Fantasies | Part II

Fantasies | Part II

summary: Spencer and (Y/N) have been working back to back to back cases before finally getting a weekend off and take the opportunity to go to a local convention and have some fun cosplaying.

this is smutty smutty smut smut so 18+, minors dni please and thank you :)

contains: oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, roleplay, creampie

the first part can be found here (it's also 18+ and smut sorry but also not sorry)

also before any potential trekkies come for me yes i am aware that in the early to mid aughts Vulcan was a ridiculously hard language to learn but suspend your disbelief because the thirst for early series spencer reid is real for me okay?

any dialogue in italics is in Vulcan, any dialogue in regular text is in English :)

"You almost ready, (Y/N)," Spencer asked through the door to the bathroom, knocking lightly as he did so. "Garcia is supposed to be here in 15 minutes so we have to make sure we're ready before then."

"Almost!" She called back, "just finishing up my makeup!"

Spencer took a look in the full-body mirror that she had resting up against the wall. He decided to cosplay as a generic original series star fleet science officer to keep it simple, but (Y/N) offered to help him put on some proper prosthetics so now he's a generic Vulcan science officer (with slightly less than Vulcan hair). He gently fiddled with the ears as he looked in the mirror and then jumped slightly as he felt a pair of small arms gently wrap around his waist from behind before he heard the soft, mellifluous voice of his girlfriend from over his shoulder.

"Don't do that too much," she chided him with a good natured chuckle, "I worked hard on applying those!"

"Sorry, angel," he offered a sheepish apology (complete with embarrassed smile), before turning around to face her and gently plant a kiss on her lips. She stood on her toes and moved her arms from around his waist and wrapped them around his shoulders. His arms snaked their way around her waist as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping into her mouth and dancing against her own.

Once they broke apart, Spencer took the chance to take in her own outfit. She looked much more convincing in her Vulcan cosplay with her dark hair styled into a perfect chin-length bob, the front of it pushed back and tucked behind her prosthetic ears, and slightly curved bangs that were just long enough to cover the fact that she very much had human eyebrows. She had also decided to go with an Original Series cosplay, wearing a short blue star fleet dress with a translucent pair of black thigh high stockings. On her feet were a pair of black knee high leather boots with a small two-inch heel.

Spencer became aware of how uncomfortably tight his pants were starting to feel and cleared his throat, looking at literally anything else (he settled on keenly observing the books on his shelf, noting to himself that he should really get around to dusting at some point). He couldn't afford to be horny if they were going to be hanging out with Garcia and her friend for the day.

"You okay, there, Spencer?" The melodic giggle snapped him back to reality, and he could feel his face burn as his cheeks blushed a bright shade of red. He was painfully cognizant of the fact that her hands were now tracing along the waistband of his black pants, immediately nullifying his efforts to decrease his arousal. Her fingertips moved lower, ghosting over the bulge in the front.

Spencer let his mouth drop open before managing to stammer out, "(Y/N), we don't have enough time to—" his voice cut out as he gasped at the sudden sensation of her small, soft fingers slipping past the waistband of his pants and briefs, gently wrapping around his throbbing member.

"Well, Dr. Reid," she began slowly stroking up and down, earning an enthusiastic grunt from Spencer. He'd never tire of hearing her call him that. "It would seem you're in no position to be going anywhere quite yet. The most logical course of action would be to relieve you before the arrival of our companions, would it not?"

Holy shit. He had fantasized about roleplaying with her like this ever since she had brought it up a few months back. His knees buckled at the thought.

A moan forced its way through his lips as his hips bucked up into her hand. "You make a very sound argument, Dr. (Y/L/N), but I don't know if we have ti—oh my god yes!" She ran her thumb over the leaking tip, and then started to sink to her knees. She planted sloppy kisses along the waistband of his pants before working the fly on the front with deft and eager fingers. As soon as his cock was freed from its constraints her lips were wrapping around the tip. His fingers quickly tangled into her hair and he had to restrain himself from pushing her down onto him further as her tongue danced and swirled across him.

Thankfully she didn't make him wait for too long, her mouth starting to slowly envelop the rest of him until he could feel the tip hit the back of her throat. She gagged lightly and pulled back a little bit, bringing her hand up to wrap around the part of his shaft that didn't quit fit into her mouth and stroking it in rhythm with her bobbing head.

With a fresh burst of energy, Spencer moved his hips in time with her hand, his knees weakened by the desire coursing through his veins. He knew they didn't have much time left before Garcia and her friend arrived, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her to stop. He was lost in a world of pure sensation, her lips, her tongue, her hand, it was almost too much for him to bear.

As she increased the pace of her movements, his breath came in shallow gasps, trying to fight the urge to shout out her name. He could feel the tension growing within him, a storm brewing deep inside him.

(Y/N)'s lips moved up and down around his shaft, her tongue dancing along the sensitive skin as she took him deeper than he thought possible. He could feel her throat constricting around him, her saliva filling his mind with the images of her lips and the sound of her moaning as she pleasured him. He couldn't imagine anything more incredible, more fulfilling, than the sensation of (Y/N)'s lips and tongue on him, wrapped around him so intimately.

(Y/N), her eyes closed in concentration, sensed that he was nearing his climax. She increased the tempo of her movements, her hand and mouth in perfect harmony, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Her eyes remained shut, fully immersed in the task at hand, completely unaware of the world outside of their bubble.

As the climax grew nearer, Spencer could feel his entire body trembling with the intensity of the sensation. His fingers tightened in her hair, gently urging her on as his cock throbbed with need. The room seemed to blur around them, their world shrinking down to just the two of them and the ecstasy that consumed them.

(Y/N) seemed to read his mind, picking up the pace even more as she continued to stroke his cock and suck his shaft with fervor. Her eyes remained closed, her focus completely on the task at hand. She knew that he was close, and she wanted to make sure he reached that peak of pleasure he so desperately craved. He could feel his orgasm building inside him, a storm of intensity that threatened to consume him whole.

And then, without warning, it hit him like a tidal wave. With a loud groan, Spencer's body convulsed as he released his load into (Y/N)'s mouth. She didn't hesitate, swallowing every drop, her eyes still closed as she continued to pleasure him until the very last drop.

The room was filled with the sound of heavy breathing. Spencer's body shook with aftershocks, his knees weak and legs trembling as he tried to catch his breath.

(Y/N) finally pulled her mouth away with a soft pop, a satisfied smile spreading across her face as she licked her lips and looked up at him sweetly, the sight making Spencer's heart race even more.

They were brought back to reality by the sound of a doorbell. (Y/N) shot to her feet and checked the mirror, attempting to straighten her hair by combing her fingers through it, before walking through the door and heading to the front door. As (Y/N) let in their friends Spencer could hear Penelope from the living room as she began laughing and said, "girl whatever you two were doing has left your hair a wreck!"

Spencer and (Y/N) sat at a small table with their giant soft pretzels, Garcia and her friend having wandered off to watch a panel. They both sat at the table, their feet aching slightly from walking around in the convention center. Spencer's pretzel sat forgotten in front of him, all of his focus on his girlfriend sitting across from him. Her face was slightly flushed from the warmth in the convention center, the heat from the crowds easily overpowering the AC running in the building. His eyes roamed from her cheeks to her breasts, straining against the fabric of her dress.

"Spencer?" (Y/N) waved a hand in front of his face, "anybody in there?" She gave another one of her trilling giggles and Spencer felt a small smile spread across his lips involuntarily at the sound. He slowly brought his eyes up to meet hers and his smile turned into a sheepish grin at the loving yet exasperated look she was giving him.

"Sorry, heh," Spencer chuckled nervously as his face burned with embarrassment at being caught blatantly ogling her chest in public.

She muttered as she shook her head. It took Spencer a second to realize why he couldn't figure it out until he asked her to repeat herself. "I said, 'men at conventions are all the same,' you silly, silly man," she smirked at him. His eyes went wide as she spoke Vulcan as fluently as any other language, and his heart skipped a beat. He was sure he'd lose consciousness with how quickly the blood rushed from his brain to his dick.

"Y-you speak Vulcan?" He responded, also speaking Vulcan, trying to hide his growing erection by crossing his legs.

A wicked grin spread across her lips. She took note of his shifting posture and his flushing face as she responded, "is there a problem, doctor? You're flushed and sweating."

"Have you finished your food?" Was his only response as he began gathering up his own trash and standing up. His breathing was slightly uneven and when he finally looked at her and met her eyes, she saw the raw need emanating from them.

Spencer could see her piece together what was going through his head and noticed as her smile took on a nearly feline quality. "Doctor, are you suffering from the Blood Fever?" She crooned as she, too, began gathering up her trash and belongings. Her movements were slow and leisurely, and as she stood she remarked in English that she should probably shoot a text to Garcia that they were headed out for the day. He stood by the table and leaned against it, casually slipping his hands into his pocket so he could adjust himself in his pants to conceal his raging boner.

She moved to stand a couple inches in front of him and looked up at him through her eyelashes and flashed him an innocent glance and a not-so-innocent smile. He throbbed in his pants and she reached for his hand and began leading him towards the exit.

The cab ride back to his apartment had been torture, to say the least. Spencer's cocked throbbed and ached the entire way and (Y/N) did nothing to help the situation, whispering things into his ear in Vulcan that he had never dreamt of anyone ever actually using the language to say while tracing lazy circles on his chest with her fingers.

He all but sprinted up the steps while pulling her by the hand behind him. He fumbled and dropped his keys as he attempted to unlock the door but quickly managed to get the door open and as soon as they were both inside his lips found hers. He kicked the door shut and began guiding her towards his bedroom while his hands found her waist. As they entered the room he tore his lips from hers and took the chance to take her in. Her pupils were blown wide, her lips were swollen and parted slightly, and her cheeks were flushed as she panted lightly.

His lips found hers again as he slowly began to guide her towards the bed, gently laying her down on the bed and crawling on top of her. His hips rested between her open thighs and his cock pressed up against her clothed pussy. He ground himself against her and both of them moaned at the friction.

"What of the Ritual, doctor?" She smirked up at him as he began trailing his kisses from her lips to her chin, then down to her neck. He bit down on a sensitive spot gently before soothing it with his tongue, earning a gasp from (Y/N) as her back arced off the bed.

"Forget the Ritual, I need to feel you now," he moaned as he ground against her harder before pulling back to unfasten the button of his pants, followed by the zipper. He pushed his pants and briefs down just far enough to free his cock and hissed as the cool air of his room met with the aching flesh. When he looked back down at (Y/N) he noticed she had taken to opportunity to remove her own underwear and wasted no further time as he pressed himself back into her, groaning at the slickness that awaited him.

He positioned his cock at the entrance to her dripping cunt, nudging up against her gently. She whimpered and bucked her hips up, trying to push him into her. He began slowly pushing into her, inch by throbbing inch, until he was buried all the way into her. They both let out long, drawn out sounds of pure ecstasy. Spencer pulled out a couple inches and then pushed back in as (Y/N) hooked her ankles together behind him, her heels pressing into him. He maintained this pace as he leaned onto one arm, freeing up his other hand to reach in between them and start teasing her clit, pressing feverish kisses into her neck while he gently fucked her.

She moved her hips against his, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she panted and mewled underneath him. "How does it feel, (Y/N)?" He crooned into her ear, his breathing becoming ragged. He sped up his hips, earning a loud moan in response. "Come on, (Y/N), use your words."

"Harder, please," she whimpered, throwing her head back and crying out in pleasure as he obliged. He reared up above her, biting his lip and screwing his eyes shut as he felt himself racing towards his own climax. He opened his eyes right as she reached her hand between them to take over rubbing little circles onto her clit and nearly lost himself in the sight. Her dress was pushed up over her hips, her eyes fluttering back into her head, and her face and neck flushed a deep scarlet. His breathing grew rougher and more ragged and his thrusts became disjointed as he moaned louder and louder.

"Yes, please fill me doctor!" She cried, and Spencer roared in response, throwing his head back and stilling his hips as he came. (Y/N)'s own orgasm hit her like a ton of bricks, ripping through her body and making her pull him into her, melting into a single being of tangled limbs and desperate moans.

He panted above her, resting his forehead against her neck as he slowly pulled out of her and collapsed next to her on the bed. He turned to reach for the box of tissues he kept on his nightstand, cleaning himself up and handing allowing (Y/N) to clean herself up as well, before pulling his pants back up and pulling her into him, laying her head against his chest.

"We have to do this again," she giggled sleepily, rubbing lazy circles into his chest with her fingers. He nodded and kissed the top of her head, his eyelids heavy.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he mumbled as sleep finally began to take hold of him.

Slow And Steady (M)

➬ Title | Slow And Steady

➬ Summary | He is a master of temptation. Everything about him screams of sin and desire, and nobody could escape the strong pull of his charm. And he knows perfectly well just how to use them.

↳ Pairings | Jungkook x OC (x reader)

↳ Genre | Painter!Jungkook, Smut, Angst

↳ Ratings | +18 / M for Mature

↳ Warning | involving infidelity, cheating, nudity, sexual tension, exhibitionism, body worship, dirty talk, explicit sex scene, unprotected sex, multiple smut scene, pregnancy sex, breast play, oral sex (f receiving), fingering.

↳ Word count | 7,1k words

↳ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Taglist | Feedback | Ko-fi | Commission | Patreon

➬ Author’s Note | Written as a commission for @nochusyn​. Thank you for commissioning me! I’m so sorry for the long wait. | Ps. This is highly unedited. So I might return to this again later on to fix some things :)

Sunlight pours through the window, carrying the soft afternoon glow and the warmth of the summer into the cold room.

Yet it is not the ray of sunshine which is making the air prickles with heat and tension. It is the man who is sitting in front of his canvas, his hand dancing fluidly over it with the soft sounds of his brush strokes filling the room. His sharp eyes are focused completely on his work while his gaze keeps returning to the beautiful muse he is eternalising through his art. His long hair tied up to the back of his head to allow him no distraction as he focuses on his work, yet it also allows his beautiful face to stand out, coming close to stealing the spotlight from his own muse.

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A New Man

Colin Bridgerton x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Colin has had feelings for his best friend for some time now, and has decided his new skills in charm and flirting are the perfect way to win her over. He is unfortunately very mistaken.

Word Count: 4,713

Category: Angst, Fluff, Humor

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"This is by far the best part of these society events," mused Benedict, one of my best friends, as the two of us perused the dessert table. "Sometimes it even makes putting up with all the marauding mamas worth it."

I laughed and picked up a delious looking cupcake.

"The mamas must be truly terrible this season if the food only sometimes makes them worth putting up with."

Benedict sighed. "You have no idea."

I nudged him with my shoulder, smiling as we stepped away from the dessert table together.

"Well, you have no need to worry, Benedict. As long as I am unattached, I am more than happy to act as a shield for you, especially when society dictates you must find a partner and dance."

"Thank you. You are a true friend. I know I can always count on-"

"Colin!" I turned to grin sheepishly at Benedict in the wake of my outburst and found him staring at me with a mocking, raised eyebrow. But I couldn't quite bring myself to care, since I'd just seen my absolute best friend in the world, Colin Bridgerton, standing across the lawn chatting with a group of ladies.

He'd left England this summer for another lengthy international trip, and I'd missed him terribly while he'd been gone. He looked different now, too, a little more sure of himself and wearing a style that had clearly come from somewhere on the continent rather than from here. And if my heart raced a little at the sight of him, well, that could easily be chalked up to excitement at the prospect of seeing a friend. I couldn't keep a smile off my face at the sight of him, even as I turned back to Benedict and found him with crossed arms and doubly raised eyebrows.

"When were you going to tell me that Colin had returned?" I demanded, completely ignoring Benedict's judgey look and barely managing to keep my voice at a socially acceptable level. Benedict just sighed and rolled his eyes.

"It is why I came over here in the first place, but then you distracted me with talks of friendship and cupcakes. And now I see it was all a lie, as you are clearly about to abandon me to the whims of this social event to go rush over and talk to my brother."

"Sorry, Benedict," I said, giving him a grin. "But I saw you throughout the summer. It has been much too long since I last saw Colin, so he takes precedence for the day. But I promise you I will come to your aid if you find yourself cornered by the mamas, or any other dangerous creature roaming the society grounds."

Benedict snorted, but I didn't give him the opportunity for a comeback as I turned back to Colin and walked quickly across the gravel paths, the smile growing on my face the closer I got to him. He didn't notice me as I approached, wrapped up in conversation with the handful of ladies in front of him, and my smile grew even more at the thought of his face when he finally caugh sight of me.

"...will be fighting over you," I heard Colin saying as I walked up to join the group. "I cannot compete."

All the ladies in the circle giggled, giving me perfect cover for my smile as I came to a stop in front of Colin. He turned to face me, a beaming smile on his face, then froze a bit as his eyebrows shot up when he realized who I was.

"Lady Y/L/N!" he said, the shock melting back into his charming smile. "What a pleasure it is to have you join us."

"Mister Bridgerton, what a pleasure it is to have you back in England with us."

Colin dipped his head, the corner of his mouth pulling up in a roguish smile before he returned his gaze to me.

"Believe me, Lady Y/L/N, the pleasure here is all mine."

Rather than the earnest excitement I'd been expecting, Colin's demeanor and voice dripped with a slick charm I didn't recognize. I'd been expecting his usual earnest, genuine emotion, not... this. I gave Colin a little frown of confusion, but quickly let my expression return to normal as he returned to addressing our entire group. He had an energy about him that I couldn't quite place, but it was much different than the Colin I'd gotten to know so well before he left. Still, we were in public. Neither of us were allowed to be anywhere near as effusive and close as we would've been in a more private setting.

"We were just discussing the season," Colin said, including me seamlessly in the conversation I'd joined between him and the other ladies. "Truly, it is amazing to me that all of your dance cards are not already full of suitors."

All the ladies around me giggled, hiding behind their fans and fluttering their eyelashes at Colin. I just stared at him, letting my brow furrow again as I watched my friend. He met my eyes, a smooth smile on his face and his eyes roaming me with an interest and flirtation they'd never had before. If Colin had looked at me like that when I'd last seen him, my heart would've started doing backflips. But his new demeanor made the gesture seem much less sincere, and much more shallow. I let my frown deepen.

"So..." I started, trying to clear the air of whatever strange energy seemed to be lurking here. "Mister Bridgerton, tell us of your travels. You sent so few letters this time, I have simply been dying to hear about everything you saw and did."

Colin flashed me a brilliant smile that didn't totally reach his eyes.

"This time, my stories from abroad are not suitable for such tender young ladies." Everyone around us giggled into their fans again, but Colin's eyes never left mine. "Were I to tell you even the tiniest adventure, well... I'd be forced to marry you."

He delivered the final few words with dramatic flourish, as if expecting for them to have some groundshaking impact. And with the way he stared at me with a simmering gaze, the words clearly intended to make every lady in earshoot swoon, he accomplished his goal. I couldn't hold back a snort of laughter, which I quickly hid as a cough behind my fan.

Colin looked shocked when I glanced up at him, but I still couldn't keep another laugh from bubbling up. He was being so ridiculous, so arrogant and flirting with everyone in sight like he was God's gift to the women of England, and I truly couldn't take him seriously this way.

I cleared my throat and straightened back up, keeping it together just enough as I faced Colin and the other ladies, giving each of them a shallow curtsey.

"Forgive me. I think... something in the air, it must have gotten to me. Excuse me, please."

With that, I turned on my heel and didn't look back. I walked quickly across the garden, seeking out and immediately finding Benedict among the crowd once again, hovering by some shrubbery in an attempt to hide from the ladies and their mothers. I sped up to reach him, the giggling smile returning to my face as I approached.

Benedict must've heard me coming, because at the sound of laughter in a semi-high pitched register he turned on his heel and started moving in the other direction without looking to see the origin of the sound. I walked faster, until I was close enough to call out to him without drawing undue attention.

"Relax, Benedict, it's just me!"

His shoulders slumped as he stopped and turned to face me, relief written in every line of his face. After a moment, however, his expression changed to one of confusion.

"What are you doing back here so soon?" he asked. "I thought you would spend at least the next hour with Colin, catching up on all his travels and making every eligible lady here incredibly jealous of the two of you."

"Well, I planned to catch up with him, but... Benedict, you will never believe what he said." Benedict raised an eyebrow, so I glanced around to make sure no one was eavesdropping, then took a step forward and lowered my voice all the same. Laughing about Colin with his brother was one thing, but I didn't want anyone in the rest of the Ton talking behind his back. "He said he couldn't possibly tell me his stories from abroad, because they weren't 'suitable for tender young ladies'."

Benedict scoffed. "Truly?"

"Truly! Benedict, he's come back from abroad strutting around like some peacock, as though he is God's gift to eligible young women everywhere. You know I love him, as you do, but... I cannot take him seriously with his new attitude. I do not think I could if I tried."

Benedict smiled and shook his head, staring over my shoulder, presumably at Colin. Then he turned back to me.

"Did he seem to be directing his newfound charm at anyone in particular?"

I frowned. "No, not that I noticed. It seemed to be more like buckshot, just aiming with broad strokes at everyone in range. Why? Are you joining the side of the mamas in trying to help your brother find a match?"

"No," Benedict sighed, sounding truly tired. "Simply trying to guague exactly how long I may have left before I am the only eligible Bridgerton son for the mamas to focus on."

I laughed. "Do not worry, Benedict. I think you have some time yet."

Benedict didn't respond, but I thought I heard him mumble something into his drink that sounded like, "we'll see". When I raised an eyebrow at him and prepared a question, however, he quickly changed the subject, and I let him. We spent most of the rest of the afternoon together, hiding out from societal obligations and occasionally laughing about how strange his siblings could be sometimes.

After the garden party, I didn't get much of a chance to speak with Colin again until Lady Danbury's ball. He'd approached me once or twice when we'd seen each other in passing at other events, but we'd always been interrupted by other ladies, and Colin seemed suddenly incapable of interacting with me without his base layer of extreme, over the top charm. I would've felt bad for how little time I'd spent with him since he'd returned home, but every time I'd tried to ask him about his travels or how he was doing, he turned it into a truly ridiculous line of flirting, the likes of which we used to make fun of other suitors for before his most recent summer travels.

As a result, when Lady Danbury's ball rolled around, I didn't seek Colin out the way I would've last season. Instead, I found Eloise, Benedict, and even Francesca for a while when she clearly needed a break from her first season out in society. I danced with a few of the men who were tolerable, and otherwise enjoyed my time at the refreshments table and talking to people I knew. Colin didn't seek me out for the first half of the ball, either, so when I heard a familiar voice trying to get my attention after I'd found a spot along the wall for a bit of a break from the rest of the party, it was more of a surprise than it should've been.

"Y/N."

I turned around with a smile to find Colin standing behind me, a grin on his own face. We were out of earshot of the rest of the party, so we could dispense with some of the titles and formality that had lost all meaning between us long ago.

"Colin, hello! I was beginning to think I might not see you at all during this ball, such your other engagements seemed to be."

"Well, I could never let my other engagements prevent me from conversing with the most beautiful woman at this ball, could I?"

He said it with an easy smile and a charming sincerity, but I'd seen him use the same attitude and similar words on enough other ladies in our few interactions this season that his words didn't work to sway me the way they seemed to sway others. My smile slipped, and I fought to hold back a sigh.

"Yes, well..."

Colin smiled at me for another moment, and when I didn't pick up the conversation, he gave an easy chuckle and fixed me with another roguish grin.

"As delighted as I am for any opportunity to spend time with you, my lady, I did come over here to ask you if you might do me the honor of a dance. I truly cannot think of a partner I would rather have than you."

I fought a grimace, barely managing to turn it into a polite smile. I looked around briefly to make sure we were still out of earshot of any other party-goers or servants, which we were. I turned back to Colin with a sigh.

"Colin... I am going to tell you this because I truly care about you, although that may not seem to be my motivation at first glance."

"...Alright," said Colin, blinking a few times and trying to hide any confusion with another easy smile. I took a deep breath.

"I do not wish to dance with you." The smile dropped off Colin's face and his eyebrows knit together as I continued. "I never thought I would say such a thing, as quite often dancing and laughing with you were the only things that made attending society events bearable. But ever since you've returned home from your trip, Colin... it has been nearly impossible to talk to you.

"The man I thought I knew, my friend, whom I deeply cared about and whom I could talk to about anything, seems to have gone. And in his place I have found a Colin Bridgerton who not only flirts with anything that moves, but who does so in a way that is incredibly condescending and impossible to have a meaningful conversation with. Your letters from your previous travels were wonderful, Colin, and when you returned we were able to discuss them at length. You know I have an interest in learning and the world at large, and yet now, whenever I bring the subject up, I am told I could not possibly handle hearing about the things you saw and did, since I am but a fragile woman. Your sincerety and genuine expression of yourself has become cloaked in an oily layer of false sentiment and charm, directed equally at everyone you speak to, no matter your relation to them or your true feelings. I have no idea what brought about this change in you, Colin, but I am sorry to say I do not enjoy it the way the rest of the ladies here seem to."

Colin just stared at me, blinking and gaping like a fish. I frowned, feeling a big guilty, but lying to him would serve no purpose for either of us. Still, he was my friend, and I did care about him regardless of his recent changes. Choosing to ignore society for a brief moment, I put my hand out and rested it gently on his arm.

"Do not mistake my words as an insult designed to hurt you, Colin. You are my friend, and always will be. I have simply... found it harder to be around the person you have become recently. I am truly happy for you and your newfound confidence, but it seems to have extended a bit beyond confidence and into something more challenging, especially with ladies. Even ones you've known as long as you've known me."

I gave him a tight smile, which he seemed too stunned to return. I gave him a moment, but when he still didn't seem capable of a response, I curtsied and took a few steps backwards.

"Well. I will... take my leave. I do hope you enjoy the rest of the ball."

Colin just watched me as I took another few steps backwards. Finally, I turned on my heel and walked away. I wasn't sure how I'd been expecting him to take my statement, but complete speechlessness certainly hadn't been my prediction. I could only hope I hadn't wounded him too badly, and that he might come around enough to be the man I remembered as my friend and confidant, who could discuss the world with me as an equal and laugh with me through anything.

Thankfully, no one at the ball seemed to have noticed our exchange. Colin kept his distance from me for the rest of the evening, although I did notive him staring in my direction once or twice.

I debated finding Benedict to ask him his opinion about what I'd said to Colin, and how Colin might be feeling, but eventually decided against it. No matter how true my words had been, or how I'd tried to keep them from sounding harsh or designed to hurt, Colin would likely need his space for a time while he processed. And sending his brother in as my proxy would be the opposite of giving Colin space.

I expected Colin to keep his distance from me for a few days at least, if not for much, much longer. But as I took my seat in the sitting room of my family home the next morning for the start of the calling hours, I turned out to be quite incorrect. Before the clock had finished chiming to mark the start of the first hour, none other than Colin Bridgerton came striding through the door, ahead of the butler who normally would have announced him.

"Lady Y/N," he said, bowing to me and then to my mother sitting on the couch next to me. "I have come to call on you, if you are willing to entertain my company."

He still walked and spoke with confidence, but the layer of charm that had honeyed his words since the first day he'd returned for the season was gone, replaced by a directness and frankness that felt like taking a breath of fresh air. I gave him a small smile.

"I would be more than happy to have your company, Mister Bridgerton."

Colin gave me a small smile in return, and the two of us moved to the other end of the room, still able to be chaperoned but out of immediate earshot. I settled into the couch, Colin sitting right beside me.

"Y/N... thank you for being willing to speak to me. I had to see you, to apologize... and to explain."

My eyebrows shot up. Now that we were sitting closer together, I noticed a few irregularities in Colin's appearance. He had a few shadows under his eyes, as though he hadn't slept well, and his hair wasn't as neatly quaffed as I was used to seeing it. His shirt was rumpled in a few places a maid or a butler or a hovering older sibling might've insisted on fixing if they could've, and although Colin's new confidence appeared to be mostly intact, the charm had been replaced with a nervous energy I'd hardly ever seen from him.

"Colin... are you quite alright?" I asked, leaning a bit closer to him as I studied his face. When I looked up to meet his eyes, I found them instead scanning my face, until he apparenlty snapped out of it and met my gaze. He took a deep breath and sighed.

"Yes. Well, no. Perhaps. I am not sure, I think my wellbeing may depend a bit on the outcome of this conversation."

"Colin, before you begin, if I was too harsh on you the other night then I must apologize-"

"No! No. You were not." He took another fortifying breath, closing his eyes for a moment and dropping his shoulders from where they'd been creeping closer to his ears, before meeting my eyes again. "I have been quite different since I came home. I found myself while I was away from society, in a way I have never felt able to do here. But... I also learned the kind of charm that most of the Ton enjoys. It worked so well from the moment I got back, I did not think much of it. But I should have. And I am sorry if our relationship suffered as a result of my attitude."

Colin paused to take a deep breath, and I took the opening to reach out and rest my hand on his forearm.

"Colin, you do not-"

"Y/N, please. Please allow me to get all the way through this. I need to say it all, and I may not be able to get it out if I have an opportunity to change the subject."

I leaned back a little to stare at Colin, though I didn't remove my hand. His eyebrows were knit together with worry and his eyes never left my face. Slolwy, I nodded. Colin let out a sigh.

"Thank you." He squared his shoulders and sat up straighter, resting his hand on top of my own. "I understand why my approach was... not appreciated when we spoke in the garden and at Lady Danbury's ball. But the sentiment behind what I was saying was genuine. I have been searching for the way to tell you this for years, and I thought the charm and flirtation I learned abroad would be the way to finally do it. Clearly I was wrong. You should have seen the face Benedict made when I talked to him last night..."

Colin trailed off, shaking his head and apparently lost in thought. After a moment, I took a breath to say something else, but the noise must've been enough to jar Colin out of his memories. His stare snapped back to me, eyes slightly wider than usual.

"I love you. I have been in love with you for years, and when I returned home from this trip, I decided to finally do something about it. I thought the charm that worked so well on everyone else would work just as well for you, but... clearly I was mistaken."

I huffed a laugh. That was certainly an understatement.

"I wanted everything to be perfect, to come home changed and sweep you off your feet, but I've already failed at that, and I cannot keep my feelings to myself a moment longer. I love you, and I want to share everything with you. You are my best friend, my confidant, and the only woman I could possibly imagine spending the rest of my life with. Is there even the slightest chance you may feel the same way?"

Colin looked at me with the most open, vulnerable expression I'd ever seen, from anyone. My heart raced in my chest, and all I wanted to do was throw my arms around him and never let go. But I forced myself to take a moment, rather than letting my emotions run wild.

"I need you to answer two questions for me, Colin," I said, trying to keep my voice calm and level. Unfortunately, I didn't totally succeed. Colin nodded quickly.

"Anything."

"First... how were your travels? Where was your favorite place to visit?"

Colin huffed a laugh, relaxing and leaning into me slightly as a faint smile pulled onto his face. My heart raced, but I forced myself to keep a neutral expression.

"I apologize for even making this test necessary, but my travels were... incredible. I may ask you not to share details with the rest of the Ton, but anything you ask, I will be happy to share with you. And my favorite place was Paris. I could not stop thinking about the two of us returning someday to visit together. It is a truly romantic city."

Colin's words removed any hope I had at keeping a smile off my face. I leaned into it, grinning at him and squeezing his hand a little as my heart began to race.

"Well then, I look forward to hearing all about them."

"And I look forward to telling you. Your second question?"

"...Did you truly go to Benedict for help with this last night?"

Colin groaned and threw his head back, which made me laugh. He shook his head as he met my eyes again, but he was smiling all the same.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. I know you are close with him, and I noticed you going to speak to him after you abruptly left our conversation at the garden party. I thought he might have some insight, and I was right. It just came at the cost of quite a bit of mocking."

"You truly must be serious to give Benedict such ammunition to use against you for the rest of your lives."

"I am incredibly serious. And I would brave the teasing of every one of my siblings if, at the end, it brought me to you."

"Colin, that may be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me."

"Does that mean... you return my affections?"

I smiled. "Yes, Colin. It does. You are my best friend, and I cannot think of anyone I would rather spend my time with than you."

Colin absolutely beamed at me. He began to lean forward, then thought better of himself even as his eyes still strayed to my lips.

"I cannot begin to tell you how desperately I wish we were alone in this moment," he said, voice low and husky. My heart did a backflip as I felt myself flush.

"Hopefully we will not have to wait long," I replied. We stayed there together, the tension and heat growing between us, until my mother cleared her throat from across the room and we were both brought back to reality. We leaned slightly further apart, although we didn't let go of each others' hands, and shared a grin.

"So... does that mean you will marry me?"

I laughed. "Colin, you cannot be serious! You began courting me a handful of minutes ago!"

I met Colin's eyes, expecting to share the joke, but instead I found him staring at me with a burning sincerity to go with his words.

"I am happy to wait as long as you need me to," he said, voice lowered slightly. "But I would also happily announce our engagement today."

I smiled and shook my head, my heart pounding in my chest so hard I thought Colin might actually be able to hear it.

"I may ask you to wait at least long enough for us to spend an evening or two together while courting, to see what it may be like to have a different relationship, rather than to spend time together as friends. But... I do not predict you will need to wait long."

The grin that spread across Colin's face was blinding, rivaling the happiest looks I'd ever seen from anyone in my life.

"That is good to hear. There are quite a few things I can hardly wait for, all of which come with engagement and marriage."

"Hm. Thank goodness we are both of positions and family that allow us to disappear for months on a honeymoon, finally sharing some travels around the world together. Among other things."

Colin squeezed my hand, and I could see him fighting back a handful of inappropriate responses and actions. I just grinned back at him, the two of us settling into our usual ease on the couch togehter after a moment so I could finally get Colin to tell me about the things he'd done on his travels. Hopefully, no one else would show up during the calling hours, and Colin and I could spend every moment of the day together just like this.

I'd meant what I'd said about wanting to wait, at least a short while, before announcing an engagement, and I did think it was a good idea. But I also couldn't imagine anything coming between Colin and I again after this. My best friend was back, and we were in love. What more could I possibly ask for in a match than that? Even if Benedict would be insufferable, claiming to be the one who'd set us up. It would be worth it, especially because we would weather the storm of his siblings together. Just like we'd do everything else that came for the rest of our lives.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

Hii I am making a Spencer Reid x citizen! F reader. They have been dating for a really long time but for a while reader has been dealing with a stalker, suddenly the stalker becomes much more violent and maybe even kidnaps her if we want to get real cray cray. Just lots of protective reid and angst to comfort!!

don't lose your head | S.R.

a stalker uses your work as a tudor history professor to follow your every move, so you go to the only place you can think of for help - the BAU

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: professor!reader, fiance!spencer, erotomaniac stalker, lots of tudor history facts, kidnapping, decapitation, happy ending, s11 (post-maeve), guns, death, spencer feels a lot of guilt, unhelpful police, exhaustion, nausea, dry heaving word count: 3.71k a/n: yall if i wanted to make this into a series would you read it 😭 i had so much fun writing this!!! and yes the title is a reference to six! thank you sooo much for requesting!!

you

You told Spencer after the fourth note. While the first two had been near your office door – harmless enough to have been brushed off as a student prank, the third note had been left on your desk. When someone had gotten into your locked office to leave you an intense love letter, you knew you were out of your depth.

After years of hearing stories about the BAU needing to battle the chain of command, you thought the best thing to do was to first go to the campus police. You were a professor, so the natural assumption was that they’d look into it.

They didn’t even take a report. No one listened to you.

From the campus police, you went into the city police, then the county, and by the time you marched into DC Metro, you hadn’t slept in a day. Spencer was in Utah on a case, and you didn’t have anywhere else to go. Once DC Metro told you there was nothing they could do without an open investigation or further evidence, you went back to your apartment.

The fourth note was there waiting for you, covering the camera that you kept on your front door.

Since you had the first three notes already in your bag, you plucked the newest one from where it was stationed on the front door and stuffed it in with the others before making the trip down to Quantico.

You had no idea when the team would be back, but the security guards at the front desk recognized you from the times you’d come to pick Spencer up or bring him lunch and they let you up anyway.

There were no notifications on your phone from Spencer letting you know that they were flying home, but the only place you felt safe was in their headquarters. The idea of going to see Penelope crossed your mind, but as a profiler-adjacent, she’d likely see right through you. You never dropped by, especially not when Spencer was away.

Settling yourself at his desk, you pulled an empty manila folder from a drawer, placed the notes neatly inside, and left it on Spencer’s desk before sitting in his chair and waiting for something to happen.

“Hey, Reid,” you heard a familiar voice from behind you. Slowly, you spun the chair around and looked at the team as they filtered in the glass doors.

Confused, Spencer tilted his head at you, clearly wondering why you were staking out the bullpen as he approached you. As he got closer, he observed the bags under your eyes, bloodshot from your lack of sleep over the last few days, “What’s wrong?”

Chewing on the inside of your lip, you clutched the folder like your life depended on it – for all you knew, it did. Your eyes followed Spencer as he knelt in front of you, accepting the folder when you handed it to him, “I think I’m in trouble,” you whispered, voice raspy from lack of use.

Your fiancé flipped through the pages, reading each of them a few times while you garnered attention from other members of the BAU. Tara, Derek, and JJ all crowded around Spencer’s desk, curious on your surprise appearance.

“I…” you faltered as you tried to explain what felt inexplicable. “The first one was folded over the doorknob of my office, the second one was slid beneath the door to my office, the third one was left on my desk, and the fourth one,” you glanced nervously at Spencer, “it was on the apartment door.”

Spencer’s eyebrows furrowed, “apartment door? Our apartment door?” As he questioned you, he stood up, leaving you with four federal agents staring down at you.

Despondently, you nodded, steepling your fingers in your lap and letting your shoulders droop.

“I’ll go get Hotch,” JJ said, nodding at everyone else to confirm her intentions before turning around, making her way up the steps to Hotch’s office.

From there, you ended up in the roundtable room. Tara had personally brought the letters for the lab to be checked for prints, and the techs had sent Garcia scans that were now projected on the screen. Each member of the team had them up on tablets, but you and Spencer knew the words by heart.

Shaking her head, Tara looked up at everyone, “I mean, who writes like this anymore? ‘But if you please to do the office of a true loyal mistress and friend, and to give yourself up body and heart to me, who will be, and have been, your most loyal servant,” she shrugged, continuing to look over the letters.

“They’re love letters,” you explained, tugging the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your palms before crossing your arms in front of your stomach. “The words aren’t original, they’re all passages from the love letters of Henry VIII to Anne Boleyn.”

Pointing to something on her screen, JJ frowned, “And what does his greeting mean? He always starts with ‘my rose without a thorn’.”

Nodding dejectedly, you focused your eyes on the now-empty manila folder on the table in front of you. “That was what Henry VIII called Catherine Howard, she was his youngest wife. It’s widely accepted among scholars that she was around seventeen when they got married, but others say she could’ve been as young as fifteen,” you answered, wondering if more details would help the investigation.

“So, we have Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard, which wives were those?” Rossi asked, looking around the table for someone who knew the answer.

In the middle of scrawling something on an evidence board, Spencer answered quickly, “Two and five.”

Folding your hands in your lap, you scoured your memory for anything that could be helpful. When Hotch asked if those numbers meant everything to you, you just shook your head. “Is there any significance to the two wives he chose being Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard?”

Your lips parted in surprise as the blood drained from your face, “They were the two wives who were beheaded.”

An eerie silence fell over the room, interrupted only by a chime from Penelope’s laptop, her shoulders slumped forward in abject disappointment, “The lab didn’t find anything on the letters. No prints, no hair… nothing, but uh…” her voice trailed off as she looked up at Hotch, it was almost like she was seeking permission.

Each member of the BAU looked at each other with the same concerned expression on their faces. “What do you all know that I don’t?”

“Two bodies turned up last week in the greater DC area,” Morgan was the brave soul who spoke up, “they were both missing their heads, and they were both college professors.”

Goosebumps spread over your entire body, a chill of fear causing the tip of your nose to feel cold, “Oh, I…” you fumbled over your words, standing up from your chair and rushing to leave the roundtable, nearly throwing yourself out of the bullpen on your way to the women’s restroom.

Entering one of the stalls, you haphazardly gathered your hair at the back of your head and you dry heaved into the toilet. You dropped to your knees as nothing came out.

A knock at the door barely garnered your attention, you didn’t even bother responding as Spencer was already entering the stall, “Oh, honey.”

That was it, you sat back on your heels as tears welled in your eyes, looking up at Spencer as he sat down next to you. Immediately, you turned your body to face him and leaned forward.

Welcomingly, Spencer grabbed you, firmly wrapping his arms around your torso as he pulled you into his lap, “I have you. I’m right here.” His voice was gentle, no more than a whisper as he kept a firm pressure around your body, “You’re safe with me,” he reassured you, using one hand to keep you upright and the other to rub your back as you cried.

Your face was buried in the crook of his neck as you wept, the sensation of fear ran through your body like electricity, and you felt content for the first time in days in the safety of Spencer’s arms. “I- I just teach. I’m n- not built for this,” you cried, words slightly muffled by his shoulder.

You were a history professor, teaching a course on the six wives of Henry VIII, this was never even in the realm of things you considered when putting together your syllabus.

Taking a shaky breath, you pulled away from Spencer, and he reached behind you for a wad of toilet paper to dry your face. “Spence,” you said, though it came out as more of a whimper.

“When’s the last time you slept?” He asked, cupping both of your cheeks in his hands while he studied your exhausted expression.

Shrugging, you shuffled off of him, dropping the wad of toilet paper in the bowl and flushing it, “A day? Two?” You weren’t entirely sure what day it currently was, the events of the last few had caused everything to sort of blend together.

Spencer nodded in understanding, “Okay,” he responded, slipping his phone out of his pocket before typing something out, “Why don’t you go lie down in Morgan’s office for a little while? He won’t mind.”

You blinked a few final tears from your eyes before affirming, “Yeah, uh. I need to grab something from my car.”

“Okay, are you parked in the garage? I’ll go down with you,” he offered, getting up and lending you a hand up, mumbling about the state of the bathroom floor as he did so.

After washing your hands, the two of you made your way through the hall and to the elevator before Garcia called out for Reid, “Hotch needs you for something, he said it’s urgent.”

Glancing back at you, he pursed his lips before selecting a lower-level special agent to go with you to the parking garage. “Be right back,” you told him as you stepped onto the elevator.

him

Once he was finished with Hotch, Spencer made his way back down the hallway, expecting to find yourself settling in Morgan’s office only to find it empty. Turning back in the hallway, he nearly bulldozed into Morgan and JJ, “Hey, what’s the rush?”

“Have either of you seen Y/N?” He asked, trying not to let panic rise in his voice, but there had been ample time for you to get to the parking garage and back. You should’ve been back by now.

The two of them shared a look, “Uh, no, I haven’t seen her since she left the roundtable room. Is she alright?” JJ asked, blue eyes filled with concern.

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Spencer hit the number one on speed dial – your number – and brought the phone to his ear before rushing to the elevator and moving to the side as JJ and Morgan piled in with him. Frantically pushing the button for the parking level, he cursed as the phone went to voicemail.

“Reid, what is it?” Morgan asked as the elevator started moving down.

Redialing your number, Spencer muttered to himself, hoping you’d pick up, “I sent her down with an agent. Hotch needed my apartment key so that Tara and Rossi could go look for anything.”

As the steel doors opened, the three of them drew their firearms, each of them taking a different direction when Spencer realized he didn’t even know where you had parked your car. “We have an agent down,” Morgan called out, calling Garcia and putting the phone on speaker. “Baby girl, we need medical and crime scene techs down to the lower-level parking garage,” he said into the phone.

“Spencer,” JJ called out, garnering his attention as he made his way through the garage to where JJ and Morgan were now stood, Morgan was applying pressure on Agent Franks’ wound, and JJ was looking at a car.

The passenger door to your car was open, and the vehicle was chiming as an alert to get you to close the door. As he stepped forward, something glimmered at the edge of his vision. Crouching down, he picked up your engagement ring from the cement, “He’s got her,” he said, a wave of déjà vu nearly toppling him over.

Impatiently waiting for the elevator to take him back up to the sixth floor, Spencer trudged to the roundtable room, desperate for another look at the evidence board. The dates of each letter that you had received, the content of each letter, and the reason for all of this didn’t make any sense to him.

It had to be an erotomaniac, it was the only thing that made sense. You were an object of someone’s desires, and their delusion had to have become so strong that they took you.

Quietly, someone stepped into the roundtable room behind him, “What are you thinking about?”

Imminent death. Statistics of harm and death in cases involving erotomanic kidnappings. “Synchronicity,” he answered simply, entertaining JJ’s conversation as he continued to study the letters. The love letters were at the core of it all, so the answer needed to be written in there. Everything that had come to you was almost an exact copy of words written by Henry VIII.

“Ah, that’s Jung, right?” JJ asked, her voice was kind, and she was using the same tone she used when doing cognitive interviews with victims. He didn’t have time for her pity, they were on a clock.

Sighing, Spencer picked his dry-erase marker back up and scrawled on the board, “It’s a concept that he introduced, yes. It’s meant to describe the occurrence of events which seem like they’re significantly related but there’s no discernable causation.”

JJ nodded understandingly, taking a spot next to him and looking at the notes, “And what occurrence of events are we thinking about right now?”

“I suppose more than anything, I’m wondering if there’s an action that I took in the past that somehow caused me to find myself in this situation twice,” he answered, circling the word ‘the place chosen by yourself’ on the evidence board.

Humming, JJ turned to face him, “Does Y/N know?”

Pressing his lips together in a thin, white line, he nodded tightly, “I told her years ago, when we had first started dating, actually. I never thought…” his voice trailed off as he set down the marker, “She came to me, JJ. She came here to be safe, and he grabbed her from the parking garage.”

“You sent her down there with an agent, you thought you were doing the right thing,” JJ tried to comfort him.

Scoffing dismissively, he stepped back and took a seat in one of the chairs, “I can’t stop thinking about if it would’ve made a difference. If her asking me for help would have fixed anything, or if it would have ended the same way.”

Taking a seat near him, JJ paused for a moment, seemingly at a loss for words, before responding, “We can’t really afford to think like that though, in our line of work.”

Spencer scoffed, “No, we can’t. Especially not now, but the timing of it is weird. It’s been almost exactly four years, and now…” his voice trailed off as his eye caught on something on the paper. “The timing is off,” he muttered, picking up the first letter you had received.

“What is it, Spence?” JJ asked, tilting her head to the side curiously.

Shaking his head, he read the letter again, “This letter, it’s from the first letter Henry VIII wrote to Anne Boleyn, but in this version, he says he’s been waiting for months to be with her, but they waited seven years to be together because they were waiting for his marriage to Catherine of Aragon to be annulled.”

Still confused, JJ leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, “Okay, what does that mean.”

“We ruled out a student because the crimes didn’t read as mature, but what if it’s a different kind of student?” He proposed, standing up from the chair abruptly and starting to write on the board.

Rolling her chair closer to the board, she shrugged, “I’m not sure I’m following.”

Holding up a single finger, Spencer wrote a name down on the board, “Y/N has a grad student TA, he’s been working toward his PhD for seven years. He’s been her TA for three months – that lines up with the timeline in the letters.”

“Okay,” JJ said, starting to follow along, she waved at the team members in the bullpen to get their attention before hitting the call button on the conference phone. “Penelope, what do you have on a Geoffrey Williamson? He’s a TA in Y/N’s class.”

There was typing on the other line before a sound of disgust came from the technical analyst, “He is a different kind of smarmy, it looks like he transferred programs two years ago to Y/N’s university after he… oh. It looks like he bounced from foster home to foster home as a kid, his parents never fully gave up their rights but couldn’t follow through on their case plan. He was unsuccessful in his last dissertation defense three months ago,” she continued clacking on her keyboard, “after which his mentor teacher dropped him and the school gave him one more semester before pulling his funding. He asked Y/N to be his new mentor teacher and it looks like she turned him down -very nicely, might I add.”

Scoffing, Morgan crossed his arms in front of his chest, “That sounds like a stressor and a trigger if I’ve ever heard one.

“Garcia,” Hotch spoke into the phone, “Do you have a location for Williamson?”

There was more typing as Spencer could feel his carotid pounding in his throat, “It looks like he lives in student housing, but… he recently inherited an old factory after his biological father passed away two weeks ago.”

Nodding, Hotch looked around the table, “Send us the address, and forward it to Rossi and Lewis too.”

“Done, go get her,” Penelope urged into the phone before hanging up.

He slipped your engagement ring into his pocket before adjusting the strap on his Kevlar, thrumming with nervous energy as Morgan coordinated with SWAT, waiting outside of the old textile factory as the tactical team organized themselves in front of the BAU.

Spencer and JJ took the left side, Rossi and Tara took the right, and Morgan and Hotch went through the main doors.

“No!” Your voice broke out through the steel corridors of the factory, immediately followed by a yelp.

There was an awful noise then, like metal scraping against itself, “Fucking say it!” An unfamiliar male voice broke out in a holler.

Steeling himself, Spencer had to hold himself back from rushing into the room where your voice was coming from, each one of your sobs was like another strike at his resolve. “Good Christian people,” he heard you say, your voice was strained, “I am come hither to die, for according to the law, and by the law I am judged to- to-“ Your voice broke off into a heap of wails.

“What is she saying?” JJ whispered, waiting for SWAT to clear the corridor.

All of the blood had drained from Spencer’s face, “She’s reciting Anne Boleyn’s execution speech, from right before she was beheaded.”

JJ nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation – they needed to get in there, and they needed to do it quickly. SWAT waved them over, and the two of them filtered through the open doorway. The space was dimly illuminated by candles, but the only thing Spencer could focus on was your head, bowed toward the ground as you watched the ground. Above you, Geoffrey was holding a sword, ready to cut your head off.

“Geoffrey Williamson, FBI!” JJ called out, announcing themselves to the UnSub before he could get any further in his convoluted execution, “Put the sword down! Let Y/N go.”

Spencer clocked the UnSub’s grip tightening on the sword as he zeroed in on you, “I can’t! She has to pay for this! She has to finish the speech.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but as you raised your head slightly, he found himself silenced by your gaze. Roll, he mouthed the words to you, hoping Williamson was too focused on JJ to notice what he was trying to tell you.

“And by the law I am judged to die,” you continued the speech, your voice wavering.

Taking a deep breath, Spencer watched as the UnSub raised the sword despite JJ’s instructions to set it on the ground, “Y/N, stop talking!”

Releasing another sob, you finished the execution speech, “And therefore I will speak nothing against it.”

As soon as the last word was out of your mouth, Williamson brought the sword down, and as it swung, two things happened. JJ pulled the trigger on her firearm, killing the UnSub, and you rolled out of the way, the chains that bound your hands and feet clanging on the ground as you did so.

Holstering his weapon, Spencer ran over to you, dropping to his knees in front of you, “It’s done. It’s over,” he tried to reassure you, but you had begun struggling against your restraints as Spencer tried to settle you down, “Stop, it’s me, baby. Baby, it’s me,” he said desperately.

Once you had maneuvered yourself into a sitting position, you looked at Spencer with big, watery eyes before completely breaking down. “I just wanted it to end,” you babbled as your face crumpled.

“I know, honey,” he said, reaching out to pull you close as JJ contacted the rest of the team, asking for a chain cutter to get your restraints off of you as they weren’t able to find the keys on the body. “He’s gone, you’re safe,” he urged, holding you tightly.

You weren’t seriously injured, but there were enough bumps and bruises to make Spencer insist on a trip to the hospital. Until the EMTs could make it to you, he was fine with holding you on the floor of the factory. Keeping you close. Keeping you safe with him.

Beautiful Boy

aemond targaryen x strong!reader

chapter two chapter three

"You look better like this," he says, his voice low and raspy.

You flinch, swatting his hand away from your face. He runs his hand over your cheek and then suddenly your head is knocked back into another direction, your cheeks swells. Without warning, he grabs a fist full of your hair, your chin rises upwards.

You find yourself in the RedKeep, keeping the bed warm for the one eyed prince.

Warnings: violence, fingering?afab reader, only description is long dark hair, Starvation. Stockholm syndrome(eventual)cnc,dub con,sa

Word count: 7k

There's a pregnant pause and then a soft gurgling noise. A burning ash smell fills the air in the expanse of the riverlands, you stay nestled between the walls of the keep, smoke rises from the grounds, a loud marching of what you can only hope is the Strong soldiers that come to save the few around Harrenhal. Maybe the Castle was cursed as people believed it to be. The death toll had only added up after Harren Black and his sons had withered away in the dragonfire. First the attack from Daemon and his army, then the Targaryens had only abandoned Harrenhal is such fleeting moments, You believed there was more death to come. Only years had passed since your brother and fathers death when you were Two and Ten, Larys had only hidden you away after he was confirmed heir for Harrenhal after Lord Simon Strong (your great Uncle) would pass. 

How you wish he could see the destruction of his hold after he had executed your Family for treason ,although the castle had been withering away under the rain for years. Lary’s mendacious nature had you squirming under his tend, knowing he would set you with a match that would only make your skin crawl, when the time had come. 

The stench of Dragon fire comes closer, and you slide down the cool wet stone wall of Harrenhal, hand over your mouth, you sweep the length of your dress closer to your body, you find yourself in a precarious situation, wedged into the many nooks the building had to offer. You gaze down at the mossy grass, the sky darkens in a cloak of ash and you almost believe it to be over, then the rainfall had come, sweeping the castle into a darker shade, it washed the blood away from the walls. 

Aemond stood at the edge of the ruins, His lone eye surveying the wreckage that stood before him. The aftermath of dragon fire had been a sight to behold, even after he had witnessed it so many times. His eye catches upon a lone figure in the distance; close to the edge of the keep upon the mountain, hidden away just out of sight, so intriguing. A flash of a Light green gown, rustling against the stone brick after a crack of lighting befell the castle. The sight had provoked him after bearing witness to the slaughter of all who laid here at Harrenhal. 

His long fingers traced the hilt of his dagger, he drew it close to his body as stalked towards the keep, passing the rubble and cadavers that lay upon the bloodied grass. He moved silently, his eye drawing in on his prey, he was a Predator after all. Before you knew it you were unknowingly cornered, He came to the nook where you had hid yourself, “come out, I know you're there,” He called out, voice low and dark. 

You clench your hand closer to your face, squeezing over your nose to still your breathing, fingers digging into flesh. It wasn't safe for you to come out, not yet. Not when you were unsure of who had called for you.You sniffled, raindrops running down your face. 

Aemond found his patience wearing thin. He could hear your shallow breaths, heart so loud he was sure he could hear the beating rhythm of your heartbeat thump against your ribcage. The tension builded in the air;thick and stuffy. He steps closer to the nook, your eyes widening as his boots crunched against what was left of the desecrated building. 

“I won’t ask again,” He said, Lifting his dagger away from his body, “Come out, or I will do it myself. I doubt you will enjoy that very much.”

You rise slowly at his words, feeling like a fresh doe on your legs, you peek your head round the corner. His eyes meet yours, gaze unwavering as you reveal yourself. Your eyebrow raises in a piqued interest and you slowly slide yourself out the nook you had buried yourself against. He was not a Member of the strong army, But he wasn't part of the queens.

“The king's army?” You sigh, “Daemon isn't here, they've left in the midst of your war” Your eyes gaze upon his face, meeting the horrific scar that ran from his brow to the bottom of his cheekbone, You feel his strong gaze on your own face, his lone eye roaming over your figure, you wonder if he remembers your watchful eye at the Red Keep, those years ago as he trained with a sword. 

Aemoned chuckled softly, he stepped closer towards your form, dagger clutched in his right hand as he assessed you. He could see the slight tremble in your form, a small inclination of fear within your eyes. “You’re observant, I’ll give you that,” His tone was cool and neutral. He takes another step forward, muscles flexing under his leather as he raises the blade to your chin, tilting your face to meet his eye. 

“I’m flattered, but it doesn't take a genius to know that this, is your blood-shed.” You feel the edge of the blade against your skin, it's cool in the humidity of the storm, Your hands run along the frills of your soft cotton dress, now wet. 

“You're a smart one, are you?”He chuckles dryly, he moves the dagger away from your chin, it slides down the expanse of your neck, hanging around your collar bones for a moment too long. “Mouthy too.” He steps even closer, body heat radiating off him like Hot fire on a cold day. “That’ll get you in trouble” 

“And yet I'm the last standing amongst this battlefield”. You pull away from his danger, swinging your body in the direction of the surrounding walls. “Though there wasn't much left to stand”

Aemonds lips curl into a smirk. “Cocky too”, He muses. He sheaths his dagger back into the scabbard, it makes you feel some sense of disappointment to be known now as not a threat. “You’re not wrong” he concedes, the scent of ash and fire fills the air as he chases your body with his own. “But don't forget, you are alive because i allow it”

You smirk, feet stepping over bodies and slabs of stone from the wreckage “well, I suppose it's time for me to leave, It was wonderful meeting you.” You nod your head. 

Aemond’s eyes widened in surprise as you began to descend the hill, his hand shooting out to grab your arm, grip firm and bruising. “Oh no, you’re not going anywhere” He commands with irritation, he spins you around forcing your back into the mossy stone wall, leaning in close trapping you against himself “I’m not done with you”

“Gosh, men really are all the same. You think I have to listen to your orders because you believe you hold more power over me? You may be a prince but i won't take an order from one who's lost an eye to a child”

Aemond's face enrages at your words as you smirk. His grip on your arm only grows tighter, and you struggle to breathe through the pain,His eye narrowed at your insolence. 

“Watch your tongue or i'll have it” He pushes you further against the wall, body flush against yours, his breath warms as he speaks. “I don't take kindly to being disrespected like that, especially not by mouthy wenches like you.” 

You laugh in his grip, “Mouthy wench? If my brother was dead I'd be set to inherit the very ground you stand on” you sigh, eyes gazing away from him to look upon the grounds. “To bad you torched it ”

His eye widens at the revelation, grip tightening even further, you're surprised you can still feel your hand. He leans in closer, face mere inches from your own, “You’re a highborn?” He studies your face for an inkling of a lie, but only truth prevails. “And yet, you're hiding in the ruins like a commoner” He mocks.

“Only because you slaughtered my family and army, Did my brother Lary’s Strong give you the order?” You almost wince as you say his name, it had been so long since you had seen your brother, now he was a Lord working under the new king. 

His gaze hardens at the mention of Lary’s, eyes filled with spite. “I'm not a lapdog, I'm the prince. And yet you speak with such disdain for your own brother, why?” he queries. 

You smooth back your hair, Aemond steps back finally giving you room to breathe. “He wishes to marry me off to the next man he can, I suppose I'm trouble for him.” 

“Marry you off, eh?” there's a hint of a smirk on his face, you watch as his white hair blows against the wind. “Who does your brother think is worthy for your hand”

You shrug, hands wrapping against your body. “It's not he who has to be worthy, But I, I'm sure he would sell me to a Peasant farmer if he could, for free no less.” you sneer at the thought, the smell of sweat and shit. 

Aemonds chuckles darkly at your words, his eye roams over the soft features of your face. He reaches to brush a strand of dark hair behind your ear. You flinch. The sentiment is oddly gentle in comparison to the mere moments ago where he had held a dagger against your jugular. 

“Fiery, most Highborn girls would throw themself at the opportunity to marry a prince” he mumbles “and yet you resist?”

“Resist? You act as though you haven't killed my family and destroyed everything I have ever known, all because of the boy who took your eye, the one you accuse of being a bastard son to my brother!” you grit your teeth together in destain. “and yet you ask for my hand? As what? A prize? Or a warning to the people that resist you?” 

His eyes darken, jaw clenching at your words, he grabs you by your shoulders forcing you to look him in the eye, his touch feels like fire, itchy and spreads up into a red heat across your cheeks. “You think this is about revenge? This war is more than you and your family” His grip tightens, Face mere inches away from yours. “Besides, I have no interest in taking a spoiled, defiant women as my wife”

“Then let me go” You spit.

He glares at you with rage, “You think it's that easy?” His voice is laced with sarcasm, “just let you go, You think I can simply let you go after all this?” he pauses as he steps closer to you. 

“You won't wed me, you won't kill me, you won't let me go, what do you want with me? To make me a slave? A prisoner?” 

"A slave? A prisoner?" he repeated, his voice low. "No, nothing so cruel." He leaned closer, his body now fully pressed against yours, the heat of him almost burning through your clothes. "I have much more... interesting use in mind for you"

“Gods, you disgust me”

"Oh, do I now?" he said, his voice dripping with mockery. "And yet, here you are, trembling under my touch. Tell me, is it fear that makes your heart race?" 

“It is my hatred for you” you scoff.

"Your hatred, is it?" he said, his fingers tracing a path down your collarbone. " I can almost feel the heat of it, the fire burning inside of you." He leaned in again, his breath hot against your ear. "But fire can be tamed, just like a dragon.”

“I’d rather die than let you touch me”,you push your weight on to him, he eases giving you enough room to sprint for the gates; an exit. You nearly trip against your feet as you run. 

He curses, hand on his dagger as he runs after you, his longer legs catching up, he pulls you into a bruising grip. Dagger against your throat. Aemond chuckles as you struggle.

“You thought you could escape me, did you?" he said, his breath hot against your ear. "How naive of you." He steers you towards the open field, unbecomered by wreckage. 

“Tegon, Vhager,Tegon!” (land), Aemond spits out. 

There is a large flapping of wings, The sound claps loudly like a Bomb exploding, you hide your face in your hands as air and dirt rises into your face, The great dragon lands, dirt and stone crumbling under its feet from the weight. He tightens his grip on your arm, pulling you closer to the dragon that has landed before them. The beast roars, its scales glinting in the sunlight.

"Now behave yourself. We're going for a little ride."

"What! No" You kick your feet into the dirt, Struggling in his grip, nails scratching at your attacker. 

Aemond grits his teeth at the feel of your nails on his skin, the sharp pain causing him to tighten his grip on you even more. "Stop struggling!" he snaps, "You're only making this harder for yourself."He forcibly pushes you forward, towards the dragon, dust rising as your feet scrape along the floor. "Get on Vhagar,"

“Please, No, I beg you, let me go” 

“Please no,” he pouts mockingly. “you’re coming with me whether you want to or not.”he pulls you closer to Vhager, heat radiates of her scales, “Climb, or i'll throw you over the back myself” 

You shake your head at his command. He grits his teeth. Aemond's patience was wearing thin, yet again. He let out a frustrated growl, his hand tightening around your arm to the point of pain. You yelp. "You're testing my limits, you little wench," he snarled. "Get on. The. Dragon. Now!"

He pushed you closer to the Vhager, her eyes watching you closely, huffing billows of smoke out her nose, He almost shoved you up her side "I won't tell you again."

“No, I won't go with you!”

He raises his other hand and grabs your hair, giving it a sharp tug, you yelp at the pain,hot heat on your scalp, you look back at him. His nostrils flaring."That's it," he snaps, his voice low and dangerous. "You're leaving me no choice." He grabs you around the waist and hoists you up onto the dragon's back, ignoring your protests.

“Fuck you” you spit at him. He climbs onto the dragon, his form pressed tight against your back, you flex your shoulders, flinching away as his arm grabs around your wrists.

“Hold on tight” His breath is hot on your neck.

“Please just let me go” Aemond smirked as he easily bound your wrists together with the cord, securing your hands in front of you.

"Oh, I doubt that very much," he said, his voice low and amused. "You've proven to be quite the disobedient little wench." He pulled you against him, his chest pressed firmly against your back. "No, I think it's best if I keep you bound and under my control." Your eyes widen.

“Gods, you’re a whore” 

“naejot se jēdar, Vhagar” (to the sky) The dragon's wings beat powerfully as they took to the air, the wind whipping around you both. Ground growing distant below them. He chuckles at your insult. “I might have to gag you as well if you keep up with that language” 

Your eyebrows raise at his words, “you wouldn't dare!”

"Oh, wouldn't I?" he said, his voice a low growl.His hands slid up your body, his touch almost possessive. "Perhaps a strip of cloth over your pretty little mouth might help you keep that sharp tongue under control or maybe something else~" He pulls your chin to look up at him.

You shake at his words, “I wouldn't touch you if you were the last man in this realm” you bite your tongue “I'd rather throw myself from this dragon” Aemond's fingers dig into your skin. He chuckled darkly, chest rumbling against your back.

 "Oh,you have quite the mouth on you, don't you?"His tone mocking. "Throw yourself from this dragon? What a shame that would be. All those beautiful bones and curves dashed against the ground." He ran his fingers through your wet hair, his touch almost gentle. "But I wouldn't let that happen."

It feels like mere hours, you look towards the open skies, the sight of Kings Landing coming to view as you part from the storm. Aemonds eye follows your gaze as you notice the red keep come into view, the sight blurred from your defiant tears. Vhagar’s great wings clap against the air as they begin their descent into the pit. You begin to understand the gravity of your situation. 

Vhagar lands, dust settling mere moments afterwards, Aemond climbs off the dragon pulling you with him. The cord only employs extra security of your restraint. Your wrists pull against the cord only tightening the harsh rope. Your gaze hardens as you stare at him, hiccuping as tears run down your face. Without warning his hoists you up into his arms, throwing you over his shoulders. 

You thrash around, his hold still firm ignoring your wiggling. He carries on down different hallways, each step closer to the throne room. “One eyed Cunt” you whisper. He stills, hands gripping firmly at your flesh. Growling as the knights open the door to the great hall.

“Now be good and keep that mouth shut” Aemond shrugs you off his shoulder letting you hit the floor, your eyes gaze up at the Iron Throne, swords melted down to form a horrid sight, Aegon sits upon it drunkenly "Brother!" he slurs, watching your body slumped on the ground of the castle" you've brought me a gift?"

Aemond grimaces at his brother's drunken state,his foot nudging you to stand. Face a picture of disgust, “Not exactly a gift My grace, she's mouthy one, needs a firm hand”

Aegon let out a chuckle, his eyes raking over your body. "she'll do nicely," he slurred.You shake your head at his words, remembering how his eyes used to scour your body when you were younger.

“No, Please.Anybody but him” You look up at Aemond from your knees, Aemond's eye watches you, a flicker of satisfaction in his gaze seeing you squirm and panic.

Aegon chuckled again, his gaze never leaving your body. He motioned for Aemond to bring you closer. "Don't worry" Aegon said, his voice thick with drunken desire. "I'll be gentle."

You shake your head, tears only gathering against your waterline. “Please! I’ll do anything not to be owned by him” You grasp Aemonds legs in your hand, pawing at the material, he looks down upon you seeing you beg. Aemonds lips curl at your obvious desperation, revelling in your pleads. He glances at his brother, his eye mocking."Oh, she's quite the pleader, isn't she?" he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Aegon let out a scoff, his gaze still fixated on you. "Such a lovely little wench," he mutters.

Aemond leaned down, his face just above yours. Hand gripping the back of your hair, pulling you up to look at him. "Anything, hm? How desperate are you, darling?"

you begin to sob at his words "Anything, please" a meer moments ago you would have found yourself enraged by begging for a man. 

Aegon turns his head towards you, he mutters "Accept me as your king and Aemond can have his way with you, im sure theres plenty whores who would love to take my cock"

Aemond smirks at his brother’s response, Watching you sob beneath him, He pulls your hair till you stand, Now a tangled mess. His eye flickering with mockery. "Go ahead, then. Accept my brother as your king. Beg him like the desperate little wench you are."

You bow, taking a knee in front of the throne, “I~”there's a hiccup,“I accept Aegon as the true king of the seven kingdoms” You look up at Aegon, He smiles in satisfaction. his gaze locked on you as you knelt before him. He raised his goblet in mockery, his expression pleased.

"There you have it, brother," he slurred. "She's all yours." He knocks back the goblet, red wine running down his pale face.

Aemond smirks, his hand still gripping your hair tightly,he gestures for you to stand, releasing the grip on your hair. “My Grace, where is Lord Lary’s Strong?”

“Probably sulking somewhere, why?” He waves his Goblet in the air awaiting for it to be filled by a servant. “`Why?” 

“This is his sister” 

Aegon’s eyes fall down on you,he raises an eyebrow, you think about how horrible you must look, stained with ash and mud. Hair a wet mess from the rain. He cackles. “Sister? And yet she is here before us like an insolent pup. It runs in the family, I say.”

“I’m glad we have common ground for I also hate my Impudent brother, he's always been a stuck up man”

Aegon chuckles, “I'm sure you will be glad to see him then, i can't wait to see his face when he sees his little sister bound at our mercy”

You pull against your restraints once more “I’m not exactly precious material, I'm sure when he sees me in your Kinslayer cunt hands he'll be more than happy”, Aemonds hand clasps tightly around your mouth to silence you, you whine. His face mere inches from yours again, you wonder if he gets off on this.

"Watch your tongue" he growls,"Insulting me will only make things worse for you."

Aegon chuckled, clearly "I have to admit," he said, his words dripping in eagerness. "You're more fiery than I expected."

The wait seemed to drag on for an eternity. Aemond keeping his hand firmly over your mouth, grip unrelenting, silencing your protests. Eventually, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall, and the guard returned, leading Larys Strong into the throne room, his expression stern and composed despite the circumstances, he hobbled on his crutch. Aemond's smirk widened at the sight. " Lord Larys Strong," he taunted.

Larys, turns to aegon nodding his head “My king”

Aemond smirks, his hand still tight on your mouth you can taste his sweat,"Ah, Larys Strong," Aegon said, a smirk on his face. "Your sister here has been quite a delightful addition to our court."

Larys' gaze flicked to you, his usual stoic expression, Not a flicker of concern crossed his face. "Sister," he said, his voice cold. "What have you gotten yourself into now?" 

Aemonds hand releases your mouth and you take a deep breath in, raing your eyebrows “What have i gotten myself into?”You point to yourself,  “I've been kidnapped” 

Larys looks right through you, turning his head “By whom?” 

You shake your head at him, lips pursed “By Whom? Who do I stand with now? Bound? Taken out of my own home after it had become a wreckage!”

His eyes narrow in on Aemond, and then he laughs, “ And what do you plan to do with my sister?” 

"What's it to you, Larys?" Aemond says "Your sister is in my hands now, and i can do whatever i with please with her, i'm sure you'll be glad to not have her in your keep" 

Lary shrugs, his hand gripping his staff, “Do whatever you want with her, Though I beg of you to take her hand, a Strong and a Targaryen would make a fine match" Larys utters , he limps away leaving you to your kidnapper.

You gasp, shocked at Larys' casual dismissal of you. Aegon chuckles, taking another drink from his goblet. "How thoughtful of him to think so highly of your value." he said, his tone mocking. 

Your eyes well up at the sight of him leaving knowing it was your last chance to leave his hands,You think quickly. Jabbing an elbow into Aemond’s side and making a run for it. But he had played this game before with you, he grabs at your arm, bringing you back into his chest. “The more you struggle the worse it’ll be for you”you kick your feet at the stone.

Aemond drags you out of the throne room, his grip on your wrists firm and unyielding. He leads you down the corridors of the Red Keep, his stride long and purposeful.

You try to struggle and pull away, but his grip is too strong, and he effortlessly pulls you along.

“Where are we going?” 

Aemond casts a glance over his shoulder at you, his smile widening at your question.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he says, his voice dripping with poison.

He continues leading you down the halls of the castle, passing by guards and servants who give you curious looks. Soon, you find yourself in a part of the castle you're unfamiliar with. 

“The dungeons?” Your boots dig into the stone floor trying to pull yourself from his grasp, but he's merely too strong.

His smirk widens, eye glinting with dark amusement. "Very observant of you" he ridicules.

He leads you down a set of stone stairs, and the smell of damp stone and confinement becomes more intense. The air grows colder, and you find yourself in the dimly lit dungeons of the Red Keep. You shudder as you pass men’s intrepid eyes and womens weary faces  “so you do want to take me as a prisoner, and what leave me to rot till im begging for you?”

Aemond laughs at your words, his grip still firm on your wrists. He stops in front of a cell and pushes the door open. He shoves you into the cell and locks the door behind you, leaving you in the cold, damp darkness. He leaves without saying a word.

You sit there for what feels like hours, the only sound being the occasional clanking of chains and the faint cries from the other prisoners. You shiver in the cold, your knees to your chest, mind racing. Suddenly, you hear footsteps coming down the corridor. The light sound of boots on stone, and your heart starts to pound. Wondering whether he had come back already, you hear the drip of moisture from the stone ceiling.The footsteps draw closer, and you watch anxiously as a guard stands in front of your cell, followed by Aemond, who stands behind him, a smirk on his face. The guard unlocks the cell, and Aemond strides in, leaning against the wall. "Get up," he orders, his eye locked on you. You rise slowly with stiff legs. 

Aemond looks you up and down, his gaze hungry and predatory. "There, that's better," he says, his voice low. He steps closer to you, cornering you against the wall. His hand rises to your face, his fingers brushing against your cheek, you wretch your head back to avoid his touch.

"You look... messy," he says, his tone almost cruel. "Unkempt hair, dirt on your face. Not exactly a pretty picture" He leans in closer, his breath hot against your bare neck and then he turns suddenly, grabbing your wrists in his hands taking you out of the cell, "and clearly in need of a bath." 

Aemond leads you through a door and into what you only assume is his chamber, the scent of rosewater hangs in the air. In the centre of the room, a large steel tub is filled with steaming water. He pushes you towards the tub, his gaze dark and possessive. "Strip," he demands, his voice harsh and commanding. 

“Sorry?”

Aemond's eye narrows, "You heard me," he snaps, his voice cold. "Strip. Now."

He leans against the wall, watching you with an intensity that makes your skin shiver.

“Can you atleast turn?” You ask, biting your lip.

“No” 

You bite back a snarl and turn your back, Unlacing your dress quickly and then pulling off any undergarments. Aemond watches you intently, his eyes cutting into your back,

Your nipples harden at the chill in the air. Once you're completely undressed, he steps closer to you, his hand brushing against your bare shoulder. "Get in," he orders.

You sink into the hot water, feeling your muscles relax instantly, the smells of oils fill your nose but the knowledge that Aemond is watching you makes you feel uncomfortable, you pull your knees to your chest, wet hair surrounding your body. 

He moves closer, pulling up a stool, eye fixed on your frame. He reaches out a hand, running his fingers through a strand of wet hair that has fallen across your face. "You look better like this," he says, his voice low and raspy.

You flinch, swatting his hand away from your face. He runs his hand over your cheek and then suddenly your head is knocked back into another direction, your cheeks swells. Without warning, he grabs a fistfull of your hair, your chin rises upwards. 

“Don't test me, you're in my possession now. I can touch you however i please” He lets go of your hair, the back of his hand tracing the cheek he had just hit. 

Aemond stands up, grabbing a bar of lye soap and a cloth from a nearby table. He kneels down beside the bathtub, dunking the cloth into the water, and then lathering it up with the soap.He begins to slowly and methodically wash your body, his touch firm but surprisingly gentle. His eye watches your every reaction, taking in every shiver and flinch. You stare straight ahead. 

Aemond finishes washing your back and then moves to your legs, his hand gliding up your thigh, his touch sending shivers through your body. He pauses, his eye flicking to your face, his expression hard. "Do you trust me?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“No”

Aemond chuckles at your response, his smirk returning. "I didn't expect you to," he says, his tone mocking.

He runs the cloth over your legs, his hand moving higher, gliding up your inner thigh. His other hand snakes round your chest, moving to your shoulder, pinning you against the side of the tub.

“Stop!” you push against his hand but it only grips tighter against your shoulder, you feel the blood rush to the spot his fingers press into.

"I don't think so," he says.

His hand moves higher, and his fingers brush against the sensitive flesh between your legs. He looks at your expression, watching your face for any sign of fear or pleasure. You struggle against his grip, but it's useless, his strength is much greater than yours, his thumb rubbing slow circles against your skin.

“Please stop,” you cry out.

His hand continues to move slowly, his touch becoming more intimate.

Aemond looks at you with mock sympathy. "Please stop?" he repeats, his tone drenched in sarcasm. "You're so sweet when you beg like that." His grip on your shoulder tightens even further, and his hand moves higher, brushing against your most sensitive spot. "But I'm not going to stop," he says, his voice low and commanding.

He continues to move his hand slowly, his thumb pressing against you in a way that makes you gasp, you spite yourself. His eye is fixed on your face, watching your reactions closely.

"You might as well give in," he says, his voice soft and persuasive. "It will make things so much easier for you." 

His hand moves again, stroking you in a way that sends ripples of pleasure through your body, despite your attempts to resist. His body is fully pressed against yours now, his chest against your back, his breath hot on your neck. You struggle in his touch, holding back a moan. His hand from your shoulder moves to clasp around your neck. 

His hand moves faster now, his fingers and palm working in tandem to bring you to the edge. His other hand grips your throat, holding you in place, as he continues his assault on your senses. You try to hold back, biting back moans. He grins in your efforts, fingers working your clit faster, You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, and Aemond can tell. His hand moves even faster, driving you towards the peak of ecstasy. “Just let go” he whispers against your neck.

“No!” you whine.

"Just let it happen.", it drives you to the brink of insanity, and you don't think you can hold back anymore, his thumb brushes against you, and everything you had been avoiding snaps, he feels you squirm underneath him, teary eyed, silent scream. He lets out a satisfied laugh. Fingers still moving against your skin, it begins to feel like too much. 

“Too much, please”

Aemond's hand finally slows, his touch becoming gentler as you come down from your high. He pulls away, standing up and watching you with a smug grin on his face, his fingers run against your closed mouth. “Open”

You shake your head at him, put his fingers into your mouth anyway, you gag, he laughs at the sound and pushes further into your mouth anyway, drool pools at the side of your mouth, he releases you with a wet pop and you slump into the side of the bath, watching his next move.

His hand moves down your neck, his fingers tracing over your collarbone, his touch leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. “Get dressed” he points to the clothes horse with a new gown on it laid out for you. 

He watches you stand and dry yourself with a cloth, Aemond watches you dress your back turning as you try to lace your dress together, he grabs your shoulders and makes quick work of pulling the string tighter,watching as you gasp for air you feel like you can barely breathe. Ribs collapsing in on themself. 

“Back to the dungeon then?’

He nods, Leading you back down to the dungeon. Through winding hallways. You reach the room you were once in. You stumble forward, Aemond shuts the cell door, the clanging echoing against the walls of your cell, he leaves you, room barren apart from the cot in the corner. You sit on the Cot, it feels as though the walls are closing in on you. You try to calm your breathing, but the realisation of what Aemond had done hits you more than anything. He had pulled pleasure apart from your body with ease. 

The hours pass slowly, you try to sleep but all you can do is toss on the straw mattress, by morning a guard throws a piece of bread in your cell. It hits the dirty floor, brown mud and flys encasing it, you don't eat it. And then more hours pass and the same thing happens, you chew at your nails. The candles burn slowly, a fly buzzes, the smells of sweat and dirt closes in on you. 

It feels like minutes and days, time is all muddled up, you’re asleep one moment and the next your fingers are encased with dirt and blood, people shout out and cry. The candles get replaced. You haven't spoken in so long, eating hasn't even crossed your mind yet takes toll on your body, you begin to dream of twisting shadows and watery lands, cities beneath the ocean, a skeleton pierced with a sword through the eye. 

It feels like months have passed, and you believe yourself to be going mad, the isolation has turned your thoughts wild, your beginning to lose your grip or reality, you pray to the old gods, begging on your knees to the guards who pass by, but the days pass as usual. 

You hook your hands around the rusted prison, reaching a hand out to still the guard making his rounds, he turns to you. He stops in his tracks, eyeing you cautiously."What do you want?" he asks, his voice gruff and filled with irritation.

Your throat feels raw and scratchy as you try to talk, only coming out in quiet whispers “please,I~ need” your throat feels like sand. 

The guard shakes his head and continues on his rounds, ignoring your pleas. You're left alone once again, tears prick at your eyes as you sink into the thin mattress, you wail.

The loneliness and despair seem to close in around you, suffocating you.

More weeks pass and you barely move in your cot, bloodied fingers tracing the wall. There's a set of footsteps that stop outside your cell, candle light casting a shadow on to the wall, it pulls you out of your daze. 

You sigh, the shadow moves closer to your cell, face obscured by the darkness. “Are you still alive there?” it is but a whisper, low and soft.

“Yes” you mutter, you shit in your cot, gazing up at the figure. 

“You dont look like you've eaten much” they peer down at you, the tight dress now hangs off your shoulder. You sit up. 

The man pushes back the hood of his cloak, uncovering his face, his hair bright white. You can see that he's wearing an eyepatch over one eye, and his expression is unreadable.

He looks at you for a moment, his gaze taking in your dishevelled, malnourished appearance.

“Aemond” you whisper, your voice crackles. 

His face softens, hand reaching through the bars to grab at your hand, you nearly flinch at the contact. He pauses, his touch surprisingly gentle. "Easy," he whispers, his voice low and soothing. "I'm not going to hurt you." 

You gaze up at him, he pulls out a key from under his cloak, unlocking the door.He steps inside. Standing there for a moment, his gaze fixed on you as you look up at him. "Can you stand?" he asks, his voice low and gentle.

You nod, Feeling like a newly born doe as you struggle to stand, legs buckling from under yourself, he reaches out and stills you, hand around your waist. He smells like old books and dragon fire. 

"It's alright," he says, his voice low and soothing. "I've got you."

“How long?” 

Aemond thinks for a second, he leads you out the cell slowly, steering you down the dungeons, he’s patient as you step up the steps slowly, his hand near your back for support. “Nearly three moons”  You nod at the revelation. He continues to guide you down the castle hallways.His steps slow, matching your pace. 

"You look terrible," he says, his voice blunt but not unkind. "Have they been feeding you?"

“Scraps of mouldy bread every morning” you bite your cheek.his grip tightens on your waist. “you left me down there” you cry, your lip wobbles. The corridors wind on until you find yourself in front of a big oak door. 

He speaks softly voice filled with a hint of regret. “I had too.” 

“Had too?” the knight opens the door, it creeks slightly, you walk inside books toppled over on chairs and tables, along with scrolls. The fire roars, a platter of food is laid out on the oak table. He guides you over on the bed in the corner. You let him fuss with your dress until you're in some kind of cotton nightgown, he touches you like your glass, He pours you a glass of water. You sip slowly. 

“You wanted me to break in there”

"Yes," he finally admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wanted you to feel broken”,his hand runs tenderly across your face, you still yourself trying not to chase it with your cheek “And now look at you, like clay in my hands, mine to hold however i see fit” You look up at him with wet eyes, his thumb rubs gently over your cheek. He steps closer to you. He runs his thumb over your lips. “You must be hungry.”

You nod, He steps away, moving over to a table in the corner of the room where a tray of food has been set out. He picks up a plate and brings it back over to you, setting it down in your lap. “Eat” You eat slowly, picking part of cheese and meat. You find yourself filling up quickly.

“Are you tired?” 

Your head nods quickly, the thought of sleep is terrifying to you in such a big room. “You may sleep here.” He peels back the covers, taking the plate from your lap, you climb in, and he tucks the covers up to your neck. You feel exhaustion wash over you, although you're so close to him there's a sense of loneliness within you, you turn to your side. “Relax” he whispers.

“Can you hold me?” you stutter. 

Aemond seems surprised but you seem so desperate for human connection after so long he slides his arm under you, pulling you closer, you're pressed into his back tightly. He tries to soothe you, hand running through your hair, but it only knots. Your body grows less rigid as you begin to fall asleep in his arms. He watches you succumb to sleep, body growing limp. 

🌙 Like You Did With Her 🌙

Spencer Reid x female! Reader

Part of the CM Kink Bingo Challenge

Requested: Can I request Spencer x female!reader who are in an established relationship and she sees him kiss cat that one time. And once the case is over she’s not actually mad cause she understands he had to but she kinda plays it up a bit like ‘I don’t think you’ve ever kissed me like that’

Warnings: BDSM themes, dom! Spencer Reid, mentions of cheating, voyeurism, cuckolding, exhibitionism, bondage, handcuffs, penetrative sex (P in V), consensual degradation (use of whore and slut), anal play, cum play, implied unprotected sex, unconventional sex location (non-public), rough sex, clit stimulation, etc.

A/N: Additional warning - you may not see God's blessing if you read on. To say I got carried away would be an understatement. If you're reading this and you know me, do not ask questions. Simply separate the art from the artist. It's what I want (I'm being dramatic).

Masterlist || Bingo Board

You'd promised Spencer that you wouldn't let Cat Adams or anything she said or did get to you. You'd waven him off on his “date,” kissed him goodbye, and then sat on his couch for hours worrying.

And you'd kept worrying as the hours passed, until you'd heard voices in the hallway and then movement, and the door was opening and you saw it.

Your boyfriend savagely pushing another woman up against a wall, fighting for control, his large hands spread wide and tensed against skin, his lips sucking and kissing and preening, and showing his control.

You watched for entirely too long before you accidentally made your presence known.

It was a game to Cat, and you knew enough about her to know that you couldn't show any reaction. You didn't know if she'd only get more dangerous if she knew just how much you'd enjoyed watching that.

You held the conversation still, letting Spencer push at whatever game it was he was playing with Cat, but you weren't wholly there. Instead, your mind was playing the comparison game.

You loved Spencer. Spencer loved you. When you had sex with Spencer, it was clear that Spencer loved you.

And maybe love was all there was to it because based on what you'd now seen, there wasn't exactly that much heat when you did it.

If he could be so rough - and you wanted him to be rough - then why wasn't he being rough with you?

He may have been playing games with Cat, but you'd fucked him enough to know the subtle postures of his arousal. You caught it in the way he held himself, the way his breathing hitched, the way he was looking.

Not just at her, but at you, too. As if he were caught between the two of you, unsure who to force to their knees first.

So you let him do the talking and tried to distract yourself from a moment of arousal that you feared would never be satisfied.

To your credit, you lasted two weeks. You hadn't made love to him that night because it was too soon, and he was desperately grovelling in apology for something you weren't angry about in the slightest.

Sure, you should've been angry. If not because he'd made out with another woman than he'd made out with a sociopathic serial killer specifically, one who'd made his life a misery. But you couldn't bring yourself to be upset when your hands worked their way between your legs every time you thought about it.

A week after, he caught you pleasuring yourself, and he'd taken over, kissing you gently and whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

His touch was pathetically gentle, and after you came, he rolled off the bed and took himself to the bathroom, leaving you alone.

A week after that, he initiated sex again, but it was soft, sweet, and so warm that you felt almost ashamed for wanting him to choke you out even just a little bit.

Spencer wasn't exactly unaware of your preoccupation.

You hadn't kissed him without frowning in two weeks, and you hadn't initiated anything sexual yourself. There was still the casual intimacy, the friendship, the I Love You’s, but you seemed distant and he knew he fucked up.

You drew a line in the sand when he started coming home with flowers.

“Spencer-? What is this?” You said as he pushed the bouquet into your hands, kissing you hello as he walked through the door.

“Flowers. Lilies, to be specific, you like lilies, right? I didn't ask, I should've asked-”

“Why did you buy me flowers?” You said, still just staring at him and the guilt on his face.

“I thought - You like flowers.”

“I do. But I also like to know the reason behind the flowers, so spill.”

He hesitated for a moment and let out a sigh, running his hands through his hair as he looked between you and the flowers.

“Lilies are apology flowers.”

“Spencer,” you said, almost exasperated, throwing your hand sin the air and walking back to the kitchen.

“You're upset. You're obviously upset. I kissed Cat, and-”

“You did a little more than kiss her.”

“Y/N,” his voice getting slightly deeper, his voice warning you to tread lightly. “You're jealous.”

“I already told you I'm not,” you said, even though that was half a lie. “It's just-”

“Just what? Jealousy? Speak to me, Y/N, you've been ignoring me all week.”

His brow was furrowed, his stress evident in the hard lines of his body, his stiff shoulders, the line of his mouth. You wanted to keep pressing his buttons until that anger, that stress, boiled over, and you got to experience what Cat had.

“Sorry,” you said, dropping the lilies on the counter in your kitchen and turning around to face him once again. “I haven't been ignoring you, though. Ignoring someone is when you make out with another woman in a doorway, not knowing your girlfriend is sitting on a couch watching the entire thing.”

“Y/N!”

“What? I'm not allowed to tell the truth now? Are you afraid you'll feel too guilty?”

“I am so sorry, Y/N, it was-”

“I'm not.” You said quickly as he stepped forward. You knew that if you let him get further in his apology, he'd bundle you up in his arms, and gently carry you away to kiss and hug and cuddle and have sex in the most dignified, loving way imaginable. You didn't want that.

“What?”

“I'm not sorry. I lied earlier. I'm not sorry, I'm fucking envious.”

You slid your hands down his chest as he stilled again, watching g your hand descend to the front of his pants. You grabbed his belt and pulled him closer.

“Spencer, why have you never fucked me like that?”

His eyes widened in shock, but they quickly flicked back to your hands as you slowly unbuckled his belt.

“I… I didn't fuck her, let's get that straight.”

“I know,” you said, leaning up to whisper in his ear. “I was watching.”

His hands gripped the counter as he stared at you straight-faced, finally locking eyes with you as you pulled his belt free and dropped it to the floor.

“I don't want to treat you the way I treated her,” he said, voice quieter but still full of tension, as if ready to shout at any second.

“You don't want to fuck me?” You asked, even as you grabbed his cock through his pants, taunting him with the fact that he did. You knew he did, because you held the evidence in your hand.

“No…! Yes, I do, but not... like that.”

“Not like what?” You said, pushing his shirt up and out of his pants so your hands had more room to explore, fewer layers of clothing to obstruct.

“Like… like a… fuck, stop distracting me.”

“I'm not distracting you, I'm trying to prove to you that this is meaningless and that you should bend me over and fuck me like a cheap whore.”

“Y/N!” he said, either exasperated, or desperately horny from your grip on his hard cock.

He grabbed your hand and pulled it away from him, pinning it against the counter with his own.

“Stop.”

“No,” you spat back at him, pressing closer to him and wiggling your hand free so it could stroke his dick again. “Not until you make me.”

His lips dropped to yours in a kiss, but this time, you could tell you'd made progress. An annoyed harrumph echoed through the kiss, and you fought his tongue back as he tried to take control of your mouth, attempting to gently lead as he always did.

“Y/N,” he moaned, as your hands fought off his to fondle his cock, unbuttoning his pants and pulling it free as you stroked it gently, teasingly.

You had to show him a taste of his own medicine.

“Y/N, we need to talk, keep your hands to yourself.”

“No,” you said, stroking harder, spotting into your hand while keeping eye contact with him. “Unless you want to try and stop me?”

He watched your hand fall back to his cock, watched you tease the tip with one small stroke, then another, and then another.

And then he finally broke.

He pushed your hands off quickly, twisting one arm up and around your back, pinning it there as he grabbed his handcuffs and attached your hands together behind your back.

“Spencer!” you gasped.

“Cheap whore? That's what you wanted?” He said, pulling your hips back so his cock could nestle in the fabric of your skirt.

You nodded, rolling your shoulders to test the limits of your new restraints. Restraints you knew had been on Cat two weeks ago. You wondered if he was thinking about her now as his cock got harder and harder. You wondered why that turned you on so much.

“Okay. I'll give you what you want, but don't complain after.”

“Please, like you could actually hurt me that much.”

His hand immediately crept up to your neck and wrapped around it delicately. He didn't press down, but the threat was there as he leant down to whisper in your ear.

“Y/N?” You nodded in response, not chancing talking back. “Shut the fuck up.”

His hands pulled your skirt up first, and you found yourself without underwear just as fast, though you felt it suspended between your knees. He ran a finger through your folds, pushing your legs wider with one hand as the other grabbed a fistful of hair and slowly forced your head onto the counter.

This was new. All of this was new. The position, the location, the emotion. The handcuffs. You struggled against them again but didn't say a word, as his hand gently came down on your bare ass.

“Ah,” you cried out in surprise, jumping slightly as you felt the impact.

“I said be quiet,” he said from behind you, inspecting your pretty pink pussy as you displayed yourself for him.

One finger slowly slid into you, and you bit your lip to hold back a moan. It was joined by a second finger, and then he started moving them.

He'd touched you before, buried himself deep inside even, but this new angle felt different, and your eyes rolled shut as he pumped in and out. With two weeks of frustration, you were perfectly wet for him already, and you were almost embarrassed about the wet sounds his ministrations were causing already.

“S-Spencer,” you moaned, pushing your hips back into him, in time with his fingers.

He pulled out his hands and slapped your ass again, hard, as you cried out.

“You want to be treated like a cheap whore, but even they follow instructions, Y/N.”

You heard him spit on his hands again, and then his digits returned.

Except they didn't return to your pussy, but a spot higher up.

His fingers lubed up your ass with his spit and your arousal as he gently slid a finger into your ass, and you cried out in shock, or pain, or arousal, or whatever it was that had your head sagging to the counter, your legs lifting onto your tiptoes to allow him better access to your holes.

“You're even tighter here than there…” he said, almost curiously, as of transfixed by watching his fingers enter and exit you.

You were so distracted by his fingers, you barely noticed his cock probing at your pussy before it slid into you entirely.

You really couldn't help the mess you made of the kitchen counter. When he pushed into you, he used his free hand to lift your leg slightly, and inadvertently pushed your clit into the edge of the kitchen counter. With every thrust of fingers and hips, you ground into the edge, pussy flooding with juices as you were stimulated on all fronts.

You almost begged him to play with your nipples as well, just to see what the experience would feel like, how hard you could cum when every area of your body was being bombarded with pleasure.

As it was, the cock and handcuffs probably would've been enough. But you felt the shame of your arousal dripping down your leg, piddling at your feet. You heard him questioning which part of the experience it was that had led to you being such a desperate slut.

Was it his cock? Was it the fingers in your ass? Was it the handcuffs? Was it the fact that you were still imagining him doing exactly this to another woman while you watched on?

You didn't know, and he didn't degrade you further by asking.

His hand gripped your hair again, pulling you back harshly so your back arched, and your clit painfully pushed down into the edge of the counter.

With a scream - a loud, sudden, uncontrollable thing - you came, letting loose a torrent of cum down your leg.

Still, he kept thrusting, but he let go of his previous vow of silence.

“You are such a cheap whore, aren't you?” He said, removing his finger from your ass, hands gently gripping your hips as he pulled your ass cheeks, inspecting how far he'd stretched you, how much your hole gaped open.

“You've been so jealous that I wasn't tossing you around all this time. My cock could've been buried inside someone else, and you'd have enjoyed that. Wouldn't you?”

You could only moan in response, too scared to confirm or deny. You wanted more.

“You know, Y/N,” he started, leaning down to your ear again, squishing you painfully against the hard counter. “Cheap whores don't deserve cream pies.”

Just as you approached another climax, he pulled out of you, letting you crumple to the floor without his weight counterbalancing your own.

Then he hooked a finger under your jaw and lifted your head up. He barely managed to grunt out “close your eyes” before his cum was shooting out over your face.

“Fuck, I'm sorry, I love you… I love you, I love you, I love you, I love-”

Your lips parted in shock as a spurt hit your chin, your eyes. It was even in your hair. He aimed after that and managed to get a good amount of it on your tongue as you grimaced away from his hold.

But his hands held you still, and you swallowed it, even wiping the spurts from your cheek and eyes and licking off your hands as you cleaned up.

When he was finished, Spencer let you go and leaned back against the kitchen counter. When you could open your eyes again, you stared up at him in shock before collapsing down and laying on the cold floor of your kitchen, chest heaving.

“I knew…. I knew it would be more…” you said, unable to find the words to describe the deeds you'd just done.

“But I wasn't expecting… most of that.”

“I'm so-”

“Do not fucking apologise,” you demanded, pointing a stern finger at him as he pulled himself together.

“Next time you bring flowers home, I'm going to be expecting that as a follow up,” you laughed, letting him help you off the floor and release you from your constraints.

“So,” he said, playing with the cuffs as he gave you an awkward, straight smile. “Bondage, huh?”

You burst into laughter as you grabbed him by the tie and pulled him all the way to the bathroom.

“By the way,” you said, beginning to strip yourself off, distracted only by your attempts to strip him off as well. “You're cleaning the kitchen after we're done.”