Suddenly, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. The extracurricular activities. Particularly the ones he imagined doing with you. 

It started with the dreams— vague, soft dreams where he was a knight in shining armor rescuing you from a tower... and then bedding you in a field. Or where he was an intergalactic captain and you were his first mate... and then you engaged in celestial sex in the control room.

Each time, he’d wake up rock hard and mortified— disgusted with himself for thinking of you that way, for... defiling you, even if it was just in his mind. He never consciously acted on it, instead opting for a cold shower and a giant helping of shame. You were his best friend, for goodness sake.

And then... Lila Archer happened, and he was momentarily distracted. A pretty, famous girl was interested in him, and he felt on top of the world for that entire weekend. They texted a couple of times, enough to keep the memory of her mouth on his for the next week. But the infatuation quickly faded, and she was removed enough from his day to day life that after another week, it almost didn’t feel real.

What didn’t fade, was how uncomfortable things had become with you. You hadn’t been there with them in LA, but word had traveled quickly around the Bureau. And while you still accepted the coffee he dropped off on your desk each morning, still smiled while he rambled about last week’s episode of Doctor Who, still walked out to the parking garage with him each evening... something was off.

After seven days of this, he couldn’t take it any longer.

The two of you walked side by side in relative silence to your car. When you turned to say goodnight, he asked, “Is everything all right?”

You drew your brows together and pursed your lips. “Yeah? Why wouldn’t it be?”

He shrugged. “I— I don’t know, I just. I feel like things are... off between us.”

You sighed. “No, I’m just— I’ve got a lot on my mind recently.”

Spencer put his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching for you. “You know you can talk to me, right? About anything.”

You laughed ruefully. “Yeah, I can’t— I can’t talk to you about this, Spence.”

Now it was his turn to furrow his brow. “Why not?”

A flush rose in your cheeks, and he watched you chew the inside of your cheek. “I just can’t.”

Your eyes flicked down to his mouth for a split second, but it was long enough. His eyes widened a little bit when the thought passed through his brain, rattling around like a rock in a tin can. “Is this about Lila?”

You turned to unlock your car door. “Can we not talk about this?”

He placed his hand over yours. “If it’s about Lila, then I think we need to talk about it.”

You turned to smile at him, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “We don’t need to talk about it. I’m happy for you.”

He shook his head. There was nothing to be happy about. “Nothing happened. I mean it. She kissed me, but that’s it.”

You were taken aback by that, but you recovered quickly. If he wasn’t a profiler, he might not have caught it. “Well, that’s— that’s great.” You shook your head. “No, I didn’t—I mean, it’s not great but it’s— it’s okay, you know? There’ll be lots of other pretty girls, I just—”

Spencer cut you off by covering your open mouth with his. Unlike with Lila, there was no apprehension, no threat of transference, no water in his ears. He knew how he felt about you, and now he was pretty sure you felt the same. He could thank Lila for one thing, perhaps— this newfound sense of confidence. He captured your bottom lip in his mouth, swallowed the little gasp you let out, and held you still with gentle hands on your face.

When he finally broke away to take a breath, he leaned his forehead against yours and murmured, “There’s only one pretty girl I’m interested in.”

...

The kissing continued at your apartment, only this time you were in his lap, and it was every dream he’d had come to life.

Except now his erection was verging on painful, and he couldn’t well jump in a cold shower while you were in his lap.

He stiffened a bit underneath you as his brain tried to focus on how good you felt, while also trying to brainstorm a solution for his... problem. You pulled back from his mouth, and he wasn’t proud of the high, disapproving noise he made. You smiled a little and stroked a soft thumb over his cheek. “Are you okay? You seem a little far away. If you’ve changed your mind—”

“No! I haven’t changed my mind. I just— well, I wasn’t lying when I said nothing happened with Lila. Nothing’s happened with anyone,” he admitted.

You brushed his hair back. “I don’t care about that, Spence. And we’re just kissing. We don’t have to do anything either.”

“I want to. I just— I’ve never... even with myself?” He phrased it as a question and watched your eyes go a little wide before you caught yourself and evened out your expression.

“Have you ever tried?” you asked, tilting your head.

“N-no. I just— I didn’t ever have the time? And didn’t really have the, um— inspiration either.” He licked his lips. “Until recently.”

A slow, sultry smile spread over your face. “Do you want to try now?”

“Yes, please,” he breathed.

You ran a soft hand down his chest, stopping at his waist band. “Can I?”

He nodded, and you unbuckled his belt, popped the button on his trousers, and pulled the zipper down. You raised up on your knees enough for him to lift his hips and shimmy the pants and his underwear down over his hips, then his thighs, until they were pooled on the floor around his ankles. He was already rock hard and resting against his stomach, and he swelled a little with pride when he saw your lustful gaze land on it.

“You’re so pretty, Spence.” You brought your eyes back up to his face. “You’ve never touched yourself?” He shook his head. “Can I teach you?” He nodded enthusiastically, and you laughed. “Give me your hand.”

He placed his hand in yours, and you turned it palm up. He watched as you brought it up to your mouth, and he felt his cock quite literally twitch as you dragged your hot, wet tongue across his skin, over and over until the air of the room felt cool against his damp palm.

You brought your joined hands down to wrap around his shaft, and he choked out a gasp. You helped him grip it loosely at first, then slowly tightened the circle of your fingers, squeezing him lightly. “You’ve got to find the pressure that you like,” you murmured. “I think you might like it a little tighter, but you can decide.”

He squeezed experimentally, eyes flicking back and forth between your joined hands and your face. He found that you were right; he did enjoy a tighter circle of pressure. You watched him carefully, and he nodded when he was ready to continue. You slotted your fingers in between his own, and the texture difference was overwhelming.

“And now that you know how tight you want it, you just...” You guided his hand down to the base, gave him a little squeeze, and then moved your hands slowly up the shaft and over the head. At the top, you swiped his hand over the tip, through the pre-come that was leaking from the slit. You repeated the motion, squeezing at the base, slicking up the shaft, and swirling his palm around the head. 

When the drag started to become a little intense, you paused at the base. “Sometimes it can get a little dry.” And then you leaned over him, gathered a mouthful of spit, and let it drip from your mouth onto the head of his cock, and he almost died right there on the couch. 

“How does it feel, Spence?”

“Good, so good, it’s— it feels like— a lot, a lot of everything, so much—” he babbled.

You sped up the motion of his hand and then leaned forward to kiss him. He panted into your open mouth as your tongue licked into his. When he started to whine, you pulled back from the kiss and asked, “Do you think you’re close?”

He’d never felt anything like this before, and so he had no idea. His whole body felt like it was on fire— his toes were tingling, his mouth was bone dry, and every single muscle in his body was tense. He knew he’d probably read about orgasms, but he couldn’t recall a single piece of relevant information. “I—I don’t know.”

“Is it okay if help you?” you asked.

He would have agreed to anything you asked of him. He nodded, and you pressed another kiss to his mouth and slid onto the floor in front of him. He barely registered the movement, his eyes going nearly cross-eyed with the sensations of the hands on his cock. And then the tip was enveloped in warmth and wetness, and his eyes rolled so far back he was momentarily concerned that his retina had detached.

On the next upstroke, his hand bumped against the soft skin of your chin, and you hummed around the head of his cock, and his vision went white. There was radio static in his ears, electricity coursing through his veins, and absolutely nothing in his brain.

He was vaguely aware of the motion of his hand falling to rest against the couch, the sensation of the cool air hitting the tip of his dick, the feel of your soft fingers petting his sweaty hair. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, eyes closed and breathing ragged. He eventually gathered the strength to open his eyes. It took a long moment for them to come into focus, but when they did, he turned to see you sitting next to him on the couch, a smug smirk on your face.

“You okay, champ?”

He grabbed your face in his hands and pulled you back over his lap, crashing your mouths together. You laughed a little into his mouth as he sucked on your tongue and then nipped at your bottom lip. He pulled out of the kiss only to catch his breath before pushing you down on the couch and climbing over top of you.

You suppose he was right. Not that you mind him teaching her. Especially not when it grants you a front row seat to father and daughter bonding with one another. It warms your heart to watch, but it also leaves you aching.Aching for something that you still couldn’t seem to ask your husband for. “Come on, my love. Say it for me? I’m your?” The sound of his velvety voice brings your focus back to the pair before you, and you smile. This is the third night in a row of him teaching her the words for father and mother. Aemond pauses to see if she’ll respond, but instead, she twines locks of his hair between chubby fingers and giggles. “Kepa,” he answers for her. “Say ‘kepa’.” The second time he says the word, he slows down the pronunciation of each syllable in hopes that it’ll help her to mimic him. However, the string of sounds that come from her mouth is clearly not Valyrian for ‘father’. 

You would think that one would be frustrated after so many failed attempts, but not your dragon prince. The fire of the Targaryens might run through his veins, but not once has he even raised his voice to the child. He’s such a good father and an even better husband.

“Kepa,” you speak up, earning you Ameond’s attention. Pride shines in his eye at your proper pronunciation. “Well at least someone in this room is benefiting from my lessons.”  You can’t help but chuckle. The mirth in his tone is evident, but you know him well enough to sense that he’s starting to feel like his efforts are fruitless. “You are an excellent teacher, husband. She’ll be speaking full Valyrian by her third name day.” He nods with a smile–a silent thank you for your bout of confidence. He points a finger in your direction so that your daughter looks at you. 

“Who’s that my love? Come on, you remember how to say ‘mother’ don’t you?” Knowing he’s unlikely to receive an answer you speak up instead. “Mhysa.” His piercing lilac colored eye focuses on you. He’s equally surprised as he is pleased. And nothing leaves you quaking  more than pleasing your husband.

“My wife has been paying attention.” “To you, Aemond? Always.” You don’t mean to sound as breathless as you do, but it’s obvious enough for the man before you to notice. With his signature sly grin, he prowls towards you. He takes his time, not once looking away. You almost sink back into the chair you sit in. Not because you’re afraid, but because he stalks you like a hunter stalks its prey. Once he’s standing over you, he leans in to capture your lips with his own. You tilt your chin up to meet the kiss. He’s inches away. Another moment and your mouths would be connected. “Mhysa!” The giggling bubbly voice of your daughter rings out, halting both you and Aemond in your spots. She’s still in his arms and seems to be determined for the focus to remain on her. 

“Did she just?” He stops short, straightening back with his eye blown wide. 

Tiny hands reach out to you, squiggling in her father’s arms to get to you. “Mhysa!” she shouts again but this time with more urgency. Her want for you has you springing into action. You stand so you can take her into your arms. “My smart girl, that’s right, Mhysa is right here.” You use the tip of your nose to nuzzle her smaller one, earning you a new fit of giggles. 

You smugly look over at Aemond. “All that hard work and it would seem our daughter likes me best.” “You dare make jokes about your Targaryen Prince?” To anyone else his tone would be interpreted as a warning, but you know your husband and all his games. This one is a favorite for you both. The dominating prince and his penitent wife. Aemond never truly needed a reason to reprimand you. You were his sweet, loving wife, but that didn’t mean that the two of you didn’t enjoy playing pretend and being a little rough with one another. You bow your head in respect, “Of course not, my Prince. Please accept my deepest apologies.” Aemond steps forward and takes your daughter from your arms. “Go get yourself ready for bed while I put the little one to sleep.” Your eyes flick upward to look at your husband’s face. What you find there is a predatory look and a grin that almost gleams. “Then we’ll see how sorry you really are.” You swallow thickly and manage a nod before Aemond whisks off towards the nursery. Excitement coils in your belly. You know what’s coming, and you can hardly stand to wait. Not knowing how long it’ll take him to return, you quickly make your way into your shared bed chamber. Your mind races with possibilities. All the things you could do to soothe your husband. Your fingers shake as you undress and wash for bed. The entire time you imagine Aemond’s hand around your throat while thrusting into you and taking out his frustrations on your cunt. 

Perhaps tonight would result in another child. The thought freezes you in place. By the Gods, do you want that more than anything else. You ache for it. Throb for it. If you couldn’t get these feelings under control, then surely you would need to tell Aemond the truth. 

You go to grab your nightdress, but a sinful little voice whispers in your ear—telling you to leave yourself bare beneath your robe. You usually weren’t so forward, but imagining your husband’s surprise is too tempting to give up. 

With one last look in the mirror, you tie the sash of your robe into place and crawl into bed. Your hands fidget in your lap as you wait for Aemond to appear. The moment he enters the room, you’re on your feet. He starts making his way over to where you stand, but you meet him halfway at the foot of the bed. You let the robe fall from your body, revealing your bare skin. Aemond raises his brow, amusement and intrigue brightening the beautifully sculpted features of his face. You sink down onto the stone floor to kneel before him with your head bowed in submission. “I wish to earn my husband’s forgivness.” Standing over you, he cups your chin in his hand, turning it so your eyes meet. “Tell me, how do you plan on gaining such a thing?”

Your mouth opens, but no words come. “Come now, you know your husband is a forgiving man. Tell me what thoughts are swirling around in that pretty head of yours.” Perhaps if you weren’t so caught up in fantasies you’d be able to come up with some quick witted reply. However, you’re left feeling defenseless so instead honesty pours freely like wine. “I want to give my Prince a son.” His body goes rigid as he stares down at you. He’s so still that you aren’t sure he’s breathing. “Do not jest about such things.” “I’m not, Aemond. I swear.” You sit up onto your knees so your hands can grip his hips. “I haven’t been able to stop fantasizing about having another child. I just…wasn’t sure how to tell you.” He bends and helps pull you to your feet until your bare body is pressed flushed to his clothed one. The feeling of his leather jerkin has you shivering. He holds you so closely that the hilt of the dagger attached to his belt bites into your soft skin. “You never have to hide anything from me. You know that, don’t you?” His tone is gentle, as if he’s seeking reassurance that he hasn’t inadvertently done something to give you cause to conceal your desires. You rise up onto your toes and leave a kiss at the corner of his mouth. “I know. I wasn’t hiding. I think I was unsure how to bring it up…but it is what I want.” Your arms drape across his shoulders, wrists crossing at the base of his skull while you press your face to his ear and whisper. “I want another baby.” His own hands wander down the sides of your curves, but it isn’t until you hotly breathe your wish into his ear that he grabs your ass in both hands. If there had been any distance between the two of you before, there isn’t any now. He grinds against you, letting you feel his already hard cock through his pants. When he speaks again, it is nothing more than a growl. “Then I suppose I should fuck one into you.” You don’t have time to react before being lifted off the ground. Out of instinct, you yelp and cling to him in fear, but you know that Aemond would never drop you. He carries you to the bed and lays you down atop it before taking a step back to rid himself of his clothes. You’re thankful that you’re already naked so that you can enjoy watching your husband’s flesh be revealed to you. But soon watching isn’t enough. You’d rather touch…. You start to sit up but two words from Aemond is all it takes to halt all movements. “Show me.” He doesn’t need to explain. You already know what he wants. You part your legs, knees falling open to expose your sex to him. Your reward is a breathy grunt that sounds more beast than man. His long fingers find themselves tangled within the laces of his breaches, but the moment his cock is free, Aemond is on you. He easily pins you beneath him and crashes his mouth down onto yours. There’s nothing between your bodies, allowing you both to grind against one another. His hand finds its way to your neck and wraps his long fingers around your throat. He moans against your mouth and bucks particularly hard against you. “I can feel how wet that cunt of yours is.” He nips at your bottom lip, causing you to whine. “You’re soaked.” You nod, clawing at his back. “I need you, my Prince. Please?” He breathlessly chuckles and grips the base of his cock so he can tease your slit with the tip. “Is this what my sweet wife needs?” Your hips arch off the bed in an attempt to get him inside, but he’s enjoying this far too much to give in so quickly. Teasing you when you’re this desperate is one of his favorite pastimes. “Aemond.” You try again with wide pleading eyes, “Please? For our baby.” 

That gets him. 

He fills you so suddenly that you gasp, your mouth opening into a tiny ‘o’ shape. He’s always fit you so perfectly. Even on your wedding night, when he first took you to bed. The pain had been there, but it had blossomed into a feeling of wholeness. 

Now is no different. You feel complete now that he’s buried inside you. 

“You’re always so damn tight.” He hisses above you with his eye screwed tightly shut. 

He places one hand beside your head to hold himself up, so the other can grip your hip. His movements start slow, simply allowing himself to enjoy your warmth as he works up a steady rhythm. 

Your own hands grab at his shoulders and forearms, trying to pull him deeper into you. The little desperate sounds you make catches his attention, his eye opens to stare down at you. 

You coo his name, causing him to smile and lean in to crash his lips to yours. 

For all the walls he puts up for the outside world, with you he is his true self. 

Loving, considerate, and—

His pace picks up, hips sharply thrusting to get every inch of his cock buried inside you. You’re certain he’s attempting to reach the opening of your womb. 

Either way, it has you crying out against his mouth. “That’s it, wife. Scream my name so the entire Red Keep hears you.” 

He rears up so the hand on your hip can instead dive between your bodies to stroke your clit. The rough pads of his fingertips have your legs wrapping around his waist with your ankles locking at the base of his spine, using them to grind into his touch. “So needy.” This isn’t said as criticism, but as praise. If there’s anything Aemond Targaryen loves, it’s making his wife desperately thrash beneath him. He adores that his hunger for you matches your hunger for him. Sweat beads across his brow as a wet slapping sound fills your shared bedchamber. Once, that sound would mortify you and make you feel unladylike. But now you recognize it as the music your bodies make together. “Please don’t stop. F-Feels so good!” “Never,” he assures you through clenched teeth. His own pleasure starts to overtake him, but he’d never allow himself release before his wife. His nimble fingers work faster over your clit. The tiny bud seems to throb beneath his touch. The sounds emitting from you change, becoming more high pitched and breathless. Aemond knows what that means, that you’re close. “Yes, my love. Let it happen. Cum for me.” You want to…desperately. Not only to obey his command, but because your body craves it. There’s just one problem. A single item that keeps you from fully being intimate with your husband. Your hand shoots to snatch the leather strap of his eyepatch, but on instinct Aemond jerks his head back. As close as the two of you are, he still finds it difficult to reveal his scar. The bitterness he feels towards his nephews for the loss of his eye runs deep. Not even your tender affection could heal such wounds. But still you reach up once more. This time he growls, the movement of his hips and fingers faltering as he gives you a stern look. “Please don’t hide from me. Not now.” You cup his right cheek, but don’t make another move to remove the eyepatch. “I want to see all of you while you give me your son.” He gives in with a sigh. Denying you isn’t an easy task, but being balls deep inside you makes it impossible. He leans his face into your palm, letting your fingers slip under the leather and pull the eyepatch from his face. You toss it away with a smile, pleased that you can now see him completely. The sapphire that replaces his eye shines, the fire from the candles reflecting in it. Still smiling, you sit up and kiss him. He doesn’t understand why you find his bare face so beautiful. He never has, but that doesn’t alter your feelings or stop you from rolling your lower body into his. Your cunt is so warm and wet as it clenches around his length. He moans your name and resumes thrusting into you.

“Yes, Aemond, yes! Fill my womb! Give me our baby.” “Gods, when you talk like that.” He grunts, setting a rougher pace than before, while his fingers rub your clit in slick circles. You let out a lewd moan as your back arches. A tightness blooms in your lower belly. You’re so close to your peak. You couldn’t stop it even if you wanted to. Aemond works your body with the skill that only a husband could have knowledge of. No one else knows your body as well as he does. His cock hits you deep while his fingers apply the perfect amount of pressure to your clit. You stumble over his name, trying to alert him of your impending orgasm, but your words aren’t needed. “I know, sweet one. Let me feel you cum for me and I’ll give you what you desire.” This time nothing stops you from obeying. Your body gives in, feeling like it’s being tossed along the shore line as your release wracks through you. You cry out, chant his name and thrash beneath him, but Aemond keeps you steady, fucking you through it all as he reaches his own climax. He snarls, body going rigid while his cum fills your depths. He looks ferocious, like the dragon he rides. You dreamily grin at the thought, because you’re so proud to call him your own. He stays buried inside you long after his cock has softened, wanting to ensure that his seed stays where it needs. It’s only when he can no longer hold himself up that he slips out and falls beside you onto the bed. You both catch your breath. He, laying on his side, and you, on your back. After refilling his lungs with air, he tugs on your hip so you’ll turn on your side to face him. He looks thoroughly disheveled, with his silver white locks in matted knots. You’re certain he’ll need help brushing them out in the morning. He attempts to smooth down your own hair before tucking a strand behind your ear. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one with knots in their hair. Not that you mind when your limbs feel weightless. Aemond attempts to suppress a yawn, but none the less you notice. You snuggle in closer as he pulls the blankets over the both of you. “Is my wife feeling alright?”

You smile at his gentle tone. Even on the precipice of sleep, he still puts your wellbeing first. You take one of his hands and place it atop your belly, where his seed is hopefully already started to take root.

He knew it was true, he watched how Helaena’s ladies drew away from him, quickening their pace when passing him the halls. Averted their eyes from his face. Even though he had taken it upon himself to hide his ruined eye beneath a patch, they still seemed fearful of the dragon prince. 

If they shall treat me like a monster, a monster I shall become. 

You were the shyest of them all, visibly shaking in his presence. Helaena’s favorite lady, nearly attached at her hip always. Aemond would make polite conversation with his dear sister and you would cling to her skirts, drifting behind her like a silent shadow, cheeks flushed, eyes downcast. 

Aemond did not know what to make of you. The disgust you must feel for him was too painful to imagine. 

Though after a particularly frustrating moment with you, Aemond decided to seek comfort from his sister. 

“She ran from me,” he told her, sitting in front of the fireplace.

Helaena stopped her needlepoint; she had been working diligently on finishing the jade-colored scorpion per Jaehaera’s request. Her lovely brow knits together at her brother’s words.

“Whatever are you talking about?” she asks. 

“Your lady,” Aemond tells her, rubbing the scarred tissue below his eyepatch.

The incident Aemond refers to happened earlier in the day. He had nearly walked into you as you hurried in from the stables. 

Aemond fervently apologized, earning a small squeak from you as you hastily turned on your heel and fled in the opposite direction. 

“I do not understand what else I must do,” Aemond says, closing his eye.

Helaena purses her lips together tightly, a smile threatening to overtake her. Aemond opens his eye, looking at her. He frowns.

“What?” he asks.

“Oh Aemond,” she says, laughing slightly. 

“What is it?” he asks again, confused about what is laughable about this torment. 

“I should not be telling you this,” Helaena admits, “I have been sworn to secrecy.”

“But you shall tell me anyway because you are my sister,” Aemond says.

“I cannot.”

“I am your blood,” Aemond insists.

“Oh hush you dramatic fool,” she teases, causing Aemond to flush slightly at his elder sister’s scolding.

“Please, Hel,” Aemond begs, “I cannot stand it. This fear, this hatred-”

“She does not hate you, brother,” Helaena interrupts.

Aemond closes his mouth, then opens it again, his confusion is evident on his face.

“What do you mean?” he asks. 

“She is rather fond of you,” Helaena admits, “She thinks you are roguishly handsome.”

Aemond is at a loss for words. Never in his life did he think a lady, especially one so beautiful as yourself, would think him handsome.  

“You jest,” Aemond says, brushing off her words.

Helaena raises an eyebrow.

“Shall I go on?” Helaena asks.

Aemond waves a hand, encouraging her to continue, but attempting to remain composed. He can feel his heart beating wildly against his ribs. You think he is handsome. 

“She told me she cannot bear to look at you,” Helaena admits. 

For a moment, Aemond’s heart sinks, he feels his worst fears have come true. You are afraid. You are disgusted. 

“She finds your mouth too enticing,” Helaena continues, “Every time you speak of your studies she cannot focus on the words that you speak.”

Aemond feels a blush blooming on his cheeks. 

“The rest I shall not tell you - do not look at me like that! It is a discussion only ladies may have in the safety of one another,” Helaena insists.

“About my mouth?” he asks.

“About things, a sister should not be partial in hearing about her younger brother,” Helaena says, shivering slightly, “Though I do adore her so much, I allow her to voice her lustful thoughts.”

“Lustful?” Aemond asks, and Helaena slams her mouth shut, “Surely we are not talking about the same lady.”

How could you be lustful of him? Of anything? You appeared so painfully shy Aemond doubted you wished for marriage or love at all.

“Women hold many secrets within them,” Helaena says, being careful with her words, “You must understand, women have desires as men do. We are just taught to hide them. To not indulge in them beyond the privacy of our chambers.”

“And what does your lady indulge in, exactly?” Aemond asks, desperate to know. 

Helaena purses her lips.

“She is fond of literature,” she admits, “Literature that should not be read outside of one’s quarters.” 

Aemond stares back at Helaena. She sighs dramatically. 

“Men,” she murmurs, shaking her head, “Stories, Aemond, erotic stories.”

“May the Maiden protect my lovely granddaughter’s virtue, along with all the sweet doves that reside within the walls of the Red Keep and those beyond,” Alicent finishes her prayer, and you feel your cheeks flush. 

You wonder how virtuous Queen Alicent would think you were, had she known what you were up to. You hadn’t meant to read it, you’d told yourself you were done indulging in such filth, but as you were scouring the library the previous afternoon, the title caught your eye. 

A Cautionary Tale for Young Girls.

Surely, it was a book you should be reading. A tale of caution, and you were a young girl. Innocent enough, perhaps? So you brought the book to your chambers and began reading when you returned from supping with the royal family. 

You had stayed awake, eyes wide, until all the candles in your room had melted to small nubs. Even then, you brought yourself to the window, squinting at the pages in the moonlight. Reading all about Lady Coryanne Wylde and her debauchery. The text was intriguing and left a dull ache between your legs that even sleep could not calm. Only when your hands drifted below your silk nightgown, stroking the wet patch on your small clothes did you find any semblance of relief. 

Your palms were sweaty as you were dismissed from the Sept. You needed to return the book before it was found in your chambers. As you returned you plucked the text from its hiding place below your bed, sneaking toward the library. 

The great room appeared to be empty as you crept towards the shelves that lay toward the back of the room. Pushing past scrolls, you found the empty slot where the book had been taken by you. Another title caught your eye as you held the book in the air. Sins of the Flesh. Blush blooms on your cheeks as you contemplate repeating your own sin from the previous night. 

“What are you reading?” Aemond says, plucking the book with the effort of yanking a flower from its stem.

Panic surges through you. A small whimper escapes your lips as you trail behind him. 

“Aemond please give it back,” you beg, following him through the stacks.

It is the first time you’ve spoken to him, the first time he’s heard his name drip like honey from your lips. Aemond closes his eye at the sound of your small voice. He stops walking and you nearly collide with his back, before he turns to face you. 

You reach your hand up but he holds the book above his head, out of reach. Even standing on the tips of your toes does no good. 

“A young lady such as yourself should not be reading such debauchery,” Aemond chastises, clicking his tongue in disapproval.

Your cheeks burn, humiliation wrapping a fist around your throat as you desperately try to retrieve the book from his grasp. The hot feeling of shame curls in your stomach, and tears begin to form in your eyes, clouding your vision. 

“I was only looking,” you tell him, though the lie does not sound convincing. 

Aemond raises a brow at you. You’re shaking like a leaf, and you cast your eyes away from him. 

“It is alright, my lady,” he says, surprising you, “I myself am fond of literature.”

Your eyes flicker to his face. Aemond opens the book, picking a page. 

“Ah yes, here it is,” he says as if he’s found the page he wanted, “The tale of Coryanne Wylde should be read with caution, as it is known once a woman indulges in sin it is nearly impossible to recover.”

You stare at him, cheeks flushed, breathing ragged. Aemond glances up at you.

“Tell me, my lady, have you indulged in sinful behavior?” he asks, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

It is hard to breathe, your voice feels caught in your throat as it often does when you are in his presence. 

“M-m-my prince?” you manage, while averting your gaze. 

You choose to focus on a spot on the floor in front of you, heart thumping like a rabbit’s foot. You’re sure you’re shaking by now, and force yourself to clasp your hands behind your back. You wet your lips, as Aemond brings his hand to your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

“Have you indulged yourself?” he asks, voice a rough murmur. 

The way he looks at you makes your stomach flip, it’s almost too much to bear being under his eye this way. All his attention focused on you, those beautiful lips you’ve dreamt of, imagined doing such sinful acts to you. It’s too much. 

“I do not understand,” you whimper, as he caresses your cheek.

“Allow me to enlighten you, then,” Aemond purrs, before bringing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. 

Though you’re trembling against him he manages to wrap his hand around your waist, guiding you back against the bookshelves, deepening the kiss. You’re too nervous to move, you don’t want to ruin it, don’t want him to stop. Gods don’t let him stop. You’re holding your hands up in shock still, curled into fists near your head as he continues to kiss you. 

“Touch me,” he murmurs against your mouth, as his hand paws at your waist. 

You slowly lower your forearms to rest against his shoulders before succumbing to the desire to wrap your arms around his neck; fingers tangling in his silky, silver locks. His tongue darts through your lips, slipping into your mouth pulling forth a breathy moan. 

Aemond moves his lips away then, letting them dance along the line of your jaw, down to your neck. Kissing, nipping the tender flesh of your throat until you’re whimpering against him.

“Tell me,” he purrs, “Tell me what you want.”

Fire. There is fire coursing through your veins. Fire licking its way over your skin, flames consuming you whole. That’s what it feels like, what he feels like.

“Just you,” you sigh, as he connects your lips again. 

spencer was touch starved. he lived for the moments when your skin would make contact with his.

during your early stages of dating, spencer was really reserved, you thought it was because he did not like physical touch. the thing was, that he enjoyed being touched when it was you.

on one of your first date nights, you invited him over to your apartment to watch a movie, he arrived nervous and with a bottle of expensive wine. you kissed his cheek and invited him in.

you had only kissed once, and it was short and sweet, both of you wanted more. he was anxious to please you, and you did not want to make him uncomfortable.

morgan had told you of his aversion to physical touch, so you were very careful.

he had tensed when you kissed his cheek.

both of you sat on your spacious leather couch, neither focused on the movie. your eyes were too busy taking him in, and he was too busy being nervous under your ‘scrutiny’.

you raised your hand unconsciously, fingers tracing his cheekbones. he tensed, and you jerked your hand away.

“no! please don’t stop…” his head whipped to face you, and his pupils were dilated.

you smiled softly. “do you like my touch spence.” your fingers resumed their perusal. tracing along the hollows of his face.

he nodded eagerly, “yes…” his voice was breathy.

“you have a very pretty face spence.”

“you think i am pretty?” his eyes were wide, vulnerable. he had never thought of himself as pretty.

“i know you are, you are not just pretty, you are a very beautiful boy spencer.”

his eyelids fluttered close and his jaw slackened as your fingers moved to his head, nails scraping his scalp. one particular drag of your fingers made him moan.

“if i knew you would respond like this to my touch, i would have started sooner.” you yanked on his brown locks.

he lost an internal battle. moaning loudly. “yes-mmh- please!”

“you like that? you like me pulling your hair?”

he hummed in agreement.

“what else do you like?”

he blushed furiously. “i wouldn’t know…”

“c’mon, when you did anything like this before, what did you like to do? or what did you like done to you?”

he just shook his head, eyes closing in embarrassment. he felt like crying, this was mortifying, here he was with the girl of his dreams, and he was an inexperienced virgin.

“that’s okay spence, we can go slow. why don’t we find out together what you like huh?”

you pulled on his hair, forcing him to look up at you.

“does that sound good sweet boy?”

he nodded furiously, not able to form words.

“do you want to go to my room? lay down in my bed? we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. i just want my boy to be comfortable.” you smiled down at him and he melted.

his brain was mush, and he was unable to form words, so he simply nodded.

you intertwined your fingers with his and led him to your room.

“do you want to take your clothes off spencer?”

he nodded, dumbfounded, but he stayed still, eyes on you.

“do you want me to help?”

he nodded. you had left boy wonder speechless, and you loved it.

you helped him undress, his hands shaking as he unbuttoned his shirt, you stared at his beautiful brown eyes as your fingers fumbled with his belt.

clothes discarded, spencer was left only wearing boxers, he looked so disoriented. you could not restrain yourself. you walked up and cupped his nape, bringing him closer so you could kiss him. the first real kiss in your budding relationship.

his hands went to your hips and he pulled you close, kissing you hard. he was inexperienced, but he was eager, you wrapped your arms around his neck with force toppling the both of you over and into bed.

you kissed down his jaw, to his neck, thighs straddling him.

you wanted to undress too, so you took off your shirt in one swift motion, you stood up to take the rest off, leaving you in matching underwear, you were quick to straddle him again, the apex of your thighs resting against his length. he moaned, sitting up, wrapping his arms around your waist.

you stared in awe at him, his skin flush with pleasure. you undulated your hips and he jerked.

“what do you want pretty boy?”

“i want to taste you, i want you to sit in my face.” his words came in pants.

you were not opposed, so you slid your panties off. “lay your head on the pillows spence.”

you crawled up his body. pussy gushing with need.

when your pounding cunt made contact with his mouth, both of you moaned, he had never tasted anything as good as you.

his hands gripped the flesh of your ass, moving your hips. they jerked and spasmed as he worked your cunt with his tongue. you held onto the headboard with a death grip.

it wasn’t long before you peaked, orgasming in a crescendo of pleasure.

sated, you crawled back down, seating your dripping cunt on top of his dick. you leaned down to kiss him, licking and sucking at his chin, tasting the remnants of your cum.

“you did so good spencer, so good.”

you rocked your hips, and you could feel him jerk.

you planted your hands on his chest and dry rode him until he was a trembling, writing mess. he moaned and whined about how he had never felt anything like you.

“wait until your dick slides into my tight wet pussy, that will feel even better baby boy.”

his jaw opened in a silent o, his hips gripped the flesh of your hips as your words sent him over the edge.

“ It’s her fault.” spencer says quickly moving to the other side of the room opposite you, trying to get as far away from you as possible.

you take a deep breath in trying your absolute hardest not to roll your eyes and cross your hands in annoyance and disappointment. “ it’s not my fault reid-”

“ woah woah what the heck happened?” morgan says pushing himself back in the precinct chair watching you and spencer. he looks at spencer, he sees the strong look of disgust and annoyance spencer is shooting at you. he looks at you, he notices you looking at spencer with a disappointed look.

“ she told the unsubs family we are after the unsub-” spencer spits out looking over at hotch, waiting for him to yell at you or lecture you.

“ wait spence we don’t even know who the unsub is. what do you mean?” jj says turning her head to look at spencer confusion written on her face. “ exactly! thank you jj!” you reply throwing your hands up.

“ michael miller is our unsub hotch.” spencer says completely ignoring your attempt to reason with him, his eyes stay on hotch waiting for him to snap at you or just lecture you. “ wait a minute i thought michael miller had a solid alibi.” morgan says laying back in his chair resting his arms on the arm rests. “ he does have a solid alibi it checks out-” spencer cuts you off. “ it does not check out!” spencer says.

“ yes it does! hotch we asked his dad who confirmed his son came home at 8:30 pm from football practice.” you say growing impatient looking at hotch, hotch’s eyebrows are furrowed tightly. his arms are still crossed listening to you and spencer bicker back and fourth.

“ just because his dad showed the tiniest bit of concern about his son when the fbi showed up to his doorstep does not make him a reliable source, just because you never had a dad who showed any bit of concern and now when you finally see a dad care about their kid does not mean you should not fall into their trap just because you never had a trap to fall into.” spencer spits out finally looking at you.

he watches as your expression hardens. he watches as humiliation and embarrassment fill your once determined eyes, the determined eyes who tried to reason with spencer at-least 4 minutes ago. 4 minutes, that’s how long it takes for your perspective of someone to change. he watches as your eyebrows tremble, a habit you have when your trying to fight back tears. he watches as your throat trembles too, probably trying to fight back that agonising choke you get when your about to cry.

the entire room goes quiet. spencers gaze remains on you, slowly watching your soul shatter because of his words. your gaze remains on spencer, slowly feeling your soul shatter because of his words.

the door that spencer slammed close 4 minutes ago opens, rossi and emily walking in. “ michael millers alibi checks out. we’ve got pictures of him at football practice from 5pm to 8:25pm. he wouldn’t have had the time to commit the murders.” rossi says opening the door for emily. “ also his teammates described him as an extrovert and outgoing which is not what we profiled the unsub to be.” emily says with her hands inside her pockets nodding looking at everyone surrounding the table.

“ i feel as though we interrupted something.” rossi says eyeing everyone in the room raising an eyebrow in confusion. he could feel the tension. emily could too. which is why she immediately looks over at morgan for answers. morgan looks at her for a split second before returning his gaze on you.

“ y/n-” spencer attempts. he tries to bring himself to take a step towards you, but it’s like his words somehow built a barrier between you and him that he now can’t even physically cross. or maybe he’s just scared that if he takes a step towards you, you’ll take a step back. away from him.

you swallow the gut wrenching feeling of tears crawling up your throat. you look down to your converse. “ i’m gonna go…uhm get coffee.” you say turning around immediately walking towards the door. “ excuse me.” you whisper pushing past rossi and emily.

“ oh wonder boy..” garcia says through the tv screen, her bright purple tinted lips which usually wear a bright smile on her face now wearing a frown. her tone disappointed as she presses her heart eye fuzzy emoji pen into her cheek. “ i uhm did my usual background checking on the uhm..list of potential unsubs and a uhm…scott anderson has a sketchy background. i’ve just sent his file to you my pretties.” garcia says stuttering quite a few times finding it hard to sneak her usually bubbly nicknames into the conversation after what had just happened. “ thank you garcia. jj take y/n and check out scott anderson.” hotch says looking at jj his arms finally by his side.

jj nods standing up walking towards the door “ i-i can go” spencer says turning his body towards jj. “ stay.” hotch replies his voice stern and bold. he looks at spencer his eyebrows furrowed.

jj closes the door. “ sit.” hotch says to spencer pointing to the empty seat at the table, spencer slowly walks towards the seat sitting down. “ you shouldn’t have said that spencer.” hotch says crossing his hands. “ hotch-” spencer attempts but is quickly cut off, “ i’m not finished. I get it. your worried spencer. your scared-”

“ hotch-” spencer is cut off once again. “ you may think your hiding it well spencer but your not. we know the unsub is targeting female victims which have similar features to l/n. if your too close to the case spencer-” it’s spencer’s turn to now cut hotch off. “ but i’m not too close to the case hotch!” spencer replies. he wanted the similarities between you and the victims to only be in his head because he wanted only him, himself to notice the similarities between you and the victims. you both have the same hair color, hair length, both considered to be attractive, both have similar personalities, and similar taste in clothing. he didn’t want it to be true. but now he knows that they are, and they’re not just in his head he’s even more worried.

“ your stuttering spencer. you do that when your worried or nervous.” emily says pulling a chair from the table. spencer shoots his eyes away from hotch to emily’s. his gaze softens a bit, emily’s tone wasn’t like hotchs. it wasn’t as stern or bold. it was rather understanding and gentle. “ i just cant control myself around her.” spencer says looking down at the picture of the fourth victim who had been wearing the exact same pair of converse your wearing now. “ well your going to have to learn how to control yourself pretty boy. you shouldn’t have said that.” morgan says looking at spencer. spencer sighs hiding his face in his hands. “ i just..god i’m so stupid.” spencer groans rubbing his tired eyes.

“ stupidity is what ended my third marriage.” rossi says crossing his hands leaning against the bulletin board with a small chuckle, morgan looks at rossi and laughs. “ well thank god pretty boy isn’t married. he’d be the new rossi.” morgan says tilting his head to the side looking at spencer trying to lighten the mood, spencer who still has his head in his hands. there’s a million thoughts going through his head, all of them are about you. all of them are about how he should apologize. is he even allowed to apologize? will you let him apologize to you? would you accept his apology? what if you didn’t? did he just ruin his friendship with you? no screw friendship, he doesn’t just want to be friends. he wouldn’t be as sensitive as he is to this case if he just wanted to remain friends. he’s in love with you. spencer reid is in love with you. and he just potentially ruined any slight chance of ever having you know that he loves you. just because he’s stupid and didn’t think before he spoke.

“ are you okay?” jj says both hands on the steering wheel turning around to look at you next to her, in the passenger seat. your heads turnt towards the window, your picking at your nails. a habit of yours. you turn to look at jj and nod. “ yeah i’m fine why wouldn’t i be?” you ask tilting your head to the side with a confusing smile. you know exactly why your not okay. but for some reason, you just can’t bring yourself to actually be upset over it. what’s there to be upset about? what spencer said is true. he’s not wrong. why are you making excuses for him? what he said was not okay. totally not okay. why do you have to make excuses for every male figure in your life for when they’ve done something wrong? why do you always make them the victim and you the villain. you just don’t wanna lose them right? because you know that if your the victim and their the villain they’ll never apologise and the entire relationship will disappear, it always does.

“ what spencer said-” jj is talking in that tone, that tone that she would speak in whenever something was wrong. in a motherly kind of tone. you immediately shake your head, “ it’s- it’s fine jj really, i don’t care. can we just please forget it ever happened? lets just work on the case.” you say running a hand through your hair biting your lower lip trying to stop your voice from trembling, you know when your about to cry and you have that heavy feeling in your throat? you swallow it hard. you turn your head to look at the window not waiting for a response from jj. jj clears her throat, “ no yeah of course.” she nods smiling turning her head back around.

“ this should be it…” jj mumbles stopping the car, parked infront of a 2 story cabin. you unbuckle your seatbelt and open the car door. “ it looks like no one’s home, there’s no car. we profiled that the unsub would have a van or a truck..” jj says closing the car door looking at the house. “ maybe he wouldn’t leave something so valuable to him outside, to the eye of the public. he’s possessive he thinks the entire world revolves around him he probably thinks someone would try to steal it.” you reply reaching in your pocket for your id. jj doing the same thing. you two walk to the front door, you in the front,

you knock on the door. you put your hand against your hip waiting for the door to open. “ we should ask the neighbours. maybe they’ll know-” you knock on the door again. “ scott anderson. fbi.” you say knocking on the door again. jj puts both of her hands on her waist. “ looks like he’s not home-” your cut off by the door swinging open.

you immediately turn your head around. “ scott anderson?” you ask looking at the man infront of you. you know it’s scott anderson, penelope had already sent his id picture on the drive over. he looks at you, then looks at jj. “ who are you..” he says looking directly at jj. “ i’m agent l/n with the fbi and this is agent jareau. do you mind if we come inside?” you ask smiling holding up your id.

he doesn’t even bother looking at your id. “ yeah whatever.” he moves to the side, making room for you and jj. you nod turning around to look at jj. she nods. you step inside jj following you.

“ do you live alone?” you ask analysing the house, its organised. weird for someone that’s his age. “ uhm yeah i do. what’s wrong with that?” he asks crossing his hands. you chuckle, “ no no nothings wrong with that, i also lived alone when i was 17.” you reply smiling. “ i’m 19.” he says looking at you, eyeing you up and down smiling. “ your pretty organised for a 19 year old.” jj says raising an eyebrow also crossing her hands smiling. “ guess i was just raised that way.” he replies rubbing his lips together. you nod. “ how were you raised scott..if you don’t mind me asking.” you say looking around the house. “ yeah scott how did you manage to score such a house at your age. do you work?” jj asks grabbing a picture frame. “ no i don’t work-” he turns to look at jj. “ put that down.” he snaps speed walking to jj. you immediately reach for your gun.

“ right..sorry. you don’t like people touching your stuff.” jj replies throwing her hands up in defeat. he snatches the picture frame. he grabs it caressing it gently, jj looks at you with wide eyes. you raise an eyebrow in confusion. “ scott. why do you have a picture of my colleague framed?” jj asks looking at the frame scott’s holding. your eyes widen.

“ oh god oh god. where’s y/n and jj?” penelope says aggressively tapping on her keyboard. “ what? what’s wrong?” spencer is the first to respond shooting up from the office chair just at the mention of your name. “ they’re at scott anderson’s why?” hotch says turning around, away from the white board to the tv. garcia starts tearing up, “ i-i did some deep digging and scott anderson has a blog about y/n..” garcia says in a shaky tone. no. no. no. no. no not again please.

his heart stopped for a split second. his hand start sweating. the air has been sucked out of his lungs. why is it so hard to breathe? why is there no air to breathe? there’s a million thoughts running through his head, they’re still about you. but now they’re worse. your in danger. your with the unsub. the unsub who has already killed five people. your in the same house with the unsub. the unsub who has a blog dedicated to you. and the last time you saw spencer you were teary eyed. no it can’t be the last time. no. please be safe.

his sweaty shaky hands reach for his phone. he clicks on your contact. hotch grabs his phone and immediately calls jj. spencer immediately puts the phone up against his ear. it rings. rossi and emily immediately stand up, “ penelope send us the address to scott’s house now.” emily says walking to the door. it’s still ringing. spencer starts biting his nails. his hearts pounding. the ringing of the phone case is haunting him. what is happening on the other side of the phone. why aren’t you answering. you always answer the phone. why is it still ringing? y/n why aren’t you answering.

“ god damn it!” spencer shouts into the phone as it keeps ringing. morgan stands up, “ hotch we gotta go.” he says standing up shoving his phone into his pocket.

the ringing stops. spencer’s heart stops. his breathing stops. everyone in the room looks at spencer waiting for any kind of confirmation. “ y/n you’ve gotta get out of there with jj!” spencer says stuttering with a shaky voice. hes scared. hes so so scared. hes never been more scared in his life. it’s quiet. why is it quiet? why aren’t you answering? what’s wrong. god y/n.

“ hey mom.” you reply. spencer takes a deep breath in. he stops biting his nails. he wipes his wet fingers on his pants. his hearts racing. your in danger. why are you calling him mom if your not in danger. oh god. he feels like he can’t breathe again. he can’t focus. he can’t do this. he can’t do this. he can’t do this without you. breathe spencer. she’s in danger spencer. she’s all that matters.

“ y/n. god i…” he chokes. “ you already figured it out didn’t you.” he says his throat feeling scratchy. he hears you giggle on the other side of the phone, your laugh erupts the butterflies in his stomach. under any other circumstances he would absolutely hate the butterflies in his stomach and would be mad at you for making him feel such way. but now they bring a sense of comfort, they make him feel normal for a split second. that this is not that big of a deal, he’s just calling the girl he really likes and he got butterflies from hearing her beautiful laughs.

“ yeah of course. i called aunt lizzie for her birthday mom i’m not stupid.” you respond. god your voice is so beautiful, but he can hear it. he can fear the slight fear in your voice. maybe other people wouldn’t hear it, but he can. spencer can. and it’s killing him. it’s tearing his heart apart. it’s making his legs shake. “ d-did he hurt you- is he gonna hurt you?” spencer says gripping his jeans tightly. he hears you laugh again, “ yeah mom.” you say.

As the spice headache began to grip you, tears pricked your eyes. You didn’t bother biting them back. You let them overflow from your lids and drip down the sides of your face. Pathetic. That’s what you were. If the roles had been reversed, if you had been the one to die instead of the Mandalorian, Din wouldn’t burying himself alive in spice⏤ you were sure of that. But, you were weak, and you hated how broken the hole in your chest made you feel. It felt like you had a black hole where your heart used to be and every aspect of who you were was slowly being sucked away. 

The urge to reach for the remainder of the spice began to well up in you. As much as you hated who you had become, as pathetic as you felt, you knew the moment you lost yourself in glitterstim it wouldn’t matter. You wouldn’t care. You’d be back with Din. It was the only time you got to experience him like before. Any memory you tried to live through in reality was tainted with pain.

The sound of a commotion filled the air, but you ignored the noise and rolled over to find the leftover glitterstim. The den you used was filled with others searching for the same high as you, and often times their drama followed them into the space. It had nothing to do with you. 

You sat on your knees in front of the table beside you and began to prep the last of the glitterstim that you had. Footsteps neared and they didn’t stop until they stood beside you. You didn’t recognize the boots until one kicked away the small dish. The red powder spilled in a puff and panic seized your entire being. A curse couldn’t even leave your strangled lips as you lifted your gaze to glare at the man who stood above you.

Boba Fett had cleared the room with his presence alone. The Mandalorian stared down at you, arms crossed and stare hidden behind his helmet, and you shakily rose to your feet to shove him away. Boba caught you by the wrists, too weak from your last high to have any power, and his grip held on tight.

“Let me go.” You hissed.

“No.” Boba snapped. “What do you think you’re doing here, child?” You tried to tug away, but the man shook you once and you stopped. “You are better than this.”

“No, I’m not.” You shook your head as tears streamed down your face. “Please just let me go.” As your last spice dose began to wither away and sobriety began to clear your head, pain was returning. “Please don’t let me wake up, Boba. Please.”

Boba sighed and you hoped you had been pathetic enough that your pleas won him over, but instead he pulled you into his chest in a tight hold. There was no breaking out of it. You leaned your face against the painted beskar and began to shake as sobs racked your body. 

It took you a month to sober up, but the craving hadn’t gone away. It just became mildly manageable. You had Boba Fett and Fennec Shand to thank for that. He had returned to Tatooine to claim a kingdom, cutting down Bib Fortuna in the process, and after the switch over Fennec had discovered a rumor that you were living in a spice den. That’s how he had found you. Boba had dragged you back to Jabba’s old palace on the fringes of the Northern Dune and kept you by his and Fennec’s side. 

He needed allies and talent. You had always been a decent fighter and the time you spent with Fennec, training on the side as a means to sweat the spice out of your system, had honed your skills further. Now, you worked in Boba’s guard as he attempted to hold control as daimyo. According to Boba and Fennec, things had been better after they won a battle against Bane and the Pykes, but there was lingering resistance you now helped with.

You traveled down from your room dressed for the day until you entered the palace’s throne room. In the next hour or so, Boba would start seeing people which required you to stand by his side as a silent guard. Fennec had done so last time. However, instead of seeing the prep for the day you spotted Boba and Fennec arguing in hushed whispers off to the side. You let out a quick whistle and they both spun to look at you. Boba’s helmet was tucked under his arm and you could read the irritation on his face.

“What’s going on?” You got closer and double checked the blaster strapped to your thigh. “Everything alright?” They both gave conflicting answers, glancing at one another in silent argument, then back to you. You crossed your arms skeptically. “Seriously, what the hell is going on?”

Fennec shot Boba a hard look, and Boba sighed. He motioned toward you, “Come, child. We must talk.” Nervously, you drifted closer and Fennec oddly gave your shoulder a squeeze before wandering out. The show of concern made you more nervous than seeing them argue. Boba gave you a tight nod. “Fennec and I have kept a secret from you this last month. It was… wrong of us, but we decided it to be the best option while you overcame your addiction⏤ and you’ve done so well. We’re incredibly proud of you.”

Your lips curled up into a small smile. The pride him and Fennec showed you always warmed your heart. “Thanks, Boba. I owe it all to you guys.”

“No. We offered support, but this was your own show of strength.” Boba replied.

“Boba,” You said slowly, “You’re making me nervous now. Can you just say what you need to say?”

He gave you another nod and glanced down silently before bringing his eyes back up. Boba locked his gaze with yours and then spoke, “Din is alive.” You blinked in confusion. “He was actually here offering aid during the battle with the Pykes. Fennec was right. We should’ve told you sooner, but I… I wanted to protect you from that knowledge as long as possible.”

“What⏤ what are you saying?” You shook your head and stumbled back. “No, he died, Boba. After the Jedi took Grogu we⏤ we had a bounty go wrong. The ship we had was attacked on the tarmac. Din got me out but I watched…” The memory of him being stabbed through the chest still haunted you. “I watched him die.”

Boba shook his head. “He survived that attack.”

Your mouth went dry and you hated that the first overwhelming urge to hit you was to leave to find spice. After pushing that down, you were only left with bitter disappointment and nausea. Why hadn’t he come to find you? Maker, the guilt you felt after the attack⏤ of knowing that he had saved you but you couldn’t save him. A long forgotten conversation drifted to the forefront of your mind. After Grogu left, and it was just the two of you, he had tried to convince you to leave as well. Din stressed that you could return to your old life⏤ as if him and Grogu hadn’t fundamentally changed who you were to your core. You told him no. You said you wouldn't leave him.

“Why⏤” You breathed. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because,” Boba shook his head, his irritation returning, “He is here. Din wants to see you.” You sucked in a sharp breath. “That is what Fennec and I were arguing about. She thinks it would bring you closure, but I think it’s a bad idea.”

“He’s… He’s out there?” You pressed. Boba nodded.

Your feet were moving faster than your thoughts. Boba was calling out after you, but you stayed silent as you pressed onward. The winding staircase leading up to the outdoor private tarmac felt shorter than it usually did. When the hot Tatooine air bit at your skin, you stopped. A ship was parked to the side⏤ a nice one at that⏤ but your gaze landed on a silver clad figure just up ahead. Light bounced off the beskar in a familiar way and the Mandalorian rested his hands on his hips in a matching familiar pose. His t-shape visor turned to glance your way and he did a double take.

You took a stumbling step forward, eyebrows furrowed. Your name said by him in a pained whisper. His arms fell to his side and he drifted closer to you. You recognized his modulated voice. Hearing him say your name was overwhelming. You never thought you’d ever hear your name in that voice again. Tears collected in your eyes, but with that suffocating sadness came a bubble of rage. It started in your chest, an uncontrollable flame, and then it began to spread. The flame turned to an inferno as it filled every inch of you. 

Quickly, you began to storm toward him, your name left his lips once more, and after a few steps you drew your blaster and fired. The red energy pinged off his chest and had him stumbling back with a grunt. With a frustrated scream, you pressed your finger against the trigger as rapidly as you could and watched as the blaster fire bounced off his chest, shoulder, and helmet. You were still storming toward him when your blaster overheated from the rapid succession of fire. Without hesitation, you hurled the blaster at his head as hard as you could. Din dodged under the blaster, but you closed the last bit of space and tackled him to the ground.

Your blade was still up in your room, but you knew where Din kept his. Straddling his hips, you grabbed the hilt of his blade from his boot and tried to bring it down. He blocked the blow and rolled the two of you over so he hovered over you. 

“Stop, please⏤” Din began, but you had learned a lot since that last mission. Using a trick Fennec had taught you, you hooked you foot around Din and flipped him over again. You tried once more to stab him, but he managed to block you once more. “Just let me explain⏤”

“No!” You screamed.

Din grunted and flipped you once more, but this time he pinned your wrists to the ground by your head and pressed the entire weight of his body and armor into your lower half. He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Listen to me, please, I⏤”

“I hate you!” You screamed. Your chest heaved with sobs as you struggled against his hold. “I hate you! I hate you! You ruined me!” The words were barely intelligible with how hard you cried. “You ruined me! You ruined everything!”

The sound of Boba’s barking voice could faintly be heard and then Din rose off of you. He offered you a hand to pull you up, and you cringed away from it like it was a poisonous snake. Slowly, he let it fall to his side. You rubbed your face along your sleeve and it was only then you noticed the two of you hadn’t been alone during the fight. Din had been talking to someone you had just been so tunnel visioned you hadn’t noticed. Fennec stood off to the side holding a familiar green child.

“Grogu?” You gasped. The child responded in a string of babbling while holding his arms out in your direction. You picked yourself up off the ground and shoved past Din roughly. Fennec let Grogu fall into your arms and the child buried his face in the crook of your neck while you hugged him. He continued to babble and your hiccuping sobs worsened. Your eyes met Fennec’s, “Can⏤ Can I⏤”

“Go, child.” Boba spoke up from behind you and Fennec nodded in agreement.

Without sparing a glance toward anyone, you hurried back toward the palace entrance with Grogu in your arms.

“That…didn’t go well.” The very obvious words fell from Din’s mouth before he could bite them back.

Boba scoffed angrily, “Did you think it would go any other way, Djarin!?”

Din flinched and wished a sarlacc pit would just open up beneath him and eat him alive. Leaving you in the dark had been one of his worst regrets, on par with turning Grogu in for beskar plates, but at least in Grogu’s case he had returned for the child. When the adventure ended, when Grogu was safe with Luke Skywalker, Din thought it would be safer for you to leave him as well. He attracted danger wherever he went, and if you left him behind you could find a life for yourself. One you deserved. One he couldn't provide. During the last bounty he worked with you, he had made a fatal mistake. The last thing he remembered was getting you out of the way and then he awoke in a local healer’s encampment. By all measures, Din should have died. It was by simple luck alone that he didn’t.

He did go searching for you. Din did seek you out. 

But he found you on Tatooine working with a local moisture farmer and it looked so simple and safe that Din couldn’t bring himself to interrupt your life again. So, he left. Din wandered the galaxy working bounties by himself, and despite the fact that it was once his entire life⏤ he never felt more alone. Without you, without Grogu, Din felt like he was lost.

When he returned to Tatooine once more and Fennec sought him out, Din had decided to seek you out when the fight was over. But, then Grogu appeared out of nowhere and it derailed his plans. Knowing the Empire could still be seeking him out, Din thought it more important than ever to stay away from you. However, both him and Grogu noted your absence. Having Grogu back with him only amplified your loss.

“Did you think you’d be greeted with open arms?” Boba added.

“No. Of course not.” Din sighed. He knew this wouldn't go well, he really did, but he needed to see you. Maker, even as you tried to physically maim him all Din could think about was how gorgeous you were⏤ how much he missed you. 

Boba pointed at him, threateningly, “This was selfish of you, Djarin.”

“She missed him too.” Fennec argued.

“She mourned him.” Boba snapped back. “Nearly lost herself to spice because of his actions.”

Din stiffened. “What??” Fennec confirmed Boba’s words, explained how they found you, and Din wished he had just let you stab him. “No. She⏤ She was working on a moisture farm.”

“To start. And only to earn credits to afford spice.” Fennec sighed.

Boba went deeper into description of the state he had found you in, not leaving any detail out of the struggle it was for you to find yourself once more, and Din knew the man was doing it to hurt him. Din didn’t blame him. If Boba decided to pull out his blaster and end him⏤ Din wouldn’t argue otherwise. He didn’t know where to even begin, but he’d do whatever it took to bring you any shred of closure he could. Din knew he didn’t deserve forgiveness, but he would travel the galaxy twice over if it meant bringing you peace.

On day 3 of knowing Din was alive, him and Grogu left Tatooine. Before going he asked to speak to you and you denied him. Din left you a note then disappeared into the galaxy. You tore the note to shreds, without opening it, and let the pieces fall from your balcony out onto the dry, desert wind.

On day 27, Din returned with Grogu. He brought with him the most colorful collection of flowers form a world you didn’t recognize and it was a sharp contrast to the shades of brown that made up the planet you now called home. Still refusing to see him, Fennec had delivered it to you and you let the bouquet fall into the rancor pit.

On day 34, Din sent you the first of many holo messages. Sometimes they were recordings of him just talking about his day, telling you a funny Grogu story, and sometimes it was a video of the child himself sitting in his lap babbling to the camera for minutes on end. The videos of Grogu were watched on repeat, but you didn’t delete the videos of Din alone.

On day 46, you left the planet as a favor to Boba. He had been doing business with a man who slipped away to Coruscant and he asked you to seek him out and retrieve the credits owed to Boba. It was an easy favor to finish, but you ran into Din and Grogu who were on a hunt themselves. You only shot him once, deliberately in the center of his beskar chest, and when he offered you a ride back to Tatooine you accepted. Only because you missed Grogu.

On day 71, Boba invited Din, with your permission, to the palace as he needed the additional muscle for a meeting. Din covered your shifts and you got to spend days with Grogu again. There was a night during this stay where the Mandalorian you had loved found you outside stargazing. You didn’t send him away as long as he promised not to speak. The quiet lasted a little over twenty minutes before you had to excuse yourself to cry in your room.

On day 111, Din asked for your help. He had a quarry hiding on Canto Bight and he needed someone less conspicuous to lead the man away from the crowds. You knew he could pay a random woman to do the task, but you agreed. Grogu stayed with Peli while you and Din had fun hunting a quarry. In the thrill of it all, you forgot this wasn’t like before⏤ you forgot you hated this man. On the way home, you ignored him entirely. 

On day 124, Din left you a message saying he was traveling to Mandalore to find redemption. You knew the planet was supposedly cursed, a shadow of what it once was, and no matter how much you didn’t want to feel it a ball of fear curled up inside of you.

On day 138, you met Bo Katan. Din brought her along on a visit. Boba disliked her, an old grudge he held firmly, and out of loyalty you treated her like the enemy. You hated her because Boba hated her. It had nothing to do with the odd flash of jealousy that stirred in you at seeing the Mandalorian woman stand next to Din. They looked like quite the pair.

On day 157, Din came to say good-bye.

Fennec had told you he was downstairs and you asked her to send him up to your room. That’s how you found yourself leaning against your balcony railing with Din Djarin only a few feet away. He crossed his arms as he spoke. “We’re planning to retake Mandalore.”  He shook his head. “I don’t know how much time that will take so I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“Right.” You mumbled. 

A tense silence lingered between the two of you. Din shifted in place and your lips twitched up at the sight. It was always funny to you, seeing a man as outwardly intimidating as Din curl in on himself nervously. Like he was trying to make himself appear smaller than he was⏤ as if that could be possible. 

You cleared your throat. “You’ll pick me up a souvenir, won’t you?” Din chuckled. “I promise I won’t toss it to the Rancor.”

“Well, in that case, I will. Any requests?”

“Surprise me.” You shrugged and drifted just a bit closer. “So, are you and Bo Katan leading the charge?”

“That’s one way to put it.”

“It seems like the two of you make a great team.” 

Din tilted his head, just a bit, and you watched him drift closer to you. Closing the space between the two of you just a bit more. “You sound… jealous.”

“Jealous?” You scoffed. “Of her?” Din nodded once. You shook your head. “I’m just worried you’re getting too attached. I did promise Boba that I’d kick her ass one day at my choosing.”

“I appreciate the warning.”

“Figured it was the least I could do.”

Another beat of silence.

Din sighed, “I am so sorry, cyar’ika.”

“Don’t.” You said quickly. “Don’t ruin this. I⏤”

“I know, but I need to say it. Just so you know. I’m not asking for forgiveness or⏤ or anything of the sort.” He said hesitantly as if waiting for you to cut in. You stayed silent and Din let out a soft breath of relief. “I’m sorry, and I’ll spend the rest of my life hating what I did to you. That regret, that shame, it won’t fade.”

You shook your head. “Din… What are we doing? What do you want?”

“It doesn't matter what I want.”

“But, it does.” You argued. “I’m trying to understand.”

Din shifted nervously again. “I… You mean so much to me, cyare. That has never changed. I did a selfish thing under the guise of protecting you. And even now, despite knowing that I don’t deserve to even look at you, I… I can’t stay away.” He bowed his head, hanging it shame. “You ask what I want, cyare?” Din finally lifted his head with a sigh. “You. The answer will always be you.”

“Din…” You mumbled.

“But I already said,” Din cut in quickly, “I don’t deserve your forgiveness or even your acknowledgment. I’m only… I will take whatever you are willing to give. Even if you only want me as someone you put up with annually. And if you tell me to leave and stay away, I will. I swear it.”

You missed him. That was painfully clear. It was as if every atom that made up your body was vibrating and begging to reach out to him. Slowly, you lifted your hand and settled your fingers on the center of his chest⏤ right over his iron heart. Din let out a staggering breath, as if he could feel you through his armor, and he settled his hand on top of yours. 

“What would you do to have me back, Din?” You asked.

“Anything.” Din breathed immediately. “Ask for the stars and they’re yours, cyare.”

You pressed your lips together, eyes darting around the visor staring at you, and you nodded, “What if I asked you to take off your helmet? If I asked to see your face?” Din stiffened, you could feel it under your hand, and you could hear him take in a slow, steadying breath. Seconds passed, then Din’s hand pulled away from yours to settle on the side of his helmet. Your eyes widened as he began to pull it up. Quickly, you grabbed his wrist and halted his movements before he could go any further. “You don’t have to do that, Din.”

“I said anything and I meant it.” Din replied firmly. “Anything, cyare.”

“I know. I believe you.” Your bottom lip quivered. You glanced up to try and keep the stinging in your eyes from turning into actual tears. Then you focused back on him and with a shaky voice requested, “All I want is a promise.” You swallowed the thickness in your throat. “Promise you won’t leave me behind again. Please.” 

you had the most expertise in medicine, so you decided to stay with boy wonder in your hotel room, while the rest of the team solved the high-stakes case.

you wiped your sweaty hands down the fabric of your jeans. he paced the short length of the hotel room.

“spencer.” you called him, trying to get him to calm down. “spence!” you raised your voice.

“i don’t know! i don’t know okay!” he whined, dragging his fingers down his hair.

he stared at the ceiling, frustrated. he was stuck with you, his beautiful co-worker who he had been crushing on since you walked into the BAU building. your prissy work clothes and your nose in the air, he had thought you were slightly stuck up, he had not meant to be mean, he just did not know how to react to you.

and then he got to know you, and every day his heart would break a little bit. each piece of shattered heart with your name on it.

god he was whipped, he had no chance with you.

and he was heavy breathing, his heart pounding in his chest, legs trembling from something, some visceral need deep in his body. he keeled over, hands on his knees. you sat up from your position on the edge of the king-size bed, making your way toward him you softly laid your hand on his back. he hissed and shuddered. you immediately lifted your hand.

“spence?” you bent your knees, “what’s wrong?”

“hng….” his limbs failed him and he fell on his side, curling into a moaning ball. you hurried to your cellphone, which started to ring,

“garcia! what’s up?”

“hi, baby girl! so good news we figured out the substance…”

“AND?!”

“it's… um… an aphrodisiac… of some sort!”

“WHAT?” you yelped, “what?” you coughed.

“we are trying to create an antidote based on a sample we found in the unsub’s meth lab. but it will take some time, maybe even half a day or more.”

“fuck….” you sighed softly.

“it’s going to get worse, it messes with hormones, be sure to help him relieve the pain, it will get painful.”

“garcia! i can’t do that!” you hissed, “that's slightly dubious!”

“baby girl! he has been harboring a crush on you since you stepped foot in the bau. he has been hiding his ridiculous schoolgirl crush on you it’s so cute.”

spencer moaned in pain.

“ok, garcia i’ve got to go.” you were quick to hang up and rush to him.

you moved to touch him before stopping yourself.

“spencer the pollen was an aphrodisiac, i don’t know how long it lasts, but i do know it will get really painful. i need you to tell me before you lose your mind if you want me to help.”

“NO!” he moaned,

“okay spence, do you want me to leave?”

“no! i don’t know! this is embarrassing, you should leave!”

“okay spencer, anything you want.”

“i don’t want you to see me like this but i don’t want you to leave!”

“spence, it will be alright,” your voice was soothing. “how can i help?”

“my skin hurts! the clothes! they burn!” he whined.

“can you stand up baby?”

“don’t- don’t call me that! you don’t mean it! and it hurts for you to pity me when i feel so much for you! god, i can’t stop talking!”

“come on baby, let’s make you feel better.”

he stood up, with shaking legs, fumbling with his clothes, he took off his vest and struggled to unbutton his shirt. you offered to help but he brushed you off. as he wrestled with his clothes you shamelessly stared at his sweaty, flushed skin.

he threw himself into the bed face up, only wearing boxers.

“spence do you want me to leave?”

“you know, it is a nightmare and a dream to be in this situation with you.”

you blew out a breath. “what do you mean?”

“i have fantasied too many scenarios where i was completely naked and you would stand over me completely clothed…” he whined. his hips bucking softly, hands grappling with the bed sheets.

“do you want to relieve some pressure? huh, baby boy?”

“yes! please!” he whined. heels dug into the hard hotel mattress.

“okay, then baby. take off your boxers. you have a really beautiful cock spencer,” he blushed, you continued “grab that big pillow. good, now kneel, and slid that pillow between your thighs. does it feel good?” you did not wait for a response. “let your weight fall on the pillow, lean your cock against the pillow.”

spencer moaned loudly.

“that’s good baby, now move your hips, sweet boy, that’s it. take what you need.”

spencer moved his hips back and forth, throwing his head back, and sighing in relief.

you leaned softly into his orbit, sliding your hands into his hair. “is this okay spencer?”

“yes! don’t stop!”

“okay baby.” you scraped your fingers into his scalp. and he whined. his hips spluttered and he yelped, spending all over the pillow. his lean thighs trembled with the aftermath.

spencer threw himself back on the mattress, cock still hard, angry red and leaking.

“can you…”

“are you sure spencer? you won’t regret this tomorrow?”

“no! please!”

you hummed and wrapped your hand around his cock lazily, you tightened your fingers in a flash and he yelped, hips canting as he came again. this time he cried out, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“more! please!”

“alright baby.” who were you to deny him? you opened his thighs and without warning licked a stripe up his length. he yelped, hips bucking wildly.

you peppered kitten licks all over his aching cock, swirling your tongue on his swollen tip. you slid his dick inside your mouth, hollowing your cheeks, making sure to not hurt him with your teeth. you swirled your tongue and tried to stuff your mouth with him until you gagged, he came with no warning, the climax sneaking up on him.

you crawled on top of him, jean-clad legs protecting you from him.

your clothed pussy weighed down on his cock and he groaned loudly. “you are doing such a good job baby!”

“please!” he could barely form words, he was so sensitive and the drug was making him need more, come more, his metabolism work faster, and he could barely see straight with the amount of need and desperation running through his veins. he dug his nails into your hips and thrusted up, chasing his pleasure.

you were a mere toy for him to use. and use he dis, dry humping you silly until he passed out. your jeans were soiled with your cum, you took them off and locked yourself in the bathroom, before calling garcia.

the phone call was fast. there was no antidote, the body had to flush out the drug through orgasm until he passed out, and he did and now you had to wait for him to wake up.

you were worried about how he would react, but you did not want him to wake up alone, so you curled up on the couch

~

you woke up to a loud sound, spencer had woken up and he was hyperventilating, you rushed to him.

“spence! baby! calm down, it’s okay! you’re okay!”

“you’re not mad at me?” silver lined his eyes.

“no baby, god no.” you wiped the tears from his cheeks with your thumbs.

“if you want we can just pretend this never happened.” he seemed forlorn, you did not like that.

“or you can talk to me and we can go on a date.”

he flushed and closed his eyes.

“a little birdie told me you have been crushing on me for a while!”

he tilted his head.

“why didn’t you tell me spencer?!”

“because! you are so out of my league!”

“that’s not true baby!”

“i am a virgin!” he blurted out, eyes flying open in surprise at his own words.

“we can fix that!”

he scrunched his nose and flushed, “really?”

“how about a date before huh?”

“yes please!”

“whatever you want my sweet boy.”

you and your friends, you're all pretty open and sex-positive, it was important to you and it felt good, and learning your body more with your boyfriend felt even better. so when you— who had been trying to get yourself to squirt since you and your friends had first-ever gotten onto the topic— heard about your friend's solo success, it made you feel pretty bummed, it wasn't a competition but you were just a little jealous, you wanted to have the same control and mastery of your own body but frustratingly you had never been able.

so you were sulky, evidently to eddie, who was sitting back against your headboard, fiddling about with your nail polishes aimlessly peeling back the sticker on the purple polish you had just finished painting his nails with, even though he insisted black, he caved.

"i'm useless.." you whined aloud, dramatically crossing your arms over your chest and an exaggerated sigh leaving your lips.

eddie dropped the polish back on the bedside table and maneuvered himself to the edge of the bed, “don’t say that, what’s wrong angel?” he asked, reaching out and tugging your hand.

you were often theatric and put more emotion and exaggeration into the small things, so he already knew you were trying to get a rise out of him, but he never treated you as though you were ridiculous, he was never cruel— sure he laughed and poked fun but only in the lighthearted way because he thought you were the cutest little thing he’d set his eyes on and he admittedly loved watching you get flustered or the way you got even sulkier.

you kept the stiff displeased expression on your face as you turned around to look down at your boyfriend once he tugged your hand, “no, it’s stupid.” you huffed, biting on the inside of your lip.

it was another thing you did, dismissing what you wanted to say just so you could seek reassurance from your boyfriend, and of course, he’d give it to you without fail, “baby..” he looked up at you knowingly, head tilting a little, “tell me, it’s not stupid if it’s bothering you, pet.”

you blinked down at him, lashes fluttering prettily before another sigh left your lips and you spoke up, “i can’t make myself squirt.” you mumbled through a pout.

eddie heard you and he was trying to suppress the smile his lips were threatening to show, “h-huh? i didn’t hear you.” a lie.

you frowned, swatting his shoulder with your hand playfully, “yes you did!” you raised your voice and he burst out into laughter, falling back against the bed, watching the way he curled his body up a little and chuckled into his hand.

“see, i told you it was stupid!” you huffed, sitting on the edge of the bed and frowning.

“no! no!” he breathed out after catching his breath from laughing, sitting up and situating himself behind you on the bed, arms squeezing your waist, “i told you, it’s not stupid, i just think it’s cute that you’re overthinking it so much sweetheart.” he explained, pressing gentle kisses to your arm that had you scrunching your nose up, ticklish.

“i’m not overthinking it! i’ve tried!” you grumbled in discontent, tilting your head back on eddie’s shoulder and feeling his fingers dip under your cropped skin-tight shirt.

“then let me try.” he suggested and your eyebrows furrowed, glancing back at him.

“you won’t be able to.” you said assertively, “if i can’t make myself do it then no way you can.”

eddie tutted, eyes rolling at your so-sure tone, “you don’t know that— i mean, you’re probably making yourself too tense and then you get frustrated and besides, my fingers are longer and if i eat your pussy so good you start crying.. i think i have a good shot at making you squirt.” you saw his lips upturn into a smirk and you thought about it.

“mmkay’ but if you can’t do it i’m gonna be mad at you.” you were joking of course and eddie knew that too, his eyes rolling playfully before he pointed at the mirror,

“look, we get a nice view too.” he hummed, kissing at your neck before you felt one of his tap your hip, gesturing for you to stand up.

he didn’t even have to say anything, you already lifted up your arms and let him tug off your shirt—no bra on— before he leaned in, trailing wet kisses down from your tummy towards the hem of your skirt, hooking his fingers under and tugging it down, stunned when he saw you had opted for no panties today either.

you giggled knowingly, watching the way his tongue darted out to swipe across his lip, eyes dragging slowly up then back down your body and you felt your tummy flutter in excitement.

an eager plea was already at the tip of your tongue, ready to burst but fizzling out into a gasp, body jolting when you felt his head dip down, tongue flicking back and forth along your clit and your fingers flew into his hair, tangling with the unruly strands.

you almost stumbled back if it wasn't for your grip on his hair and the way his hands found place at your ass, blunt nails digging into the fleshy skin.

"a-auh, eddie mm.." you squeaked out, feeling the way he pushed his head further in between your legs, tongue darting out to lap up your delicious wetness between your cunt.

the way you were just standing there, fully exposed with your fully clothed boyfriend sitting on the bed, in between your legs, and going to town on your pussy had your head feeling hazy with desire.

your breathing was scattered and you were finding it hard to keep your eyes steady on him, watching the way he pulled away a little and chuckled, chin dripping with his salvia and your fluids, "you get wet so easy princess.." he snickered, "wonder who got you like that." he cooed, cocky which only got you further ruffled.

"shut up.." you choked out, pushing his head back between your legs, hearing him laugh before indulging once again, tongue way wilder this time and oh god, you could feel the tip of his nose pressing against your clit when he pressed the tip of his tongue inside you, "o-oh!" you shrieked, eyes squeezing shut.

you could’ve screamed bloody murder or maybe just cried when you felt him pull back away again, “wha— what are you doing..” you whimpered out and he watched your eyes glass over, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

“baby, i’m gonna make you squirt, not let you finish on my tongue.” he turned you around, and you didn’t protest, feeling him manhandle you into a position over his lap, you faced sideways a little but mostly forward and he spread your legs then pointed over to the mirror in front of you both.

“gonna be a good girl and watch?” he murmured and your eyes dragged over your naked body through the mirror, you looked so pretty like this, rested on eddie’s lap like you were his lil trophy, or more like his lil plaything.

“let me play with my baby, i got you, s’okay now angel.” he cooed sweetly and you whined a little, legs closing before you yelped, feeling a gentle warning slap on your clit, “nu uh uh, open, they stay open.” he told you sternly, in contrast with the firm kisses he was pressing against your neck and the way his fingers at your clit were rubbing you gently.

“can’t, can’t stay still.” you shook your head, breathing picking up and legs jolting in the air a little when you felt another slap.

“it’s okay baby, you will, for me won’t you?” his chin rested at your shoulder, his bottom lip jutted out into a pout and your heart softened when you saw him in the mirror, nodding without even thinking.

“mmkay’ for you.” you agreed, voice hushed before your eyes darted down to watch his ring-adorned fingers inching down to your puffy slicked pussy.

“so cute sweetheart.” he hummed, mocking your little gasps when he inched a finger inside your pussy, “yeah?” he was smug, noticing how jumbled your brain was already

“don’t know if you can actually do it..” he bit down on his bottom lip, “might be too much for you to handle if you’re like this alr—“ you cut him off, fingers gripping his arm that was toying with you.

“i can do it!” you frowned, “i can, i wanna.” you assured him, hearing him laugh under his breath and you felt your whole body heat up, trying to ground yourself, it was true, you were already majorly worked up.

“keep going.” you encouraged him, the cutest pout on your lips and he felt his pants get tighter when he watched you push his hand at your pussy, followed by your pretty moans.

“you’re so filthy.” he poked his tongue on the inside of his cheek, feeling you shiver at the cold metal of his rings on your swollen pussy, but he didn’t give you too much of a breather before another finger was pushing inside you, your head tilting back and you let any whimpers, mewls and pleads flow from your sparkly pink glossed-lips.

“the mirror baby, look.” he reminded you, nudging your head back up with his arm, you were a little dazed but composed yourself and looked ahead at the mirror, seeing the way his two fingers were stuffed in your pussy, pumping in and out, though you nearly lost it all when you watched him spit on you, a puddle of salvia landing on your pussy which his thumb slid over and pressed against your clit, tapping and pushing— urging delicious waves of pleasure to spark throughout your whole body.

“oh m-my, eddie!” you sobbed out, nails digging into his skin that would surely leave marks, “nmghn, more, more..” you chanted out breathlessly.

“mmh? right there?” he cooed sweetly, fingers curling and pressing up against that delicious spongy spot inside you whilst his thumb abused your clit. you couldn’t even give him a coherent response but he knew he had you right where he wanted and he wouldn’t stop, how could he when you looked this cute, hearing the squelching sounds of your wet pussy sucking his fingers in and the way you were sniffling, cheeks wet with tears from the immense pleasure.

you felt the way your stomach tightened, that strong sensation lingering and threatening to snap but it felt so much more intense this time like you would pass out but you had to chase it, you’d cry for different reasons if you let that feeling go.

“that’s it baby, feels good hmm? that’s it.” he groaned out, watching your whole body trembling and you were babbling nonsense in between chanting out his name.

“i-i, think m’ gonna c-cum!” you gasped out, face scrunching in pleasure and incessant moans falling, oh god, it felt like you were gonna burst, almost like you were gonna pee yourself.

“ah, shit, that’s it, good girl.” eddie cooed, fingers pumping erratically and seeing you gush out, pushing out even more of your mess with each push of his fingers, drenching your inner thighs and his lap underneath you and it was the hottest thing he had ever seen.

you were shaking and whimpering, fat tears rolling down your eyes as your hips bucked up widely, feeling the slippery and sticky mess everywhere. oh my god, you did it— eddie did it and it was the best feeling you had ever felt.

you were breathing heavily and your whole body went limp, absolutely drained as you blinked your eyes open slowly, looking at the filthy mess that was yourself in the mirror.

you mustered up a giggle, dipping your fingers in between your thighs and coating the digits with your fluid, pushing them into your mouth and humming.

“you’re the sexiest thing i’ve ever seen, holy fuck..” he bit down on his bottom lip, fingers dragging up your abused pussy and getting a taste of you for himself, “the tastiest too.” he winked, “didn’t i tell you i could do it huh? you don’t give me enough credit.” he smirked and you weakly nudged his shoulder.

“whatever, i love you, stupid.” you playfully scowled at him, groaning when you felt him pulling away to set you properly on the bed, “no.. come back.” you protested.

“i gotta take a picture, you look s’cute.” he giggled and you couldn’t say no, so you let him find the polaroid camera, hearing it snap over and over, multiple pictures of you in the mirror, fucked out and covered in your mess— his hard work.

“mine.” he hummed, setting the camera aside and plopping himself down on the bed, tugging you into his arms and smothering your face in kisses, “all mine, love you so much.” he cooed and you giggled at all the affection.

“i’m all messy..” you whined, arms and legs snug around him, “get me in the shower and i’ll let you fuck my throat.” you smiled, smug against his ear.

“say less..” he swooped you into his arms, headed straight for the bathroom.

“I just…can I…can you p-please…”

“Shhhh sweetheart, we’re doing this now. Doesn’t it feel good?“ Eddie’s hands press down on your hips and swivel you around on his cock ever so slowly. The pressure and motion cause your jaw to drop in a gasp and your head to fall back against his shoulder.

“But wanna cum.” You sound almost petulant and he laughs in response. A rich, low laugh that sends much needed vibrations through your body where you’re joined, making your eyelids flutter.

“Ohhh, you wanna cum?” Eddie asks with fake surprise. As if he hadn’t been intentionally edging you, bringing you to the precipice and yanking you back at the last moment intentionally for the longest while.

“Yes,” you gasp, squirming in his lap. Or doing your best to, seeing as his grip is both effortless and immovable.

“Not enough to feel my dick inside you, honey? This greedy cunt wants to have its cock and cum, too?”

You’d probably laugh at that if you weren’t so far gone but you’re losing it so you just nod frenetically, hands scrabbling for purchase on his thighs. Anything to give you enough leverage to start bouncing yourself on his cock.

“Lemme…let…please,” you huff in frustration. Eddie’s hands slide up from your hips to squeeze at your tits. At the added stimulation you groan, gyrate your hips as best you could. Without his hands anchoring you down, you make more progress this time and you feel extra wetness dew around his cock inside you. You receive pinches to your nipples as penance for your liberty taking.

“Aww, wanna cum so bad you’re trying to just get yourself off on my cock?” His mocking tone sets you off more and you whimper again wordlessly. One of his hands leaves your breast and slides down to the apex of your spread legs to rub at your clit. “Why would you do that when you could have me play with you?”

“Oh god. Yes. Play with me,” you beg breathlessly.

“Oh sweetheart, what do you think I’ve been doing?” You can hear the humor but you barely register the words, instead abandoning all self control and jiggling yourself restlessly so that you bounce shallowly on his cock. “Getting a little impatient. A shame - you’ve been such a good girl.”

“I…I am a good girl,” you practically sob. His lips are at your ear, shushing you.

“Shhhh I know you are, baby. Took my cum so well. Keeping it up inside you so nice and warm. Making you feel so good and stuffed, yeah?”

He’d pushed his spend back into you with his fingers after pulling out following his last orgasm. Made you jerk him back to hardness with your legs spread in front of him, watching your cum filled pussy as he praised you and grunted. He’d pushed the dripping cum back into with his cock when he couldn’t take it anymore, and he was right, you do feel so full.

Eddie’s finger on your clit hits a new rotational rhythm and you spasm in his grasp, your abdomen clenching and pussy tightening around his cock.

“Mmm pressed this little button right, huh?”

“Yes!”

“Gonna cum if I let you, sweetheart?”

“Oh god oh fuck, Eddie let me, let me please…”

Eddie placed another sweet kiss to the side of your neck before whispering.

“Alright sweetheart, let me have it.”

That wasn’t to say that he was unhappy when there weren’t kids around. The two of us had happily enjoyed our first two years of marriage. We never ran out of ways to spend the long nights or weekends together. We were happy as could be, just the two of us.

But there was no denying that feeling that had been slowly growing below my belly button. That tickling warmth and glow each time I imagined a future where the sight in front of me was not only ever-present, but also shared with a child of our own.

“I know that look.”

“Hm? What?” I jumped, shaken from my fantasizing by JJ’s subtle giggle that I quickly shared. “Sorry, my mind is sort of… somewhere else.”

With that simple, vague explanation, the mother at my side reached several astute conclusions very quickly. We both turned to the sounds of shrieking kids currently yanking and tossing the never-ending rainbow scarf from my husband’s hands.

“Have you two talked about it?” she asked when she finally turned back to me.

Heat rushed to my face that I tried and failed to hide from the eyes of one of the BAU’s most observant veterans. After a few moments, I’d also failed to come up with any believable white lie or twisted version of the truth.

Instead, I answered honestly and with a sheepish tone, “Um... I’m not sure if I’m supposed to say if he hasn’t told you already.”

“Good answer,” she assured me with a subtle thumbs up.

But no matter how small the gesture was, it didn’t go unnoticed. Fate had made sure that the second she’d done it would be the same moment Spencer glanced up at us.

It wasn’t long — just long enough for me to notice him. My body immediately shook at the sensation of his eyes burning into me with an ungodly lust. Every hair stood on edge, and I only barely was able to tear myself away from him long enough to respond to JJ, who spoke again with an unavoidable fondness for the sight before us.

“He’s gonna be a great dad,” she said softly.

“Yeah,” I sighed happily, “He is.”

If I were to ask someone to describe Spencer’s general tone, I knew exactly what would come to their mind. That excitable, almost naive joy spilling from a clumsy tongue that couldn’t move quick enough. It was the words cut in half by weary vocal cords, the sudden break in his pitch when he hadn’t taken a breath in nearly a minute.

And again, although I knew that part of my husband well, it was so remarkably different than the Spencer I knew him to be behind closed doors.

That day was no exception. If anything, his voice had dropped even lower from the exhaustion. There was no screeching, no stumbling over his words. Each one was drawled slowly but with a careful precision to match his hands slowly snaking around my waist.

“You and JJ seemed to be having a nice conversation,” he whispered into my ear just to feel me shiver from the heat.

“We usually do,” I hummed back as nonchalantly as I could. I tried to ignore the way his hands started to roam my body with purpose. I said nothing when his hand found the hem of my dress and began hiking it up. Instead, I stayed dutifully on the topic he’d chosen and pretended like his touch wasn’t burning me alive with desire.

“She’s easy to talk to,” I barely choked out.

“Care to tell me what you two were discussing?” he replied without skipping a beat.

“A little bit of you,” I answered, only for my voice to be cut off by the sharp sound of my underwear tearing and snapping against my hip.

Unfazed, Spencer pressed me to continue, “Is that right?”

His hands were still busy, now carefully undoing each button on the front of my dress and slowly revealing the heated skin of my chest.

Before I forgot, I nodded to confirm his suspicion. That implicit beg behind his stare earlier, and my immediate, elated submission the second we’d walked into our room.

Even when the last button was undone, he paused before he exposed the rest of me. Instead of letting the garment drop from my shoulders just like that, Spencer spun me around on my heels and pulled my chest against his.

Once again, I felt the scorching weight of his gaze. I threw myself into hazel honeycomb and gorged myself on the sweetness. I tried to taste him, too, but he tilted his head to dare me to finish the painfully incomplete answer.

“Anything else?”

I giggled at my own ingenuity, not bothered at all by the fact he’d anticipated my joke before I’d even finished it.

“Maybe a little bit of me, too,” I mumbled against his lips.

Spencer didn’t bother wasting the opportunity. He pulled me impossibly closer just before he tugged the dress off my shoulders. As it crumpled at our feet, he tangled us in the mess of fabric until I toppled back onto the bed.

We were both filled with an elated laughter that sounded so much sweeter when it echoed back to us. As he started to remove his own clothes, I managed to remove the last remaining piece of my own with a similar haste.

We didn’t want to be apart for one second longer, so we weren’t. As he climbed atop me, he seemed to revel in the way my body was already squirming. Every limb was seeking him out and wrapping around to pull him closer. But it wasn’t until my hips unceremoniously bucked at his touch that he couldn’t hold back his teasing any longer.

“You are not subtle, you know that?”

But for as wicked as his smirk was, we both knew that I wasn’t the only one who wore their heart on their sleeves. I could feel the lust when his lips crashed against mine, that longing to be one as his tongue met mine in the middle. We stayed connected for as long as we could before we were forced apart.

Just a little gasp, a sharp inhale as lithe fingers drifted up my inner thigh. That little noise quickly shifted when his nails dug into the pillowy flesh and forced my legs to part further. Then he filled that emptiness with lithe fingers slipping between slick, scorching folds.

“Tell me what you want,” he begged.

“Please, fuck me,” I answered. My heart was racing and my lungs could hardly keep up. The world around me was rocking and my husband was both the reason for my undoing and the only thing keeping me sane.

It was impossible to know how long it had been, but I knew I never wanted it to end. His fingers gently massaged tense muscles, coaxing sweet sounds from my chest and coating his fingers in the sticky nectar smeared between my thighs.

He was too happy to watch me come apart. Too pleased to watch how he could unravel me with something so simple. So I reached for him, too, gripping his erection and gently working my fingers over the heated skin.

“Please,” I whispered again, “I want you to fuck me.”

But I had been so distracted by my own euphoria that I hadn’t seen the way the frustration had grown over his brow. In my rush towards the finish line, I hadn’t noticed the remarkable self-restraint in loving eyes.

Our hands stayed where they were, but everything grew gentler when he rested his forehead against mine. In that soft space filled with small whimpers and heavy breath, Spencer found the strength to speak the truth he’d been holding back.

“I want to do it,” he pleaded, pausing to bite his bottom lip lest the rest spill out. Then, still working up the courage he repeated louder, “I want to…”

Again, my body knew him better. Goosebumps rippled, reaching for him in the darkness and only relenting when he pressed his cock against my thigh.

That time it was me who whispered, “Tell me what you want.”

That was all it took. That one small, implicit beg broke his resolve and left him practically sobbing with need.

“I want to get you pregnant,” he admitted. His throat shook with the power with which he’d said it, and he only grew hoarser as he clarified, “Right now.”

I’d needed no convincing.

“Do it,” I returned with just as much urgency, with just as much force behind the words. Even when he pulled away and rooted his hand in my hair, I never once stopped begging with everything I had.

“I want you to do it,” I repeated between whimpers when his fingers slipped out of me to make room for something better. His hand joined mine, wrapping around it as we both guided him to my entrance.

I let go because I had to. My hands dug into his shoulder, trying to brace myself for the sensation I knew would follow. But once again, my husband took pleasure in watching how I writhed.

He pulled my leg up around his hip to still the rhythmic rolling of my hips, but it hardly stopped me. The energy reverted to praise that spilled from my lips in the form of moans when he finally started to fill me inch by inch.

I closed my eyes for just a moment, savoring the feeling of filling the space between my legs. I clung to my husband, burying my face into the crook of his neck and shivering when the feeling made him chuckle. He continued to share those simple pleasures of silence by peppering the top of my head with kisses.

He’d continued until innocence wasn’t enough. With his hand in my hair, he pulled me back to flash another wicked smile.

“You’re practically dripping, sweetheart,” he teased. He’d punctuated the taunt with a rough thrust into me that forced the words out from my throat.

“Please. I need it.” My voice shook, my nails digging into the skin on the back of his neck as my fingers raked through his hair. Our hooded gazes met, each carrying with it a visceral animalistic instinct that was suffocating.

“Say it,” he ordered as he drew back his hips at a tortuously slow pace. “Tell me what you want.”

“Make me a mother,” I cried with a desperation so potent it bled into a moan.

Spencer’s whole body tensed as he slammed into me in one brutal stroke. My body shook against his, but he didn’t slow down. He only became harder and more insistent in his movements. He was dedicated to hearing the harmony of our voices as we tried to call each other's names. So focused on the sound of our bodies meeting over and over again.

Spencer reached up and grabbed hold of the headboard, propping himself up further so he could watch as he disappeared inside of me. Slowly moving in and out, he let out a deep, rolling groan when he watched my body rock in tandem with his movements.

“You were made for this,” he reminded breathlessly. Then, he shifted his attention back to my face. He looked into watery eyes and plumped lips before he thrust into me again. It was then, buried between trembling thighs that he said through a smile, “You were made for me.”

His free hand reached for mine. We found each other like we always did. But he didn’t just hold me; he guided my hand to my stomach that moved with each thrust. He pressed hard against the surface, basking in the knowledge that he was the one who was given refuge in my body. That he could share and occupy that space with me.

Then, with a sillier, more joyful smile, he reminded himself of the reality — the possibility that soon there could be a more permanent representation of our souls coming back together again.

“God, I can’t fucking wait to see you carrying my child,” he ground out. His hips picked up their pace, and so did his words. His voice growing into that frantic, trembling excitement as the love took over. “Everyone will know how well I treat you. How spoiled you are.”

I giggled back, but otherwise stayed silent. I wanted to hear each syllable uttered, unbroken and filled with confidence. I held his hand tighter, pressed harder against my stomach while tilting my hips forward until I heard him gasp.

“I’ll give you both the world,” he whispered, still speaking quickly but barely able to hold himself up. “I swear, I’ll take care of you forever.”

To prove his point, his body collapsed the second I’d even suggested he hold me. His lips joined mine while his forearms caged me in and he held me closer than ever before. Until our bodies could barely move apart from each other and resorted to grinding against one another, instead.

“I’ll do anything for you,” he mumbled against my lips.

I believed him. That was precisely why I issued the one demand I couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Give me a baby, Spencer.”

We sealed the deal with a kiss, gentle at first but quickly growing hungry. Our mouths and chins coated with enthusiasm and moans still slipping between bruised lips. My nails drew angry red welts across his back, and he returned the fervor with rough thrusts that left me crying out in the sweet mixture of pain and pleasure.

“I don’t know how I’ll ever come back from this,” he gasped when he felt my body begging him to do what came natural to us both.

“Now that I know what it feels like…” he continued, his words slurring as he let himself be positively drunk on me. He dropped more of his weight on me, savoring the feel and friction that made the tension between my legs almost unbearable. “Now that I know how badly you want it.”

“Please, Spencer,” I whispered. I could barely breathe, barely see through the haze of our combined lust, but when he kissed me, I’d never failed to kiss him back.

Especially not then, when our lips met just before his thrusts became brutal and disjointed. He fucked me deeper and harder until there was nothing left untouched.

“You want me to make you a mother?” he dared one last time.

“Yes, please, God!” I cried, repeating the plea over and over until my voice gave away with the last of his self-restraint.

“Good.”

With one more thrust, he bottomed out inside of me and refused to stop even when there was nowhere left.

“Take it all for me, sweetheart. You’re doing so good,” he reassured me with the little air he still possessed.

As he filled me with a blistering warmth, the bruising force bled through to his mouth. He kissed me hard enough that I saw stars, biting down on my lip just enough to taste the bittersweet iron.

We couldn’t call out to each other from the heights of euphoria, but we hadn’t needed to. Our bodies would always meet in the middle. Our souls intertwined in that impossible cosmic space that only contained the two of us.

For now, I reminded myself with a smile.

“I love you,” were the first words I’d said when I regained my speech.

“I love you,” he overlapped. He was unsatisfied by how tired his voice sounded, though, so he tried again. “I love you so, so much. More than should ever be possible, I love you.”

And just as we’d begun, we descended into sickly saccharine kisses broken with hopelessly happy laughter. We somehow managed to find peace in the sweaty mess of desire coated skin.

Spencer stared at me, brushing hair away from my face and memorizing the way I looked in that moment so he might never forget it again. Despite being certain that I was in a state of pure disarray, I felt nothing negative in his scrutiny. Only love.

“You’re so beautiful,” he praised in sync with my thoughts. “I am so lucky that you love me.”

“You say that now, but just you wait…” I teased with narrowed eyes and his contagious smile spreading over my cheeks. “If our child takes after me, you might regret it.”

“Never,” he promised me with a voice both broken and confident, soaked in the unparalleled affection we shared in every conceivable way, “I am ready.”

“Me too,” I answered, the love in my voice mirroring his.

There were many versions of my husband that people thought about when they thought of him, but I knew then that the version of him I saw in that moment, brimming with pride and overflowing with love, was the one that I would treasure forever.

(Tell me what you thought about this fic here!)

Your family’s farm struggled through a harsh winter and income was scarce, which led your father to somehow persuading you to place yourself in the brothel. “A few coins tossed by the noblemen of the land may go some way to help us get by,” he said, “and the chance of bearing an illegitimate child of a prince and potential heir to the Iron Throne would be priceless.”

The degradation. The humiliation. It would be unbearable. But the mere suggestion passing your father’s lips led you to believe that this was your purpose in life, that you could do no more to assist your family’s plight than to whore yourself to the gentry of the land. Your worth surmounted to becoming a bedslave to perverted men whose wives, bearers of their children, could no longer satisfy them.

You blindly cooperated with the plan to resolve your family’s financial crisis, refusing to acknowledge the depth of the depravity to which you would soon become accustomed, right up until the moment you found a quiet corner in the pleasure house to call your home, a peaceful nook where a pile of pillows laid while the other surfaces in the house were occupied. You placed yourself amongst the cushions, uncomfortably facing the wall while tugging at the hem of your significantly scanty attire, a drape of sheer linen designed to eccentuate your every curve not-so-well-hidden beneath, held together only by one ornate brooch positioned at your hip. Not last week, you would not have been seen dead in such scandalous dress, but financial needs must.

The low hum of seductive conversation and rising moans around the house began to drown out your thoughts within minutes of finding your space. Counting your blessings that no commotion had arrived into your safe haven, you clenched your eyes closed every chance you could find, willing every lecherous occupant to find a girl far more visually receptive to their advances than yourself.

“How about it then?” A deep, warbled voice boomed by your ear, accompanied by the sinking of the pillows you were perched upon as a man took his seat beside you. Prizing your eyes open, your gaze fell upon the outline of a greasy man leaning into you, engorged hands hovering over your thigh as if waiting to strike. Without a thought, you swung your leg from his reach and adjusted the scanty fabric over your knees in some warped grasp at decency.

“N-no, thank you,” you politely declined with a shaky voice, gesturing toward the buzz of activity across the room from you. “I am sure my fellow ladies will be gracious enough to assist you. Good morrow, ser.”

“Hah!” The man chortled heartily, clamping his hand down onto your thigh regardless. “Your job is to serve me, whore, you would do well to remember it.”

You placed your hand upon his in hopes to prize his fingers from digging into the soft flesh of your thigh, but his grip was too strong.

“Please, good ser, bid me leave,” you protested weakly, wriggling your leg in futile defence. “I… I’m not ready.”

“Not ready?!” He boomed his repetition, mocking your complaint so loud that a number of faces in the crowded room turned to face you. “You’re a whore, my girl, you have to be ready.”

Pitiful giggles spread around the room, hushed mutters of ‘frigid’ and ‘virgin’ reaching your ears just above the rising volume of your thundering heartbeat.

“Please, ser—.”

“That’s more like it,” he leered, grasping your leg tighter and sinking his nails into your skin while his free hand wandered to grapple with his breeches. “Say that again when you’re choking down on my cock.”

“No, please…”

“There’s no such word as ‘no’ in the whore house, little bitch,” he hissed, globules of spit firing from his lips as he salivated over his next move, palming at himself beneath his pants.

“The lady said no,” came another male voice behind you, softer and yet more assertive. “You would do well to listen, old man.”

“Who the fuck do you think you—,” the lewd man spat before craning to see the figure behind him. As soon as he registered the source of his interruption, he immediately released his vice-like grip on your thigh and grappled to his feet. “Y… yes, Prince Aemond.”

Gasps shook through the pleasure house as the pairs of eyes trained on your once-comfortable nook scrambled to find a distraction, scattering back to their own business and refusing to look back.

Taking a deep breath, you strained around to see your saviour only to find a pair of black leather boots nestled amongst the pillows. Tracing up the black-clad figure, the man who came to your rescue appeared to be tall, lithe and battle-weary, one of his eyes concealed by a mysterious leather patch which disappeared into his poker-straight blonde hair. The saviour stood defiant and unresponsive, his hands clasped studiously behind his back and a faint smirk cinching the corner of his lips as you looked up at him.

“Th… thank you, kind prince…” you stuttered, brows knitting at the thought of the words that were about to roll from your tongue.

“Aemond,” he interjected, folding his knees to bend to your level. “Call me Aemond.”

“To what do I owe such kindness, Aemond, ser?” You scrambled to cover yourself once more with the flimsy textile drape, grabbing a cushion to place in your lap for some semblance of presentability in the presence of royalty.

“You seem as reluctant to be here as I am,” he chuckled softly, resting both hands on his bended knee. “Were you forced to serve here, gevie?” Beautiful.

“By circumstance, ser,” you bowed your head. Admitting poverty in the face of royalty would surely abolish your remaining shred of dignity, as if your presence in the pleasure house had not already dispelled that notion.

“Me too,” Aemond sighed, nodding in agreement. “Although I imagine under quite different circumstances.”

You would not dare to question what he meant by that comment, but he seemed eager to appease your wordless curiosity.

“My brother Aegon is over there,” he pointed across the room to another platinum blonde-haired youthful figure, his tumbling curls framing his face as he seduced another bedslave. “He brought me here to ensure I bed as many women as possible to acquire experience enough to satisfy a future wife.”

Your vision wandered to meet his eye once more, that same kind glow exuding from his gaze back at you, blinking softly and recognising your fragility in the same manner as his own. He looked upon you as an equal, another human worthy of the same respect and honour afforded to himself by all that engage with him. His instant inviting nature only succeeded in intimidating you more, coming from a man so sublimely ethereal that you should never wish to reject him for anything even if he were not the prince of the realm. Your eyes lingered upon his lips, pursed in thought as he looked upon you.

“Thank you, ser,” you smiled warmly in return, willing yourself to find the courage to reach out and touch his hand in sympathy. “For your kind reassurance and your company when you have other business to attend to this night. Please do not allow me to keep you from your purpose here, kind ser.”

“Dear earthbound angel, I am quite certain you are my purpose here this night,” Aemond half-purred, drinking in your appearance as a man dying of thirst yet determined to remain composed in front of the bustling company in the pleasure house. His eye darted around the room to ensure all gazes had averted from you before unfolding his legs and perching on the cushions beside you. “Tell me, why waste your virtues on the rich yet ill-mannered of Westeros in here? You could well serve in the royal court and escape this hellhole.”

“I believe this place matches my worth, ser.” Your gaze dropped into your lap in shame but Aemond’s pale hand reached toward you, planting a tip of a finger beneath your chin and gently raising your countenance to meet his.

“Do not be ashamed, little dove,” Aemond soothed with a reassuringly authoritative tone, his eye wandering to your lips as he spoke. “Let me show you your worth.”

Aemond leaned into you slowly, giving you every chance to withdraw from his advances, but instead you met him halfway and pressed your lips against his. The contact was brief before he pulled back to gaze into your eyes once more, taking another opportunity to ensure you were comfortable with his motions. This time, you reached a hand to curl around the back of his neck and drew him in again, kissing him deeply. Aemond grunted softly into your kiss, wandering both arms to envelope your waist as you traced each other’s mouths.

The mysterious one-eyed prince pressed even closer to your lips as if starving for your touch, craving contact with you with every part of his body. Parting his lips ever so slightly, the tip of his tongue ventured out to beg for entry to your mouth, moaning into you as you granted it. His hold on your waist tightened, pulling you flush to his chest so close you may as well be seated in his lap.

Aemond embraced you as if you were the only two people in the room, completely oblivious to the stony silence in the room which was once filled with echoes of gratuitous moans, the lewd slapping of skin and raucous laughter, now only occupied by the sounds of your tongues lashing together.

Breaking contact to draw breath, you opened your eyes to find Aemond’s one eye completely blown with lust, glazed and hazy, looking upon you as if the rest of the world around you had shattered like a mirror and all that remained was you, Aemond and the plumped cushions beneath you. Your vision darted around the room to find every pair of eyes glaring at your display, fascinated by the sight of the one-eyed prince claiming his first conquest in the pleasure house. Aegon propped himself against a table with one hand on his hip, a smug grin tapering his lips as he watched his brother executing his plan perfectly.

“Aemond,” you called to attract his attention away from you. It took a few more moments before he finally tore himself away to look around the room, noticing his brother’s gaze and quickly clearing his throat. Hurrying to his feet, he extended a hand toward you to help you up from the cushions. His graceful, beautiful hand had clearly seen conflict judging by its scrapes and scars, but nonetheless gifted in its regal pale pallor. Quickly accepting his invitation, you lifted yourself up and looked to the one-eyed prince for guidance.

“Let’s get out of here, my Lady,” he muttered, stepping down from the cushion pile while clutching your hand to ensure your safe disembarkment.

“Aemond, I am not a la—.”

“If you will excuse us,” Aemond announced to the room, causing a tidal wave of searing heat to wash over your cheeks as he walked you through the crowds. With one hand still holding onto yours, another raised dismissively into mid-air to ensure the pleasure house returned to its usual function with haste. “Please, continue your festivities.”

———

The door to Aemond’s chambers slammed shut behind you so loudly, the sharp crack of wood snapped you back into the room. You froze upon the sight of his large bed before you, smooth silk sheets draped so beautifully, cascading over the edge of the mattress and draping to the floor. Such an elegant sight that would soon be destroyed.

“Aemond, you called me your lady,” you muttered under your breath, not daring to turn to face the man as he approached you from behind. “I am not worthy of such an address.”

Without warning, pale hands softly snaked around your waist and a chin rested gently upon your shoulder, planting butterfly kisses into your neck.

“You are a woman, are you not?” Aemond affirmed against your ear. “You have treated me with the honour, respect and grace of my position and I have returned the favour. You have not questioned me, you have not defied me, and you have certainly not wronged me. Therefore, I see you as nothing less than my Lady.”

Convinced Aemond would feel you blushing, you dipped your head into his touch as his careful breaths warmed your skin. Planting feather-light kisses atop your hair, the prince breathed in deeply, inhaling your presence in the safety of his chambers far away from the debauched prying eyes of the pleasure house.

“Do you trust me?” Aemond whispered into the shell of your ear. Suddenly, your gaze flicked back to the sight of his bed, swallowing thickly at the realisation of the inevitable next step of your evening with the One-Eyed Prince. Shaking your head to dispel your concerns, you placed your hands atop his as they rested on your stomach.

“Completely,” you sighed happily, melting into his touch as he peppered another kiss onto your hair.

“You have never laid with a man before?” His tone was soothing, devoid of judgement. You shook your head, encouraging Aemond to grip your hips and spin you around to face him where his reassuring smile greeted you once more. Cupping your face in both hands and gazing down at your lips, Aemond sighed contentedly.

“Then this will be a first for us both.”

Capturing you in a haunting kiss, you barely noticed Aemond carefully stepping you backwards until your calves met with the hard wood of his bed, tumbling into the depths of his sheets as he stood before you. Aemond drank in the sight amongst his once crisp bedlinen, squaring up to the only obstacle between him and your innocence — the flimsy translucent garment concealing your body from him.

“Gevie,” Aemond whispered in a tongue unfamiliar to your uneducated ear. Beautiful.

He reached to unclasp his belt and breeches without tearing his eyes away from you, swathes of leather and black linen pooling at his feet and buckles clanking against the flagstones as he stepped out of every layer that restricted him. You froze to the spot watching him, swallowing thickly in anticipation and want as he revealed more and more pale flesh.

“You like what you see, sweet girl?” He chuckled, a curt grin eking across the corner of his lips.

“I do, Prince Aemond,” you concurred, leaning up on your elbows to observe him closer. “Do you think me wicked?”

“I think you are the most beautiful sight a man’s earthbound eyes will ever see,” he cooed, planting his knees on the edge of the bed and crawling slowly over to you, leaning down to hover over you, his lips an inch from yours. He ventured a hand to your face, brushing your hair behind your ear. “However, there is one obstacle that stands in my way.”

His hand traced gently down your neck to your collarbone, guiding down through the valley of your breasts on its mission toward your hip, tantalising over the elegant brooch that so rudely prohibited him from your figure.

“Cursed thing,” he muttered lowly, fiddling with its clasp and casting the bronze accessory across the room, a distant clank assuring him he would not be further inhibited by its presence. With a low, hungry growl, Aemond swept aside the linen concealing you and exposed your curves beneath. The room’s cool air graced your skin and left goosebumps in its wake, leading you to inhale softly at the sensation. Aemond was now rooted to the spot, gazing at your frame nestled amongst his sheets for what felt like an eternity as you waited for his next move. The anticipation was unbearable, clasping your thighs together beneath him and squirming uncomfortably.

“Aemond,” you snapped him out of his lust-ridden stupor, beckoning his gaze back to meet yours. Dropping back against the sheets, you reached both hands through his blonde locks to cup his neck, drawing him in closer. “Please, fuck me already.”

“Well well,” a chuckle erupted in Aemond’s throat, smirking gleefully from ear to ear. “This is quite a transformation. What happened to my shy little virgin?”

“She has waited long enough,” you sighed, your fingertips impatiently traversing his back and tracing idle patterns across his bare skin and raising a gentle shiver in response.

“Then my Lady shall not be kept waiting,” he sighed, guiding his own fingertips across the traverse of your hipbone in retaliation, rejoicing in the soft buck of your hips in response. “I trust she will at least allow her prince to prepare her beforehand?”

Unclenching your legs to part beneath him, you spread yourself open wide and elicited an explicit groan from the depths of the one-eyed Prince’s throat.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmured, trailing his forefinger to meet your mound, shivering under his touch. The very tip of his finger journeyed to trace the outline of your folds, ghosting ever so slightly over your moistened entrance yet still collecting the beads of anticipation on its way. “Tell me, who owns this pretty little cunt?”

Between strangled breaths, you mumbled his name. Displeased with your muted response, Aemond slipped two fingers through your folds, delving knuckle-deep within you.

“Speak up, little dove, let the whole castle hear you.”

“Y… yours, Aemond,” you spluttered, chest heaving and hips convulsing at his every movement. He curled his long fingers inside you, pressing against the ripples of your walls in gentle stroking motions.

“And what would you have me do with it?” He pressed, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth as he watched you unravel beneath him.

“Pl… please,” you mewled helplessly as he added another finger into your depths, pumping fervently in staccato time with your racing heartbeat, now reaching his free hand to press down into the valley of your hips so he can feel his fingers inside you. The unusual sensation sent your head sinking into the pillow, hands fisting into the sheets and pleading for your climax to release you from the tension within. “Please fuck me, Aemond.”

His fingers pummelled at a breakneck pace inside you, driving you careering toward the precipice before a telltale strangled gasp signalled your oncoming orgasm to your one-eyed tormentor, who withdrew his dripping fingers and left you clenching around nothing. Bucking your hips like a wild animal and fighting against his grip to squeeze your thighs together, you cried out in despair at Aemond’s sudden betrayal.

He watched you struggle for a few moments, glee spread across his thin lips until they suddenly plunged down to meet your clit, his tongue racing in fervent circles around your bundle of nerves and journeying south to delve into your folds. Lapping at your soaking cunt like a man possessed, Aemond’s low moans vibrated through your core as he curled his tongue inside you just the same as his fingers, which now found themselves digging crescent dips into the flesh of your thighs to spread them wide before him.

“Aemond, please… m—more,” you wailed weakly, throwing your head back into the pillow and jerking your hips into his face, craving more friction to help you tumble over the cliff-face this time.

“Needy girl,” he muttered against your folds sending tremors throughout you, splaying his tongue out over your entrance to venture a clean stripe with each breath. “My virgin knows exactly what she wants before she’s even tried it.”

Cooperating gladly, he unlatched from your sodden core and swooped up to capture you in a deep kiss, one hand venturing to line his leaking tip with your entrance.

“Are you ready to take me, my Lady?” Aemond enquired, a considerate tone in his voice suggesting he knew a woman’s first coupling is laced with a degree of pain. The breaking of your maidenhead would cause discomfort, that much was certain, but the sheer ecstasy of laying with such a caring man, least of all a prince of the realm, dispelled a vast amount of your trepidation in the process.

“Defile me, Aemond,” you nodded, pleading, begging for contact.

“Your wish is my command, your Grace,” he smiled, dragging his tip over your folds and dipping in slowly. Your harsh intake of breath met the sound of his teeth-baring hiss as he gently sheathed himself fully within you in one thrust, resting balls deep inside you before searching your face for a response.

You mewled softly, which was response enough for your prince.

“You’re doing so well for me, my good girl,” he praised effortlessly, his one eye roving into his skull as the sensation of your walls enveloping his cock finally satisfied his craving. “You’re taking my cock so well. Does it hurt so, or are you ready for me to move?”

You nodded in approval, riding out the uncomfortable stretch within you by rutting up into him, easing his next thrust before he even reared his hips back.

“Aemond, more… please,” you stuttered between laboured breaths, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to draw him in closer. “Faster, please. Oh gods, fuck!”

“This cannot be the same innocent virgin I saved earlier.” Aemond chuckled under his breath, obeying your command and gazing down to watch his length accumulating a small splatter of virginal blood before plunging deeper, drawing out further and slamming back into your depths so deep you swore you could feel him in your guts. “I thank the Seven for granting me the good fortune to be your first…”

One particularly devastating thrust summoned stars in your peripheral vision, glazing over your view of the blonde gyrating above you.

“And your only.”

Another earth-shattering piston of his hips made you yell out in ecstasy, scratching your nails down his back before peppering chaste kisses into his breastbone in an attempt to silence your screams.

Aemond noticed.

“Never,” he punctuated with another gut-wrenching thrust. “Ever, let me catch you holding back again. Use your voice, little dove, scream the castle down if needs must. I will not rest until Castle Black hears me fucking you unconscious.”

Your fucked-out gaze up at the graceful blonde pummelling his cock into your womb set Aemond’s every vein alight, a searing heat coursing through his body that he was sure he would not allow to escape his clutches after this night. He needed to ensure you would return to his chambers every night in the same manner, receiving the same mind-altering fucking each night for the rest of your life.

Aemond needed more than to claim you for the moment. He needed a guarantee.

“Bear my child,” Aemond spoke in an inquisitive tone, asking rather than stating. Laying a flat palm into the valley of your hips and revelling in the sensation of his cockhead brushing against his palm as he thrusted deep inside you, the way he returned your gaze with his own wanton, desperately lust-blown expression suggested this was a plea.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you repeated between gasps and staccato breaths as his relentless pace denied you the oxygen to form full sentences. Hooking your feet behind his hips and clasping around him as tightly as possible, you hummed lowly into his ear: “Breed me, Prince Aemond.”

The mere passing of such filthy words from your lips sent you slipping over the precipice of your orgasm at last, flooding around his cock and gushing out from your folds, soaking his once crisp sheets beneath you.

“That’s it, that’s my good girl,” he purred under his breath, head bowed into your neck as his rhythmic thrusts faltered in turn. “Suck my cock dry just like that, take everything I give to you.”

A gratuitous moan betrayed his own climax as he spilled his seed within you, deftly painting your walls and retaining his thrusts to ensure his cum would not escape your quaking cunt. Both refusing to relent your pace as if wishing you could rut together forever, you slowed your bucking hips and stilled beneath him while he pulled out from your folds and quickly ventured two fingers to push his seed back inside you.

Aemond leaned back to kneel between your legs for what felt like an eternity, gazing at your body slick with beads of glistening sweat and shaking gently in his wake.

“Gevie riña,” he hummed to himself as he drank in the sight before him. “Gevie fucking riña.”

As much as the sight of the one-eyed prince worshipping every inch of your figure made your heart soar, something suddenly dawned on you.

“Aemond,” you enquired, a note of nervous anticipation in your voice. “All evening, you have called me your Lady. In the throes of passion, you called me your Grace.”

“Rest assured, little dove, I meant every word,” he confirmed without tearing his gaze from your swollen core, red raw and pulsing from the manner in which he so monumentally deflowered you, moulding you to his design, ensuring no other could take his place inside your body forevermore.

“But I am not worthy of such addresses,” you affirmed, grappling to cover yourself with the sheer linen he tore from your frame, eyes darting around the room for any glint of the fundamental brooch you required to dress yourself to leave. “I must return to the pleasure house at once.”

“No!” He snapped, throwing himself forward on his knees to stop you. “You shall never return to that brothel, nor any other for that matter.”

“But… why?”

“Because, little dove, you will soon be addressed by the whole of Westeros in the same manner as I,” he sighed contentedly. “As soon as I make you my princess, people across the length and breadth of our country will dub you their Grace.”

You quirked an eyebrow at his sudden revelation, which seemed altogether not so sudden as if he had thought his grand plan through as thoroughly as he had just fucked you senseless.

“I see, and when will you be making a princess out of me, Prince Aemond?”

The blonde one-eyed prince leaned forward on his knees, crawling to hover his lips over yours once more.