touch warm and real.

Rhaegar, with his bright eyes and innocent smile, threw his little arms around Aemond’s neck, hugging him tightly.

“Kepa” exclaimed Rhaegar (Father).

Aemond sat up, shock and disbelief warring within him. "Am I dreaming?" he asked, his voice hoarse, afraid to believe what his senses were telling him.

Viserra smiled softly. "No, my love. We’re real and we’re home."

Aemond woke late in the morning, sunlight filtering through the thick curtains of his chamber.

He glanced down and saw Rhaegar, fast asleep, snuggled up to him with one hand curled against his chest.

A tender smile tugged at Aemond’s lips as he watched his son, peaceful and content in his slumber.

A faint rustling caught his attention, and he turned his head to see Viserra sitting at the table, absentmindedly picking at the breakfast foods that had been delivered while he was still asleep.

Her hand rested gently on the small swell of her stomach, a sight that made Aemond’s heart skip a beat. He couldn’t tear his eye away from her—Gods, how beautiful she was.

Even in the simplicity of the morning, with her silver hair loose and her expression relaxed, she was a vision of grace and love.

Noticing that he was awake, Viserra looked up and met his gaze. A soft smile spread across her face. “You looked like you needed sleep, so I didn’t want to wake you,” she said quietly, her voice laced with warmth.

Aemond carefully detached himself from Rhaegar, ensuring the boy remained undisturbed, and slipped out of bed.

He crossed the room in a few strides, his focus entirely on Viserra. When he reached her, he bent down and kissed her passionately, pouring all the longing and relief of the past weeks into that single, fervent embrace.

"I’ve missed you," he whispered against her lips, his hand cupping her cheek.

Viserra smiled, her hand coming up to rest over his. “I missed you too,” she murmured back.

Aemond’s gaze dropped to her stomach, his fingers following. He placed his hand gently over the small bump, his touch reverent.

“It’s only been a few weeks” muttered Aemond.

“I know-” replied Viserra softly.

“Mayhaps there’s more than one babe” whispered Aemond.

“Don’t even joke about that” said Viserra.

Aemond laughed softly before he leaned in and kissed her again, a tender kiss full of love and gratitude.

Then, an idea seemed to occur to him, and he looked at her with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Stand up for a moment,” he requested.

Viserra raised an eyebrow, curious but obliging. She stood, and Aemond took her place on the chair, patting his knee invitingly. “Come, sit,” he said, his tone serious despite the playful request.

Viserra let out a soft laugh, shaking her head slightly. “You can’t be serious,” she said, though her smile betrayed her amusement.

Aemond met her gaze with unwavering intensity. “I’m deadly serious.”

Still laughing softly, Viserra gave in and sat down in his lap. She felt his strong arms wrap around her, pulling her close as he pressed his nose into her hair, inhaling her scent deeply.

It was a sensation he had longed for, missed more than anything else in the world.

“Never leave me again,” he muttered against her ear, his voice rough with emotion.

Viserra turned her head slightly, resting it against his. “I won’t,” she promised softly.

Aemond held Viserra close, his arms wrapped securely around her as he pressed a flurry of soft kisses across her face—on her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose.

Each kiss was a whispered promise, a declaration of the depth of his longing. He breathed in her scent, letting it fill his senses, and leaned in to murmur in her ear, “What if I don’t attend to my duties today? What if we just stay here, shut away from the rest of the world?”

Viserra laughed, the sound warm and soothing, like a balm to his soul. “As tempting as that is,” she replied, her voice laced with affection, “I have matters to discuss with my mother, and I promised Rhaegar that he could play with Jaehaerys today.”

Aemond pouted slightly, the image of the two of them alone and undisturbed still lingering in his mind.

But Viserra placed a gentle hand on his cheek, her thumb brushing against his skin as she assured him, “We won’t be far from one another. And mayhaps tonight, Rhaegar can sleep in his own chambers, and we can have some time alone.”

He caught the mischievous glint in her eye, the subtle suggestion in her words, and his heart quickened. “I can’t wait,” he whispered, his voice low and thick with desire. “We have a lot of time to make up for.”

Viserra’s smile widened as she nodded in agreement. “It was torture without your touch,” she admitted, her voice soft. “I spent many nights longing for you-my fingers never satisfying me same way yours do”

Aemond’s lips found hers again, a deep, passionate kiss that sent a surge of arousal through him.

He was lost in the feel of her against him, until a knock at the door broke through the haze of their shared desire.

Aemond growled softly, annoyed at the interruption. “What is it?” he called out, his voice tinged with frustration.

Ser Erryk’s voice came through the door, cautious and formal. “My Prince, I was concerned as you are late to attend your duties as Commander of the City Watch.”

Aemond huffed, reluctantly pulling back from Viserra. “I’ll be there as soon as I’m able,” he replied, trying to keep the irritation from his voice. “I slept late.”

Viserra chuckled softly as she adjusted herself in his lap. “It’s just as well we were interrupted,” she teased, her fingers brushing his hair away from his face. “It wouldn’t do to indulge in our desires with Rhaegar still in the room.”

Aemond couldn’t help but smile at her words, leaning into whisper in her ear, “Tonight.”

Viserra nodded, her eyes sparkling with the promise of what was to come. “Tonight,” she echoed softly, sealing the agreement with a gentle kiss.

Alicent stood at the edge of the garden, her hands clasped before her as she watched the scene unfolding before her.

The sunbathed the Red Keep’s gardens in a warm, golden light, casting a soft glow on the vivid green of the grass and the delicate colours of the flowers in bloom.

Viserra was sat beside Helaena on a wooden bench, their heads close together as they spoke quietly, occasionally breaking into gentle laughter.

Nearby, Rhaegar was running across the lawn, his small legs carrying him after Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, their high-pitched giggles filling the air.

Maelor sat contentedly beside his mother, playing with his toys, his brow furrowed in concentration.

The sounds of children’s laughter echoed through the garden, mingling with the rustle of leaves and the distant hum of the city beyond the walls.

Alicent allowed herself a rare moment of peace, letting the joyful sounds wash over her. For a brief moment, it felt as though the weight she had carried for so many years had been lifted.

There had been a time when such a scene seemed impossible. The realm had been on the brink of war, sister against brother, a brutal fight for a crown that now rested on Rhaenyra’s head.

Her father Otto had been so certain that Rhaenyra’s reign would mean the end for them all. He had warned her that Rhaenyra would demand Aegon’s execution, that she would call for the blood of her children to secure her succession.

But Rhaenyra had proven him wrong. She had been merciful, more than Alicent had ever imagined possible. Aegon had been spared, and so had her other children. And now, there was a sort of unity among them—a fragile peace that had taken root, nourished by the passage of time.

Alicent’s gaze drifted to Rhaegar, who had just tackled Jaehaerys to the ground in a fit of laughter. The boy’s silvery hair gleamed in the sunlight, and Alicent’s heart clenched with a mixture of emotions.

Rhaegar was Aemond’s son—her grandson. How had she not seen it before? The resemblance was undeniable. The sharp features, the intense gaze, even at such a young age.

He was his father’s son in every way that mattered.

Aemond’s choices had pained her deeply. His involvement with Viserra had been a scandal, one that Alicent had struggled to accept.

The son she had raised to be dutiful and restrained had acted out of passion and desire, entangling himself in a web that could never truly be undone. But now, looking at Rhaegar, Alicent saw beyond the mistakes, beyond the scandal.

She saw a future, a legacy. Rhaegar was a bridge between two worlds—between the blacks and the greens, between her son and Rhaenyra’s daughter. He was proof that something good could come from the chaos, that there was hope for a future.

Alicent sighed softly, her heart heavy with the complexity of it all. She had been a fool not to see it sooner, to recognize the bond between Aemond and Viserra, to see Rhaegar for who he truly was.

A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips as she continued to watch, feeling a warmth in her chest that had been absent for far too long.

For now, she would hold on to this moment, to the sound of children’s laughter, and to the hope that the future might be kinder to them all.

Later that evening, Aemond sat tall on his horse, the reins held loosely in his gloved hands as he looked down at Viserra, who was standing beside him with a curious smile.

With one smooth motion, he reached down and offered his hand to her. She took it, and he effortlessly pulled her up into the saddle behind him.

As she settled into place, her arms instinctively wrapped around his waist, and she leaned forward, pressing her cheek against his back. “Where are we going?” she asked, her voice filled with playful curiosity.

Aemond glanced over his shoulder at her, a small, secretive smile playing on his lips. “You’ll see,” he replied, his tone teasingly mysterious.

With a gentle nudge, Aemond urged the horse into a trot. “Open the gates!” he called out, his voice commanding as they approached the main gates of the Red Keep.

The heavy iron gates creaked open, and the horse moved smoothly out onto the cobbled streets of King’s Landing.

As they left the bustling city behind, the sounds of the market and the chatter of the people faded away, replaced by the rhythmic clopping of the horse’s hooves on the ground.

Viserra tightened her hold on him, feeling the warmth of his body through his leathers. She closed her eyes briefly, savouring the moment—the freedom and the closeness.

The road soon gave way to a grassy meadow, Aemond guided the horse through the tall grass until they reached the centre of the meadow, where Vhagar and Vermithor were resting side by side, their eyes following the approaching pair.

Aemond brought the horse to a stop and dismounted first. He then turned and extended his hand to Viserra, helping her down from the saddle. Once her feet were on the ground, she looked up at him, her eyes filled with wonder.

“I thought we could use some time away,” Aemond said softly, his hand still holding hers as they stood before the dragons. “Just us. Somewhere we can be together without the world watching.”

Viserra smiled up at him, her heart swelling with love and gratitude. “It’s perfect,” she whispered, stepping closer to him.

“Helaena has agreed to watch Rhaegar for the night,” he said, his voice low and gentle.

“That was good of her-”replied Viserra, a smile spreading across her lips.

“Let’s get going, shall we?” said Aemond.

With a determined nod, Viserra turned toward Vermithor and began the familiar climb up the rope ladder to the dragon’s saddle.

She moved carefully, the small swell of her belly making the climb a bit more challenging than usual. Halfway up, she paused to catch her breath, her hand resting lightly on her stomach.

Aemond, standing at Vhagar’s side, noticed her hesitation. “Are you alright?” he called up to her, concern lacing his voice.

Viserra glanced down at him and gave a reassuring smile. “I’m fine,” she replied, determined to reach the saddle.

With renewed effort, she continued her climb until she finally settled into Vermithor’s saddle, securing herself with the straps.

Aemond watched her closely, only mounting Vhagar once he was sure she was safely seated. He climbed the ladder with the ease of long practice, settling into the saddle with a sense of anticipation.

Turning his head, he caught Viserra’s gaze and gave her a small nod. “Follow me,” he said, his voice carrying over the wind.

Viserra took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she felt Vermithor shift beneath her. The powerful dragon roared, his massive wings unfurling as he prepared to take flight.

Vhagar was already in the air, her enormous wings slicing through the sky as she ascended.

Not one to be outdone, Vermithor followed, launching himself into the air with a thunderous roar that echoed across the landscape.

The two dragons flew side by side, the sensation of flying together, of being so high above the world, sent a thrill through Viserra. She could feel the exhilaration in her veins, her dragon’s blood singing with delight as the wind whipped through her hair.

Beside her, Aemond was similarly enthralled, the tension of the past weeks momentarily forgotten as they soared through the skies.

After an hour of glorious flight, the dragons began to descend, circling a secluded spot near the river Wendwater. The area was serene, far from the prying eyes of court and the pressures of duty.

The dragons landed gracefully on the soft sand near the riverbank, their wings folding as they settled down.

Viserra carefully unfastened the straps and began her descent down Vermithor’s ladder. Once her feet touched the ground, she looked around, her eyes wide with curiosity.

The peacefulness of the river, combined with the rustling of leaves in the trees, created an atmosphere of calm that contrasted sharply with the bustling life of the Red Keep.

She didn’t have to wait long before Aemond joined her, landing beside her with a soft thud. He smiled as he took her hand, their fingers interlocking effortlessly.

Without a word, he led her toward a tent nestled among the trees, its entrance partially hidden by the thick canopy above. The tent was simple yet inviting, a small sanctuary away from the demands of their world.

Aemond held the tent flap open for Viserra, his eyes never leaving her as she stepped inside. The interior was cozy, with furs and blankets spread across the floor.

It was a space meant for them, a place where they could be themselves without the weight of crowns and expectations.

“Is this where you and Aegon disappeared off to earlier?” asked Viserra.

“Possibly” replied Aemond smiling.

“I think it’s wonderful”

Aemond gently pulled Viserra into his arms, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Tonight, it’s just us,” he whispered, his voice full of promise and affection.

Viserra smiled up at him, her heart full as she leaned into his embrace. “Just us,” she echoed softly, feeling the tension of the past weeks melt away.

Aemond pressed a tender kiss to Viserra's lips, his touch filled with reverence and longing. "I want to make love to my wife amongst the stars," he whispered against her lips, his voice full of desire and affection.

Viserra's smile was radiant, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Then let's do just that," she replied softly, her heart fluttering in her chest.

Aemond nodded, brushing a stray strand of silver hair from her face before reluctantly pulling away.

“Wait here,” he said, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he turned and disappeared into the trees.

Viserra watched him go, her hands resting protectively on the small swell of her stomach, feeling the life that grew within her.

It wasn’t long before Aemond returned, his arms laden with wood for the fire. He dropped the bundle onto the ground not far from the tent’s entrance, his movements efficient yet filled with purpose.

Turning toward Vhagar, who watched them with keen eyes, he gave the command with a firm voice. “Dracarys.”

Vhagar, ever obedient, opened her massive maw and unleashed a stream of fire onto the wood.

The flames roared to life instantly, crackling and snapping as they devoured the dry branches. Aemond chuckled, waving his arms to ward off the intense heat.

"Little enthusiastic on the fire there, old girl," he commented, his voice light with amusement.

Viserra couldn’t help but giggle at the sight, her laughter filling the air with a melody that Aemond found irresistible.

There was no sweeter sound in the world than her laughter, a sound that resonated in his soul and made him feel more alive than he ever had.

As the fire settled into a warm, steady burn, Aemond turned his gaze back to Viserra. She stood near the tent, bathed in the soft glow of the firelight.

Her braided silver hair shimmered like moonlight against the backdrop of the darkening sky. She was dressed in her riding leathers, the familiar outfit clinging to her form, accentuating the slight swell of her stomach.

That small curve was a constant reminder that she carried his child, their second, and the knowledge filled him with a fierce, possessive pride, his blood growing hot under his skin.

Aemond’s breath hitched as he took in the sight of her, his pulse quickening with each step he took toward her. She was so beautiful, so utterly perfect in every way.

The firelight danced across her features, highlighting the softness of her expression, the curve of her lips, and the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. She was his—completely, undeniably his—and the arousal that surged within him was impossible to contain.

With a predator's grace, Aemond stalked toward her, his single eye dark with desire. Each step was deliberate, filled with purpose, as he closed the distance between them.

The fire crackled behind him, casting long shadows across the ground, but all he could see was her—his wife, his love, the mother of his children.

As he reached her, Aemond wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close against his chest. His hands were firm yet gentle as they slid down her back, feeling the warmth of her body through the leather of her riding clothes.

He pressed his lips to hers in a kiss that was both passionate and tender, pouring all his love and longing into the connection. He kissed her with an intensity that left them both breathless, his heart pounding in his chest as he felt the heat of her body against his.

“I can’t wait any longer,” Aemond whispered, his voice rough with need. “I want you, Viserra. I need you.” His hands moved to her hips, guiding her closer to him, their bodies pressed together in a way that made his desire almost unbearable.

Viserra’s breath hitched as she felt the heat of his arousal against her, her own body responding to his touch. She reached up, threading her fingers through his hair as she kissed him back with equal fervour, her heart racing with the anticipation of what was to come.

“Then take me, Aemond,” she whispered against his lips, her voice trembling with a mixture of love and desire.

Aemond backed Viserra towards the entrance of the tent, their hands pulling at each other’s riding leather’s, removing them as quickly as they could until they were a heaped mess on the floor.

“-Aemond” moaned Viserra as he placed his hands on her shoulders and encouraged her to lay on the heap of fur blankets.

He gently covered her body with his as he sucked and licked at the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Viserra moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her skin.

Ooo A-Aemond” exclaimed Viserra as he moved down her body, nibbling her at her skin as he went.

He paused at her breasts, his tongue taking turns to swirl around her rosy nipples.

“I can’t wait for these to fill with milk-” groaned Aemond as he pressed his face into the soft pillowy mounds.

“Me either” replied Viserra softly, she knew Aemond enjoyed tasting her mother’s milk, but she enjoyed the closeness and also the relief he would give her, as nursing often left her full and sore.

“So beautiful” whispered Aemond as he lowered himself and pressed a series of gentle kisses to the swell of her stomach.

“T-t-tickles” laughed Viserra as the ends of Aemond’s long silver hair swept across her skin.

“Hmmm”

“Aemond” gasped Viserra as she felt him move lower.

“Such a pretty cunny " breathed Aemond spitting on her before he ran the flat of his tongue up Viserra’s soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Viserra her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it my sweet. Let me hear you”.

“YES! It feels so good. Don’t stop. Aemond. Please” begged Viserra.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Viserra, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Viserra. "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh, fuck" whimpered Viserra; her chest heaving.

Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, come for me” moaned Aemond.

Gods his cock was so hard, it was almost painful.

Finally, he felt Viserra’s inner walls start to flutter around his fingers, squeezing them. Her back arched taut as a bow, and she screamed her release.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at his wife whilst she came.

Soon her tense body went slack and pliant, her chest heaving with every breath.

Aemond slowly moved up Viserra’s body, pressing kisses to her soft body as he went, until he reached his desired destination.

“Kostilus issa jorrāelagon” whispered Viserra as she writhed against him (Please my love).

Aemond couldn't wait any longer. He surged forward and sheathed his hard cock into Viserra’s soaked cunt causing her to shriek in surprise.

“That’s it, take all of me” moans Aemond as he begins to move.

Viserra can’t think of anything but the deep penetrating thrusts that greet her, causing her to wail and moan, causing tears form in her eyes, before running down her cheeks.

Aemond wanted to fuck her hard, but he knows he can’t, he doesn’t want to harm the babe.

But she’s testing his restraint as he feels her clenching around him.

“YES! YES! AEMOND! I CAN TAKE IT. HARDER. PLEASE” screams Viserra.

“FUCK!” shouts Aemond.

Aemond lifts Viserra’s legs onto his shoulders and wrapped his arms around her thighs, squeezing them together as he thrust his cock a little harder into her soaking wet cunny.

“Aemond! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Viserra.

“That’s it baby-come for me” exclaimed Aemond as he felt her clenching on his cock.

His wife always looked amazing when she came. Her head thrown back in pleasure, her eyes alive with lust, and her pale skin shining with sweat.

Aemond could feel the tension in his abdomen, but he didn’t want to come. Not yet.

“I love you-I fucking love you” groaned Aemond as he moved Viserra’s legs off his shoulders and manoeuvred her onto all fours, she whimpered as his cock slipped out, but he bent forward to press a series of kisses to her glorious arse, his hands kneading the soft flesh.

“P-Please Aemond” begged Viserra, her voice slightly muffled as she pressed her face into the soft fur blankets.

Aemond stuck his finger in his mouth before he ran it over her puckered hole.

“Is this alight?” breathed Aemond.

“Y-Yes. Put it inside me. I can take it” whimpered Viserra.

“Tell me-Tell me if it’s too much” replied Aemond as he slowly pressed his finger inside her.

“Ooh Aemond, yes. Please. More” babbled Viserra as he moved his finger in and out before adding a second.

“Your doing so well-my darling” moaned Aemond as he moved his fingers inside his wife, his other hand taking his cock and sheathing himself inside her once again, his eye rolling into the back of his head.

Viserra arched her back and screamed as Aemond thrust into her, the sound of his hips slapping against hers echoed through the air.

“Fuck-that’s it” moaned Aemond, his fingers still curling inside her.

“P-Please. Valzȳrys” whimpered Viserra (Husband).

Aemond removed his fingers and grasped hold of her hips, thrusting a little faster then he was before, his stomach muscles tensing.

He then took hold of her hair, twisting his fingers in the messy braid before he slowly pulled her backwards, her back colliding with his sweaty chest.

Aemond held Viserra tight too him as he fucked her, his cock reaching deep inside her.

“Give it to me Issa zaldrīzes” pleaded Viserra her head lolling back onto Aemond’s shoulder (My dragon).

“Give me another-come for me again” whispered Aemond as he slid his hand under the swell of her stomach and used his long fingers to stroke her pearl.

“Oh-yes-oh” moaned Viserra as her peak suddenly erupted, her hands tangling in Aemond’s hair as she pulled him in for a messy kiss.

Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen again, as he thrust his cock inside her.

“I want you to come on my cock again, but not like this-” muttered Aemond as he once again withdrew from her wet heat and laid on the blankets.

“-Aemond” exclaimed Viserra breathlessly.

“Ride me baby” replied Aemond as he manoeuvred Viserra on top of him.

His hand moving to his cock, rubbing it along her folds before she sunk down and completely engulfed him.

“Oh” gasped Viserra as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it ñuha nūmio, take it. Take all of me” (My pearl).

Aemond placed his hands on her hips and marvelled at his wife as she rode him.

Viserra dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Viserra as he moved his hands to her breasts, rolling her rosy nipples between his long fingers.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me again” exclaimed Aemond.

Viserra’s thighs began to burn, as she felt another climax approach.

“AEMOND” screamed Viserra.

“I’m going to fill you with my seed-”

“Y-yessss Aemond, I want it-I want you-” babbled Viserra as he moved her back onto the ground his cock never leaving her warmth as he moved inside her, chasing his own end.

“God. I love you- I love you-” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed.

The morning sun cast a soft, golden light over the quiet landscape as Viserra stirred from her slumber.

Her hand instinctively reached out to the space beside her, but instead of finding Aemond, she was met with the cool, empty fur blankets.

"Ñuha jorrāelagon" she murmured softly as she pulled a blanket around her naked body and rose from the warmth of their bed (My love).

Stepping out of the tent, she noticed that fresh wood had been added to the fire, the flames crackling merrily in the early morning chill.

"Aemond?" she called out, her voice carrying through the still air.

Viserra scanned the area, her eyes falling on the slumbering form of Vhagar, whose massive breaths disturbed the loose sand around her. Vermithor, however, was nowhere to be seen.

Just as she was about to call out again, a sudden shadow loomed over her. Viserra barely had time to react before a heavy thud echoed through the air, and the body of a dead stag dropped to the ground in front of her, its blood spraying across her face and chest.

She screamed in shock, stumbling back as she tried to wipe the blood from her face.

Vermithor landed gracefully beside Vhagar, trilling affectionately as he folded his wings. Viserra grimaced, still wiping the blood from her skin, and shot a glare at her dragon.

"Thanks for that," she muttered dryly, and Vermithor cooed in response, as if proud of his offering. Vhagar, unimpressed by the disturbance, opened one eye, huffed in annoyance, and promptly returned to her slumber.

Aemond emerged from the sea just as Viserra was recovering from the shock, his naked body glistening with seawater as he approached her with a carefree smile.

"Aren't you a sight," he teased, laughter dancing in his eye as he took in her blood-splattered appearance.

Viserra scoffed, still a little rattled. "I guess Vermithor thought we needed feeding,"

Aemond chuckled, nodding in agreement. "He's not wrong. It's not good for you or the babe to go without food for much longer," he remarked, glancing at the dead animal "A stag, how fitting."

Viserra nodded, her initial shock fading as she found herself smiling at the situation. With a playful shrug, she let the blanket slip from her shoulders, revealing her bare form to the morning light.

She couldn't help but laugh as she noticed the way Aemond suddenly stopped what he was doing, his gaze fixed on her, captivated by the sight.

She blew him a kiss, enjoying the effect she had on him, and turned toward the sea. The water was cold but refreshing as she waded in, washing away the blood and grime from her skin. The chill was invigorating, waking her senses and leaving her feeling renewed.

When she returned to the camp, Aemond had moved the stag a safe distance from the tent. A large slab of meat now hung over the fire, cooking slowly.

"I didn't know you could cook," Viserra remarked, her tone light as she joined him by the fire.

Aemond grinned, clearly pleased with himself as he offered her another blanket "What can I say? I'm a man of many talents," he replied, his voice laced with that familiar confidence.

"Indeed, you are," Viserra agreed, leaning in to kiss him gently.

After finishing their meal, Viserra and Aemond sat close together, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the comfort of each other’s presence.

Viserra rested her head on Aemond's shoulder, feeling utterly content.

But then, the tranquil atmosphere was interrupted by the first few drops of rain. They hit the ground softly at first, then more rapidly, until the rain began to pour down in earnest.

Viserra glanced up at the sky, expecting Aemond to suggest retreating to the tent, but instead, he stood and held out his hand.

“Dance in the rain with me,” he said, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

“There’s no music-”

“We can make our own” whispered Aemond.

Viserra hesitated for only a moment, the warmth of the blanket tempting her to stay put. But the look in Aemond’s eye was irresistible, and she found herself smiling as she abandoned the blanket and took his hand.

The rain drenched them both as they moved together, their naked bodies swaying in the downpour.

They giggled like children, spinning and twirling, water streaming down their faces and bodies.

The cool rain on their heated skin was exhilarating, and they pressed kisses to each other’s wet faces, tasting the sweetness of the rain mixed with their shared laughter.

Then, without warning, Aemond stopped. He slowly descended onto one knee; his eye full of emotion as he placed his forehead against Viserra's swollen stomach.

The rain continued to fall around them, but it seemed like time itself had paused.

“Marry me” Aemond whispered, his voice low and filled with longing.

Viserra’s heart skipped a beat. “We’re already married,” she replied softly, her hand resting gently on his head.

“Yes,” Aemond agreed, looking up at her with intensity. “In the ways of Old Valyria. But after our babe is born, I want to wed you in the eyes of the Seven. I want the realm to see that you are mine and I am yours.”

Viserra’s eyes filled with tears, though whether from the rain or emotion, she couldn’t tell. “Yes-I’ll marry you” she said, her voice trembling with happiness.

“Y-Yes?” questioned Aemond.

“Yes-yes-yes” exclaimed Viserra.

Aemond stood swiftly, pulling her into a passionate kiss as the rain continued to pour down on them, soaking them both.

The world around them seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in that perfect moment.

But then, the rain abruptly stopped.

They broke their kiss and looked up to see that Vhagar had extended her wing over them, shielding them from the rain.

The mighty beast huffed affectionately, her huge eyes watching them with a surprising gentleness.

“You big softie,” Aemond laughed, looking up at his dragon with affection.

“Just like her rider,” Viserra teased, her eyes sparkling with love.

Aemond smirked, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I say we change that,” he said, taking Viserra’s hand and guiding it to his already half hard cock.

Viserra laughed, her voice a soft melody in the quiet of the night. “You’re insatiable,” she murmured, though her tone was full of affection.

“Only when it comes to you, my darling,” Aemond replied, his voice husky with desire.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #hotd fanfic #aemond fic #hotd fic #aemond one eye #aemond x oc #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut

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l0ngschl0ngking · 2 years

Text

Apology won’t cut it

Tim Rockford x f!reader

summary: Tim forgot about your anniversary…how can he make things right?

warnings: SMUT (oral -f!receiving, vaginal fingering, somnophilia -with estabilished consent, reader and Tim talked about it before-, unprotected p in v, reader “hangs” onto those shoulder holsters while Tim fucks her, creampie,(1) spitting on pussy, praise kink, biting), talks of infidelity, cursing, mentions of food, mentions of reader being pregnant, fluff -it’s me…so :)

word count: 4.3K (how that happened? - i don’t know either)

A/N: Tim is hot and I have things for detectives/agents with shoulder holsters (*cough, cough* Seeley Booth)

You met Tim a few years back through your friend. Normal Sunday brunch turned into you confiding to her – telling her that you worry that your husband might be cheating. The past few months he was spending more and more time in his office – the fact that you saw his new personal assistant a few months back who was much younger and prettier than you didn't help.

Susan, your friend, tried to soothe your worries but when you started being a babbling and a sobbing mess – you've spend most of your life with your husband and the thought of him cheating on you cut your heart deeper than you thought it would – she sighed and withdrawn something from her purse. A small plain business card layed between her neat fingers.

She passed it to you with a few tissues as well and when you finally wiped all of your tears away, you looked at what was written on it – both of your eyebrows raising in a question.

“It's a private investigator. I hired him when I had a suspicion that Richard might be cheating on me as well. Turned out he was just working extra shifts so he could buy me an engagement ring.” She grinned at the memory and you looked at her finger – the diamond ring he bought her shining in the daylight sun. You offered her a little smile – happy for her. Richard was a nice guy – sweet and genuine and you didn't know how she could think he was cheating on her – he kissed the ground she walked on. “But really, he is great, sweetie. A little pricey but he does his job well. It doesn't hurt that he is easy on the eyes too.” She winked while you bit your lip in contemplation.

A few days pass since your Sunday brunch and you think about calling the number numerous times – then telling yourself that you shouldn't doubt your husband's loyalty. Though when he left this morning without even kissing you on the head as he normally would – not even sparing you a little glance, you were more certain than ever – you were going to find out what was going on once and for all. Even if it should break your heart.

When the other voice on the other line says “hello?” you get nervous. You are really doing this.

“Hello, uhm – I, ugh- I’d received your business card from a friend and would like to hire your services. Are you busy or-?” Smooth. Real smooth.

“No, not really,” he chuckles - the cigar he was smoking dangling from his lips, “would you like to meet at yours or at my office?” His voice was a little gruff but very soothing at the same time. You try to imagine what he looks like – didn't sound like a young man, maybe someone close to your age range – not that you were old or something.

You quickly scribbled the address where he worked as you found it more appropriate that you rather meet him at his office than if he should invade your own home.

When you arrive at the address he gave you, you found yourself in front of a small brick building – the doors are pretty mahogany color but creaky and when you enter it looks bigger than on the outside. Various small offices with different names on glass windowed doors surround you and you look for his business card in your purse – forgetting his name.

Tim Rockford – it says on the card and you squint your eyes when you see doors with the same name on it far back. You stride with confident steps towards it even when you are not feeling that way at all. You knock – one time, two times and the third time a small gruff “come in” can be heard from the other side of the door.

When you step in the first thing that hits you is the cigar smoke and you cough a little – you hate smoking. Then you finally see the man in question. He looks a little older - the bags under his eyes make him seem that. He quickly stands up from his leather chair that creaks and offers you a small smile which you uncertainly return. He is handsome in a ruggish way. His hair is short and has a few silver strands mixed in there as well, and his beard is patchy – that is something very endearing about the fact. His shoulders are broad and you think he should buy a bigger shirt as this one is straining against his frame – not that you mind that much.

He quickly puts out the cigar when he sees your nose wrinkling at the smell – observant as well. Not bad. He reaches his hand out to you and you take it – his grip is strong but not in an unpleasant way and his palms are a little sweaty. He clears his throat and offers you his name which you do the same in return. He sits down and gestures to the older-looking armchair sitting opposite him. It's comfier than it looks.

“So, what brings you here, m’am?” You scrunch your nose for a second – not feeling that old but don't say a thing about it. Right, let's cut right to the chase.

“I-I think my husband might be cheating on me and I'd like for you to find out if that's true.” He doesn't look at you weirdly or anything – as you thought he would. He just nods his head and asks your husband's name which you provide.

“That's all I really need. I will find out all of the other information myself and will call you if I will find some clues. Sounds good to you, m’am?” You nod and give him your phone number – the phone you called him from being the house landline.

A few weeks pass, Tim calls you often or you go to his office – recently you started inviting him to your house as you started feeling more comfortable around him – all of the clues hint that your husband is really cheating on you and he tries to make you feel better about it – cracking jokes here and there and you appreciate it even though it doesn't seem all that professional.

Today he brings a folder with him. The yellow one you often see in some kind of crime film that holds photos of the victim – and when he enters he throws you a sad smile. You know what it means but you try to not think about it. You offer him tea and he hastily accepts – he knows that you already know. In the past few weeks, he got to know you and he noticed that you try to occupy yourself with other things when you are nervous.

He sits on your leather couch – you bought it last week – and he watches you make the tea in your smaller kitchen. When you sit down next to him you put the cups of tea on the glass table. He passes you the folder and when you open it a few tears flow freely from your eyes. You were expecting it. You really were but it still hurts. You feel sick as you throw the folder next to the cups – not really in the mood to look at the pictures of your husband sticking his tongue into someone else's throat. Tim lands his hand on your shoulder – trying to comfort you. That's when you throw yourself at him, hugging him close to you and he doesn't reciprocate the hug for a while – it's not professional at all and he shouldn't but when you sob into his work shirt his heart breaks and pulls you closer to him. Slowly stroking your back and kissing the top of your head gently.

You stay like that for a while – him rocking you while stroking your back and telling you “what an idiot your husband is for treating you so poorly” as you try to compose yourself. And when you do- you pull away a little – looking into his eyes, maping out his face with your eyes. He's handsome – you noticed the first time you've seen him but after each time you've spent together you started appreciating his ruggish handsomeness more and more. You'd never admit it but you've touched yourself at the thought of him a few times – feeling guilty afterward not knowing if your husband was cheating on you. You felt like you were the one cheating after every time you got yourself off at the thought of Tim between your thighs.

“Kiss me.” You whisper as you look at him and he shakes his head – feeling like he would take advantage if he did.

“No, you're in a bad mental state right now and you don't know what you are saying, sweetie.” The nickname of endearment falling from his lips is first and you shake your head in protest – pulling yourself on top of his lap and he doesn't have the strength to stop you as this is something he wanted for a long time too – you were not only a client to him. Not for a long time, anyways. You were smart and funny, and beautiful and he liked you a lot. Even if he really shouldn't feel this way.

“I wanted this for a long time, Tim. Please, just kiss me, will you?” You don't have to tell him thrice, he surges forward to meet your wanting lips and grabs your hips and you start grinding down on him. You moan when you feel him harden under you and he takes the opportunity to slide his tongue against yours – it's frantic and passionate and you feel him everywhere at once. His hands are pulling your tank top off and he cups your tits when they come into the view – pulling away from the kiss. He starts kissing your cleavage, his hands trying to quickly unclasps the bra if that piece of clothing offended him and you on the other hand try to unbutton his shirt. Getting impatient you huff and he notices – he always does with everything. He slows the pace down and unbuttons the shirt himself while getting distracted multiple times – you're kissing his neck and he moans when he feels you nip at the sensitive skin behind his ear.

When the shirt is finally off you immediately start paying attention to the newfound flesh – kissing and licking a path across his shoulders that you oh, love some much and dragging your tongue lower – circling his nipple with it. He groans and throws his head back – the vein on his neck popping with the movement and you bite him there, soothing it with your tongue. He grinds against your mound and if you keep going he will for sure cum in his pants like a fucking teenager. He pushes against your shoulders softly and you start to protest but he shuts you up with his mouth once again. It's slower and more sensual – his tongue fighting with yours lazily and unhurriedly. He finally unclasps your bra – his greedy eyes taking you in. Palming them in his hands it's your turn to moan and he grins – his thumbs stroking the sensitive nipples. He brings his head to take one into his mouth and you can't do anything else than writhe on him – your hands are in his hair and you massage his scalp. He groans against your bud while the other hand strokes your other tit and you feel like you've gone to heaven and back. You didn't feel this good since – well actually never.

When he is happy with his work – the bitemarks on your tits will leave nasty bruises for a few days for sure – he slowly puts you on the leather couch. You are sweaty and it sticks to your skin but you don't care – not when Tim is trying to get rid of your shorts. You don't wear anything underneath and you swear you can see his eyes goes entirely black – his pupils blown wide and his breathing quick. He lowers himself onto his tummy and you are confused for a second before you realize what he is doing. You try to protest that he doesn't have to but he just “shhh” you. His mouth is on your inner thighs in no time and his beard causes a delicious burn on them. He is slow with it – trying to enjoy every second of it but you are impatient. You tug on his hair and growl – slapping one side of your inner thigh mumbling a quiet “impatient girl” before he licks into you without a warning.

You cry out – your head thrown back and your back arched, the hands that are in his hair grip him tighter and he moans into your cunt with an unspoken agreement for you to keep doing that. Not many men went down on you – certainly not your husband – but Tim looks like he is enjoying this more than you if it is possible. His nose bumps into your clit with every lick – you feel yourself squeezing around his tongue. One of his hands makes its way to your open mouth and he sticks two fingers into it – coating them in your saliva. Pulling them back out he creates a path with them from your mouth to your neck, then under your neck, on your tits, down your tummy and then pressing two of them against your pussy – exchanging his tongue with his fingers while he sucks your clit into his mouth and it doesn't take long before you are cuming, after all, it has been too long since anyone made it seem like their life goal was to make you cum – the moans and cries of his name echoe throughout the living room with the wet sounds of your pussy squeezing his fingers while he fucks you through the aftershocks of it all.

When he finally stops – you have to push his mouth away from you feeling overstimulated – he just grins against you and sits up – balancing himself on his heels while he cleans his fingers humming at your tangy taste on them. You are exhausted and your lashes flutter against your cheeks but you can hear the clang of his belt and his words echoing in your ears: “ We're not done in the slightest, baby.”

You try to wait for him. You do. But your eyes feel heavy – you already ate the dinner you made for the two of you – Tims's favorite meal – lasagna. You put the rest of it along with the portion into the fridge – scribbling a quick note that if he feels hungry the leftovers are in the fridge. You look at the time: 23:03. And that's when your phone dings.

Hi, baby. Don't wait for me, I am still at the office working on that crazy grandma case . Love you, xoxo

You sigh in defeat. No apology, no nothing. You expected it, to be completely honest. He was so wrapped up in this new case he sometimes forgot what his name was. But you felt that he was married to work and not to you – not that you two were married but you get the drill. You understood it, he worked hard for the position he now has and you too are a workaholic yourself – the money you won at the court after the divorce was put into opening your little bakery. But to forget about your 5-year-old anniversary? That seemed over the top. You don’t bother answering him – putting your phone away you put the dirty dishes in the sink – you will wash them tomorrow morning. Keeping his favorite wine on the table in case he will want it when he comes home, you grab the little envelope.

“Seems like it's just me and you again, little bean.” You smile sadly while you caress your stomach – Tim didn't know yet but you hoped you would tell him tonight. Guess not.

As you make your way into the bedroom you lock the door and turn off all the lights. Brushing your teeth and hoping in the shower for a quick wash you think about if you should have kept the envelope on the table – no, you will tell him tomorrow after you won't be mad at him anymore. After drying yourself you tuck yourself in and put the envelope into the drawer on your bedside table. Sleep consumes you quickly – you've felt exhausted for the past couple of days.

Tim comes home long past after midnight. He's exhausted and he just wants to plop on the bed next to you. He puts the keys onto the kitchen counter and wonders in the kitchen – the kitchen lits up when he puts on the flashlight in his camera – you like to sleep with the bedroom doors open and usually wake up if he turns on the lights. He furrows his brows when he sees the wine on the table – the single rose in a small vase in the center of it. He stalks towards it and sees that it's his favorite. And then he sees the dirty dishes and the small note on the fridge – dread takes over him when he sees the date on the calendar and he lowly curses at himself.

He forgot your fucking anniversary. What a fucking moron he is. He ventures into the bedroom to see if you are already asleep – if not he will apologize profusely even when he knows apology won't cut it this time. When he sees you fast asleep he sighs and slowly creeps into the bathroom to brush his teeth. The weight of what had done – or more so what he didn't – creeps on him and he decides that he will cook you breakfast tomorrow and take you out somewhere nice – maybe even finally do the thing he'd been dreading to do for over a half a year now. When he is finished brushing his teeth he returns to the bedroom to put his guns away. You are sleeping peacefully even when he turns on the light on his bedside table.

You look so pretty in the dim light. Your hair is sprawled on your pillow and it's too warm in here for you to be covered – he can see your legs and the curve of your ass. He licks his lips and he is not so tired anymore. An idea pops into his head – you've talked about it before but never really tried it – maybe it would be one of the many steps of his apology.

He rolls up his sleeves and slowly makes his way onto your side of the bed. You are a pretty light sleeper and he thinks if you will wake up right in the start or if he can indulge a little. He kicks the covers that surround you and touches your ankle – the touch is light and gentle. His fingers slowly make their way up your thigh stopping on your hip and you jerk a little - you turn onto your back the flimsy tank top you changed into riding higher. Tim grins, slowly sinking onto the mattress. He kisses one of your knees and then the other. Slowly making his way up – he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and slowly tugs – seeing that you have nothing underneath. He always loved that about you. He caresses your thighs and kisses the inner side of both of them – trying if you will wake up he pokes his tongue out but you just mumble something so he keeps up his advances. Creating a path to your core he softly inhales and opens your folds with his thumbs as kisses your clit – you jerk a little but he hooks his palms under your hips to keep you still. His nose bumps against your clit with the first swipe of his tongue and he groans at your taste that he knows oh, so well. His tongue lazily licks into you and he is in no rush – enjoying the slow pace he slowly grinds his pants-clad hips against the mattress. It's not enough but he doesn't mind. Sneaking one of his hands away from underneath your hips he pushes one of his fingers in – you are soaked even though he barely touched you and he loves the fact that you are always so ready for him. You mewl softly and start to stir but he stops when your breathing gets even again he pushes two fingers inside of you.

The only sounds that can be heard are his harsh takes of breath and the wet suck of your pussy taking his fingers in – his mouth is now more relentless and so are his hips as he humps the mattress. His fingers curl and he tries to find the spot that makes you make such a pretty noise for him and when your breath hitches he knows he found it. He kisses your clit and starts setting a quicker phase. The tip of his tongue now flicks against your clit quickly. He can feel you start squeezing him and he moans when he feels your hands tug on his hair – the quiet “Tim” from your lips effortlessly. He mumbles a quick “good morning” even though it's not even 3 am yet.

You are right on the edge and when he adds a third finger it's all over for you. Your back arches and you cry out – his plush lips kiss your clit to work you through it and when he finally stops he pushes his cock out of his pants – stroking his dick with the hand that was in you just a few seconds ago. You are still sleepy and try to get a sense of what is happening but before you can think about it Tim is kissing you and notching the weeping head of his cock against your entrance.

“Can I fuck you, baby? Can I fuck you silly?” You nod and he enters you with one quick swift of his hips – you can feel his balls against your ass and he tries to push even deeper. It's too much for your sleep-tired brain and you need to hold onto something – so you grab his shoulder holsters – they are cold and feel smooth against your palms and when you look up at Tim he snarls. “Yeah, hold onto me, baby.” And then he is pounding into you. The head of him pushes against your g-spot and he angles his hips just right. You can feel every ridge and vein of him and you feel him pulse in you – knowing that he won't last long. He grabs one of your ankles and puts it on his shoulder – you always said to him that shoulders like that were made for leg rest. With this new angle, he feels even deeper and you close your eyes – it feels so fucking good, his pubic hair is scraping against your clit and the gentles with hich he kisses your ankle while mumbling how “good of a girl you are for him” makes your heart ache with love for him.

He can feel you starting to squeeze around him and he bends so he can spit onto your pussy – it makes you cry out when you feel the wet press of his fingers on your clit. His are relentless and the sweat rolling off his forehead is making its way down his neck – his vein on it is popped and you'd like to bite it. The slap of his balls is lewd and the way he says your name – ordering you to be “good girl and cum for me” is making your head dizzy. It just two or so more thrusts before you are clamping down on his length and he moans – grabbing him by the neck you kiss him and start sucking on his neck – right under the himge of his jaw– and then he is cuming too – his forehead pressed up against yours. His hips try to push the cum deep inside of you and when he stops he falls next to your side, bringing you closer to him and caressing your spine.

“You think it worked this time?” You are still hazy from the orgasm, listening to his heartbeat slowing down and you just hum in question so he repeats it for you – you don't think about it too much and reach for your nightstand drawer putting the envelope you hid there into his hands.

He opens it reluctantly and when he sees what's in there he can't contain his smiles and the few happy tears that spring out of his eyes.

“You serious? We're going to have a baby?” He laughs with joy and you caress his cheek – kissing the patch on his beard and then soothing it with your thumb

“Serious as I can be, babe. We're going to be parents.” you grin and he kisses you – smiling into the kiss and he thinks about the box in his suit jacket that has a small and elegant diamond ring in it.

He will propose to you tomorrow, take you out on a picnic or something. Yeah, he will do that.

#pedro pascal ff #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #tim rockford #tim rockford x reader #tim rockford smut #tim rockford merge mansion #merge mansion

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willieverseetheland · 1 month

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flipside ch. 1

Dexter Morgan x PI!reader

based on this ask!

Summary: You're a private investigator hired to look into Dexter Morgan on suspicion of infidelity, but you uncover something much darker. Warnings: None for this chapter, but typical Dexter warnings in the future (death, violence, blood, etc)

"Are you gonna hurt me now Or are you gonna hurt me later?"

You took this job for a bit of quick cash; infidelity investigations are always fast and easy, but not this one. This one would lead you down a path you would never return from. You got in far too deep this time.

///

Sunlight beams through the sunroof of your car, it's a cool spring day in Miami. You moved here five years ago from Baltimore, Maryland. Although, you grew up around the ocean, everything about Florida is drastically different. You don't complain though, the weather is a dream compared to back home. You were a cop, a good cop, even reaching detective. After everything happened, it just didn't make sense to continue, as if everything was the same. So, you moved to Miami for a fresh start. You weren't really sure about being a cop again, it just didn't feel correct. But you missed the detective work, the investigating. Being a private investigator just made sense. Life has been good to you. You have a steady job, one that you're actually quite good at. You were scared you would never be good at anything again. You scan your surroundings, it's a nice, peaceful neighborhood. Parked in front of a small, yet cute little house, you're here to interview your new client. You're not hesitating because you're scared, you're hesitating because clients in her particular predicament tend to be very emotional, something you've never been too good with. You understand, of course. Cheating is a horrible thing, but comforting people has just never been in your skillset.

You exit your vehicle and make your way to the door, knocking firmly. A bright-eyed blonde-haired woman opens the door. She's gorgeous you can't help but think, who could possibly be unfaithful to her? She motions for you to step inside.

"I just want to thank you for coming, it's been really hard" she gives you a small smile, but you detect a hint of sadness behind it

"Of course, happy to help" you say, forcing a smile in return

"Well, I guess I should introduce myself. Rita Bennett" she outstretches her hand for a handshake

"Y/N L/N, private investigator" you reach out, enveloping her hand in a firm shake

She walks over to the kitchen table and has a seat, beckoning for you to follow. You sit across from her, resting your elbows on the table and interlocking your fingers.

"So, Rita, I understand that you hired me to investigate your boyfriend for infidelity. Could you tell me some details about that?"

"He's in recovery, for drugs, and his sponsor is a woman. I know that men and woman can have relationships that aren't sexual, but he's been acting suspicious. He's out all hours of the night, he hardly calls me, he spends most of his free time with her. I know they could just be doing step work, but can you blame me for being suspicious?" she sounds exhausted, like she's been struggling with this for a while with no one to talk to.

"Well, those are definitely typical signs of cheating. Could you provide some details about him, so I know who to look for, and possibly a photo as well?"

"Of course, his name is Dexter Morgan. He's a blood spatter analyst at Miami Metro Police Department. He drives a blueish gray Ford Escape. Here's a photo" She slides a picture across the table, it's the two of them together, they look happy. You analyze the photo, studying his features, trying to burn them in your mind.

"What about his suspected mistress, could you tell me some things about her?"

"I don't know much; I've only seen her a few times. She has black hair, dark eyes, probably about 5'6 or 5'7, slender, pale. Beautiful. Pretty much the opposite of me." She looks down, you can see the hurt in her eyes.

"But I don't know where she lives or what she does for work, sorry" She looks up to face you, a single tear falling down her cheek.

"Um, that's okay, you've told me enough to identify her. Thank you." you give her a somewhat pained smile; you'll admit you're feeling a bit uncomfortable now that the waterworks have started.

You stand up, reaching out to give her another handshake.

"I'll get on it immediately. I'll figure this out, I promise." you give her an assuring look

...

You decide your first move should be to go to his place of work. You set up in the parking lot, further from the rest of the cars but close enough to get a good view. You scan the lot, looking for his car. You spot it, now all you have to do is wait. It's only noon so you're gonna be here awhile. You pass the time by reading, snacking, and pondering your existence. You hear a car alarm chirp causing you to look up. It's Dexter in the flesh, getting into his car. It's go time.

You follow him, as discreetly as possible. He leads you to an apartment complex. You park a few rows away, again trying to be discreet. You watch him walk to apartment #10B. He unlocks the door and walks right in. You sigh. Must be his apartment. You debate whether you should wait and watch or if you should turn in for the day.

You remember what you're being paid for and decide to stay.

...

You wake up hours later, it's dark out now. You must've fallen asleep. You look for Dexter's vehicle but can't find it, he must've left.

"Fuck!" you exclaim, how could you have let this happen?

You get the idea to snoop around his apartment. You know it's probably locked but maybe you could look through the windows. It likely won't lead to anything but you figure you have to try something. Taking your camera, you head to his unit. Looking through the windows you don't see much, the lights are off so it's hard to see much of anything. It's clean at least, and well decorated. A bit rare for a man you think. As you're looking through the windows you see headlights shining from behind you, turning around to see Dexter's car pulling into the parking lot.

"Oh shit!" you shout while ducking down. You run to the other side of the balcony and hide around a corner. As Dexter is walking up the stairs you notice he looks a little disheveled. His hair is a mess and he's sweaty. That could be something you think. You pull out your camera and snap a few photos. The lighting is horrible right now, but you have to work with what you have. You sneak back to your car, praying he doesn't see you. You know these pictures don't prove anything but they're a step in the right direction. You decide to turn in for the night, hoping you'll find more tomorrow.

...

You wake up bright and early the next morning to get a head start. From what Rita has described, Dexter seems pretty dedicated to his job so it's not likely that much will happen before or during the workday. However, maybe you could catch him on his lunch break. Would be a perfect time to pay his side piece a visit. You grab a coffee and head over to Miami Metro PD. At around 11:40 you see Dexter exit the building. He gets in his car and you're tailing him yet again. He stops at a diner; you make sure to park a few spaces behind him as not to draw attention to yourself. He sits outside, perfect. You watch him closely with your camera ready. He sits in solitude for a few minutes, but wouldn't you know it, soon a slender dark-haired woman comes to join him. You grab your camera, watching very intently. Waiting for him to slip up, get too comfortable. They seem to be having a pretty serious conversation, looking into each other's faces with emotion. The dark-haired woman reaches out and grabs Dexter's hand and Dexter places his on top of hers in return. You take quite a few photos of this, but it's not incriminating enough. You need something more. You continue watching them for a while, but much to your annoyance, nothing else happens. The two depart and Dexter returns to work.

Instead of sitting at his work waiting for him, you decide to watch his apartment. Maybe the woman will swing by, if she has a key then that will obviously be suspicious. You watch his apartment for hours but again come up with nothing. It'll be dark soon and Dexter hasn't pulled in yet. He could just be busy with something completely innocent, but it could be more. You drive by the police department to see if his vehicle is still there, it's not. You call Rita to ask if he's there and she says no. It's probably a lost cause but you really need a lead. You need to find something.

It's not that you want him to be cheating, that would be horrible for Rita, but you hate coming up empty handed. It makes you feel like an inadequate detective. You swing back by his apartment and he's still not there. Nothing else for you to do but wait. At around 2:00 am he finally shows up. Pretty late for a blood spatter analyst. He's wearing a different outfit than earlier, which could be a coincidence sure, but he's also carrying a large black duffle bag. You pull out your camera and take as many pictures as you can. Again, it could be nothing, but the circumstances are definitely weird.

Introductory chapter for this miniseries im doing based on a recent ask! I'm not sure where this is going to go but i'm excited! Also yes, the title is inspired by miss lana herself, the song was stuck in my head and i couldn't resist. I'll tie it in i swear!

#dexter morgan #dexter #fanfic writing #fanfiction #dexter morgan x reader

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privacon · 5 months

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Infidelity Private Investigator

Licensed Private Investigation Agency. Specializing in Infidelity Investigations led by skilled Female Private Investigators. Uncover secrets discreetly. Contact us now.

For more : https://privaconpi.com/investigative-services/infidelity-investigations/

#Female Private Investigator #Private Investigation Agency #Infidelity Investigations #Infidelity Private Investigator #Cheating Spouse Investigation

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alwaysgloriouschopshop · 7 months

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kwanisms · 1 year

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The Library of Illusion — Amateur Sleuth

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➮ noir P.I!Jongho × fem!Reader wc: 7.9k summary: The crime/mystery section transports Y/N into a dark hallway with flickering fluorescent lights and doors with frosted glass. One door, the only one left ajar, has gold paint that reads CJ: Private Eye and with the door already open, what else is there to do? genres/themes/au: angst, slight fluff, smut; fantasy, crime, mystery, suspense; non idol au, private detective au, private investigator au, noir crime au warnings: adult dialogue, female reader, mention of infidelity and dog fighting, sexual content (18+ mdni), see smut warnings under the cut!

permanent taglist: @yoonguurt @wonderfulshinee @candidupped @dejavernon @violagoth @tigermoonbiss @katsukis1wife @luvsooby @thesolarplanetarysystem @salty-for-suga @devilsmatches @dmnspiit @simeonswhore @yangracha @seonghwalover @atinypurr @aikyubi @labyrinthonmymind @bintificreads

ateez taglist: @2hodefender @cixrosie @pyeonghongrie-main @flowerboykun @sanjoongie @anyamaris @stardragongalaxy @kpop-stories-21 @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @mlysalt @cinnamoon-belle @briannabk22 @is4b3ll3s @hyukssunflower @vampiirose @0325tiny

special tags: @thelargefrye @hwasangelbaby

join my taglists! Strikethrough means I cannot tag you. MINORS WILL BE BLACKLISTED & BLOCKED.

a/n: this went in a different direction than I planned but I’m not complaining. I figured I’d leave the horror in the horror section and not include a crime scene and settled for the generic ‘wife hires a P.I. cause she thinks her husband is cheating but turns out to be something else entirely.’ Thank you so much for reading this installment of the Library of Illusion series and as always, this is a work of fiction and all characters are not reflective of their respective irl counterparts. for entertainment purposes only. banner made by me. I do not allow reposts or translations of my works. All my works are ©️ kwanisms.

smut warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), fingering (f receiving), dirty talk, use of pet names (baby, doll), very mild degradation, mention of previous sexual encounters, multiple orgasms (f receiving), multiple rounds, creampie, and I think that’s everything. Please let me know if I missed anything.

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“How was your trip back in time?”

You walked over to the desk, holding out the key for Seonghwa to take.

He looked up from the key to you before slowly taking it. “The lord’s advisors wanted to execute me,” you replied as Seonghwa put the key away, shutting the box softly. “But they didn’t,” Seonghwaa replied as he looked up from the box to meet your gaze. Your eyes narrowed. “But they wanted to.”

Seonghwa said nothing, merely holding your gaze.

Moments passed as you had a stare down with the man behind the desk before you finally broke. “Aren’t you supposed to ask me where I want to go next?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

The tension in the room was so thick as Seonghwa took a moment to process what you said, still staring at you with an unreadable expression. Sensing he wasn’t going to move until you did, you finally broke the silence.

“Alright then, I’ll visit the crime section next,” you said, turning away from him and making your way to the door, passing the dark sign for the science fiction section and to the lit up sign for the crime and mystery section.

Turning to face Seonghwa, you watched as he begrudgingly got up, made his way over slowly, pulling out his keys and picked out the right one. “You’re sure about this?” he asked as he reached you, hesitating to look up at you.

You nodded, determined to get through the next trial and get the key. Monsters and aliens were one thing but your only experience with men so far in the Library had been a walk in the park compared to your trial in both the science fiction and horror sections.

“I’m sure,” you answered. Seonghwa said nothing more as he unlocked the door, turning the knob and opening the door.

“Remember,” he said softly as you stepped past him.

“Be careful. The horror section was one thing but this is the crime section.” You glanced back at him, meeting his eyes as they flashed red for a brief moment. “I’ll be okay,” you answered. “If I can handle aliens, spider creatures, and bloodthirsty advisors of a feudal lord, I think I can handle this.”

Seonghwa nodded and shut the door behind you, leaving you alone in the shelves as you headed down the long dark corridor.

Each section had changed and morphed as you headed further and you could only imagine and wonder which direction this section would take you.

As you continued to walk, your boots echoing on the wooden floor, you spotted something in the distance; a light. Your steps sped up, wanting to get through the corridor as fast as you could. The light didn’t seem to grow any closer as you walked and you wondered if it was a trick.

This was the crime and mystery section so it didn’t seem likely that it was some sort of trick of the light or anything like that but then again, you never knew. This was the Library of Illusion after all.

After a couple more minutes, you noticed that the light seemed to be growing in size. Relief flooded your senses as you continued to walk closer and closer to the light.

As you drew nearer, you realized it was a doorway. The light was inside the doorway and soon, you discovered it was an elevator. Inside the box was a simple lever and a gate. You stepped inside and closed the grate before turning to look at the lever. Glancing around you saw there were no buttons.

Placing your hand on the lever, you took a deep breath and pulled it towards you. The elevator jolted before starting to ascend. The only light was the dim one above you that flickered occasionally as the lift climbed in whatever building you were in.

You waited for what felt like hours but could have only been a few minutes when the elevator finally arrived at a floor, the blackness of the wall before you opening up to reveal a hallway. The lift dinged as it stopped and you were clear to open the grate.

Pulling it back, you peered out of the open doorway before stepping out into the hallway. It wasn’t nearly as long as the other one. The walls were a simple yellow paint, sort of dingy and faded. Clearly this was an old building. As you walked down the hall towards another light, the green carpet dulling your steps, you caught sight of two other doors with frosted glass windows.

“What is this place?” you whispered as you stopped to inspect one of the doors. Trying the handle, you found it was locked. With an annoyed huff, you continued to the door where the light was coming from.

Finally reaching the door, you discovered it was ajar and you pushed it open carefully, peering through the crack. It was empty save for some furniture. Opening the door more, you stepped into the room, surveying it carefully.

The carpet was the same green as the hall and the walls the same yellow paint. There was a dark wood desk in the center of the room covered with scattered papers and other desk decor. There was a high back leather chair behind the desk.

The walls were lined with bookcases and filing cabinets, each full of papers and books. As you walked into the room, you started to look around further. The books on the shelves varied from languages to cracking ciphers.

As you started to reach for one of the books, you heard footsteps and turned as the door was thrown open fully and shut as a man entered the room, locking the door and huffing as if he’d run a marathon. You froze, eyes wide as he turned from the door and his eyes met yours, looking just as shocked.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes. “Uh,” you replied, lowering your hand. “I’m Y/N,” you answered turning to face him fully.

You watched as he reached into his jacket and pulled out a small revolver. “Whoa,” you said, holding your hands up. “There’s no need for that!”

You eyed him as he aimed the gun, keeping it trained on you.

“Why are you here?” he asked. “How did you get in?”

You eyed the gun nervously. You’d never had a gun drawn on you before.

“The door was unlocked and the light was on. I came in to see if anyone was here,” you answered. The man gave you a suspicious look. “Who do you work for?” he asked suddenly. You shook your head, shrugging.

“No one.” you answered. “I’m not a spy or something. I don’t even know where I am,” you added.

The man held you at gunpoint as he started to inspect the room. “If I find anything missing,” he warned as he started to search. “Go ahead,” you replied. “I have nothing to hide.”

You watched as he searched the whole office, checking all the drawers on the desk as well as the shelves.

When he was satisfied nothing was missing, he holstered the gun. “What’s your name, again?” He asked as he moved to stand before you. “Y/N,” you answered. “And you are?”

He looked up to meet your gaze. “CJ,” he answered. “I’m a private investigator.”

You looked around the office again and it suddenly made sense. The papers, the bulletin board with the pins and red thread. “How did you get here?” CJ asked, you turned your attention back to him. “I walked,” you answered plainly.

“I followed a hallway to an elevator and took the lift up. It brought me to this hallway,” you continued to explain. The man’s eyes narrowed.

“And how did you end up in that hallway?”

Deciding it would be better to play it safe, you told him everything. How you got into the hall, the Library, your quest, all of it save for the intimate details.

CJ listened with mild curiosity as you explained how you ended up in his office.

“I know it sounds outrageous,” you said as he stared back at you. “But I promise it’s the truth.”

You waited for him to respond, watching as he seemingly thought over your words thus far. Finally he nodded. “I’ve heard crazier stories,” he replied. “And they ended up being true, so this doesn’t seem entirely unlikely.”

You relaxed, glad he took your explanation at face value. If it hadn’t been for an introduction of a gun, you never would have told another soul about the Library but you weren’t going to take any chances when a firearm was involved.

“Now what?” you asked after a beat of silence, watching as he moved to take a seat behind the desk. It was only now that you got a good look at him. When he entered, he’d been wearing a long tan coat but under that he wore a white button down with dark khaki pants and thick black suspenders.

CJ looked up at you. “What do you mean?” he asked. You glanced around the room. “Do I just leave?” you asked. “Or do I stay? Like, what now?”

CJ shrugged. “What do you want to do?”

“I need to find that key,” you replied. “That’s the reason I’m here.”

CJ nodded quickly, leaning forward. “Right, right,” he said. “The key.”

You watched as he leaned over, pulling open a desk drawer and pulled out a folded piece of cloth. He set it on top of the desk and pulled back the material.

You gasped, drawing his attention.

Inside the cloth was a key, made of the same metal and with its own insignia just like the other three keys. “Are you the Guardian?” you asked as CJ looked up at you. “Guardian? I don’t know about that,” he answered as you moved forward to get a closer look at the key.

Just as quickly as he produced it, CJ covered the key and placed it back inside the desk drawer. “I found it,” he admitted as he locked the drawer, pocketing the key in his right pocket. “Figured it was some sort of antique and I might be able to sell it.”

A frown settled on your face. “Sell it? For how much?” CJ pondered for a moment before answering. “I’m not entirely sure. See, I didn’t know what it was for. What it opened or if it even went to anything. It could have been a dud but now that I know it opens something, I’m more inclined to see what it opens.”

You shook your head. “I don’t think that’s possible,” you replied. “Seonghwa would never allow it.” CJ tilted his head, watching you with his dark eyes. “Seonghwa? Ah, the Keeper of Keys?” You nodded in reply.

“He’s sort of a stickler for the rules.”

CJ nodded slowly as he thought for a moment. “Tell you what, doll,” he said suddenly, sitting up straight. “How about we make a deal?”

Ignoring the pet name, you narrowed your eyes. “A deal?”

CJ nodded before speaking. “You help me with this case and I’ll pay you with the key.”

You glanced at the desk before looking back up at him.

“What sort of case?”

The case, it turned out, was a cheating husband. CJ had been paid by the wife to find irrefutable proof that her husband was cheating on her so she could divorce him and take everything. You weren’t entirely against the idea but you did question your safety which prompted CJ to ask if you had experience with guns.

When you shook your head, he clicked his tongue but got up anyway and headed to one of the bookcases, pulling a book which turned out to be a secret lever that released a locking mechanism and allowed him to push the book aside to reveal a safe in the wall.

Behind the safe door was a small fortune in gold and a few choice weapons. He didn’t trust you with a gun as you had no experience but he was more than willing to loan you a twelve inch fixed knife which you now had strapped to your hip.

The pair of you then headed out as he explained that he’d learned the routine of his target and knew where he was going to be tonight but you weren’t dressed for the occasion. That was how you followed CJ upstairs to his flat, watching as he dug through his closet and pulled out a dress and shoes for you to change into.

You'd initially turned that down so instead he compromised. You’d wear the dress while he’d stuff your clothes and boots into a small satchel. You didn’t like the idea of wearing the red sequined dress but once it was on, you couldn’t deny that it looked really good. You borrowed one of his coats and then the two of you were on your way to a club in the city.

Inside the club was something out of a movie. If it had been any other situation, you would have tried to enjoy the atmosphere but you were undercover and couldn’t afford distractions.

Once inside the club, you and CJ made your way over to a seat in the corner so CJ could keep an eye on his target. You finally got a glimpse of the man. He was tall with dark hair, wearing a dark navy blue suit. He looked like a regular guy and so ordinary. You half expected some kind of shifty villain but reminded yourself this wasn’t a movie.

CJ ordered two drinks and not long after they arrived. You sipped yours sparingly, while noticing CJ didn’t even touch his. “If you don’t drink it, you’re gonna look suspicious,” you said quietly. “I don’t drink,” he replied. “Clouds my judgment.”

You stared blankly at him. “Then why order it?” you asked. He turned his head to look at you briefly. “Because it looks weird if I don’t,” he replied. “Now stop distracting me.” You shook your head.

“It looks more suspicious if you order a drink and don’t drink it,” you said, pushing the martini towards him. “One drink isn’t going to kill you.”

CJ pushed the drink away. “I. Don’t. Drink.” With a huff, you downed the rest of your drink and set the empty glass on the seat next to you before taking his. “What are you—” he began but you cut him off.

“I told you,” you answered, taking the olive out of the cup. “It looks more suspicious to order a drink and not drink it. Makes it look like you’re trying too hard to fit in.”

CJ watched as you sucked the olive off the toothpick before looking away.

“And stop staring,” you added as you lifted the glass and took a sip.

“You’re being obvious.”

CJ groaned softly and gave you an annoyed look.

“How am I supposed to do my job then?”

You sighed, setting the glass down and turned to him. “First of all, take off your coat. You look like you’re about to dart out the door at any second.” CJ slowly shrugged his coat off, draping it over the satchel.

You caught a passing waiter and quietly asked for a virgin martini without the olive. He nodded and made his way to the bar, returning shortly with the drink and set it on the table. Thanking him, you pushed the drink towards CJ who glared at you.

“I don’t—”

“It’s a mocktail,” you interrupted. He glanced at the drink and back. “A what?"

“It’s not real alcohol. It’s a fake cocktail.”

CJ picked up the drink and sniffed it.

“Oh my god,” you whispered. “Just drink it.”

He took a sip and made a face. “That’s disgusting,” he whined. You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of his old drink. “Then don’t order martinis,” you answered.

The two of you sat in silence, sipping your drinks. You occasionally snuck glances at the target while reminding CJ to stop staring. “He’s going to catch on if you don’t stop it.”

CJ grumbled as he finished his mocktail. “That was revolting,” he huffed. You rolled your eyes again. As the waiter came by, he asked if you’d like another. You nodded. “Instead of the virgin martini, can we get a virgin Manhattan?” you asked, to which he nodded with a smile and took your empty glasses.

“Now what did you order?”

You turned to look at CJ. “You didn’t like that martini, so I got you something else,” you answered. He stared at you for a moment before turning to look at the target.

You looked up and noticed some of the men looking your way. ‘Shit.’

As the waiter returned with your drinks, you thanked him and turned CJ’s attention away from the men. “Try this,” you said, setting the drink in front of him. He looked down at it. “What is it?” he asked as you picked up your martini.

“A virgin Manhattan. No alcohol and it probably tastes a lot better than the martini.”

He picked up the drink and took a sip. “You’re right,” he said, looking mildly surprised. “This is much better.”

You relaxed as he took another sip. Several of the men sitting with the target were now looking in your direction. You downed the rest of your drink and got up, moving to grab CJ’s hand and pull him up.

“What are you doing?” He hissed as you pulled him from the table and onto the dance floor. “The men at the table are watching us. You’re being too obvious,” you said as you placed one of his hands on your hip and took the other in yours.

“Just dance with me for a couple songs,” you instructed as you both fell into the rhythm of the music. “Let them forget we’re here and then we’ll go back.”

CJ was a surprisingly good dancer and you were thankful, otherwise this might have drawn more attention.

“Where did you learn to dance?” you asked as he spun you. “My mother,” he answered. “She used to wake me up on Saturday mornings with the radio and we’d dance while she made breakfast.”

You smiled at him. “That’s really sweet,” you replied. “Do you still see her?”

CJ shook his head. “She passed away last year.” The smile on your face dropped. “I’m sorry CJ,” you answered. Silence fell over the two of you as you continued to dance.

“Jongho.”

You looked up at him, mildly startled. His eyes met yours. “My name is Jongho,” he continued. “Choi Jongho.” Your lips spread into another smile.

“That explains CJ,” you replied, taking note of the small smile on his face.

When you were sure the men at the table had forgotten about you and Jongho, you led him over to the bar to order two new drinks. “I still have a drink at the table,” he said as you waved the bartender down.

“First rule of drinking at a club,” you said after telling the bartender your order and turning to look at Jongho. “Never leave your drink unattended and come back to drink it. Someone could have slipped something into it.”

You thanked the bartender as he handed your drinks over. You handed Jongho his drink and led him back to the table. His drink had been picked up by a server but you didn’t want to take any chances.

When you arrived back at the table, you switched the seating.

“Sit here,” you whispered, lightly kicking the chair across from yours. Jongho looked up at you confused. “But I can’t see them if I sit here,” he answered. You nodded. “Exactly,” you replied. “But I can.”

He hesitated, looking like he was about to argue but he surprisingly took the seat.

“If we lose them,” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “I’m blaming you.”

Luckily, you didn’t lose them. Instead, you made Jongho tell you everything he had about the target up to the present point. You wanted to know everything he did, everyone he saw, everywhere he went.

You were nursing your martini while he finished his drink when you saw the men get up. “They’re moving,” you whispered. Jongho moved to turn his head but you reached forward, grabbing his hand and drawing his attention.

“Don’t make it obvious. Just let them go, we’ll follow shortly.”

To your surprise, Jongho fell into the act, taking your hand in his and looking down at it as the target continued to move through the club. You watched as Jongho got up and moved into the seat next to you, still holding your hand in his.

“How do you know so much about tailing someone?” he asked softly, looking up to meet your gaze. You took another sip of your drink. “I watch a lot of movies,” you replied, not noticing the confused look on his face.

“What are movies?”

You wracked your brain, trying to think of how to explain what a movie was. “It’s like a moving picture,” you replied. “Oh, cinemas,” Jongho said with a nod. You nodded quickly. “Yes, cinemas,” you answered.

You saw Jongho’s eyes follow the target behind you, his head staying still. He leaned in closely, lips close to your ear. “They’ve stopped at the bar.”

You nodded, before faking a giggle. “Just play along,” you whispered back. Jongho nodded. You never thought you’d have to teach a private investigator how to perform a stakeout but here you were, teaching Jongho.

“Pretend like you’re kissing my neck,” you whispered. You heard Jongho sputter.

“Are you insane?!”

“Just do it”

Jongho hesitated. “I can’t pretend to do that,” he murmured, to your annoyance. “Then just do it for real.”

He stared back at you. “What are we doing?”

“We want them to think we’re here as a couple. Do you want your cover blown?”

Jongho shook his head. “I can’t just do that out of nowhere,” he protested.

You rolled your eyes, pushing your drink back before grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss. You could feel the way he tensed up under your touch but as your lips moved against his, Jongho relaxed, even leaning into the kiss. When you pulled back, breaking the kiss, Jongho looked mildly upset.

“I wasn’t done, yet,” he whispered, pulling you back into another kiss.

Pulling back, you broke the kiss for a second time.

“Don’t get too into the act,” you reminded him. “We don’t wanna lose them.” Jongho glared at you before glancing behind you and then towards the door. “They’re leaving,” he noted.

You glanced over your shoulder before looking back at the table they’d been sitting at which was now empty. Glancing at the bar, you saw none of the men that had been with the target were in sight.

“Alright,” you answered. “The coast is clear.” Jongho grabbed his coat before handing you the satchel. “Let’s go.”

You got up, leaving some cash on the table before heading for the door. Jongho peered out and saw the men standing around, some smoking while they spoke. “We can’t go out this way,” he murmured.

“The side door,” you whispered. Jongho quickly took your hand and led you back into the club, squeezing through the other patrons and to the hall where the bathrooms were. There was a side door here you’d seen earlier while dancing and it was unlocked thankfully as you and Jongho headed out into the alley between the club and the building next door.

“Wait!” you whispered as Jongho headed for the end of the alley. He turned back to look at you. “I need to change!”

“The bathrooms are just inside, I'll keep an eye on them,” he replied.

You turned back to the door and tried to pull it open only to find it had locked when it shut. “It’s locked!” you hissed. Jongho groaned. “Then just change here!”

You looked around. “Right here?”

Jongho nodded. “We’re the only ones here,” he replied. “Just change quickly.”

You hesitated. “I can’t change here,” you replied softly, prompting him to turn. “Well they’re still by the doors and you can’t get back in from here,” he explained. You glanced around before turning back to him.

“Just hurry up,” he insisted. “No one else is here.”

“But what if someone comes by?”

Jongho turned to look at you. You could see his eyes looking around as he tried to find a solution. “I’ll cover you,” he finally said, shrugging his coat off and holding it up. “Just dress quickly.”

You nodded as he held the coat up, keeping and eye out for anyone walking into the alley or coming from the club side door.

You moved as quickly as you could, unzipping the side of the dress and shimmying out of it. You kicked the shoes off before digging into the satchel for your shorts and top. You pulled them on, cheeks burning as you pulled your shorts over your bare bottom half.

You should have fought San for your panties but it was too late now.

Once your shorts were on, you pulled on your blouse and buttoned it up before pulling on your socks and slipping your feet into your boots, tightening the laces.

Now fully dressed, you shoved the dress and shoes into the satchel and stood up straight. “Okay,” you announced. “Done.”

Jongho lowered the coat and nodded, pulling it back on as you headed for the end of the alley, peering around the corner, Jongho not far behind.

“Ow,” you hissed, pushing Jongho off you. “You stood on my foot!”

He mumbled an apology before peering around you and the corner. “Wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t in the way, doll,” he answered. You glared at him, about to retort when he shushed you, leaning past you to watch.

You turned to peek around the corner where you saw the target and his friends getting into two taxis.

“They’re getting into taxis,” Jongho announced, which prompted you to pinch his arm. “I can see that!” you hissed, ignoring the scowl on Jongho’s face.

“Which one is it again?” you whispered, eyes scanning as the men split up. “He’s getting into the front seat of the first taxi,” Jongho answered. “And his wife really thinks he’s cheating?”

Jongho nodded.

“Seems pretty anticlimactic,” you replied.

Jongho shrugged his shoulders. “It pays the bills,” he answered before grabbing your arm and pulling you back. “Shit, the car is coming, hide!”

The two of you scrambled behind a dumpster as the two taxis drove past the alley the two of you were currently hiding in. Your chest was pressed against the steel side of the dumpster, Jongho behind you, pressing into your backside.

You could feel his breath against your neck until he cleared his throat and stepped backwards. “H-he’s gone,” he said softly. You turned around to face him, finding he was already looking away. “We should probably follow him.”

Once in Jongho’s car, the two of you managed to find the taxis and followed them at a distance through the city. The drive led the two of you to the farside of whatever town you were in. “Where are we?” you asked, looking out the window.

“We’re over by the docks,” Jongho answered as he slowed the car to a stop, keeping the headlights off as he pulled to the corner of the street where the taxis had turned down. “It’s nothing but old unused warehouses over here,” he added as you both looked down the street.

The taxis had stopped. “This is it,” Jongho said, putting the car into reverse and pulling back a few feet before parking the car and cutting the engine. “Let’s go,” he said, leaning into the back of the car and grabbing a camera.

You opened your door and got out, shutting the door as quietly as possible as Jongho fiddled with the camera. He moved quickly to the corner of the building and peered around it, raising the camera to snap a couple pictures.

You peered around him just in time to see the men enter one of the old buildings as the taxis drove off. Jongho kept you behind him as the two of you made your way down the street. You stopped, grabbing Jongho as you noticed the man standing by the door.

Just as quickly, you pulled him into an alley between two buildings. “What are you doing?” Jongho hissed. You put a finger to your lips and beckoned him to follow you.

Peering around the corner, you could see now two men guarding the entrance of the warehouse. “Shit,” Jongho whispered. “How do we get in?”

You pulled back to look up at the building. You noticed a couple of cracked windows and moved over to climb on top of some old boxes to peer inside. “Here,” you whispered, waving him over.

You carefully pushed the window open and looked inside the building.

When you saw no one, you hoisted yourself up. “Be careful!” Jongho whispered as you pulled yourself into the window and carefully dropped down onto a table inside the building.

Jongho peered in, calling your attention with a ‘pst.’

You looked up as he held up the camera before tossing it to you.

You caught it as he climbed into the window, lowering himself onto the same table as you looked around, raising the camera and taking a couple of pictures for him. Jongho joined you on the warehouse floor and took the camera back.

The two of you looked around until you noticed light coming from a stairwell leading into a basement. You tapped Jongho and pointed. He nodded and led the way quietly, careful to avoid any old or loose looking floorboards.

The staircase was metal and didn’t creak thankfully.

As you made your way down the stairs, distant shouting could be heard. The further into the basement you descended, the louder the shouting. Soon you could hear barking and growling amongst the shouting.

You grabbed Jongho’s arm, causing him to look up at you. “Dogs,” you whispered.

He nodded, obviously not piecing together what you were. “Dog fighting,” you whispered, satisfied when it sunk in and his eyes widened. “We shouldn’t be here,” you continued but Jongho shook his head. “I have a job to do,” he replied. “And if you want that key, you’re gonna help me.”

Your heart sank and you saw no other way out of this.

Nodding, you continued to follow him down the stairs.

At the bottom the hall led forward. There were two doors. Behind one you could hear shouting which you assumed to house the ring. You pointed to the other door first. “If you need pictures, you’re going to want to get them of any other dogs being held here,” you explained. “Especially if you plan on turning this over to the police.”

Jongho took hold of the handle and slowly opened the door. Inside was exactly as you suspected. Stacks of crates housing all sorts of dogs of different breeds and sizes. It made your heart hurt, knowing what these poor animals were being used for.

Jongho snapped a few pictures of the crates before moving further into the room. You glanced around and then up, noticing the wall separating this room from the main room didn’t reach the ceiling. But you noticed something else. An opening in the floor above. You grabbed Jongho’s sleeve and nodded towards the ceiling.

He looked up and noticed the opening before looking back down at you.

“Good eye,” he whispered before ushering you towards the door and back up the stairs. Once upstairs, you watched him carefully make his way over to the opening, getting down to be closer to the edge. Once peering over, he snapped a few pictures of what you could only assume was the main event.

You urged him to hurry, glancing around and noticing that the door downstairs was open and you could hear footsteps. “Jongho!” You hissed. “Someone’s coming!”

Jongho scooted back before getting up and quickly making his way back, not caring if any of the floorboards squeaked as there was so much sound coming from below. “Come on!” he hissed, waving you over. You followed him back to the window you’d come in from, heart pounding as he helped you climb the table and boosted you up to the window.

Once you were through, he climbed through himself and jumped down from the boxes outside before helping you down. Without thinking, he took your hand and led you to the end of the alley, peering around the corner. The two men were no longer in sight.

Jongho took that opportunity to take off, dragging you down the street and back to the car. Once there, he tossed you the camera as you both got in and started the car before taking off and driving away from the warehouses.

The entire ride back, your heart was pounding as Jongho rambled on and on about the pictures and everything he managed to capture.

Soon, you were back at his building, heading up to the floor his office was on.

You followed Jongho inside, still silent as adrenaline continued to course through your body while Jongho removed his coat and headed for the stairs. “Come on,” he said excitedly.

You threw a glance at his desk before following him up the steps.

Inside his apartment, he walked over to a cabinet in the kitchen and pulled out two glasses. “I know I said I don’t drink,” he said as he bustled about. “And it’s true. At least not while I’m working,” he continued as he pulled out a bottle of whiskey.

“So,” you finally spoke up. “About that key.” Jongho turned to look at you, bottle of whiskey in hand. “The key?” He asked. You nodded. “That was the deal.”

He hesitated before setting the bottle of liquor down. “Well,” he started. “I was actually thinking,” he added. “We made such a good team tonight.”

Your chest tightened. ‘No. He’s not going to do this now.’

“Maybe we could work together?”

You shook your head. “I can’t,” you answered. “I know this seems real to you,” you replied. “But it’s not. I’m stuck inside a mystical library,” you continued. “I need the key to get free and return to my own life.”

Jongho looked down, a look of disappointment crossing his features.

“I don’t know,” he said softly as you walked over to where he stood, pulling yourself up to sit on the counter beside him. “I know we made a deal,” he continued. “But I’ve really enjoyed your company.”

Without answering him, you took one of the glasses and lifted it.

You were determined to get that key. One way or another.

“Tell you what,” you said, bringing the glass to your lips and taking a sip. “How about we play a game.” Jongho looked up at you, lifting his own glass. “A game?”

You nodded. “A game. If I win, I get the key,” you replied. Jongho contemplated for a moment. “And if I win?” he asked, fighting the urge to smirk. You rested the glass against your exposed thigh. “Well, what do you want?” you asked softly as Jongho closed the distance between you, pushing your knees apart as he set his glass down on the counter.

“What do I want?” he asked, looking up at you as you nodded. “Hmm,” he hummed, thinking as he looked around, eyes settling back on you.

“I want you to stay,” he answered, grabbing his glass and taking another sip, moving to put some distance between you.

You lifted your glass, downing the rest of your whiskey before setting the glass down and moving to undo the top few buttons of your blouse. Jongho’s breath caught in his throat as you slowly undid the buttons.

“What do you really want?” You asked again, trying to hide the smirk that threatened to form as his eyes went straight to your exposed collar.

It wasn’t the first time you’d seduced a man to get what you wanted and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last.

“Keep going,” Jongho whispered but you shook your head. “No,” you answered.

“You have to tell me what you want so we can play the game,” you replied. Jongho downed the rest of his drink, setting the glass on the counter and moved back between your spread legs, one hand moving to the small of your back, the other moving to the back of your neck and pulling you into a searing kiss.

You moaned against his lips, hands moving to grab the front of his shirt. You broke the kiss, giggling as he chased your lips with a frown. “You have to tell me what you want,” you repeated. “For the game.” Jongho pulled you down from the counter, turning you to face away.

“Fuck the game,” he murmured, lips brushing against your skin as his hands moved to finish unbuttoning your top. You moaned, pushing your backside against him, feeling his erection through his pants. He groaned in your ear as he finished unbuttoning your shirt. “Keep doing that,” he moaned.

You giggled, pushing back against him again as he rutted against you. “Shit,” he groaned, pulling your shirt down past your shoulders and discarding it on the floor. “Come here,” he rasped, turning you to face him and pulling you into another kiss.

You moaned into his mouth as his hands wandered, moving up to grope you over your black lace bra. “These need to come off,” he growled, hands moving down to mess with the button and zipper of your shorts. Your hands replaced his, undoing both quickly before pushing them down and letting them pool at your ankles.

Jongho turned you away again, pushing you over the counter with one hand while the other snuck between your thighs, feeling your wetness on his fingers. “Shit,” he groaned. “No panties and already so wet for me?”

You groaned as he pushed you down by the back of your neck, your cheek pressing against the cool countertop while his fingers worked against your clit from behind. “Doesn’t take much to get you goin’, does it, baby?”

You moaned as three of his fingers plunged into your aching cunt, the stinging quickly replaced with a burning desire. He didn’t let you adjust to the intrusion, instead moving his fingers in and out of you rapidly, trying to stretch you to take him.

A moment later, his fingers slipped out and you whined, pushing back against him as he chuckled. You heard the clink of his belt and the unzipping of his pants before he pushed them down just enough to pull his cock free.

Using your wetness on his fingers, Jongho gave his cock a couple strokes before aligning himself with your entrance. He gave no warning before pushing himself into you, eyes fluttering shut as your walls welcomed him. You groaned as he bottomed out, the hand on the back of your neck holding you in place as his other hand moved to your hip.

“Fucking hell, baby,” he gasped. “Are you not getting fucked properly?”

You whimpered as he pulled back, snapping his hips forward and driving the head of his cock against the gummy spot inside your walls. “You’re so damn tight.” Another moan slipped out as he set a steady pace, cock hitting all the right spots.

“Ah, shit,” you hissed, palms pressed against the flat surface of the kitchen island. “Don’t stop.” Jongho let out a huff as he shook his head. “Don’t plan to, doll.”

Your walls clenched around him at the pet name, making him chuckle. “Is that what does it for you?” He asked. “This whole time I’ve been calling you that, you’ve just been squeezing around nothing?”

You whimpered loudly, nodding as his hips continued their assault.

Jongho let out a groan. “Goddamn, you’d think after three sections, you wouldn’t be this fucking tight anymore.”

Your stomach lurched, trying to lift your head to look back at him but you couldn’t. His grip was too strong as he held you down against the counter. “What did you just say?” you gasped. Jongho growled, hips slamming into you from behind, the sound of his skin hitting yours filling the room.

“You’re such a slut, you know that, doll?”

You groaned, walls tightening again. “Letting four guardians fuck you? And you seem to enjoy it. Only sluts do that,” he continued.

You tried to respond but you couldn’t. You were left speechless.

How did he know about the others? There was no way he could know. Yet somehow so did Wooyoung. The Horror Section Guardian knew about Yunho, so why did you think Jongho would be any different?

“Collecting keys,” he murmured. “You really expect me to fall for that bullshit?”

His hips didn’t slow as he continued to fuck you from behind. “Aliens, spider creatures, and lords? Tell me doll,” he said, giving you a particularly harsh thrust and stilling deep inside you.

“How were they?”

The question caught you off guard. “W-what?”

“Hmm? How was that alien cock?” Your walls clenched as you remembered your encounter with Yunho, the tentacles exploring your uterus, his unbelievably long tongue filling your pussy and the huge knotted cock filling you with a ridiculous amount of cum.

“And how well did that spider creature bind you with his web before he pumped you full?” A shiver ran up your spine as you remembered the purple and indigo colors of Wooyoung’s thick cock and the way he tied your body so expertly with his webs.

“What about that feudal lord? Was he rough enough for you?” You let out a groan, remembering the way San pinned you to the table and had his way with you at dinner. The way he ate you out and then teased you with the tip of his cock before slamming it all into you and making it hard for you to walk after.

You pushed back against him, earning a growl, something you hadn’t heard from any of the other guardians before.

It was deep, animalistic and almost… demonic.

“How. Was. It?” He asked again, the same deep, growling voice that sounded completely unlike him as he punctuated each word with a hard thrust.

“Obviously it must be good if you keep coming back for more,” the deep demonic voice said. “J-Jongho,” you gasped only for the voice to chuckle darkly.

“Wrong answer, doll,” the voice said and your eyes snapped open, heart hammering as you pushed yourself up and turned to look back at Jongho who stared back with a peculiar look.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asked, stopping his movements and looking at you with concern. You quickly glanced around the flat, eyes scanning but saw nothing out of the ordinary. ‘What the hell was that?’

You felt Jongho’s hands on your shoulders soothingly. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “Sorry,” you said softly. “I… I must have spaced out.” Jongho leaned over your back. “Do you want to stop?” You shook your head. “No,” you answered. “Keep going, please.”

Despite the weird voice thing, nothing else of note happened for the rest of the night and Jongho seemed determined to set a record, giving you a total of 6 orgasms, something not even your long sessions with Yunho had done.

From the counter, you ended up in Jongho’s bed where he busied himself between your thighs for what felt like hours. After drawing a couple orgasms out of you with his tongue, he was back balls deep in you, one of your legs over his shoulder as his hips moved rhythmically, each thrust having you seeing stars.

“Fuck,” you groaned, back arching off the mattress. “M’gonna cum,” you gasped. “Let go, baby,” Jongho groaned. “Cum for me.”

Your walls convulsed around him as you came for the sixth time that night, Jongho following quickly as his thrusts grew more erratic, chasing his own high until he finally came with a low moan, cock twitching as he filled your pussy with spurts of white hot seed.

“Fuck,” he cursed, hips stilling as his cock twitched inside your warm walls. You panted heavily, trying to catch your breath as he pulled out of you and rolled onto his back beside you. “Where the hell do you get all that stamina from?” you asked, staring up at the ceiling. Jongho let out a breathless laugh.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he replied. “What was that, six orgasms?” Your cheeks burned in embarrassment. “You’re the one who gave them,” you retorted, turning your head to look at him. He gave you a smug smile. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I?”

Rolling your eyes, you turned away from him. “Okay Mr. High and Mighty,” you replied, sitting up and swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. “Where are you going?” Jongho asked, watching you. “Bathroom,” you replied, getting up, legs trembling slightly as you stood.

Jongho watched as you carefully made your way to the bathroom, no doubt feeling proud that he was the reason you were so wobbly and unstable.

After doing your business, you returned to find him passed out, sheet pulled up to his waist. As quietly as you could, you dressed and walked over to where his pants lay, picking them up and pulling the key to the desk from his pocket.

With one last look back at him, you headed for the door, opened the door and headed down the stairs to his office.

Once there, you hurried over to the desk, kneeling down to unlock the desk drawer and pulled it open. They cloth lay inside and inside that was the key. You grabbed it, pocketing it before shutting the drawer, standing up and leaving his key and a note on the desk, thanking him and apologizing.

With your prize in your pocket, you headed for the door, stopping to pull on and tie your boots before opening the door and slipping out, shutting it behind you and hurrying to the lift.

The return trip always seemed shorter than when you left and soon you were approaching the door leading back into the lobby where Seonghwa was waiting for you, sitting behind the desk with one leg crossed over the other. He watched with narrowed eyes as you approached, setting the key on the desk.

He stared up at you wordlessly before taking the key and placing it in the box.

“Did you have fun?” He asked, all amusement in his voice gone. You gulped at the tone and the look he gave you. “Define fun,” you replied, regretting it instantly as Seonghwa got up and rounded the desk in the blink of an eye, he pinned you against the desk. “You think this is a game?” He growled.

You shook your head, eyes wide with terror. The angelic appearance you’d grown accustomed to shifted for a brief period, allowing you to see some of the true creature beneath the facade.

And it was terrifying.

Realizing what he’d done, Seonghwa let go of you and took a step backwards. “There isn’t much time,” he said, looking at his hands before balling them into fists and looking at you. ‘Much time?’ You wondered. ‘Much time for what?’

Seonghwa turned to look at you.

“You have to hurry.”

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