#this is my cry for help to get more people to read these books I am so serious | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sweetiechenle · 27 days ago

Text

reading between the lines ✦ jeno

pairing: collegestudent!literatureprodigy!jeno x afab!collegestudent!scienceandmathgenius!reader

summary: jeno was the biggest problem you've ever had to solve, but for him you weren't quite an open book either.

w.c: 9.4k

warnings: mdni 18+, MATH, i did so much research i feel like i need to cite my sources, thank you quizlet, angst, hurt and comfort, frenemies to lovers, fluff, jeno and y/n argue a lot and yell at each other, teasing, misunderstandings, YEARNING, kissing, make-ups and confessions, plot WITH porn, love making very intimate, hard with feelings and refuse to listen to each other, unprotected sex (i better not catch y'all doing this), praising, crying, begging, groveling, pet names (baby), oral (f receiving), creampie (YUM), softdomtop!jeno (just as god intended), crack/humor, scientific talk because smart (i never took bio in college), if i forgot anything pls lmk. reblogs and feedback appreciated ♡ fiction ≠ reality. HAPPY BIRTHDAY JENO!!!

‘WHAT’ you gasped, not noticing you had barked it out until everyone turned around and glared at you.

‘i’m sorry?...’ your professor had stopped everyone to bring attention back, she gave you a quizzical look, ‘is there a problem?’

you shook your head, still surprised by your sudden outburst, ‘n-no, i apologize’ you hung your head in shame, red blooming on your cheeks from embarrassment. you had been dreading today, your world literature 1 professor had told you all a week ago that you would be paired up with a partner for your first project. your major in biology and minor in actuarial mathematics required some literature classes to help with ‘scientific writing and understanding’ as your advisor put it. so you figured world literature 1 was the easiest choice, it turned out to actually be hell on earth. your weakest subject was english and literature, you were never a reader growing up unless it was about different sciences, but you always opted for documentaries and videos than reading. growing up, you’d always dread english class, anxiously waiting for whatever science and math class you could have next.

when you tell people that your favorite subject is math and then science they would laugh and usually end it with an ‘i wish’, that was your english and history, you wish you could understand it better, but it always seemed impossible. what you were least expecting was getting paired with the best literature student you knew, jeno. he annoyed you at times, acting like a pretentious asshole going around and quoting shakespeare and some other century-dead author. when you went and quoted pythagroas near him it was now apparently a problem, you two bickered back and forth in class during group introductions about greek philosophers for almost an hour, debating if aristotle was more of a math genius or a linguistics expert.

after the heated discussion, jeno told you ‘i love a good debate, you have some crazy opinions though’ he ended up giving you his phone number. it was only the first week of classes, your first ‘friend’(?), you texted him that night, but no response came. the next week you were struggling with questions your professor had given you all to go with a reading.

you texted jeno:

‘hey is this correct? *PICTURE ATTACHED*

his response chimed on your phone five minutes later:

‘no’

and that was the only response you got, no help, no explanation, you didn’t even know what was wrong with your answer to begin with. fuck this, you ended up calling him, to your surprise he answered with a ‘what?’

you didn’t mean to blow up on him, but it just came out, ‘why can’t you be nice to me for one second and help me with this student homework?’

he sighed, making your ear vibrate with the sound, ‘take back what you said and i’ll help you’

you grumbled but obliged, ‘this homework and reading is not stupid, now please help me’

you guys ended up talking on the phone for almost two hours, discussing different themes from the reading, mostly arguing about who was right, but in the end jeno helped you get answers that were good enough. he talked you through the questions and the actual themes of the reading, the elements, and showed you how to better analysis pieces of literature. you were eternally grateful but absolutely mortified at the same time.

after that phone call, you were psyched, finally finding someone that could help you pass. you were always the person in math classes that everyone went to, you didn’t have to be that person for others anymore. although you remember all the emotional baggage and difficulty when trying to help others study and understand formulas, you wouldn’t ask much of jeno, only when you really needed it.

two weeks ago you found him in the library, doing homework with books scattered around him. the first thing you noticed were glasses that he had never worn before, big frames making his eyes look much bigger in such a cute way. you figured if you asked he wouldn’t mind if you joined him, and you figured that if you asked in an even nicer way, he could help you with the literature homework.

‘hey jeno!’ you greeted him, walking up to his table, he looked up, pink lips still in a straight line, ‘would you mind if i joined you?’

‘i guess not’ he shrugged and moved some of his books out of the way for you, now sitting across from him you smiled slightly and got out your own homework. abstract algebra was your favorite class so far this semester, you never thought getting homework would make you so giddy. you couldn’t believe some people found it excruciating, while it was just a ‘fun activity’ for you. you and jeno continue work in silence, you would steal glances every once in a while, his eyes scanning over the paper as he scribbled down notes and highlight sentences. eyebrows knitting together and whispering out words in order to analyze everything perfectly. you thought it was cute, his lips would curl up into a smile after every question got answered. sitting in front of him, you could see the perfect slope of his nose, his broad shoulders slouched as he leaned into the desk, his large hand brushing his black hair back sporadically. the golden ratio had nothing on him.

not long after the trance jeno left you in, you finished your math homework and now it was time for your enemy: literature. you looked up and glanced at jeno who was writing notes down, ‘hey’ he lifted his head, ‘do you think you could help me with this?’ you motioned down to the paper in front of you, he followed and noticed your blank page compared to his one that was filled.

‘did you even try?’ he questioned, ‘it looks like you haven’t even started’

‘well’ you started with a sheepish smile, ‘i did do the reading, but i could barely understand any of it’

he sighed, his hands reaching under his glasses so he could rub his eyes, ‘okay, and what part did you not understand?’

you grabbed your packet of papers and flipped until you found the sentence, reading out loud, ‘his sense of her inferiority—of its being a degradation—of the family obstacles which judgment had always opposed to inclination, were dwelt on with a warmth which seemed due to the consequence he was wounding, but was very unlikely to recommend his suit’, you looked up at him, offering the best pleading eyes you could muster.

he slightly rolled his eyes, ‘so, basically darcy should put away his pride of being in a higher ranking than elizabeth, but he cares more about her status than love. even while he is proposing, he still looks down on elizabeth and wants her to feel grateful that he is even considering her as a wife’

‘oh, i never thought of it that way’ you mumbled, looking down at your paper again.

‘don’t they teach you stuff like this in high school? god, i fear for your grade when we actually have to read and analyze a whole book and not just passages for exercises’

the sentence was a stab to the heart, taken aback you said nothing as shame burned through your body. growing up you’d have teachers, friends, and your parents comment on your lack of understanding for english and literature, but you’ve never heard a remark like this. it cut deep, you opened and closed your mouth, unable to give an actual response, incapable of making any snide comeback, you gathered your things, got up and walked away from him. before he started to see the tears that made its way down your face.

you avoided jeno as much as you could, you sat nowhere near him in your shared class, never looked in his direction in the courtyard and started taking different routes to other classes. it was working out great for the most part, that was until he had transferred into your biology ‘unity of life’ class three weeks into the semester, at the very last minute of course. rumors were going around that a lot of students had transferred out of his previous one due to it ‘being too hard’ and that the professor ‘was a nightmare’ and he needed a natural science requirement for his major, secondary education if you could remember correctly.

seeing him walk through the door of one of your favorite classes was a different type of personal hell, and you were having a great day so far. you softly groaned, trying to resist the urge to roll your eyes in annoyance. your desk partner seemed to catch on, jaemin turned to you, ‘whats wrong? forgot to do last nights homework?’

you turned towards him, ‘never, i was so excited for this assignment, i finished all the questions as soon as i got home… it’s just… that guy, the one who just walked in’ you glanced back to his lab table, jaemin followed with his eyes, ‘i’m in his literature class and he’s nothing but an egomaniac, basically called me dumb for not understand some passage from a book’

the blond haired boy frowned, ‘he might know some books, but wait until he gets a taste of a real challenge, he transferred too late into the semester, he’s fucked’. your lips twitched up into a smile. you met jaemin the first day of class, introducing himself as a veterinarian science major with a minor in biology. you two became quick friends after you got him coffee one morning, you ended up with two cups after the cafe got your first order wrong. he was nothing but thankful, long discussions in class that lead to topics that never related to science. you got to know him pretty well, often texting and meeting up for study groups with other students from class, you both always paired up in class whenever prompted.

‘that’s fair, would be satisfying to watch him struggle’ you whispered.

he giggled, ‘god you sound like such a sadist’

the professor pulled up his notes as he prepared for the beginning of class, ‘takes one to know one’

you opened your notebook to the current lesson: the cytoskeleton. the professor went through the slideshow while you happily took notes on cells and its structure and stabilities within the cytoplasm. once the professor was done with the lecture, he started asking students questions, seeing if they were paying attention.

‘okay, now what is a delicate coil held together by hydrogen bonding between every fourth amino acid?’ he looks over his roster of students, ‘jeno! why don’t you answer this for us’

on cue, everyone turned to watch him, his head shot up from his notebook in surprise. he obviously looked unprepared, hands nervously pushing his bangs back. ‘oh… um, i don’t know i’m sorry professor, i transferred late into this class and still need to catch up’ his hair looked wild as the tips of his ears shone a bright red.

the poor professor sighed, ‘does anyone want to help jeno out?’

you immediately shot up your hand, ‘y/n?’

you smiled dramaticly, before another breathe you answered, ‘alpha helix’

‘yes, thats correct! great job y/n… now you all need to pay attention, this will be on our first exam coming up in two weeks’ he went on about amino acids and different elements. jaemin leaned into you, ‘nice’ he whispered, a smile on his face. yeah, that would show jeno what you could do.

you peeked back at jeno who whispered ‘two weeks!?’ to himself looking distressed, you felt a pang in your heart. perhaps it wasn’t fair, stuff like this was never taught in secondary school science classes, obviously he was going to struggle. you weren’t going to seek him out and offer help though, he knew science and arithmetic were your strong suits, it was his turn to come running, beg for forgiveness and ask for help.

speak of the asshole, and it shall fart, jeno texted you later that night.

‘hey…’ you scoffed, the audacity of this guy, you resisted the urge to text him back a ‘you should know this already right?’

you texted back a simple ‘what?’

he immediately answered, ‘do you think you could help me with this bio homework and maybe study together for the exam ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡’. shameless.

giving him the benefit of the doubt, you relented. maybe it was an off day for him, ‘i guess, meet me in the library tomorrow, and we’ll start’ he hearted the message and that was the end of the conversation.

you woke up early the next day, grabbing every notebook you had kept over the years that could help jeno. you texted him right after noon, ‘this is an all day affair, meet me in an hour and bring me a caramel macchiato. don’t be late, pride & prejudice wasn’t written in a day’ he liked the message as a response. you left your dorm and headed to the library, setting up a space for a long study session. jeno comes right on time, with two coffees in his hand.

he places the bigger cup down in front of you, ‘large caramel macchiato, with extra caramel, extra vanilla, and extra drizzle’

you look up at him and give him a modest smile, grabbing the drink and taking a sip from the straw and swirling the ice around the cup, ‘thank you, lets get started’ he nodded and pulled out the chair next to you and sat down.

you got out all your notebooks, his eyes widened making you giggle, ‘jesus christ dude, how many notebooks do you have for this class?’

‘well, not all of them are from this class, i brought some from previous classes that i think could help you’ you handed over a stack of notes, which he begrudgingly took. ‘okay, now lets get started…’

you two had spent hours discussing carbohydrates, cellulose, and enzymes. sometimes arguing back and forth about answers, ‘okay so, a system of membranes that modifies and packages proteins for export by the cell?’ you asked jeno as he flipped through his notes.

‘um… integrins?’ he answered, totally unsure of himself in the process.

you smiled, ‘not quite, its the golgi apparatus, integrins are cell-surface receptor proteins… crazy how you don’t remember this from basic biology classes…’ you mumbled the last part.

but of course he still caught it, ‘what was that?’

you shrugged your shoulders, ‘i mean we learn about cells and stuff in secondary school… everyone knows that the golgi apparatus is the packaging and distribution center of the cells, i mean everyone talks about how the mitochondria is the power house of the cell, is that the only thing you remember from biology?’

his eyebrows shot up in surprise, ‘oh? so that's what this is about?’ he smirked, ‘you’re still upset about what i said last week aren’t you?’

your gaze diverted from his line of sight, thankful you wore your hair down this morning so he wouldn’t see the pink burning on the tips of your ears. ‘no… i’m just saying’

‘...saying almost the same exact thing i said?’ jeno smiled, and his eyes turned into crescent moons, happy that he caught you in the act, ‘understandable… well, uh, if you help me, i’ll help you’

you crossed your arms and narrowed your eyes at him, ‘not until you apologize, not everyone can be as good as you in literature’

‘okay, i’m sorry, you are a genius in math and science, now please agree’ jeno pleaded.

‘fine’ you answered.

another week passed and jeno finally felt comfortable taking the exam, on the other hand your literature professor started talking about a project for that class. jeno reassured you that he would help you in the best way he could, he helped you with literary analysis, notations, and rhetoric. you ended up getting an 85% percent on the most recent homework, excited to show jeno you made your way to the classroom.

‘so, jeno, i’ve been seeing you hanging out with that y/n person in our class’ you stopped before the entrance to the classroom, ‘they literally know nothing about literature and refuse to learn, how could you put yourself through that?’

‘oh, well, um, i don’t know, i’m just helping them with some stuff’ jeno answered. you peeked inside, he was with two other students, a girl and a boy, sitting together in a group.

‘must be pretty frustrating, i don’t know why they are even in this class, fucking moron, am i right?’ the girl responded and you could hear the others, but jeno, laugh.

you could feel your heart break as your mind begin to buzz. eyes watered, and you thought back to your discussion with jaemin, of course you guys were poking fun at jeno too, but nothing this extreme. ‘i mean, i guess one could think that, but everything about th-’ you couldn’t listen anymore, turned your heels and stormed off. stopping at the end of the hallway to through your graded paper away in anger and humiliation. after everything you both did for each other, it made your blood boil in anger and betrayal, you had to get back home. you paced to your dorm, keeping your head down so no one would notice you and your state of mind right now. skipping one literature class wouldn’t hurt.

so it did, and now here you are, sitting in your literature class with the professor reading out the pairings for the first project. for the rest of the week and over the weekend, you had ignored jeno’s texts and calls, you decided you were finally done with his games. ‘y/n and jeno’ the professor read out to the class.

‘WHAT’ you gasped, not noticing you had barked it out until everyone turned around and glared at you.

‘i’m sorry?...’ your professor had stopped everyone to bring attention back, she gave you a quizzical look, ‘is there a problem?’

you shook your head, still surprised by your sudden outburst, ‘n-no, i apologize’ you hung your head in shame, red blooming on your cheeks from embarrassment.

your professor nodded and resumed her list of partners, after she announced to the class, ‘now sit with your partners and discuss what you all want to do for your projects for the rest of class’

you groaned, you weren’t ready to face jeno yet, you probably never would be. you never wanted to see or speak to him ever again, you shuffled to his seat, taking your time to get over to him and sit down.

‘hey’ he said, ‘you’ve been ignoring me this whole week, whats up?’

fake ass bitch, you thought, he didn’t care, ‘nothing, just not a good week i guess’

he frowned, ‘damn, well, if it makes you feel better, i got a 90% on my first bio exam!’ he beamed, ‘so at least now you know your hard work is paying off’

‘that’s great, glad you’ve been getting at least something out of this’ you deadpanned.

he gave you a quizzical look, but decided to drop the subject, ‘so, for the project i was thinking about covering the tenant of wildfell hall’

you literally didn’t care and let him pick whatever, ‘yeah that’s fine’

his eyes narrowed, giving you a weird look again, ‘okay… so, the book has themes of double standards, religion, morality, and love. i can send you passages that we can cover for our project…’. jeno went on for the next thirty minutes with only little nods and comments from you, agreeing to anything he had to suggest. all you wanted to do was leave, once the professor dismissed class that's what you did, picking up your backpack and storming off with jeno still talking.

you rushed down the hallway, ignoring the calls coming from jeno behind you. with his crazy athletic built he eventually caught up to you, grabbed your shoulder and spun you around. you gazed up at him, he stared down at you, looking for any answer he could find. ‘what is your problem? i thought you’d be happy we were paired up?’ he started interrogating you.

you sighed, almost giving up, ‘jeno, can we just meet up later and talk about it? i’m exhausted right now’

he sighed and his hands fell from your shoulders, ‘i’ll text you’ he nodded, and you turned around and left. once at your dorm you threw your backpack to the side and climbed into your bed, taking a well needed nap. a few hours later, your phone vibrating next to you pulled you out of dream land.

3 missed texts from jeno:

‘y/n, are you able to come over to my apartment soon?’

‘plz stop being so stubborn its annoying plz just talk to me’

‘here’s the address lmk when ur on the way’

you texted him back:

‘sorry i was taking a nap’

‘i can be there in a bit’

you got up and got ready, grabbed your backpack and left for jeno’s. once you got there it took you a good five minutes to have the courage to knock on his door. hesitant you tenderly knocked on the door, after a second he opened up the door and let you inside without another word. he was in shorts and a sleeveless t-shirt and smelled immaculate, you gulped, raking your eyes over his body, strong arms and long legs, a face without imperfections. your heart burned in anger and panic, angry that he was so gorgeous it pissed you off, panic because all you could think was what the fuck am i doing right now? ‘do you want to sit down? i saw you brought your backpack, we can work on some stuff if you want?’

you nodded, walked over to the couch and plopped down, grabbing your backpack you opened it and got your laptop out, pulling up the notes from your calculus 2 class. jeno joined you on the couch, sitting a little bit to close for comfort, but you said nothing. his bare leg brushed against your clothed one, sending a buzzing sensation all throughout your body, trying your best to ignore him you stayed focused on your screen.

question 1: x³ + 2x² - 6z = 4 - 2y²

without a second thought you typed in the answer:

r³cos³0 + 2r² - 6z = 4

submitting it you smiled as the green checkmark popped up, correct on the first try. ‘damn, that’s crazy’ jeno broke the silence, you glanced over at him.

‘what?’ you said turned back to your laptop.

‘i literally understood none of that and you got it on the first try!? that’s literally fucking insane’

you laughed at his outburst, ‘it’s nothing really, it was kind of easy, just plug in the following x and y polar conversion formulas into the equation where possible, then you just rewrite everything and use the formulas to convert the equation into cylindrical coordinates’

jeno howled in laughter, which was contagious enough to make you laugh, ‘that’s insane, you’re amazing’

you cocked your head to the side, intrigued by his word choice, ‘oh? am i?’

his demeanor changed, the air felt heavy as he calmed down and moved closer to you. he leaned in, and you panicked, he glanced down at your lips and back up to your eyes. his long eyelashes met his cheeks, you followed suit and closed your eyes, ignoring the way your mind is screaming at you not to do this. heart says otherwise, as you could hear it beat in your ears, whole body buzzing as his pink, soft lips brushed against yours.

jeno moved in deeper, teeth clinking together as you ravaged your mouth, he was a starved man, and you were the last meal he would ever receive. it was warm and sensual, he reached around your waist and roughly pulled your torso into his. his nose bumped into yours as he moved his head slightly for better access, laptop completely abandoned to the side your arms lifted to his biceps, squeezing hard as you let out a soft moan. you broke the kiss as you pressed against his arms, your forehead leaned on his as you both caught your breath, between pants he smiled and laughed, you did not. anxiety ran your blood cold as now all you could think of was what he had said in the classroom about you. was this all a joke?

‘jeno…’ you started, and his smile faltered, ‘i can’t do this’ you stood up and grabbed your laptop and shoved it haphazardly into your backpack, heatedly rushing out of his apartment and down the hall to the entrance. again you ignored jeno as he called after you, his footsteps echoing behind you. you pushed the heavy door open and the air hit you with the wind flying through your hair. continuing down the lamp-lighted street, the boy was still trying to catch up to you.

‘y/n please, we forgot to talk about it’ he addressed your almost non-existent figure fading into the darkness.

he was hopeless by now, but still refused to give up, he moved again, ‘y/n!’

you stopped and turned around, walking up to him his build now growing hazy as water pooled in your eyes. ‘you wanna talk about it? you WANT to talk about it? FINE, you are such a stuck-up asshole, thinking i’m so stupid because i don’t have the best grade in our lit class. laughing about it with your friends when they call me a moron! you think you’re so great you didn’t even know what the chemical symbol was for sulfur, FUCKING SULFUR JENO’ you were yelling at this point, jabbing your finger into his chest with every emphasis in your anger. ‘you think you can play me in some fucked up game you have going on in your head, keeping me around so you can feel better about yourself and use me for help so you could pass an exam, i know i’ve asked you for help before, but at the end of it, all i wanted to do was be your friend, you could’ve said no, but i couldn’t. you gave me no choice but to give in with the deal that you’d help me in return, and you know what? i needed the help, badly. and you knew that and used it in a discussion with your friends that laughed at me because of it, you know how that made me feel? like absolute shit, i wanted to be your friend but all you have ever done was use me and hurt me, and guess what? you don’t have to fear for’ fingers motioning air quotations, ‘my grade because i got a good grade on my homework thanks to you, so thank you jeno! i really appreciate the help, i hope it really boosted your ego, maybe you can go fucking write a book about it or something, i don’t know and i don’t care, but i’m done’ your face was probably beet red at this point, while angry tear's avalanche down your face, you hastily whipped your face and snot that escaped during your outburst. his face focused into view, he was so pretty, and that made you tear up all over again, he could have been different.

he looked defeated, frustrated as his fists clenched into balls and relax over and over, ‘y/n, please let me explain, i di-’ you stopped him, placing your hand in front of his face.

‘do the math jeno, the probability that i would ever hear you out is slim…’ you turned and started walking away, briefly glancing back, he was still in the same spot. ‘it’s S by the way, the symbol for sulfur, maybe now you’ll remember it when you think back on this night… not so proud after all’ your voice cracked at the last sentence as your heart wrenched and stomach mangled, tears breaking through yet again.

you left him there.

you decided not to tell jaemin about what happened, but jeno’s absence was evident. you couldn’t sleep, all that replayed in your nightmare was his soft lips brushing against yours, and you swore you could still feel his strong arms pulling you forward, into him. the feeling that gave you clawed at your heart, beating you down every single time you closed your eyes and pictured his face smiling at you, laughing at you, annoyed at you. anything he gave you, you would take, no matter how much it broke you down. you liked him, no, you like him. even after everything he’s done, you still held a soft spot for him in your fractured heart. all the phone calls that turned into facetime when he would ask for help with math, and you had to show him the steps of a problem. laughing every time you would shake trying to hold your phone steady as he jokingly squawked, ‘keep still!’ when he would read passages to you over the phone late at night, and you’d have fallen asleep to his tender voice before he could even explain the motif. it had only been 5 weeks of class, but it felt like you had known him longer, despite your differences in subjects you both eventually subsided the arguments with long discussions and debates on why one answer was right and how the other was wrong. revelations that came to light after hours of going back and forth.

you stood in the shower, blankly staring at the white ceramic wall in front of you as droplets rained down. you thought about the day you and jeno were studying in the library, renting a study room within because you figured the discussion would be heated. it ended up in a feverish battle between the differences of cell adhesion and cell migration. by the end of it you were standing up, hands pulling at your roots in irritation trying to explain it to the boy sat down in front of you with a shit-eating grin adorning his face. ‘y/n, y/n, stop, stop, please, i can’t take it anymore’ he laughed, clutching his stomach, ‘i got it, while they are tightly associated, cell adhesion provides structural support and stability to tissues, while cell migration is the directed movement of cells from one location to another’

your arms dramatically dropped to your sides, ‘YOU KNEW THIS WHOLE TIME’ pointing, you accused him.

he laughed again at your reaction, ‘i just love seeing you like that, it’s cute, you know i just love a challenge’ he exclaimed going back to his notes.

you laughed to yourself, recalling the moment of the playful banter and subtle flirting that slipped out on occasion. you giggled, howled, and snorted a little too much at the memory, which silently followed into your heart sinking to the bottom of your stomach, the shower masking the uncontrollable sobs that carried through every limb, appendage, and bone.

jaemin went on and on about some story about his roommates, you paid barely any attention, eyes glued to the door as you waited to see if he would show up. the blond boy slurred his words, leaning into you now, trying to get you to look at him. you turned your body, he was giving you a pouty face with big, shining eyes, ‘i asked you a question y/nnie. were you even listening to me?’ he tugged on the sleeve of your hoodie, his strength made you feel like a rag doll.

‘i was… and the answer is yes?’ you said, unsure about whatever he was yapping about.

he beamed and clapped playfully, ‘yippie! i knew you could use a pick-me-up, i promise it’ll be fun, the party is saturday so clear your schedule, i’ll pick you up’

your shoulder shook as you lightly laughed at his theatrics, rubbing your temple in exasperation as to what you just got yourself into, ‘sounds like fun’. you barely noticed jeno walking in out of the corner of your eye. he looked worse than you did, a hoodie with a stain, sweats that looked they were able to fall apart, mis-matched socks and unkempt hair. he kept pushing his glasses up his nose and rubbing his tired eyes. your heart skipped a beat when you noticed his dark circles that almost matched yours, his being a little worse for wear. before he could catch you staring, you quickly focused your attention to the professor starting class, going through the roaster and continuing the lecture on cells.

‘can anyone tell me the variations in cell types? jeno, got an answer?’ the professor smiled at him, everyone turned to spectate and wait for him to answer, except you.

‘um, prokaryotic and eukaryotic’ he dragged, sounding uninterested despite getting the question right.

‘yes! very good jeno’ the professor praised, moving on to the next question. you started to sweat, angry that he got it right and yet you were now holding on your high c- in literature class. how come he could now catch onto science but yet, you were still unable to grapple with the concepts of a victorian classic novel? or maybe it was the fact you had skipped every class this week, refusing to work with jeno on anything, you noticed the text and calls from him were dwindling three days after the confrontation, however everyday he sent pictures of his notes and analysis on the reading and how the project was going. as pathetic as it was, you continue to lay awake in bed nearly every night rereading his text from that night:

i know you are angry and probably hate me right now and that’s understandable, but i don’t want to give up on you, on us. do you think newton gave up on the laws of motion after he failed on the first or second try? you aren’t getting the whole picture, plz give me a chance to explain, i don’t even know if you are reading this, but if you are, plz hear me out you got it all wrong about that day in the classroom, and if it felt like i was using you, i’m sorry. that was never my intention, i just like being around you, you are always quick-witted and i was just trying to taunt you so you’d pay attention to me because i really like you, ig that backfired badly lol. anyway, i hope this will change your mind, and you’ll reach out, i’ll give you time.

followed by a very unserious message that you couldn’t help but smile at:

oh, i almost forgot, don’t worry about the project, but you could come to class, i’m starting to fear for your grade again (,,>﹏<,,) (only kidding!)

another biology class and 2 skipped lit classes pass and the weekend was finally brought upon the world. you held the pleasure of assisting jaemin to a party hosted by someone he knew from one of his health classes. it took forever for you to pick out a cute outfit, but opted for a sleeveless shirt and basic jean shorts and a pair of white sneakers you found buried in the back of your small closet. you carefully did your makeup, usually not taking it too far, but this was special, and you needed to feel like a bad bitch tonight.

jaemin showed up an hour later, deciding to walk to the house 4 blocks down, saying he wanted ‘to get turnt with you’ and that he refused to drink and drive. you agreed, walking sounded better than looking for a driver or someone having to stay sober throughout the night. you exited your building and found jaemin’s car in the lot, he climbed out to greet you and whistled, eyes eating up your form, ‘damn, you look hot’

you smiled bashfully, ‘thanks jaemin, even nerds can be hot you know?’

he turned to lock his car, ‘i mean, yes, but like, you always look cute, but this is like the freaky side of you, it’s different… it’s nice’

you cackled, ‘please never call me freaky ever again, i’m going to revoke your brain rot privileges’

he admitted defeat and dropped the conversation, you both now walked down the sidewalk in perfect silence with the sun now set, surveying the rows of houses in different stages of life in the moon glow. ‘it’s this one’ jaemin nudged you, stopping, he pointed to the house on the corner, you nodded and wrapped your arm around his, linking together so you immediately wouldn’t get lost in the sea of a potential crowd. he opened the old, green door, and you followed, as expected there was a good amount of people attending and as the night worn on you figured more would pile in.

jaemin turned to you, ‘do you wanna go find some drinks?’

‘yes, please’ you quickly nodded as he pulled you through the throng of people, trying to find the kitchen.

once you were there, the host of the party seemed to also be there, ‘jaemin! glad you could make it man’ they dabbed each other up and touched shoulders embracing in a ‘bro hug’.

‘hell yeah, no way i’d not come for the first party of the semester, i brought my friend along with me!’ he pulled you closer to him, now giving you the floor as all attention was pulled towards you, wincing as jaemin jabbed at your side, urging you to get closer to his friend.

‘hi, i’m y/n’ you said giving him a genuine smile, holding out your hand.

‘oh my, you are gorgeous, and you came with this sleaze bag’ he nodded towards jaemin who just playfully hit his friends shoulder, ‘i’m donghyuck, but everyone calls me haechan, its a pleasure to meet you’ he softly took a hold of your hand and bent down to give it a little peck, you giggled at the eccentric greeting.

jaemin tore haechan away, ‘alright, not too much now’ he joked, ‘it’s time for shots’ haechan clapped and guided you both to the kitchen island that was filled with different alcohol, he picked out a clear liquid and poured them into plastic shot cups he grabbed from a neat stack. jaemin lifted up his cup, ‘fuck pharmacology’ you snickered at his comment and raised your cup along with haechan who nodded in agreement. on cue, you threw back the cup and shuddered as the sweet nectar burned your throat. ‘hell yeah! another! at the end of the night i want to be able to forget about fucking blood urea nitrogen and blood glucose’ haechan laughed and poured another in all 3 cups. after that it was another, and then another, and after about 6 shots you tapped out and opted for a gin and coke that haechan was more than happy to make for you.

more time had passed than you thought as more people flooded the kitchen, wrecking havoc on the choices of liquor, haechan handed you your cup and jaemin motioned for you both to move to the living room. people were dancing, some were playing beer pong off in the corner, and others were chatting on various furniture. ‘want to dance a bit?’ he whispered in your ear because of the loud music that made the floor vibrate under your seat, you could feel it rattling your brain. giving him a silent nod he grabbed your hand and led you through the crowd, finding a spot and finding the rhythm of the song. you bobbed your head to the beat and moved back and forth with jaemin in front of you, you always thought he was attractive, but you saw him nothing more than a friend, you felt comfortable around him. you nursed your drink slowly, already somewhat tipsy from the shots, you didn’t want to get drunk too fast or blackout. jaemin grabbed your free hand and twirled you around, dramatically moved your joined hands with fever. you laughed along with him, indulging him in an embarrassing, yet fun dance that probably made you both look wasted to others.

his arm snaked around your waist, pulling you close much to your surprise, pleasanton’tkissmepleasedon’tkissmepleasedon’tkissme ran rampant in your mind as he leaned towards your ear ‘don’t look now, but a certain someone is staring at you from across the room, you let out a strangled breath.

‘do you know who it is?’ you whispered back.

‘jeno’ he mused and your lively spirited fell.

‘whats up? something go down with him?’ he pestered.

‘um, kinda, its a long story’ you faltered and jaemin frowned.

‘damn, that serious? his loss, he can look all he wants’ jaemin wanted to be lighthearted, make you smile again and keep jeno out of your mind. you were grateful as he pulled you into another whimsical dance, the joyful nature of his was infectious.

after a couple more songs had passed, you had downed your whole drink and let go of jaemin’s hand, ‘i’m gonna go find haechan and have him make me another drink, it was surprisingly superb’ jaemin nodded and said he would stay in the same spot for your return.

you hastily made your way to the kitchen, apologizing to others you had to push through. the small room was almost empty, haechan was nowhere in sight so you looked for a different drink. ‘having fun with jaemin?’ a voice boomed from behind you, one that you knew all too well. you slowly turned to find jeno smirking at you, leaning against the fridge adorned in a tight white shirt and ripped jeans, oh fuck this stupid earth, he just had to follow you here looking like that.

‘yes i am, actually’ you stated matter-of-factly.

his lips twitched up in amusement, ‘is that so?’ he moved in closer, eventually trapping you between him and the liquor table. jeno’s soft brown eyes met yours, searching for something inside, however, his eyes told you everything, hope, they screamed. his hand lifted towards your face, slowly brushed against the skin lighter than a feather, taking a piece of your hair and pushing it behind your ear, ‘so he wouldn’t mind this?’. his eyes fluttered closed as he bowed towards you.

before he could seal the deal, ‘jeno’ you stopped him.

he sighed, defeated, ‘just please talk to me, you said the probability was slim, but not zero, let me explain’ jeno begged, his large hands caressed your cheeks tenderly, they were soft and warm.

you could blame the alcohol as you finally let him speak his case, ‘fine, we can find somewhere private’

he smiled, eyes disappearing in relief. he grabbed your hand, leading upstairs and into an empty room, he closed the door behind him as you took a seat on the bed, ‘alright, grovel and explain’ you lifted your phone up to check the time ‘you have 10 minutes’

he gave you a smug smile, ‘that’s all i need baby, you know i love a challenge’ you rolled your eyes at his attempt to uplift the tension fogging the air. ‘that day in the classroom, you obviously didn’t stay long enough to hear what i had to say about you, at first i didn’t know how to respond being put into that position was hard, you didn’t ‘put me through anything’ though, i had nothing but fun with you, even if it was frustrating at times. we always figured it out. but when i heard what she said after i wasn’t just going to allow it, i said ‘yeah i guess one could say that’ because these people literally do not know you like i do, i finished with ‘but everything about that is completely untrue, they are willing to learn, but it's just taking longer than some of us who take a bunch of english and literature classes. if you got to actually know her you’d see how bright they actually are. a literal math genius and a real mastermind of science, could answer any question from the top of their head, it’s insane. so while we are strong in this subject, they are just stronger in other fields’ he explained, watching you intently. you wiggled under his gaze, making you feel same, but itched for him to go on, ‘i then told her that she should not speak on things she knows nothing about and left because i will not associate myself with someone who talks like that about people i care about’ he emphasized the last words carefully, grabbing hold of your hand and lifting you from the bed, ‘y/n, i’m so sorry, it was never my intention to hurt you, ever. i care about you so deeply, you show up in every romance novel i read, every poem i skim, the stories i write… it’s all you’ jeno gazed down at you, his eyes now searching for an answer, hope, and panic could only be found in his as you studied his features in the warm glow of the moon peaking through the window.

‘you really said that? you defended me?’ you questioned him quietly.

‘yes y/n, i would never let anyone hurt you, even if you aren’t in the room, because in that case, they hurt me too’

you hummed, the haze of your brain clouded any judgment you held, he was something different, the greatest math problem that needed to be solved. ‘thank you jeno, i guess it’s now my turn to apologize’

he chuckled at you, ‘no need baby’ you laughed softly, ‘now, can we pick up where we left off? you know, someone once told me that pride and prejudice wasn’t written in a day’ he wagged his eyebrows at you, moving you into an embrace as he kissed the top of your head. you held on tightly, holding him as you buried your face into his chest swallowing his scent so you could save it for later.

the hug ended, but he still held you close in his arms, ‘i guess i could pick up another chapter or two’ he laughed at your poor pun and drooped down, so his lips could meet yours. it was messier than the first kissed you shared with him, wet and heated as you could taste the soju on his tongue. he moved at a faster pace, devouring you like an animal, jeno walked you towards the bed, you gave in falling down with him, with him climbing on top of you, never breaking away. teeth on teeth echoed throughout the room as you moaned, his hands exploring every part of your body, making your core burn more and more.

jeno dipped down to attack your neck in kisses and sucking at the exposed skin, hands finding a way to his hair and tugging slightly at the intimate feeling of him being closer than ever. ‘please, tell me you’re mine, please want me’ he breathed out, the air softly hitting your ear, making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. he was desperate, kissing you anywhere he could and waited for you to answer.

‘y-yes jeno, i’m yours’ you choked out, ‘i want you in every way’ satisfied with your response he growled and his mouth met yours once more, ‘p-please touch me’ you begged frantically, needing anything to ease the sensation that pooled in the pits of your stomach.

jeno hummed, fingers brushing up and down your exposed stomach, ‘where baby? use your words, remember what i taught you?’ it was your turn to make demands now, wasting no time you grabbed his hand and brought it down between your legs, he cupped your vagina. you groaned, you needed more. jeno grabbed the waistband of your shorts and pulled them down and threw them behind him, the cool air hit your core making you rub your thighs together in order to find little warmth.

he carefully pulled your underwear down, wanting to savor the moment of finally seeing you bare, he gulped, ‘god, you have such a pretty pussy’ he took his hand and rubbed the sensitive skin, ‘so wet. just for me, right? all for me baby’ you cried out at his words. he inserted a finger into your weeping hole, making you gasp out in surprise at the feeling of just one finger filling you up dangerously. as he pushed back and forth your legs trembled, he added another finger and brought his head down to your core, ‘i bet you taste amazing’ was all he said before he dove in deep, his tongue against your clit as he drank up your juices and sucked on the flesh.

‘f-fuck’ you mewled, grabbed a hold of his soft, black hair in order to keep you grounded, with every thrust he made as he fucked with his mouth you tugged on his hair, pulling when you would feel the band about to snap, jeno groaned, loving the way you’d use him for stability.

he stopped and removed his face, you whined from the loss of contact as his fingers also found their way outside of you, he smiled ‘don’t worry, my pretty baby, i’ll take care of you’. he threw off his shirt nearly getting drunker with the way you were taking him in, he loved being adored by you, in such a calculated way that made sense in every story. you followed suit and removed your top and bra, baring naked in front of him and laid back on the bed as he admired you from afar, ‘you’re so beautiful’ he breathed, discarding his pants and underwear he crawled back on top of you, whispering sweet nothing's as he peppered your collarbone and breasts with kisses.

‘are you sure you want this? it might hurt a little at first, but i promise i’ll go slow until you tell me otherwise’ he towered over you.

your glassy eyes met his in reassurance, ‘yes, jeno i want this’ you confirmed everything for him. he quickly lined up his cock with your cunt and gently pushed inside, his eyes never leaving yours. your hands grasped around his muscled biceps, digging your nails into them when the pain was strong. once he bottomed out he stopped to let you get used to his size, you shared sensual kisses and sweet touches, jeno doing everything in his power to make you feel loved and safe at that moment going forward, that’s all he ever wanted to do. for weeks, he had been beating himself up for taking the teasing comments way too far at times, poking fun at something you were obviously insecure about, but you did the same, he figured it was kind of the thing you two had. in reality, he wanted to push you to do better, making comments like that so you’d work harder and prove everyone wrong. no one could work with you better than him, so he had gone out of his way to ask the pressor to pair you up on the project, also making the forced proximity making you talk to him after you stopped answering his calls and messages. he should have gone a better way about motivating you, but now that he had your forgiveness, he could work on better strategies.

‘jeno, you can move now’ you rasped out, still holding on his arms like an anchor with a boat. he pulled out and pushed back in, taking it slow as you moaned at the feeling of him filling you up to the brim, jeno picked up the pace, setting a steady rhythm as skin clapping together filled the room, ‘oh fuck, just like that’ your chest heaving up and down.

he slammed into with vigor, bitting your bottom lip as you opened your mouth to let out a breathless moan, ‘yeah? you like that? fuck, you’re so tight, literally sucking me in, i never want to leave this pretty fucking pussy’ he husked, he licked your lips and kissed your jaw as he grunted, setting a faster pace, making you cry out in pleasure. he grabbed your legs and opened them wider, giving him better access to go deeper into your abused cunt. you cried as the flame in your belly raged with a thousand fires, ‘keep your eyes on me baby’ jeno demanded, automatically making you swallow as you moved your eyes to meet his, blown out pupils filled with lust as your vision of him became blurry as blissful tears threaten to fall with every snap on his hips digging into you. you’ve had flings and hook-ups before, but nothing as profound as this, the eye contact, togetherness of him never backing too far away from your hold, you were being wholly consumed by jeno. everything right down to your core, he was all you could feel, taste, see, and think about.

‘o-oh my god’ you sobbed, hips jerking up at the feeling of the ripples burning through you, the coil in your stomach tightening, craving to break open, ‘m gonna cum’ you clenched around him, making jeno hiss above you at the feeling of tightness around his throbbing dick.

‘go on baby, cum for me,’ he whimpered as the feeling for him also grew intense, the way your cunt hugged his dick was making his mind spin. jeno mumbled incoherently ‘i’m so close baby, let go, you can let go, i got you’ from his words and the way he pounded into you made you snap, legs trembling as liquid gushed from your core and past his cock and dripped onto the sheets. light-headed and dizzy you cried out for jeno as your orgasm burst over you.

you clenched again, feeling overwhelmed by the euphoric feeling, ‘oh, fuck’ jeno cursed as he stilled inside of you, painting your insides with his seed, he groaned at the sensation of finally filling you up and properly claiming you as his and his alone. he stayed there for a couple of minutes inside of you. savoring the static of the overstimulation and pleasure of release. you winced as the hot liquid poured out of you when he pulled out, the emptiness of it all. jeno watched as his cum slide down your hole and onto the sheet, he scooped up the remaining liquid that rushed out of you and shoved it back into your clit with two fingers, making you cry at the sensitivity. ‘fuck that was… one of the best experiences of my life’ he caught his breath and plopped down facing you, he gently caressed your chin, bringing your head to his as he softly left kisses on your lips, ‘let me get you cleaned up baby’

‘m tired’ you whispered, barely able to keep your eyes open.

‘i know, but let me take care of you and get you dressed, i know theres extra clothes somewhere around here’ he started rummaging around the wardrobes, digging into them in order to find anything adequate. ‘aha!’ he put on a clean pair of underwear and sweats, ‘i’ll be right back baby’ he left the room and came back after for what felt like an eternity with a warm wash cloth and clean clothes, ‘these are mark’s girlfriends pj’s i’m sure she won’t mind,’ he hummed, wiping you clean, and dressing you in the soft, clean clothes. he picked you up so he could throw the covers back, tucking you in with a kiss on the nose, ‘you’re so cute’

you lazily smiled at him, settling into the sheets as you clung onto his warm frame, ‘who’s room is this by the way?’ you whispered as jeno shut his eyes.

‘mark’s. doesn’t matter. you’re my girlfriend now right?’ he leaned his head on yours.

‘mmm girlfriend yes. mark who?’ words fell from your mouth as you yawned, sleeping coming to find you soon.

‘mark, shark.’ he dismissed you, ‘just be ready for a stern talk when we wake up from the man himself.’ he kissed your head as you drifted off to sleep, the morning was the least of your worries now, you finally figured out the solution, the obvious answer being: jeno.

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kat-mobile · 11 months ago

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Hey love ❤️ hope you’re doing good

Can I request Tommy with a gentle, empathetic and sensitive reader please. It was an arranged marriage and he found out his new wife would cry herself to sleep over a book she read or just a cat. His reaction to someone who is completely opposite of him

Thank you in advance ✨

Tommy with a wife who's his complete opposite

A/N: Hey baby, thanks for the request!! I'm doing good and I hope you are too ❤️ I forgot to put on the requests post to specify if you want it as a fic or headcanons so I've made it sort of a mix of the two, hope that's okay anon. I made this blog to try and improve my writing skills and as this is my first attempt it isn't the best, so sorry about that lol. Hope you like it!! (this is set sometime around series 1-2 cause those are my fave)

It was an arranged marriage and to be honest... you weren't particularly thrilled by the notion of being married to Birmingham's most known and feared gangster. But you would do anything for your family and if your father decided that this is what would be best for securing the future of the family then you'd follow through on your part of the deal, even if it seemed like you and Tommy had absolutely nothing in common.

This was a couple months ago now and you had somewhat settled into your new life in Small Heath and with Tommy by your side, the two of you living in comfortable tandem. You had settled into a routine and life was good, or as good as it could be with the risk of being married to a Shelby.

He would buy you any book that you so much as happened to glance at and in turn you would patch up and sew back together any unfortunate pieces of clothing that got in the way of Tommy and his dangerous life style and work, fighting back tears and worrying at your lower lip as you did so. You may not quite understand why he was constantly putting himself in danger but he was your husband all the same and you had grown to love him as your marriage progressed

you would also force him to go and see an actual trained medical professional whenever he came home with said ruined clothing, as a dead husband is less than ideal and you have grown attached these last couple months

Your empathy and tendancy to cry over him when he got hurt was a shock at first but he quickly got used to it, he even tried to avoid getting hurt just so as to not have to see you cry over him

He may not say it outright but he appreciates everything you do and how much you care for him

He doesn't like to keep secrets from you but he doesn't share all aspects of work life with you as he doesn't want you to worry too much, but if being kept in the dark would worry you even more he'd make an effort to keep you in the loop

Your gentleness and compassion is a welcome contrast to his life from before you were apart of it, Tommy didn't know that he needed it before you

If there's one thing about Tommy Shelby, it's that he protects what's his and as his wife he treats you with the utmost care (especially if you have a tendancy to seek out the good in all people)

One night when Tommy (finally) came to bed he found you curled up in a ball on your side with your back to the door, tears gently running down your smooth cheeks

Unsure of what to do when confronted by your distress but still wanting to help, he'd rush to your side and scoop you up onto his lap, holding you close with your tear-stained cheek pressed against his chest and an arm thrown protectively around your shoulders. He'd cautiously rock back and forwards whilst his hand moves slowly up and down your back in what he hopes is a soothing motion. He's a little awkward and stiff but damn if he isn't fucking trying

He'd use his forefinger and thumb to tilt your chin up and force your eyes to meet his own before softly questioning you on why you were crying

"What you crying for, hmm love? Ruining your pretty face"

He'd say, wiping away your tears with his thumb

Upon hearing that the reason for your tears was a sad ending to one of the books he bought you he'd be a little taken aback and he would honestly have to suppress the urge to laugh

It all seemed rather silly to him that you'd cry over some words on paper

"Tommy it isn't funny, it was really upsetting" you'd hiccup out through your tears

he'd just shake his head and sigh, apologising, before pulling you closer, finally laying down on the bed with your legs intertwined

Tommy had hoped it would be a one of chance but when he caught you crying in bed again over the ending of Of Mice and Men, he very quickly figured that he'd have to adapt

Tommy developed a system for when you had your... shall we say moments, he'd sit down on his side of the bed with his back pressed against the headboard before he lifted you up and placed you in-between his legs

Sitting you so that your back was resting against his chest and you could feel his heartbeat

You would then explain to him the sad moments in your books as he softly hummed and nodded his head along to your words

And when he got tired from your quiet voice lulling him to sleep he'd pull you down with him as he laid on his side, caging you in against his chest with an arm around your waist

Those were the nights that he slept the best

#tommy shelby x reader #tom shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder headcanon

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darkmatilda · 2 months ago

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𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: some souls are simply destined to collide. even at a funeral. even at a wedding. even at both…at the same time? one chapter of your life is closing. his is just beginning. what binds you together is uncertainty—and the sheer terror of what tomorrow might bring. but if life is just a chaotic stream of people and events flowing toward the inevitable, why not, for once, swim against the current? run. grab the groom (not yours). get stuck on a blocked road. hunt a mammoth. and spend a fleeting moment of escape under a sky full of stars.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x female reader, strangers to lovers, soulmates trope, something like AU, since there are no references to the canon? spencer smokes and is getting married just for the plot. reader's father just died, funeral, intense manic pixie dream girl vibes just a heads-up because i know it gives a lot of people the ick

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 8k

𝐚/𝐧: this is something very experimental. tbh, it’s an idea for a book that’s been with me for like 3 years now but i never quite got around to writing it so i was like ugh, what if o make it spencer reid??? anyway, i hope you’ll like it even if it’s not strictly about him. (and please read it with a bit of a lighthearted mindset??)

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eleutheromania /ɛˌljuːθərəʊˈmeɪnɪə/

(n.) an intense and irresistible desire for freedom

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"God, this must be some kind of joke!"

Your aunt fanned herself with a gloved hand—black against the ghostly pallor of her face, as if all the color had drained from it long ago. She looked on the verge of fainting, and the enormous black hat perched on her head did nothing to help, seeming to drag her small frame backward.

Her husband, your uncle, cast a nervous glance at the priest standing before you before shifting his uneasy gaze to his wife.

"Do not take the Lord's name in vain in the house of God—"

"Oh, shut up!" she hissed.

He fell silent. He had always been a little afraid of her. Okay, very afraid of her.

The priest, too, seemed tense, constantly wiping a layer of sweat from his forehead—sweat that wasn’t solely caused by the sweltering July afternoon.

"As I was saying to you…and to you as well…" He nodded toward the unfamiliar family standing behind him. He was the only thing separating you, a fragile barrier between two warring nations on the brink of nuclear catastrophe, ready to obliterate each other at the first wrong move. And, well—honestly, that wasn’t far from the truth. Except for the lack of access to nuclear weapons. (Though, who knew what your aunt kept in that little handbag of hers?) "There’s been a…mistake."

"A mistake?!" howled the woman from the opposing nation, dressed in a white gown with a long veil adorned with tiny diamonds. The bride. "You call this a mistake? I was supposed to have a fucking wedding today, and you brought me…a corpse!"

Your aunt inhaled sharply.

"I could say the same! I was supposed to be burying my brother today, and instead, they bring me some…floozy in an ugly dress!"

"Please, everyone, calm down…" the priest intervened.

The bride’s mother pressed close to her daughter, seemingly holding her back from lunging at your aunt.

"Don’t cry, my darling, you’ll ruin your makeup, sweetheart," she whispered. Then, suddenly, her face hardened, twisting with distaste. "Where is that fiancé of yours, anyway?"

The word seemed to scrape its way out of her throat with difficulty.

"He has a name, Mom…"

You tilted your head back, taking a deep breath. You felt like you might be the next one to faint.

Despite your legs barely holding you upright, you also wanted to laugh. And not just a small, disbelieving chuckle—no, you were genuinely afraid you’d collapse onto the perfectly trimmed, drought-resistant grass (meticulously maintained by the parishioners) and be consumed by hysterical, almost painful laughter. The sheer absurdity of it all was more than you could handle.

To stop that vision from becoming reality, you took advantage of the fact that almost no one was paying attention to you and quietly walked away. No eyes followed you. For a moment, you were invisible. And you needed that.

You circled around the small white church in your town, only stopping when you reached the back, pressing your face into your hands.

That day was supposed to be your father’s funeral.

And, as it turned out, another woman’s wedding.

How could someone make such a mistake—combining these two events, two completely unrelated families, and entirely different circumstances?

It was the final straw in everything that had been building up inside you since the morning. Being forced to spend time with the rest of the family—those aunts and uncles you barely knew but already hated. They had never cared about you, never cared about your sick father. Yet now that he was gone, they had appeared, playing the role of the most devastated mourners.

They took over the funeral arrangements, and you hadn’t been able to protest. At first, you even thought maybe it was for the best—someone else handling the burden for you.

But then it turned out they were far more interested in organizing a grand, lively wake afterward, the mere thought of which made you want to throw up. You didn’t want to be there.

You lowered your hands from your face—and nearly jumped.

Leaning against the church wall stood none other than the missing groom, the one his future mother-in-law had been looking for.

His brown hair was styled like something straight out of a wedding catalog, and his black suit was impeccably tailored.

"Oh, sorry," the words escaped you almost automatically, even though you both had every right to be there.

Still, you felt as if you had interrupted something.

And, well—you had.

It was just that that something happened to be him inhaling his cigarette so desperately that his cheeks hollowed in from the force.

For a moment, he didn’t respond, slowly exhaling a stream of smoke from his lips.

You couldn’t help but study him.

"Jesus, you look awful. And it’s my father who just died."

He fixed his gaze on you, his eyes filled with a fear so immense it was as if he were perched in a tree, surrounded by a pack of wolves—wolves who, armed with hammers and nails, were diligently constructing a wooden ladder to reach him.

"Wedding nerves," he muttered.

His voice was quiet, weak. His throat must have been bone-dry.

"I can see that," you scoffed.

You knew today was especially stressful, but you had always thought of it as the good kind of stress. Then again, you had never been married.

The groom pressed the nearly burned-out cigarette to his lips and said nothing.

You didn’t leave, though—he wasn’t the only person in the world who needed a moment alone, away from this whole mess.

You crouched down, wrapping your arms around yourself. The heat was making you dizzy, and your black dress was soaking up every bit of sunlight.

"My, um, condolences," he said after a moment, watching you with hesitation.

You weren’t an intruder in his personal space the way a member of the bride’s family would have been. You were a soldier of a neutral nation.

"Thanks. I hear that a lot."

"I can imagine."

"But I’m not exactly devastated," you admitted. "I mean, my dad had been sick for a long time. I’d made peace with the fact that it would happen one day."

He opened his mouth, clearly thrown off by your sudden honesty. You were a little surprised yourself—though maybe you shouldn’t have been. You always had a habit of unloading your grievances onto strangers.

Spencer lifted his cigarette to his lips again, only to realize it had already burned down to the filter. And then, as if he hadn’t just finished one, he immediately started rummaging through the inner pocket of his jacket for another.

"I don’t want to get married," he said suddenly. Straightforward, almost casual, like he had already made peace with it. Accepted it.

You studied his pale face, his hands trembling from stress and nicotine, the deep shadows under his eyes betraying nights of lost sleep.

"Yeah, I can imagine."

He finally found the pack, only to let out a quiet groan of horror when he realized it was empty. His eyes flicked to you, filled with desperate hope.

You shook your head.

"Sorry. Maybe it’s time to find a healthier way to deal with stress."

"The only alternative, in my case, is killing people."

"Maybe you shouldn’t fight that urge," you mused. "I mean, the hearse is already here."

“Good point, stranger. A bright stranger.”

“At your service, tortured groom. Shall we go check out what our families have come up with? I mean, who does the priest order to do adios, or maybe we're merging the ceremonies. I'm joking, but it's not such a stupid idea. The only real problem would be the soundtrack…”

“I need a moment,” answered Spencer, as the corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly.

She was good company in this disaster, but he preferred for her to leave. Since he had come here, he felt like he was about to throw up, and he didn't want her to see it.

You stood up from your crouch and gave a mock salute as a farewell. The conversation had relaxed you a little, but the closer you got to the front of the church, the more tension crept back in. At least your aunt and the bride were no longer facing off like cage fighters.

“Oh, there you are,” your aunt said as you appeared behind her.

You opened your mouth to explain why you had disappeared, but she cut you off.

“The priest is on the phone with someone, trying to sort this out. One of the ceremonies will have to be moved. I just hope we won’t have to pay for it. What a rip-off that would be…It’s not our fault, after all!” She pressed her gloved hand to her chest, clearly trying to calm the anger rising in her again.

You barely listened, instead wondering if her hands were sweating in those gloves.

“You know, we paid quite a bit to organize the wake. Venue rental and all that…I really hope this whole mess doesn’t delay the funeral and screw up our reservation…”

The word wake snapped you back to reality. It was probably time—long overdue, actually—to tell her you weren’t planning to go. You could barely handle the thought of sitting through the funeral with them, let alone dragging it out any longer.

"So, your uncle and I were talking," your aunt went on, "and we figured there’s no point driving all the way back home. It’s so far, and I hate driving at night. I have to wear those awful glasses, and they keep slipping down my nose. So we thought—why not stay at your place? We’ll take your bedroom, and you can sleep in the living room. That makes the most sense, don’t you think?"

She said it like it was already decided.

Your eyebrows shot up, and panic clenched around your ribs. Them showing up at your father’s funeral? Fine, he was their family too—you could deal with that.

But in your home?

"Do you have anything for a headache?" you asked suddenly.

You felt like your head was about to explode.

Your aunt wasn’t really paying attention to you—her eyes kept scanning the area, searching for the priest who was supposed to return with news. Still, without looking, she reached into her bag and shoved her car keys into your hand.

"There should be some in the glove compartment. I parked behind the church."

Without a word, you grabbed the keys and headed in the direction she had pointed. Just as she’d said, the car was parked behind the church—far beyond their line of sight. Which also meant that, once again, he was in yours.

The groom hadn’t moved much since you’d last seen him. He was still leaning against the same spot, the only difference being that now he held his jacket in his hands instead of wearing it. One corner of the fabric brushed the grass. He wasn’t looking your way. He had no idea you were watching him from a distance.

You shook your head to yourself. You felt a little sorry for him.

Rummaging through the glove compartment of your aunt’s red Chevrolet Caprice, you found what you needed. With no water to wash down the pill, you paused, hand resting on the open car door, gathering enough saliva in your mouth to swallow it dry.

You weighed the car keys in your palm.

Your gaze flickered back to the groom.

And again.

You were a reckless idiot.

Some flaws can be fought. Others must be accepted. And some? Some are worth celebrating like virtues.

"Hey, tortured groom!" you called out.

He flinched at the nickname. Even from a distance, you could see the crease forming between his brows. You gestured toward the car.

"You coming?"

For a second, he didn’t get it. But—amusing, considering he was about to get married—his first instinct wasn’t to refuse.

"Where to?"

You shrugged.

"No idea yet. But I’ll buy you smokes."

You watched as he stood frozen for a moment, then slowly, hesitantly, turned his head toward the church. God, you wanted to crack open that curly-haired head of his, pull up a tiny stool inside, and sip something cold while watching the war raging in there.

After an agonizingly long moment—during which you managed to change your mind about this plan exactly six times, only to commit to it again just as many—he finally moved.

Actually, he ran.

There was no real need for it; no one could see you from where you were. But you understood. He was doing it to outrun his own second thoughts before they could catch up to him. Your aunt’s Chevrolet had three beige seats up front. He yanked open the passenger door and dropped onto one of them, breath coming hard and fast. You doubted it was from the sprint. You let your gaze linger on him for a second—flushed cheeks, a mix of heat and sunburn; a stray curl that had escaped its styled place and now rested against his forehead; closed eyes.

And, just for a moment, the fleeting shadow of relief on his face as the car rolled forward.

You had only driven a block away, wrapped in some kind of magical daze and an absolute silence that filled the space between you. The church had completely vanished from sight, yet the street remained familiar—simply because you had grown up in this town. You had no real destination, but you knew you wanted to find yourself somewhere under a sky that had never looked at you quite like this before.

The groom suddenly jolted, his eyes widening so much that, for a split second, you half-expected them to pop out like two ping-pong balls. He stared at you first, then at the window beside him, pure shock etched across his face.

“What are we doing?!”

You snorted. He sounded as if he hadn't just jumped into your car of his own free will.

“I’m committing grand theft auto,” you replied. The calmness in your voice actually startled you. “And you…?” You cast him a sideways glance. “I guess you’re running away from responsibility.”

"Responsibility," he repeated after you, eyes fixed on the road ahead. You knew he wasn’t from around here—most of this area was probably unfamiliar to him. His jacket lay on the middle seat, a barrier between you.

"Do you want to turn back?"

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, holding the look for a moment before shaking his head. You let out a quiet breath. If he had said yes—if he had decided to be rational, to just go back to the church, back to your unsuspecting families, pretending like nothing had happened—you would’ve felt pathetic.

"Can we pull over for a second?" you asked. "So we can switch? You drive?"

"I don’t think I can."

"Okay."

Your fingers tapped lightly against the steering wheel. You’d been driving for about five minutes now, and the longer you waited, the more absurd it felt to say it. You took a breath.

"I don’t have a driver’s license."

His reaction was exactly what you expected—he tensed, his mouth falling open.

"Wait…what— you couldn’t have mentioned that befo—?"

"Well..."

A moment later, you'd switched seats.

The thought of getting pulled over by the police—or worse, ending up wrapped around a tree on his own wedding day—was enough to force Spencer into the driver's seat, no matter how awful he felt. As soon as he sat down, he started messing with the car’s air controls. It was so stifling inside that he was already undoing the third button of his shirt, yet he still couldn’t seem to catch his breath.

"So, where are we going?" he asked.

A strange emptiness filled his head. It should have been a welcome change from the chaos that had consumed every free space in his mind for days—weeks, even—but for some reason, it wasn’t. He needed something to focus on. Something to aim for.

You shrugged.

"To buy you cigarettes."

"And after that?" he asked. "You're not...planning to go back to your dad’s funeral?"

"It’s not even my dad’s funeral anymore. It’s theirs." You scoffed.

He didn’t respond, just gave a small nod.

Earlier, caught up in the heat, the absurdity of the moment, and maybe even the looming threat of heatstroke you’d somehow forgotten that you didn’t actually know each other. Now it was starting to sink in—the weight of it all—as awkwardness crept steadily into the space between you.

"And after that..." you echoed, genuinely pondering.

It felt like if you were going to pull something like this—if you were going to walk out on your father’s funeral—you needed to go somewhere meaningful. Symbolic, even. A quiet apology whispered into the afterlife.

For a moment, nothing specific came to mind. You bit your lower lip in thought.

"I think...I want to go to the cliffs."

"The cliffs?" he repeated, suddenly sitting up straighter, alarm flashing in his eyes. "You’re not...You’re not planning some dramatic suicide, are you?"

“What? No! Just because I want to go to a damn cliff doesn’t mean I want to jump off it,” you snapped at him, causing him to defensively raise a hand towards you. You sighed, exasperated. “We just used to like that place. My dad and I.”

Spencer allowed himself a closer look at your face. Lost in his own thoughts, you didn’t even notice him doing so. It wasn’t until now that he realized he had missed the signs of pain on your face earlier. He noticed small traces of it in every expression, so evenly spread that they weren’t immediately visible at first glance.

“To the cliffs, then,” he muttered. It meant several hours of driving, but oddly, that didn’t concern him. Maybe the small smile that appeared on your lips made it feel worth it. Maybe he was desperate to know where this was all headed, even if it meant a long and tiring journey.

And just like that, all the tension and awkwardness hanging between you seemed to dissolve.

You stopped at a gas station to refill the tank and so he could buy the cigarettes he had been craving. As he lowered his head slightly to light one, you suddenly ran your fingers through his hair, ruffling it roughly.

“Hey, what are you doing?!” he exclaimed, the cigarette between his lips muffling half his words.

“Sorry. You looked too wedding-y,” you said, slipping back into the car.

Waiting for him to finish smoking, you left the door open, letting as much fresh air as possible seep inside.

“And since when is that a bad thing?”

“Since the moment you ran away from that wedding.”

A grimace flickered across his face when you used the phrase ran away.

“Oh? Got a better term?” you scoffed mockingly.

Exhaling smoke through his lips, he actually seemed to consider the question. He no longer looked like a groom. His already exzausted appearance—dark circles under his eyes, a weary expression, undone buttons, and now, thanks to you, messy hair—made him resemble a guy recovering from a wild bachelor party. The morning after.

"Execute a strategic retreat," he stated after a moment, waving his cigarette as if he were laying out some incredibly complex, borderline brilliant concept.

"I think your almost-wife and her family would prefer my version."

"Oh, you're mistaken. They’d go with something closer to an absolute disgrace upon the family's honor, what will people say?! Leaving a pregnant woman on her wedding day…"

If you had a drink in hand, you would’ve taken a huge sip just to dramatically spit it right in his face.

"Pregnant?"

"Yes, but—"

"You’re telling me I just wrecked a family by kidnapping a father straight from the altar? Jesus Christ, you weren’t kidding about running away from responsibility…" You shook your head in disbelief.

You didn’t hide it—a sudden wave of guilt washed over you.

"You didn’t wreck anything," he denied.

Spencer pressed the cigarette to his lips but realized that, after all his gesturing, it had gone out. There was still about half of it left. He reached into the pocket of his suit pants for a lighter but then, after a moment’s hesitation, decided against it. He simply tucked the cigarette back into the pack. That desperate urge to drown his stress in nicotine—the one that had gripped him so tightly outside the church—was gone.

He got back into the car, placing his hands on the steering wheel. You hadn’t closed the door on your side, making it clear that you weren’t going anywhere until he explained whatever it was he was holding back. But it wasn’t an ultimatum—you weren’t pressuring him. If he wasn’t ready, you could simply stay there. There was no rush. The sun had already passed its peak, and with the doors open wide, the air was pleasantly cool.

“That family was already wrecked,” he finally said. He averted his gaze, taking a deep breath before continuing. “And the baby isn’t mine.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you blurted out.

“Wow, that was a really empathy-filled response”

"This isn’t a conversation for empathy-filled responses. This is a conversation for fuck," you scoffed loudly, your gaze repeatedly drifting to his profile as you analyzed him, searching for as many answers as you could. You swallowed carefully. "How…how did you even find out?"

Spencer didn’t answer right away. He stared straight ahead for a moment before letting out a short, bitter laugh.

There he was, sitting in a gas station parking lot on his wedding day, spilling his most painful confessions to a complete stranger. And he, for the record, wasn’t usually in the habit of doing things like this.

“Well, at first, it was just pure calculation,” he began. “You know, people always say men have no clue about the female body, but all I had to do was count back to the last time we had sex…” He trailed off, shifting uncomfortably in the driver’s seat. “Oh, and then there were the messages.”

“Messages?” You didn’t catch on at first.

“You know. He can’t find out…”

“Oh. Okay. Yeah, that makes sense.”

You fell silent for a long moment, simply at a loss for words. The image of the woman in the white dress flashed through your mind again—the hundreds of tiny diamonds shimmering on her veil—followed by the sight of him, hidden behind the church, burning through one cigarette after another.

“But…” You frowned. Something didn’t add up. “Why did you still want to marry her?”

Spencer opened his mouth, then closed it again. A sound, the beginning of an answer, formed in his throat but never quite made it out. Instead, he shook his head, exhaustion radiating from every small motion before he finally let his forehead drop onto the steering wheel.

“I don’t know,” he admitted weakly, his voice muffled. “I-I don’t know. Everything was already planned. The wedding. Our whole life. And I guess…I think… if I hadn’t looked at her phone…”

"You would have been living a lie," you finished firmly, taking a deep breath. You couldn’t understand how this man could feel guilty about any of it. "All of you, actually."

You reached for the open passenger door and shut it. You wanted to trap the echo of your words inside the car. In the silence that followed, neither of you moved. You just watched his hunched shoulders and bowed head, linking this image to the expression that had already been etched on his face. That lost look. Only now was it starting to sink in why he might have chosen to stay.

The future doesn’t exist, yet people desperately try to build it from the wrong or even broken pieces, convincing themselves it won’t collapse at the most unexpected moment. Not swept away by the wind, not shattered by an earthquake. Just caving in on itself.

Slowly you reached for him, gently running your fingers from the top of his hair—stiff from the styling products—tracing a path past his ear, down his neck, until your hand rested on his shoulder. He shifted slightly under your touch, and you sensed a barely noticeable tremor in his body, caused by his unsteady breath. You waited in that position until it passed. And yes, it took a long time. But after running away from your father’s funeral, stealing a car, and taking someone else’s fiancé, the last thing you cared about was the passage of time. It would flow either way.

He finally lifted his head to look at you.

“So…” he began, his voice slightly hoarse. “Are we still planning to go to the cliff?”

It sounded almost like a request. You smiled softly, pulling your hand away. As you straightened in your seat, you could feel the atmosphere slowly returning to normal. Well, at least it was no longer drenched in sorrow down to the bone.

“Well, that depends on who’s driving,” you replied.

“In that case…I think we should be there in about three—”

Three hours later, you recalled his words with the loudest scoff possible.

"Would that be too dramatic..." you wondered aloud, resting your bare foot on the dashboard. Rummaging through the glove compartment, you found, along with some painkillers, a nail polish bottle with a partially dried-up brush. The color was awful, but you were bored enough to use it anyway. "If I started keeping a journal?"

Kneeling on the back seat—well, technically under it—Spencer straightened up, frowning at something.

"How is it possible that your aunt has a sushi-making kit and a cat encyclopedia in her car but not a single bottle of water? For god’s sake, not even half a bottle..."

"I’d be like Robinson Crusoe," you continued at the same time as him, applying the first coat of polish. "Day one on the deserted island. What a place, uninhabitable. No water..."

"Are you hallucinating from dehydration?"

"You’d be my Friday, the one I saved from the bad people..."

At this point, it seems like a good time to pause for a brief introduction to the situation.

You had left the gas station in relatively good spirits. It wasn't something you had discussed, but at some point, both of you had silently agreed to sever ties—at least mentally—with everything you were running from. To stop thinking about it. To stop worrying. To accept the absurdity of what you were doing and fully embrace it.

You had rediscovered the existence of the car radio, which, as one of the universe’s unwritten rules dictated, became your first reason to argue. You didn’t even get through a single full song before…

You got stuck on a blocked road.

The accident that had occurred was serious, though thankfully, it didn’t involve you. A truck had overturned across the lanes, and a fuel spill required emergency responders to work on the scene. Cars in front of you, cars behind you. Everyone was waiting.

The weather conditions—specifically, the unbearable heat—didn’t make things any easier. But the real nightmare began when you both realized just how embarrassingly unprepared you were for a trip like this. Typically, people embarking on spontaneous adventures bring snacks, drinks, maybe even crossword puzzles. You didn’t even have a stupid bottle of water.

Your new friend had groaned about ten minutes ago, declaring that in the chaos of your aunt’s car, there had to be at least a single drop of something drinkable. He had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt like an explorer searching for treasure in the jungle, sweat beginning to mark the fabric. The same heat made the back of his neck glisten noticeably. And he wasn’t the only one suffering. Your black clothing was starting to cling uncomfortably to your skin, and you actively avoided looking into the rearview mirror, knowing full well you probably resembled a walking disaster with a face flushed red from the heat.

Suddenly, he threw his forearms over the back of the front three-seater, staring at you as you calmly painted your nails.

“Seriously?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Am I the only one worried here? This is actually dangerous. Do you even know how much water a person needs in these conditions to avoid dehydration and heat exhaustion?”

You dipped the brush into the nail polish, casting him a fleeting glance. You were only just beginning to learn little things about each other, and one of the things you had rcently noticed was that he possessed an incredibly vast knowledge of all sorts of topics—some of them unexpectedly niche. Not that knowing how much water a person should drink was particularly obscure. But the fact that chainsaws were originally made to assist in childbirth? Now that was.

“How much?”

“The recommended minimum is…oh, never mind, because we don’t have that much anyway!” he snapped in frustration.

With each passing minute, his carefully styled wedding-day hair was collapsing into a state of utter disarray. At this point, his head was a wild mess of curls sticking out in every direction, which he kept running his fingers through absentmindedly.

“You could at least try to help me. Painted nails aren’t going to save you from heatstroke.”

You were just about to say something, finally explain to him why this issue didn’t actually worry you, when a strangled yelp escaped his lips. His voice disappeared behind the seats as if something had dragged him to the ground.

A second later, he reappeared, eyes wide open, clutching a silver can of Diet Coke in his hands.

With reverence, he placed a slow kiss on it, as if he had just discovered the Holy Grail after dedicating his entire life to its pursuit.

“We have been saved.”

You scoffed at the sheer devotion in his voice.

A moment later, he was back in the driver’s seat, cracking the can open with a loud tssss. He took a sip.

“Pretty sure this has been here since the car was made.”

You made a face too, imagining the taste of warm, flat soda. Still, the sight of that familiar silver can had the same effect on you as a treat on a dog. You reached out your hand.

He pulled the drink out of your reach, looking scandalized.

“Hey, I fought for this while you were painting your nails. Go hunt down your own.”

"Hunt one down?" you repeated. "Oh, I see. You're gonna bask in your victory like you just took down a damn mammoth."

"Considering the amount of effort it took, I'd say that's a pretty accurate comparison."

"If you ever accidentally time-travel half a million years back, at least you'll be prepared. Actually, I'd bet you'd have a better chance of hunting down a mammoth than a caveman would of finding a can of Coke. But that's just my opinion."

"Well, actually, there were no mammoths half a million years ago. They lived during the Ice Age, which spanned from around 250,000 to 15,000 years ago."

You shot him a look. He did it again.

Not understanding what your problem was, he shrugged and tilted his head questioningly.

"Let me guess," you sighed. The polish on both your feet had dried by now, so you finally took them off the dashboard, wincing at how numb your legs had gotten. "You were one of those kids obsessed with dinosaurs?"

"Dinosaurs, astronomy, geology…"

"Okay, I get it—"

"Psychology, neurobiology, physical anthropology…"

"Now you're just making stuff up."

"Where did the dinosaurs even come from when I was talking about mammoths?”

"Logical train of thought."

"So, do you mix up lizards with elephants on a daily basis too?"

"All the time."

Spencer took a sip of the Coke, watching you with a hint of a smile on his lips. Then, he extended the can toward you.

"You should drink," he said solemnly. "I was just joking earlier."

"I know," you replied. "And I didn't help because I wanted to see how long it would take you to realize we could just ask the people in the car in front of us or behind us if they had something to drink."

His lips parted slightly in surprise as he processed your words.

"And I'm pretty sure they do," you added. "Because no one is dumb enough to go on a long drive without water in this heat."

You gave him a patient, almost pitying smile.

"Don’t take it too hard," you said, your voice dripping with mock sympathy. "The heat must’ve scrambled your brain for a second. I’m sure you were a little genius. And you probably still are. Just like, you know, a bigger one now."

Then you shot him a challenging look. "But let’s put that to the test. What’s 131 times 475?"

He took a slow breath, his expression caught somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

"62,225," he announced after a ridiculously short pause, not even blinking. Your eyes widened slightly. But then he added, "You do realize I could’ve just said a random number, and you wouldn’t be able to check?"

Your lips pursed. That thought hit you at the exact same moment he said it.

As Spencer let out a short laugh, you slid out of the car through the door that had been left open on your side—otherwise, you both probably would’ve suffocated in there.

"I'll go ask about the water," you explained.

You were just about to step fully outside when, out of nowhere, a stranger’s face suddenly appeared in the window of your aunt’s Chevrolet, grinning and waving enthusiastically.

A startled yelp escaped your lips, making all three of you jump in fright.

"What?" The stranger—a middle-aged man, maybe even a bit older—turned around, scanning for whatever danger had made you scream.

He hadn’t yet realized he was the reason. When his gaze landed back on you, his mouth suddenly fell open, as if it had just clicked.

"Oh! Me! Right, yes—terribly sorry, miss. I didn’t mean to scare you."

Your heart was still beating fast. That got to you more than any jumpscare in a horror movie you’d ever seen. Wow.

Spencer, realizing that forming a coherent sentence might be a challenge for you for the next, hm, fifteen minutes, leaned slightly toward you, as if making himself visible to the newcomer.

"Do you need anything, sir?"

The man, dressed in a green polo shirt and beige bermuda shorts, was still glancing at you apologetically. It seemed like Spencer’s question didn’t register with him right away.

"What? Oh—ah, do I need something? Actually, I do." He reached…behind his ear, revealing a cigarette he had tucked away there. "Got a light?"

You had already calmed down—after all, it wasn’t a real heart attack, just a slight preview of one. And it was you who first spotted the pack of cigarettes, accidentally covered by a wedding jacket, bought at a gas station with a lighter tucked inside.

The man let out something close to a moan of joy at the sight, immediately sticking the cigarette between his lips. Within seconds, the first bit of ash fell onto the pavement.

"Crazy situation with this road, huh?" he remarked, still standing right next to your car, shifting one hip out like he was on a smoke break with coworkers, casually gossiping about their boss. "And the worst thing? No one knows how long we’ll be stuck here."

Spencer parted his lips, ready to explain what the wait time depended on and how long, according to his calculations, it would last, when the man tossed the borrowed lighter back to him. Not expecting it, he tried to catch it, but his grip closed too late, and it fell onto the car floor.

"Oh, that's rough, kid. Never played baseball, huh?"

You shamelessly let out a snort of laughter, earning yourself an almost outraged look.

“Well, actually—”

“Sir, turns out we have a request for you too,” you interrupted, reaching out blindly to cover the mouth of your new friend, who was about to defend his honor. You nearly poked him in the eye. “Do you happen to have any water in your car? We didn’t bring a single bottle…”

The man looked genuinely shaken by this revelation.

“No water? In this heat? Are you trying to die?” His gaze landed on the open can of diet coke in Spencer’s hand. Taking a drag from his cigarette, he shook his head in disapproval. “Cancerous crap. Come on, kids. You hungry too?”

And that’s how you met Grzegorz.

That day, your horoscopes aligned, the universe decided to give you an early Christmas present, and fate was performing a belly dance around you. As it happened, Grzegorz was a food delivery driver. And he was stuck on the road with you—right in the middle of his shift.

"Are you sure this won’t get you into trouble later?" you asked, sitting on the step of his delivery van, swinging your legs like a child on a swing. It was a ridiculously late question, considering you were already halfway through a paper box of Chinese takeout. After a longer pause for chewing and swallowing, you added, "I mean, someone out there is waiting for this food."

Grzegorz (or rather, Greg, since that’s what he insisted you call him after five failed attempts at pronouncing his actual name) shrugged dismissively.

"Listen, we’ve been stuck here for hours. Whoever ordered this probably made themselves mac and cheese a long time ago. Hey, kid, you don’t want a fork?"

Your gaze fell on Spencer, sitting next to you, his lips pressing together with some embarrassment. His chopstick skills…well, they didn’t exist.

Still, at the sound of the offer, he shook his head.

“It’s fine,” he assured, as if convincing himself. Then he stared at his food for a prolonged moment and sighed.“..Do you have one?”

Once again, you felt like castaways, this time just rescued from a deserted island by some lone, kindhearted sailor.

Since it was already late afternoon, Greg’s van cast a shadow on the road, creating a clear boundary with the orange light spilling onto the pavement. You had drunk so much water that your stomach started to ache—only now realizing how thirsty you had been.

“It’s like delicate, tender beef compared to your raw, mammoth meat,” you remarked to your newfound friend, twisting the cap back onto the nearly empty liter bottle.

Spencer was busy adjusting one of the sloppily rolled-up sleeves of his shirt, which kept slipping back to its original position. He didn’t look up at you, but you heard him scoff.

“You’re just plain ungrateful, you know?”

You didn’t reply. Instead, you had been watching his clumsy attempts for a while. Finally, you sighed and reached for his wrist, pulling his entire forearm toward you. His hands were warm, making the veins on the back of them and running along his forearm more visible. His surprised gaze focused on your face and stayed there as you slowly and carefully rolled up the fabric to his elbows—first one, then the other.

"Voilà," you murmured softly.

When you lifted your gaze, you almost immediately collided with his. Sitting across from each other, you had leaned slightly toward him while helping with his sleeves—something you hadn't even noticed until now. Straightening up, returning to your original position, would have been the natural thing to do. But something held you back.

Maybe it was the sudden awareness that you hadn’t yet seen each other from such a close distance. That, in turn, pushed you toward another thought—a realization, really—that you had only known each other for a few hours.

And that led to an even stranger realization: you hadn’t even exchanged names.

As soon as it hit you, you parted your lips, ready to voice this revelation in a tone of disbelief. But something distracted you—his face. Right in front of yours, his head tilted slightly to the side. His irises, which from afar had seemed like two dark spots, now appeared to take on more depth with every second you spent staring into them.

You unconsciously parted your lips—you had meant to say something, but the thought slipped away. He noticed, his gaze dropping to your mouth.

"Actually, I've been wondering," Greg suddenly interjected, approaching you both. He had previously announced that he was going to chat with the people in the car next to his. Apparently, they'd been solving French crossword puzzles together for the first hour of being stuck on this road. None of them knew French.

Lighting another cigarette, Greg crouched down.

You released Spencer’s wrist and, as if nothing had happened, tilted your head slightly in Greg’s direction, silently prompting him to continue. You heard a heavy sigh from the man sitting across from you.

"Where are you guys coming from, anyway?" he asked. "Or where are you headed? I mean, you didn’t dress up like that for nothing."

"From a funeral," you said.

"From a wedding," Spencer announced at the same time.

You exchanged confused glances.

"So, which one is it?" Greg pressed, clearly intrigued. "’Cause I’m pretty sure a wedding and a funeral don’t usually go together. Unless..." He paused, taking a slow drag of his cigarette. "I mean, I guess different cultures do things differently. So?"

You stared at Spencer in silence before giving him a slight nod, wordlessly dumping the responsibility of explaining onto him. His eyes widened, and he immediately mimicked the gesture, making it clear he was leaving it to you instead.

You kept tossing the burden back and forth like a hot potato until, eventually, it landed in your hands for too long. With no way out, you had to say something. A few half-formed explanations tangled together in your head, and what came out was—

"We got married in a cemetery."

They both stared at you in confusion.

Before you could open your mouth to fix it, to your surprise, your supposed husband gave a confirming nod.

"That's right," he said, glancing at you briefly before turning to Greg with a look of feigned solemnity. "We understand it's...unconventional. But for us, it was beautiful”

Your eyes screamed one word. Idiot. His, on the other hand, took it as a compliment, lingering on you with a mischievous gleam.

You didn’t really want to joke like this at the expense of the guy who had just rescued you from your metaphorical deserted island. But before you could say anything, Greg suddenly sprang up and wedged himself between you, throwing an arm around each of you so forcefully that your heads nearly collided.

“That accident just had to happen today, huh?” Greg sighed with a hint of bitterness, still holding you both in place. You suddenly felt like a kid on Santa’s lap. Judging by Spencer’s expression, he probably did too. “To you of all people.” He shook his head. “Congrats, kids. Just a little advice, sometimes, it’s better to just let the other person be right. In marriage, I mean. Even if they’re talking total crap.”

You nodded, listening to his words, tinged with a certain melancholy, with quiet focus. Greg must have taken it as an attempt to break free because he let go of both of you at that moment, making you snap back into a straight position like a yo-yo. Spencer rubbed his neck, gazing at the pensive man.

"Got any more advice, Greg?"

And so, you let him talk—his words carrying the weight of someone who had learned the hard way. Unfortunately. Every time he addressed you as a couple, you exchanged fleeting glances behind his back, only to quickly look away.

Time passed like that, the van’s shadow inching forward. At some point, the couple from the French crossword puzzles appeared—an actual married couple, but with a much longer history. When Greg told them that you had gotten married that day, they immediately started asking about the details of the ceremony. By then, the joke had gone so far that backing out was no longer an option—you had to keep it up until the end.

They seemed genuinely scandalized when you accidentally let it slip that you hadn’t had a first dance—because neither of you could dance. Almost by force, they pulled you out of the van and began demonstrating their own routine. They barely remembered it themselves, yet they still did better than you—tripping over each other’s feet, stepping on toes, losing the rhythm you didn’t even know in the first place. And yet, you couldn’t stop smiling.

Eventually, you gave up and simply watched them move. They swore they hadn’t danced in years, but it didn’t show. It was only then, standing still, that you realized your back was resting comfortably against his chest.

By the time you got back to the car, the golden hour had arrived. It wrapped around you like a soft blanket as you sat together on the front bench seat, shoulder to shoulder, in quiet companionship.

"You can take a nap," you suggested at some point, noticing how heavy his eyelids had become.

At your words, he blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the drowsiness.

"No, seriously, it's okay. We're still at a standstill, but hopefully, we'll start moving soon. You can’t drive if you’re this exhausted."

He kept glancing at you doubtfully.

"You won’t get bored?"

You simply held up the French crossword puzzles you had taken from the couple.

Spencer let out a small laugh. A bit hesitantly, he shifted in his seat, searching for a comfortable spot to rest his head. In the end, he just let it drop onto his chest in such an agonizing position for his neck that you felt relieved when it finally landed on your shoulder instead.

Its weight was comforting—so much so that you started feeling drowsy too. You clung to the last threads of wakefulness, staying alert as the two of you half-sat, half-lay curled up against each other.

You never even touched the crossword puzzles. Instead, you just listened to his breathing, replaying the entire day minute by minute. And finding more than one tired smile on your lips.

By the time you finally started moving, the sun was setting.

By the time you reached the cliff—the destination you had almost forgotten about—the sky had unfurled into a canopy of shimmering stars.

You parked the car a bit further away so you could simply walk under that view, feeling as if it was drawing closer with every step.

You didn’t say much, but it was nothing like the silence from the beginning, when every exchanged glance screamed that you were strangers to each other. It was hard to grasp that the only thing separating you from those people was just a few passing hours.

You could barely see the same tortured groom in him as you kissed him there, on the cliff.

His lips still carried the lingering taste of cigarettes, and his body yielded without resistance when you pushed—no, gently laid him down—so that his back met the ground. At some point, however, you had to pull your face away, catching sight of something from the corner of your eye.

"Oh, come on," he pleaded, looking at you with a desperate sort of longing.

It took effort to ignore those puppy-dog eyes and the fingers reaching back toward your cheek. Instead, you focused on fixing your shirt sleeve, which had once again slipped down awkwardly to your wrist. This time, he simply watched you do it, visibly more at ease, his other hand tucking behind his head like a makeshift pillow.

"Will you marry me?" he asked suddenly.

So simply, as if he were inviting you to dinner.

You let out a barely audible chuckle.

"I'm serious."

"No, you're not. You just ran away from a wedding. Give yourself some time."

He let out a slow sigh, his entire chest rising and falling with it. Gently, you reached for the edge of his face, brushing away the stray strands of hair. His eyelids fluttered shut, but only for a brief moment. Then, just as suddenly, he opened them wide, so abruptly that you tilted your head at him in silent question.

"By the way," he began, removing one hand from your waist to place it between you—in a gesture of introduction. "I'm Spencer Reid."

You stayed still for a moment before finally shaking it.

"Nice to meet you, Spencer Reid."

*i feel like there will be questions about the last scene and the fact that his name was mentioned earlier but that was purely for the sake of narration bc it would’ve been strange to keep calling him friend or groom the entire time (though maybe i should have…) anyway, just note that his name was never actually spoken in dialogue before this moment, because the characters hadn’t introduced themselves to each other.

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fluff #doctor spencer reid #spence reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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pedge-page · 6 months ago

Note

Ok can I request something maybe out there. but sedation kink with doctor Joel. like I’m kind of into the idea of doctor/scientist prepping me for an exam or study and putting me under, reassuring and stroking my face because I’ve never been under anesthesia before and he wipes my few tears as I drift off. then he’s fondling me, putting my legs in stirrups, and observing my reactions to different stimuli like fingers, a brush, vibrator, mouth, putting cooling/tingly cream on my nipples/clit, etc., as I’m out and making notes and taking polaroids of my reactions like little twitches and noises, how wet I get, if my nipples react (if he can make me cum by just my nipples) edging me and im making little tired whines but eventually making me cum a few times while I’m out and he’s just watching what happens from down there and talking into his little mic that’s recording all this. then if I start to come to too early he tuts and asks if I want to stay under and I’m still out of it but drowsily say yes because I’m confused but feels good and he (safely) gives me some a little bit more of sedation just enough to keep me in that floaty place and starts fucking me so good that I actually come to while he’s inside and I fully come to as he’s removing the monitors and telling me how good I was for him and asking if it felt good and he’s giving me some water and kissing me telling me it’s okay to sleep because I’m still tired as he cleans me up so he can take us both home.

A Doctor’s Care

Doctor!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Nonny, you practically wrote this yourself. Please give yourself a massive pat on the back, because this was a fantastic idea. I've been foaming at the mouth about it for months (I'm so sorry It took so long!) Hope you're still around to read this!

Warnings : virgin!Reader, corrupt!doctor, corruption kink, sedation kink, non-con, oral, throat fucking, squirting, sex toys, nipple play, unprotected sex, kinda DDDNE-ish , groping, slight breeding kink, pussy pronouns, foot fetish, uhhhh please lmk if I'm missing anything

18+ ONLY

- - - -

“Now, you can start counting up to ten.”

You take a deep breath, trying you best to ignore the needle he had just inserted into your arm. “One, two, th-three, fooour, f-fi…”

He softly brushes your smoothed cheek, watching as your eyelids sag, the heavy lure of sleep washing over your entire body. Your muscles sink into the bed, eyes barely being able to close fully. You had never felt more relaxed. Up to this point, you were an axnious mess, but you knew you were in the good, trustworthy hands of Doctor Miller.

A stray tear wells up, threatening to spill. He smiles warmly and brushes it away for you. He doesn’t want to see you cry when you don’t even know why.

If you were a little more observant, you would have questioned why it was only Dr Miller moving forward with an anesthesia-induced operation. Typically there’s always more than one practitioner in the room. You would have wondered why nobody else was in the hospital at all.

He told you he could make a special booking for your physical exam, just the two of you, to help alleviate any anxiety about the scary aura of a hospital, the sick people roaming around and watching, peeping in through the doors. He made sure you were the only one here today, to help you get comfortable and have nothing to worry about.

Of course, it is Sunday. Nobody operates on Sunday. The hospital was completely empty save for his office and this room.

Not only is this out of standard procedure, this was off the books.

This was illegal, and you had no idea.

“Dr. Miller, log 47,” he says into his little recorder. “Patient is sedated fully. Heartrate and breathing—“ he gently hovers his fingers rigor below your nose, his eyes scanning the beeping monitor next to you—“ normal and stable. Beginning examination.”

Maybe, if you were smart, you would have also questioned why you needed to be sedated for a basic physical exam. You didnt ask what a physical really entailed, which gave him the perfect excuse for... well. This.

Joel had offered you some privacy before where he left his office to allow you to change your day clothing into the sterile gown. Such gentlemanly, professional attitude is tossed out the door as he doesn’t hesitate to unfasten the front, popping the buttons off one by one. He starts at your chest, exposing the silk smooth curve of your breasts. “Beautiful, healthy body,” he breathes. Every entimeter of your skin is observed closely. He continues, making his way down to your stomach, admiring your naval with his thick hand petting softly over your belly and unbuttoning down your hips. “I can already see excellent shape for reproduction, should she choose…”

He grins, now having you fully exposed to him under the bright light. Joel places his recorder in his chest pocket, leaving the mic on so he can continue to do his work with both steady hands.

“Fuck me,” he groans, the tent in his slacks already pressing against the cool metal table under you. He adjusts himself slightly, no concern for the perversion of his hard cock jutting out in the open as he brushes it against your legs and arms while circling you.

Dr. Miller was a practiced man. He'd lifted enough unconscious body parts throughout his career, being careful yet precise. It took him no time to hoist your legs into the cradled bend of the stirrups, spread wide and slightly elevated so that your core was exposed.

“Testing reactivity,” he says before pressing your feet with his thumbs. He massages your arch, feeling the tendons shift and resist. His lips ghost the ball of your foot. "Smooth here too. The skin of the feet haven't started callousing yet." Joel’s wet tongue glides along the crevice, thick and warm, before sucking on your toes, lubricating them with his tongue over and over again. He moans, closing his eyes and palming his bulge. You don’t seem to stir at all, but he does briefly catch the way your eyeballs shift underneath your lids, brows drawing then releasing.

He pushes the stirrups forward more, hands on the backs of your thighs until your knees are bent, as if ready to birth.

“Very healthy looking patient below the waist. I’ll need to taste more—test more before the insertion.”

Joel shifts along your side, and with no hesitation, grasps your tits roughly. He scrunches and squeezes tightly, pushing your nipples out until they’re hardened and swollen. He loves the way they feel in his big palms. It was last week when you let him do a breast exam, he was able to fondle them to his liking. He wanted to give them a taste then, but knew you weren’t ready for that.

Consciously, anyway.

A hot month descends upon your breast, and he glances up once again to see your reaction. He rolls your nip around and around before biting lightly. That receives a flinch. He smiles, sucking harder. They’re so warm and firm in his mouth, and he can’t help but suckle along them with fat suctioning sound each time he releases. “Very good potential for milk. Bet she’d make the sweetest milk.” He draws away, grabbing something from the table next to him. “Documenting …” he dabs some freezing cream directly onto your nipple and snaps a picture when your head jolts in surprise. Little sounds get lodged in your throat as he rubs it into your skin, kneading your mounds like dough. “Pretty thing…” he whispers seductively.

He alternates between his hot mouth and the cold cream, watching your head toss slightly here and there. Your heartrate had also picked up, beeping a little more fervently. Nothing major, but a few beats per minute quicker than before.

“We’re gonna stress her breathing next,” he sighs, moving up above your head. He feels your collar bone, working his hands up along your esophagus and underneath your neck. Pressing slightly to watch how much further your chest expands for air to ensure you’re still adjusting breath properly.

Dr Miller unzips his trousers, his hard length falling free and slapping your forehead. He chuckles lazily, rolling it over and over, his tip nudging your nose and closed eyes. You’re so compliant like this. Not even a peep of protest as he nestles his balls overtop your sockets and pushes his head against your soft lips.

“Seeing how well she can take …foreign objects…obstructing the jugluar.”

He presses in, your lips parting of their own accord to accomodate the intruder. “Ughhh,” he growls. His hands splay along the table, inching himself forward with a roll of his hips. Your jaw opens wider, forced to take the growing girth of his member. A strangled noise hiccups in your throat, and he immediately draws out. The monitor by your side beeps loudly before returning to a regular pace.

He aligns himself again and fucks your mouth, this time further than before until the mushroom tip is bulging in your throat.

“Ahhhhhhhhhhh,” he moans heavenly. He pulls out, lets you breathe, then forces it deeper. Again and again until you’re taking him for five seconds at a time, deeper and deeper, the table rattling with his incessant humps. “Fuck..you take that, swallowing my cock like a princess, you take cock so good little slut.”

He thrusts in and out until he’s on the verge of cumming. Slipping his cock out the final time, he grips the base, growling to keep his orgasm down. He’d been thinking about it a long time, where he’d defile you last with his seed. As tempting as your tight throat was, he knew there was better ways to make you his confidential patient, forever and always.

Your vital signs were steady again, although more elevated than you started. Your head twitched to the side slightly, eyeballs rolling under your eyelids. Your body can sense something is happening externally, but cannot rouse itself to intercept.

He smiles, stroking your spit stained cheeks. “You’re doin’ very well, sweet pea.” its one of his favorite things about these types of exams. Watching how much a patient's instinct tries to fight his ministrations. Yet failing under the sedation and trusting senses of its owner.

For the next hour, Dr. Miller plays with your body. He’s inserted a bullet vibrator up your vaginal walls, controlling its speed and intensity on the little device. With each change in setting, your body reacted differently. Your hips bucked involuntarily, head swayed side to side. Hums of pleasure bubbled in your chest and out your nose, straining to make a coherent noise. He watched, spreading your folds so your little clit was perfectly on display. She throbbed, swelling to an engorged state. So vibrantly colored, filled with blood as he sets her nerves ablaze.

He’d press his warm lips to her before patching it with a cubed ice. Your body didn’t like that, stomach tensing and knees wanting to lock. He had to get the stirrups tightened around your calves to keep you spread open for him.

“That’s my girl,” he whispers quietly against your thigh, his plush lips ghosting the inside. He’s left his mic on recording, giving himself the freedom to savor your goosebumps for himself.

Dr Miller circled around you again, viewing your exposed chest. Your nipples were stiff, and he makes note about how erect they’d become since starting your test. He presses his mouth there, his fingers dancing south to come in contact with your drooping pussy. He’s got a little cup underneath your butt, to capture any of your juices that might leak from his ministrations. For extra (taste) testing in the future.

With his mouth on your breast and three fingers rubbing your clit in clockwise motion, Joel suckles and fingers you with deadly precision.

“Trying to make the patient—“ his tongue circles over your nipple thrice before nipping at your nipple, sucking it to a point—“reach climax.”

He spanks your pussy, rewarding himself with a quiver from your body. “That’s it babygirl, you feel that?” He slaps it again, your body jolting, but his teeth sink further into the flesh of your boob to keep your chest in place.

He removes his hand entirely, focusing solely on sucking your tits. There’s a little device wedged inside you, not unlike the bullet vibrator, but this one can sense contractions. It connects to a monitor across the room, recording the pulses inside your pussy.

“That’s it—I see it—she’s working up to it—“ he sucks harder on your tits, swallowing his own saliva, eyes desperately strained to see your cunt reflected back on him on the TV and the matching pulses growing next to it.

The lines reach their heightened point, and your body wreathes appropriately as you cum. Your poor little cunny, contracting around nothing as you orgasm from his tongue on your breasts alone.

“I want to see if I can just—“ he slips his hand back down to your pussy, diving three fingers in at once and rapidly squelching upward towards that gummy part inside.

Suddenly, you let out an audible yelp, knees folding inward as liquid gushes from your opening.

“Oohhhh yes, that’s a good girl, that’s a good girl!” He praises, smirking as you continue to squirt all over his palm and splash onto the floor. The fucking cup wouldn’t capture all of it, an he’d have to really clean up. But he wasn’t expecting such promising results.

“She’s well hydrated for sure.”

By the way you shake your head, eyes starting to peep over, it doesn’t seem like you knew you could squirt either.

“Shhhh,” he hums, putting his palm over your eyes to block the light. “Rest now, you’re in good hands. Do you want to keep sleeping?” He glances over at the IV bag, already dripping another extra droplet into your system. “You’re so warm and safe here. Let’s rest a little more.”

You let out a sigh, eyes closed and nodding slightly before falling to the side, back into a deep state of unconsciousness.

How pathetic you can’t even tell your lower half is soaking wet of your own doing.

He makes his way back to stand between your legs, kicking away the little rolling stool.

“See how well this pussy takes a real poundin.’” He pumps his shaft along your slick entrance, dabbing it repeatedly and grinning at how wet it sounds. He’d been edging himself this whole time. Not just this evening, but the entire few months he’s been you ever doting, caring, overly invested doctor, waiting to get you right here, spread out for him.

“She’s still so soft, so tight,” he gulps with a pant. Your chest was inflating up and down more quickly, so he knew you could feel something happening. “You’re doin’ great, baby. Just—just a little more—“

He notches the tip along your weeping hole. “She’s so patient for me.” He wonders if you’ll feel this in the morning when you wake.

Sliding in the first inch, Joel opens his jaw in silent prayer, head tilted back towards the ceiling. He pushes in again, feeling the first bit of resistance from your walls. Shit, he knew you were a virgin. You had marked it embarrassingly during one of the first appointments where he intimately needed to know all your sexual activities. You’d admitted having masturbated, which he encouraged as healthy, though the truth was so that he wouldn’t have to try too hard to stretch you out at this exact moment. Luckily he had loosened you up pretty well with his fingers and tongue this good hour, so when the good doctor pulls out then thrusts half his length in one go, you can’t offer any more rebellion to it.

When he finally bottoms out, he lets out a satisfied whimper. His cheek turned upright into a selfish, wicked grin. “Fuck, your pussy looks so good around my cock,” he says loudly, taunting the fact that you couldn’t retort even if you could hear him properly. He hasn’t had any relevant, professional notes to take for a long while now, instead resorting to little ‘fuckfuckfuck’s as he thrusts his hips in and out of your now loosened cunt.

He reaches for the wand vibrator, switching it on and positioning it right at your clit, against the base of his dick. Its whirs to life, making your whole body contract in on itself.

“Auuggghhhh fuck yeah—fuck that’s it sweet girl—just feel that—feelin’ it so good.” He continues to fuck you open, biting his tongue and watching you shift with each rut into your unconscious body. Your eyelashes flutter, instinct fighting to get you awake. Jesus he wants it—wants you to wake up right fucking now, see what he’s doing to you. The way your eyes would float, confused, coming into focus as the trusted doc is battering your once pure insides in the name of your health.

You didn’t know he’d already been fired and relocated from 6 different hospitals across the country for this exact reason. Granted, most anyone could report was inappropriate behavior and groping. He’d have his way with girls like you, in this exact position before. If anybody ever fully caught on to this, he’d be strung up in jail by now.

Whines bubble up from your chest as he gropes your tit with one hand, swirling the wand around your nub with the other. It takes a few minutes of on and off before he feels you clenching around him and cumming. Your back arches slightly, gasping through your mouth. He has to steady himself with his hands flat on either side of the observation table, hunched over and ramming into you while you’re still squeezing the fuck out of him. He likes the way your juices splash down his thighs and balls with each puncture. He’s a good doctor though, making sure you wouldn’t bleed or tear throughout this rough ordeal. He’s a proper man when it comes to his practice.

“Shit, shit—babydoll—fuckyeah this pussy—I’m not gonna be able to give this one up--“ He hums to himself, eyes shut.

You barely register the fact that you’re coming to. Your eyes are slitted but the tunnel vision is still so strong. Foggy and muffled, you can feel your body moving but can’t bring your muscles to do anything about it.

“D-J-oel,” you rasp, eyes fluttering close again as you definitely feel something deep within your stomach. You’re still so out of it, half your senses fading and drawing while being stimulated, unable to fully reach your brain. Your body is screaming to wake up though despite the tempting lull back to sleep. So you open your eyes again, rollin them around you. Your vision becomes clearer, still blurring but able to make outlines and lights now. Still in the hospital, still with the bright lights, still with Doctor Miller—

Doctor Miller, standing between your spread, naked legs with his wet, hard and long cock disappearing in and out of you. Doctor Miller, cursing and staring at where your bodies join, oblivious to your aroused state. Doctor Miller, telling you sweet words like how he’s gonna take you home, he’s gonna keep you like this till you’re full of him, then he's really gonna watch you grow, none of it really making coherent sense to you at the moment.

But there is that feeling inside, deep within your core that’s growing. Everything feels so wet and hot at the same time. He’s incessantly rubbing something delicious, electrocuting your nerves to an awakened state so far more than anything else.

You let out a strangled moan, and his head shoots up, watching you roll your neck and look around. Your sounds get louder, jaw flexing to let them loose.

He's been caught, and he doesn’t stop. “Fuck-fuck babygirl that’s it—M’takin real good care of ya—watch…watch me…watch me when ya cum—“ he groans, gripping your hips and slamming into you almost abusively.

“Ah-ah-ah-ah!” You wail, unable to tear your limited vision away from him as he ruts like a dog in heat, his hips humping your ass.

He lets out a startled bark, stilling inside you all the way. That makes your eyes fly wide open, more awake now than before as you start to cum around him. You don’t know what’s happening, don’t understand it and yet your body only knows pleasure, and that’s what your brain releases all over your insides and out. He’s so warm inside, filling you with something hot and sticky.

There’s a thin sheen of sweat on you, and even greater on him. He pulls out, mummuring some praise at your pearly, pulsing slit. Your heart is pounding, but body exhausted, like you’d been at this for a while now. You can’t move your head, and your eyes feel heavy once again.

“Hey, hey,” he coos softly next to you. He cups your face in his big hands, bringing you to look at him. “Hey there, angel. How we feeling? You did amazing.”

He feels gentle, touching your fuzzy spots all over again like honey. “Mmm,” you nod.

He smiles, beginning to turn off the monitors and unhook you from the sensors. “Did such a great job for me, never had a patient as good as you.” He kisses your forehead, long and comforting. now with the needle out, you still feel drowsy, but with his reassuring words and touches, you don’t feel the need to get up any time soon.

“Here, drink this—“ he hands you a little platic cup of water with a straw. You take a few sips, suddenly feel a massive, near painful pressure in your throat, like something had been lodged there not long ago. Coughing slightly, you give him back the cup, falling back against the headrest.

“Shhh, it’s okay. No need to fight it. You can keep resting.” He kisses you on the lips, silencing any protest. Your brain still feels so floaty, you don’t even question the way his tongue swipes along your teeth. You don’t care, enjoying the way he’s treating you so well after the procedure. He makes you feel safer than ever.

“Gonna clean you up now. Take you home.”

Of course, you don’t think about it, as he makes you feel so at home now. You quickly fall back asleep. Joel wheels you out of the room, down towards his un-registered truck and into the back where he whisks you away to your very new, very permanent, very secluded "home."

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist

#joel miller fan fiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #last of us fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fan fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou smut #last of us fic #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fic #last of us smut #the last of us smut

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thargelalia · 5 months ago

Text

see you in hell, baby

jason todd x fem!reader

Dick naively expects Jason to help him stay in your good graces as the MVP brother-in-law

-> 1.4k words

-> fluff, poor attempt at humor

-> warnings: none, the dynamic duo being dorks together perhaps?

please, reblog if you like or the author will cry

There's nothing better than to enjoy the vast collection of classics at the Wayne Manor library on a rare peaceful Sunday afternoon.

Or is it?

“Jaybird, hey!” Dick greets his younger brother, a little more excited than usual, as he saunters into the library. “Have you.. uhh, is my BFF around?”

He’s scanning around the place like you could emerge from behind the couches or bookshelves at any given moment. Judging by his tone, Jason can already tell Dick wants something, but chooses to ignore him, too immersed in his current book to care.

Dick looks left and right to the hallway before closing the doors, and joining Jason on the leather couch. The latter finally acknowledged his older brother to get this over with, so he can leave and Jason can read in peace.

“She went to the bathroom.. why?” Jason says, narrowing his eyes inquisitively at Dick’s fidgeting. A fake smile plastered on his face, sweat bidding on the temple. He’s obviously worried about something. “You’re being weirder than usual.. Got your pants stuffed with itching powder again?”

His lips twitch upwards a little at the memory.

“No, I— please, don’t ever remind me of that day again.” Dick winces, rubbing on his thigh to soothe an imaginary itch. Steph really goes all in on April Fool’s Day.

He clears his throat. “So, uh.. maybe, just maybe… I might’ve accidentally scratched that Beatles record sis-in-law lent to me last week.”

Jason exhales, contemplating whether he should ease Dick’s mind or not. While you were very careful and protective of your vinyl record collection, depending on which one that got damaged – and the extent of it – you might get a little upset, but let it go without much trouble.

Not before an hour lecture to the culprit about taking better care of other people’s stuff, of course.

“As long as it’s not Sergeant Pepper’s, you’ll be fine.” Jason shrugs, then chuckles to himself a little as he opens his book again. “Perhaps a kick or two to your shins.”

The silence that follows is pregnant with guilt. Jason can almost smell it in the air at the way his brother blanches next to him.

“Fuck. Don’t tell me—”

“It was an accident!”

“Dick, you insane?! It was a gift from her grandmother!” Jason chastises, smacking the book shut with a hard thud. “You damaged an original copy from the seventies, you fucking idiot!”

Dick slides down on the couch, a pout taking over his lips. “I know!”

“Can’t believe she let you borrow it.” Jason huffs, crossing his arms while shaking his head indignantly.

Dick has his hands on his head, about ready to rip his hair out.

“I know! What do I do now??”

“Well… for starters,” Jason begins dead serious, leaning towards Dick, who straightens his posture, desperate to hear a solution, “when was the last time you updated your last will and testament?”

“Shit.” Dick falls into the cushions, a desolated sigh leaving the depths of his soul. “Not helping, man.”

“Maybe Bruce can recycle my gravestone,” Jason continues, tapping his chin in fake thought, “what about an epitaph? Sure you’ve got some ideas.”

As always, any comment remotely related to his death has all the bats squirming or tensing like they’ve been poked by Catwoman’s sharp claws – which most of them have, in fact. They tend to feel uneasy whenever Jason makes his grim jokes.

And perhaps that’s exactly why he does it.

“Please, don’t talk like that,” Dick says softly, furrowing his eyebrows. Then, he changes his demeanor completely. “And yes, I do. Here lies Gotham’s hottest piece of ass. S.I.P.”

Jason gives him an unimpressed look, lifting his eyebrow. “S.I.P?”

His brother smiles as if he was dying to be asked that. “Sashay in peace.”

“Hope you make a safe passage, disco queen.” Jason deadpans. “Make sure to head straight to heaven, though. Don’t wanna put up with your glittery ass in hell, too.”

Dick seems to suddenly remember why he was there in the first place. He grabs his younger brother by the shoulders, and shakes frantically. “This is serious, Jaybird! What now? I’ll lose my ‘favorite brother-in-law’ privileges!”

Jason kisses his teeth in annoyance, immediately releasing himself from Dick’s grasp, and pushing on his chest with zero delicacy. “You never had those.”

Anyone other than Dick — and Bruce — would’ve splattered themselves on the cushions at being on the receiving end of Jason’s hard shove. But his older brother only tilts back, and recovers his posture like a roly-poly toy. An impressive display of sheer core strength.

“Yes, I did. I do. Remember her last seminar? She only had one other seat aside from yours, and she chose to invite me.” He points at himself, sounding smug. “And what about the wine she got me from her trip to France? Or the tequila from Mexico, huh?”

“The others aren’t old enough to drink.” Jason points out, groaning as he massages his temples. This conversation is getting tiresome. Baby, where are you? He thinks in exasperation. Dealing with his family outside patrol is easier when you’re right next to him.

Dick freezes, his index finger lifted in the air.

He lowers it, closing his mouth.

Then, he raises it again, attempting to hide his wounded pride.

“That’s not the point! The point is—”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it.” Jason cuts him off, waving impatiently before he adds dryly, “too late for that, though. Replacement joined her Public Health research group last month. She’s invited him to dinner at our place twice now, unfortunately.”

There’s a shocked gasp.

“Not to mention the little demon asking her for help with his school projects, even though everyone knows he’s damn well capable of handling himself.”

An even bigger gasp leaves Dick’s lips, this time followed by a dramatic hand to his chest.

Jason rolls his eyes. “Will you fucking stop?”

“I need to amp up my game. Urgently.”

“Good luck with that. Not sure you can—”

Jason’s interrupted by the sound of the doors opening. The scowl on his face immediately dissolves into a relieved look at your return. Meanwhile, his brother appears as if he’s staring at a ghost.

You smile, tipping your head up. “Hey, Dick! What’s up?”

“Heeey, bestie!” He shoots up from the couch, sounding extremely unnatural as he glances at the watch on his wrist. “I–um.. Damn! I gotta pick up Babs at her friend’s house now. See you guys later!”

With a quick kiss to your cheek, he breezes past you and out the doors like he’s suddenly been possessed by Wally West.

“What was that?” You turn from the door to your boyfriend, giving him a puzzled look.

Jason contemplates for a brief moment whether he should tell the truth or not. More out of concern over you, as he’d hate to upset you, than over Dick’s sake obviously. But if you found out later that he knew about this fuckup, he’d join his brother’s body in the graveyard. And Jason is very much enjoying his second chance at life right now.

“Dick ruined your Sergeant Pepper’s record.” Just as predicted, he doesn’t feel the slightest bit of remorse for snitching on his older brother. Jason wishes he’d broken the news in a better way, but he let his eagerness for throwing Dick under the bus override his judgment.

Much to his surprise, you don’t show any expressive reaction aside from the slight purse of your lips.

“You’re talking about the scratch?” You ask simply, joining him on the burgundy couch as he opens an arm to envelop you in a half embrace.

He tilts his head to rest against yours. “You’ve seen it already?”

“It was there before he got it. Probably happened during my last move out.”

“Oh. Oh.”

“Poor Dick. I told him my grandma loved that record… He must be feeling like trash.” A sigh escapes your lips as you lean against Jason’s chest. “You should probably tell him when he comes back.”

“Baby, I’m not telling anything.” Jason laughs wickedly, taking your hand in his large one and bringing it up to his lips. The tender kiss offers a stark contrast against the disapproval in his tone. “Serves him right for not being watchful enough.”

“You’re so evil, Jace.” You tilt your head up, so he can see the playful glint in your eyes. “There’s no place for you in heaven, you know that, right?”

Jason eyes you in disbelief. “Are you planning on telling him?”

The pressing of your lips together is already enough to answer him – a futile attempt to conceal a mischievous smile.

“That’s what I thought.” He pulls you to sit sideways on his thighs, arms tightening around your waist as he leans in to kiss your neck. Lips lingering there as his voice lowers in a way that makes you shiver when he says, “guess we’ll both be sharing Satan's throne as you sit on my lap in hell, baby.”

A/N: I wanna be Jason's boo, and Dick's bestie so bad y'all!!

Remember to reblog, and let me know your thoughts if you liked. It helps me stay motivated to post on here <33

divider is from here

#jason todd fanfic #jason todd x reader #jason todd fluff #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #dc fanfic #jason todd x y/n #dc imagine #red hood fanfiction #jason todd loves his gf #red hood x reader #dc x reader #dc x you #dc fanfiction

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bks-writing-adventures · 11 months ago

Text

Four Is Plenty (Aemond X Pregnant! Reader)

Warnings: Pregnancy, fluff, mentions of poop and genitals.

When Aemond married you, he had many things envisioned. But this was not one of them. Watching you waddle around, grumbling and mumbling as you dropped your book. He smiled, trying to not look too amused. It hadn’t taken you long to get pregnant at all, for two weeks after your wedding night, blood did not fill the chamberpot. It became clear very quickly that you were pregnant, and now, at nine months, you were just moments away from bursting.

He had never seen a woman look so humongous, but of course he would not tell you that. “Allow me to help, my love,” He spoke, picking up her book and pressing kisses to her fingertips. He and the lords had an ongoing bet going, since they were all certain that you had more than one baby trapped up inside you. His bet was three, and Ser Criston was sure it would only be one humongous baby.

“I hate this.” You mumbled, and he sighed softly in response as his hands moved to cup your stomach. He had read all the books he could find on pregnancy and child care, his palms on the bottom of your belly, lifting gently to help relieve you of your pain.

“Do not fret. It will be any day now, and you will feel better than ever before,” He spoke, rubbing over the stretchmarks that formed all over your belly like tiger stripes. “

I am simply excited to be able to sleep on my belly again,” You grumbled, whining as he slowly let go of your belly, leaving you to deal with all the weight again. “I hope the birth is not too great of a pain, and I hope the midwives do not scream in my face,” You spoke, and he smiled as he kissed both of your cheeks. They had gotten nice and round with your weight gain, and he absolutely loved the way you looked.

“I promise they will not. I will be there the whole time,” He spoke, stroking your hair.

“Hm…” You mumbled, moving to go take your afternoon nap, a pillow at her lower back to relieve the ache. He laid in bed next to you, tracing his fingers over your nose and hairline, your collarbone and your belly. He was addicted to touching you, watching your cheeks get pink, feeling your breath along his wrist. As he traced small swirls onto your swelling belly, he felt a wetness forming under him. His brows scrunched, and he quickly sat up, the breath leaving his lungs when he saw your lounge gown covered in fluid.

Your water had broke. He cleared his throat, trying his best not to panic as he quickly got to his feet and rang the bell he had installed just for this occasion. Slowly, your eyes began to open up. You were so sleepy that you felt as though your eyes wer glued shut, eyes getting wide as you felt the soggy blankets under you. It felt so gross and sticky that you could cry, and you did, as the room began to flood with people. It was so stressful, and you could hardly think as they propped you up and started wiping your head and face with a cold cloth.

“It is okay, my lady. It is okay, simply spread your legs and let us look,” One of them said lightly. She was young and calm, and her attitude was slowly melting into you. It made you feel much better that they were not freaking out, that they seemed confident that you would be just fine. And maybe you would be. From a young age, it was one of your greatest fears to die in childbirth- and hesitantly, your thighs parted, and you let one of the midwives take a peek.

“Okay, we are at one inch,” She said quietly. You weren’t sure how much it was supposed to be, but the smile on her face made you smile too, nodding slowly. Aemond was over educated on the ways of birth, and you had chosen to remind blissfully ignorant. That way, you would be less afraid when the time came. And less afraid you were, eyes wandering across the ceiling. You had spent your days painting it, and from down here, the small patches that you were able to paint looked so insignificant.

“When this baby is out, I will make a portrait of us.. Right there,” You spoke, pointing up at the ceiling, right at the center.

“I’m sure it will be beautiful,” He said gently, kissing your palm.

“Do you have any ideas for names, My Lady?” one of the midwives asked, and your mind wandered. You were not a big fan of most Targaryen names, as they sounded rather silly. But there were one or two that you would not mind.

“I like Aenys, for a boy,” You said, noticing how Aemond sighed quietly against your hand.

“I would prefer Maegor,” He said gently, and you smiled in return.

“That is nice, dear. But as I said, I like the name Aenys. And for a girl….” You trailed off, trying to think. Too many Valyrian girl names sounded the same. There was already a Rhaenys, a Rhaenyra, and a Rhaena. Family dinners were getting far too complicated.

“What about Alysanne?” Your husband asked softly, brows scrunched as he looked down between your legs. He would be lying if he said that it was a pleasant sight, and he swallowed his discomfort as his eye wandered back to your face, watching a pleasant expression grow on your features.

“Alysanne. That is sweet. I like that,” You nodded, not knowing what was to come. As the hours grew later, you grew rather bored. Your stomach grumbled, but you could not eat, the nurses insisting that you would throw any food right up.

“This child sure is taking its time,” You commented as you made an attempt to sit up, the midwives gently nudging your shoulders. “Relax,” You told them quietly, eyes narrowing a little. “I can move,” You spoke, reaching toward the bedside table for your latest read.

“Shall we get the maesters to quicken the process?” One offered, and you pondered the thought before gently shaking your head. “I would prefer not to be surrounded by men,” You said, licking your finger tip as you pulled on the brittle page of your book, your eyes wandering over the words. “The child will come when it is ready,” You mumbled. The night was tense, and with every breath, the midwives jumped. It would not be for a few hours that you let out a loud grunt, gripping your belly. “Gods above!” You shouted, and Aemond jumped to your side. You hadn’t realized just how sharp the pains would be, your toes curling up.

“Its okay, its okay,” He mumbled, trying to soothe you. You let out a loud groan, holding air in your lungs as your midwife let you know that you were at two inches or so.

“Is that good?” You choked out, and Aemond smiled at you, all of his teeth showing. It was a rare sight, as he usually kept his expressions to the absolute minimum.

“Very good, my love. Within the hour, we will have a babe in our arms,” He murmured, and you had never seen him look so proud. And like magic, when half an hour passed, you grunted loudly, clawing into his leather jacket, leaving crescent moons of your nails in the fabric.

“Shh, shhhh….” He murmured, and you almost shouted at him. It took a second to realize he wasn’t trying to hush you, but rather trying to comfort you, and slowly, you let him.

“It is crowning, my lady!” A midwife whispered, her eyes full of awe. It was an odd feeling, being a spectacle. Everyone just staring at your vagina.

“Thats… nice,” You mumbled, your face scrunching up as they rubbed our face with a cold cloth.

“You’re doing incredible, my lady. Perhaps the best i’ve ever seen.” A voice said gently, helping to hold your legs apart. Your cheeks got pink, and you curled up a little. You grunted loudly, your face bright red as you felt all your muscles tense and relax, your eyes snapping open. This was the grossest thing ever, and a maid simply pulled the bedpan out from beneath you, going to a small bin to simply throw out your mess as crying filled the room. Your hands reached for your face, and to your great surprise, the cries were not your own, and when you finally looked down, you could see the midwives gently touching the shoulders of an infant, helping to pull out the child.

“Be careful!” You shouted loudly.

“I am, my lady. The most careful I can be,” You had to praise the midwives, you could never have the patience. You felt a bit bad for yelling, but the pain overrid any guilt you could feel.

“That is one…” Aemond whispered softly, tracing over your arm.

“Do you wish to cut the cord?” He was offered. You mumbled softly, looking away as they gave him scissors. It made you anxious. You just had to hope he wouldn’t mess things up, sighing in relief as they finally put the infant on your chest. It was slightly slimy and still red in the face, wailing quietly. But gods, was it the best thing you’d ever seen in your life.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” You whispered softly, looking up to be met with Aemond’s glowing face.

“A boy,” He whispered softly, and you felt your eyes getting wet as the baby suckled on your chest, getting nice and quiet.

“Aenys.” You mumbled quietly, and for a few minutes, everything was calm, until you felt a rumble in your tummy.

“Is it the after birth?” One of the midwives asked, coming to your help, eyes going wide as she stared at you.

“What?” You asked softly, looking over at Aemond as he leaned over, too.

“Its another!” He exclaims, his voice joyous and loud.

“Shhhh…” You mumbled, eyes shut. You were so focused on the baby on your breast, and it didn’t even hurt anymore. Everything was a daze as they whispered and squealed, and before you knew it, another baby was crying, and your brows were furrowed.

“Twins..” You mumbled, smiling a little as they put the baby on your other breast. “Boy or girl?” You murmured softly, too exhausted to look.

“A girl,” Aemond told you gently, rubbing your shoulders, squeezing the tension out with his thumbs.

“A girl..” You repeated, smiling lazily. “Hmmm…” You grumbled, ignoring the rest of the sounds around her. You didn’t even know what was happening anymore, but no one seemed afraid, so slowly, you drifted to sleep. You didn’t know how much time had passed when you woke, but you could hear about a dozen voices, and feel cloth over your body. Your eyes cracked open slowly, the afternoon light assaulting your irises, making you hiss softly in distaste.

“The curtains,” You heard a voice say, and lovely shade covered you, following the sound of the curtain rings dragging across the rods.

“I have never seen so many newborns at once,” As the sleepiness began to fade away, you could focus on the voices more, and slowly, you began to sit up. In your unconscious state, they had put you in a nice, powder blue nightgown, and your hair was pulled away from your face, fresh sheets on the bed. You must have been as still as stone.

“Ah, she is awake,” you felt a hand come to your head, frowning for a moment before your eyes focused, seeing your mother in law in front of you.

“You must be exhausted, but you have done us all so proud,” she said gently, kissing the top of your head. She was holding a baby, but it was not one that you had seen, and for a moment, you didnt’ even think it was yours, until you saw those pudgy cheeks and strong browbone. Your eyes slowly wandered. There were four cribs in the room. Your heartbeat picked up, blinking slowly. “Quadruplets. I cannot believe it,” Alicent spoke, but her voice slowly faded out. Four. You hadn’t been ready for that, you ready for two, at most.

“We set Aenys aside so we do not confuse him for the others,” Aemond said softly, coming toward you, a baby in each arm. One swaddled in violet, the other in a rosy color.

“Two boys and two girls. I have never seen anything more perfect,” He whispered softly. “Do you want to hold the girls? You haven’t named them yet. Though, i’ve been calling this one Alysanne, and she seems to like it,” he says, kissing the forehead of the one wrapped in rosy plush. She was surely the runt of the litter, her little nose twitching with his kiss. You hummed, gently taking the other, the one wrapped in violet satin. Once you could get a good look at her face, you smiled at the wisps of gold and white along her scalp, curling up into little coils. Her cheeks were rosy and fat, and her brows were practically invisible.

“...Daeryn. Rynnie for short,” You spoke, and he smiled softly.

“I hope you do not mind, wife, but I decided to name the other boy,” He said sheepishly, making your brows raise. You did not mind, of course, you just hoped that it wasn’t an ugly name. While he enjoyed the name Maegor, you found it rather boring, it tasted like sour ash on your tongue. “Do not worry, I did not name him Maegor,” He spoke, practically reading your mind, and Helaena spoke up from her seat by the window.

“I would not let him.” She says, making you smile.

“So what is this wonderful name you picked?” You asked, looking up at him as Daeryn’s little hand curled around your finger.

“Aelorn,” He spoke, his expression hopeful. It was not your favorite name, but seeing his expression, so sweet and genuine, you nodded.

“I like it.” You said softly, letting him give you the smallest of kisses on your dry lips.

“We will have to have more clothes made,” He said softly, letting out a small laugh.

“You may use the ones I have from the twins,” Helaena spoke up, setting her embroidery project down on her lap. Curious, you looked over, seeing fou little baby faces stitched into the fabric, your heart warming up at the sight.

“So, when will you start trying again?” Alicent asked, half teasing and half serious, making Aemond blink slowly.

“Trust me, Mother. Four is plenty.” He smiled, and you could not help but agree. Yesterday, you expected one child. And now you had enough to last a lifetime. And honestly? You’d never been happier.

Thank you so much to everyone who reads! I'm thinking about having the quadruplets as recurring characters and making a little mini-series of them growing up. Thoughts?

#aemond x you #aemond fanfic #aemond fic #prince aemond #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond x oc #aemond x y/n #helaena targaryen #alicent hightower

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boolger · 5 months ago

Text

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 6

<-former chapter -AO3-next chapter -> Call of duty. My ko-fi, Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. WC: 6.1k

MDNI MDNI READ THE TAGS

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, it dies later on, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy, pregnancy

Authors note: this is unedited until I pull myself together and fix it tomorrow. Thank u for your patience while I stumbled through life.Enjoy sinners.❤️

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You found him in the living room alone, reading. Your uncertainty made you whine, your fear of him actually getting rid of you overtaking you once more.

“John?” Your voice was barely above a whisper and you slowly crawled closer to him in the armchair, leaning against one of his legs, carefully looking up at him.

“Yes, sweetheart?” He lowered his book, a soft smile on his face, looking down at you with a gaze you had missed. A look shared just between the two of you, with an understanding and loving gentleness that made your heart swell. Nikolai was outside, having forced John to stay. To relax.

“Are you going to ban me from the house?” Your voice shook a little, for once not dramatic in any way or using it to get attention; it was from genuine worry of being abandoned, “or get a new lapdog?”

You could see it happen honestly, some cute little thing that was everything you were insecure about. Having spent a whole life being forced and told to be a lapdog, suddenly being pushed out of that box felt weird. It scared you, the thought of Price not wanting you back inside then, not a good enough working dog but not a good enough lapdog either. You’d never had full control over your life - and once again, your fate was in the hands of somebody else.

John blinked down at you while you tipped your ears down a little, tail still while you waited for the reply.

Waiting for your upcoming future to be revealed; to be forced to be an outdoor dog, just for your owner to find a new sweet thing to cast his love upon. Somebody who accepted everything without question.

“Oh, princess,” the softness almost took you by surprise and then his warm hand was on your head, gently petting you and you felt your eyelids lower as little, breathing in the love, “my sweet darling puppy.”

A whimper left you.

“I have not been giving you enough attention, have I?” He was whispering too now.

“I just -“ you hadn’t planned to cry but you felt the tears threaten to break free from your eyes, “I know you want me to get along with the others but I don’t wanna lose you, I don’t -“

His hands moved and suddenly the book slid down to the floor, while you were grabbed beneath your armpits and you were more than happy to help crawl up in his lap.

“My sweet girl,” he whispered into your skin as you nuzzled closer, both his and your own arms sliding around to hold around the other. Intertwined. Your soft body was pulled tight against your owner and you breathed in the pure scent of him, feeling your tail wagging even as you sniffled a little.

“I will never get rid of you,” he whispered, “no matter what happens, you’re my princess puppy. My sweet darling, my perfect Daisy, eh?”

You nodded into his neck, your fingers digging into his clothes. Trying to make your brain understand the words, accept them, try to keep your anxieties away.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered but Price just gave you a squeeze.

“Don’t apologise,” he answered gently in his own whisper, “I’m sorry, darling, we’re not going back to the city but that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve my attention. Misbehaving or not.”

You cried into his neck, one of his hands gently petting your back, his hand a calming touch as your rib cage shuddered now and again.

“I love you, sir.”

“I love you too, my sweet girl,” he promised, “even when Nikolai moves in permanently or when you get along more with the boys, you’ll always be my favorite girl, my favorite puppy. Got it?”

“Yessir,” it was barely a whisper any more. Settled in his lap, you might have been instantly fucking in the past, but for now the two of you just enjoyed each others closeness.

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Outside the safety of the farmhouse that you never wanted to live in, laid the dangerous grounds; filled with terrifying animals and farm hands that tease you, with creepy sheep that screamed, with threatening fields that seemed never ending yet the fear of the unsafe on the other end seemed worse.

There was the stench of so many things, so many objects that could offer pain, animals that could attack, hybrids that could bite.

But you had found one single spot that you supposed you liked.

… a little bit.

Not if anybody asked.

You carefully pet the head of one of the mothers, as it bleated at you, eyes carefully watching you. Whether it didn’t find you dangerous or remembered you from the other day, you weren’t sure - and it wasn’t like you could ask it.

But none of them attacked you as you joined them, sitting down close to the baby goats, just as Gaz had shown you the other day.

Their tiny bodies happily snoozing away in the hay, small tails wagging.

… you supposed this was a nice place on the farm as well.

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You curled a little closer around Price’s feet that night, listening to the distant barks now and again. It was a riddle to you how the other hybrids were able to stay up so late. You knew they slept in schedules and you had seen them nap several times during the day. Still.

Perhaps it was your fear of the unknown in the dark that you didn’t like. You assumed the pack had seen worse than these dark fields; they never spoke about it, at least not while you were near, but you weren’t stupid. Sure, you had been sheltered a bit since everything had been focused on being a lapdog and you weren’t that great of a reader, but you had seen television. Listened to the radio. And, you had seen their scars, heard a bit from John and Nik - you knew Soap had lost most of his hearing because of explosive, you had seen the bullet scars and their implicit history on their skin. You didn’t want to know about how Ghost got the scars around his mouth or how it looked like one of Gaz’s legs had been stuck in a bear trap like contraption at some point.

Still, despite knowing that they could take care of themselves and was dangerous on their own, you were horrified when you woke a few days later, early in the morning - to the distant sound of barking and snarling, to howls that sounded more wolf than hybrid - to the sounds of the different farm animals getting antsy.

You had woken Price then, worried about them even if you didn’t say it directly — Nik woke the moment your owner got out of bed, your whines making him groan.

Uttering the word ‘wolves’ had awoken them both fully in a matter of seconds.

You could still hear scuffle in the distance, angry barks and sounds that confused you and you didn’t want Price to go outside alone. Even as Nik got up and Price got his shot gun, you were worried.

Was he going outside? What if the boys were hurt and they couldn’t keep John safe?

It had gone quiet.

Despite your lack of knowledge about anything and your fear overwhelming you in the early morning hours, you still followed, quickly tugging on shoes and a jacket.

The lights outside of the gravel driveway lit up the place as John and Nik went out first, the motion sensors activated. You barely needed to take more than a few steps outside to see why. They walked with calm steps.

There was a heavy sound as the body slammed onto the ground, completely still. Then another. The wolves laid on the gravel, no sound escaping their maws that seemed giant to you - blood seeping into the fur.

Blood was smeared across the faces of the three hybrids, making them look like brutal deities in your mind. Stepping out of a nightmare, victorious over the monsters. You couldn’t help your tail wagging a little with pride - or how your pussy reacted to the sight of three strong hybrids as well.

Tongues licked off blood from fangs and lips. Eyes rested on you - then their owners - then back on you.

They had saved the goats and sheep from being wolf dinner - both Nik and Price praising them, ruffling their hair and patting them. The shotgun was lowered and after a quick check it was confirmed that they wouldn’t be needing them. Both animals were dead.

There was pride from them, but also from Nik and John, who tried getting them inside, promising food. But the hybrids refused, wanting to stay out instead until later. To make sure no other wolves came by.

Soap sneaked from the two of them to you, his tail wagging proudly, chested puffed up a little.

“Could nae let ‘em get close tae yer goats, princess,” he rumbled darkly, and you didn’t move as he got close to you - almost touching you, sniffing your neck. Another please rumble leaving you.

“Thank you,” you whispered back, your own tail wagging a little, for once not minding the sniffing, despite the quite disgusting blood on him. Unsure of how to describe that you were relieved that nothing happened to them either… that wasn’t anything you would admit to anyways.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“Ex-fucking-cuse you?” You all but snarled, hands instantly going onto the table, body ready to jump across the table and attack the man who had just offered the worst fucking idea ever. Hadn’t it been for John’s quick hand on your collar and Laswell’s hand gently pressing against your chest to get you to sit your ass back down, you would be fully attacking Nikolai now.

Nikolai, who looked quite amused - and rather pleased with himself over your reaction.

“Settle down, princess,” there was a stern tone in Price’s voice but you still tipped your long ears a little downwards, baring your filed down teeth at your owner’s boyfriend.

“That’s not your decision!” You were almost screaming, growling so loudly you almost surprised yourself.

“Sit down, milaya,” Nikolai said, amusement barely hidden in his tone and you regretted not biting the man’s finger off that first day.

“You don’t decide that over me!” You screamed this time, your collar tugged further backwards and it wasn’t until a sharp slap from John landed on your cheek, that you looked away from him.

“Sit down, princess.” His voice was harder now and you finally followed John’s order, sitting back down on your chair. While Laswell’s hand retreated, Price’s grip remained on your collar. The woman didn’t particularly look too pleased neither how this was going; you had a strong suspicion that she had seen this coming or knew of it - and that it annoyed her to have her meal disturbed by it.

She had teased you about it so many weeks ago, had she not?

“He can’t decide that,” you whined, looking over at John, wanting him to agree with you, to not let Nikolai control your body like that.

“No, he can’t decide that -,” John’s voice was almost sweet and you could feel your heart almost stop its intense pounding in your chest, only for it to pick up again as he continued, “but neither can you, technically.”

You whimpered, trying to make yourself a little smaller somehow, despite your size, “- sir-“

“I’m your owner, my pretty pup,” he reminded you, letting go of the collar, the warm hand instead softly patting the cheek he had just slapped mere moments ago, “so I can make that decision. If I want your implant taken out, then that’s what we’ll do.”

You let out a displeased whine, almost ready to cry.

“Then I’ll go into he-heat,” you whispered pathetically, the few memories you had of those not good ones, hazy and feverish moments flashing before your eyes, almost childishly adding “I don’t wanna.”

“Yes, you will,” Price agreed softly, caressing your cheek gently, while he stared into your eyes with a soft look, as he had just confirmed a fear of yours. It was like no one but the two of you existed for a few moments - as if everything and everyone else had disappeared into smoke, leaving you and your owner as the last breathing beings of the universe, “but you might get a litter with the boys - wouldn’t that be nice, princess?”

“No.”

Nikolai let out a huff. You knew both Kate and John were watching you, looking for any signs of your chubby ass jumping over the table in order to strangle Nik. Instead you just let out a growl. You received a nudge with the elbow fit on Kate. You were probably real close to losing table rights and being forced to eat on the ground but you didn’t care.

“Not now, of course,” Nikolai tried, “summer first.”

“Why not spring?” Price suggested and Nik shook his head, while you wanted to suggest that they could go fuck themselves with both ideas.

The worst thing was that you maybe, just maybe didn’t mind getting a litter. You would never admit to it, especially not while Nik was in the room, but your instincts had been screaming every second you had spent with the goats. But it was out of your control, so you refused out of pure spite.

“- can become better friends,” you heard Kate say as you zoned back into the conversations, almost wanting to snap at Kate now. She had brought up litters the very first time that they had met the mutts.

“No they won’t. Worst thing they’ll do is probably knock you up.” The memory of her words echoed in your mind for a while.

“-spring, then pups will be born in late winter,” Nik pointed out, as they sat there and talked about you and your apparent upcoming litter, “nyet, summer - then puppies will come spring. Good for their lungs.”

“We don’t know if it will even take quickly,” Kate pointed out and you felt her hand gently petting you, scratching behind one of your dog ears, as if to comfort you which wasn’t too often she did so, “she has had implants for quite a while, after all.”

You wanted to cry and scream and beg to be the one to decide when at the very least. Or if. The idea of going into heat scared you shitless - with three beasts to help you through it? No thanks.

The food on your plate with the cute paw patterns along the rim suddenly didn’t look so enticing, despite there being everything you would usually love on it. Even a couple of strawberries.

You barely managed to eat those, ignoring their talks for the rest of the dinner.

You didn’t eat much more, disappearing the moment you could, rushing out the door, ignoring the sharp stones biting into your bare feet or your lack of jacket. Not stopping or listening as Price and Nikolai called out your name.

Pretending you didn’t want to scream and cry, throwing a tantrum on the floor inside- but you didn’t, for once. Though tears swelled in your eyes.

They didn’t go after you, probably because they suspected that you weren’t going to run off - and you weren’t, which wasn’t hard to guess, given how you ran directly towards the stable.

It wasn’t that you liked the stables. No. It was tolerable… maybe a little nice. Out of the whole farm, it was tolerable.

You didn’t enter the booth you had been in before however, not wanting to scare the animals off by being upset. They were all laying inside after a nice day spent out in the sun, doing whatever goats did during the day - now relaxing as the dark overtook the sun’s place. You kept your sniffling to a minimum, stubbornly drying away any of the tears.

“ ‘you upset?”

The deep voice caught you off guard, making you jump - several of the goats looking towards the voice. A few of them bleating.

Ghost stood a little further down the hallway of the stables, the great Pyrenees hybrid looking at you - you couldn’t quite decipher what he was thinking, if he found it amusing or was pitying you. Scarred white ears tipping towards you.

You huffed, crossing your arms, trying your best to look tough, raising your tail a little as you let out a stubborn “no,” trying to ignore how your voice shook a little.

“Uh-huh,” Ghost answered, clearly not convinced one bit and you considered bolting back inside, “so it wasn’t you screamin’ bloody murder in th’ hous’ a moment ago?”

Your tail fell a little and you looked away, ignoring the way Ghost sighed - as if upset with the fact you wouldn’t just admit what was wrong, what had happened. As if the two of you had a normal kind of relationship or… whatever this was, that your owner was trying to force upon you.

“Come,” he grunted out then - and you looked back at him; he had already turned around, walking down the stone floor. You dared to cast another glance at the goats, who were all staring at you, as if to say ‘get going’. So you followed, a little tense, still drying off a couple of tears with the back of your hands.

Ghost had stopped in front of a couple of hay bales, not too far from one of the bigger windows. The big hybrid sat down with a grunt, yawning for a moment; his big canines exposed, reminding you of how they felt when they sank into your skin, pierced it and entered your muscle. There was nothing threatening about him right now however - in fact he patted the spot next to him on the bale. You stood a couple of steps from it, unsure whether to do as he silently asked you to.

There was no growling. No hard stares from him, in fact, he was looking out through the window, keeping tabs of things, even when inside. You finally sat down with a sniffle.

For a couple of seconds, there was only the sound of you sniffling and the faint sounds of the animals in their booths. Baby goats with their light voices. Shuffling in the hay. A horse moving in its booth, the faint sound of eating.

“What happened, then?” he asked, voice a little softer than what he usually spoke like. You dared to look up at him, his body giant even when sitting down - as if he could feel your glance, he looked down at you, meeting your gaze. Suddenly your nails were much more interesting to look at.

“Why do you care?” you asked almost accusatory, voice not that loud, vary about his interest in you. You earned a huff in response.

“You sounded quite upset,” he said a few moments later, “we got worried.”

Your bare, slightly cold toes curled. We got worried. They cared… or at the very least, they were curious. You weren’t sure if you even wanted them to be either. Even though attention was attention, no matter the kind, you supposed.

“You don’t care,” you accused in a voice that barely sounded rude, barely sounded like you meant it. The other man let out a hum like the asshole he was and it annoyed you; it wasn’t the reaction you had expected, wasn’t a mean laughter or a tug on the tail.

Instead you were met with his half lidded eyes watching you, as he quietly waited. He didn’t move to hurt you. Finally you caved.

“They wann’ take out my implant,” you finally murmured, looking down at your feet now. You would need a bath when you got inside. There was sawdust and tiny pieces of hay on them, dirt from the outside. You settled a little more on the hay bale, trying to get comfortable as you were uncomfortable with being honest with Ghost.

“Implant?” Ghost repeated and you didn’t even care whether it was a question or not, you merely nodded. The silence filled up the air for a few moments and you dried another of the stupid, stubborn tears of your cheek.

“‘That will mean you go into heat, yeah?” he finally asked and you wanted to curl upon yourself at the mere mention. Maybe bury yourself in the hay. Once more, you nodded, your tongue feeling as if it was swelling in your mouth.

“I don’t want to,” you whispered, “Nikolai just said it… so casually.”

“Why don’t you want to?”

“They didn’t ask me,” you sniffled, “I don’t like heats.”

“When was the last time ye’ even had one?”

“... years ago,” you admitted to the bigger hybrid, “I didn’t like it.”

“Hm. Sounds like ye’ didn’t have a good partner then,” hadn’t you been too upset you would have rolled your eyes at him - then again, it wasn’t like he sounded demeaning. More just… pitiful. You didn’t want pity from him, you wanted it from your owner.

“Was it with a hybrid?”

The question caught you off guard - you looked up at him again and Ghost was looking down at you, towards the left; he somehow seemed non judgemental, even though you had expected him to be mean about it.

“T-the first time, yeah.”

“The others not?”

You shook your head and looked away again. It wasn’t like you wanted to talk to him about this whole thing, about your body, about heat. Yet, here you fucking were.

“It’s easier when it’s with hybrids. The pheromones help.” His explanation was gentle and your mind almost found the gentleness confusing. You were too used to his sarcastic comments, to his meanness, to his thirst for your body, whether you wanted to or not.

“Doesn’t matter,” you murmured, “don’t want a litter anyways.”

“They talkin’ about puppies too?”

He sounded genuinely surprised - and then a familiar spike hit the air. The scent of lust sparked, escaping the bigger hybrid. You didn’t dare to look at him. Neither of you moved.

“I just want to decide for myself.”

Ghost huffed. You didn’t look at him, ignoring the lust still crawling through the air.

“you’re a hybrid,” it was a reminder, a statement you knew was true even as the following words hurt, “you know you don’t have that choice.”

“I know,” you snapped, ears tipping backwards a little, finally looking up at him again, baring your teeth a little at the hybrid, “I just want some sort of control.”

He stared down at you. The pupils of his eyes had expanded and in the slightly dark stable, his eyes almost seemed black.

“I haven’t heard ya’ say that you don’t want our puppies though,” he said instead, darkness seeping into his voice even if it wasn’t that loud, a hunger you had heard before.

“I don’t want to,” you whispered in return, lying, trying your best to keep the anger in your voice.

“No?” he asked again, disbelief in his voice, a teasing tone as he added, “don’t want us to fill you up, huh? Fill you with puppies?”

The idea made your entire body feel hot and you wanted to hide from the shame that followed the lust. The idea of them actually breeding you, leaving your belly swollen a couple of months later.

“Hehe.”

You ignored his dark chuckle, knowing your own lust got exposed from your scent - in fact, you froze as Ghost leant down a little, ignoring your bared teeth and took a deep breath, inhaling your scent. He was nasty, you reminded yourself, even as you felt your pussy wetten, a nasty hound. You should bite him, attack him. Instead you didn’t move, his scarred nose touching your skin as he pushed a little closer, a deep groan leaving him.

Finally he straightened his back, pulling away. As you felt a whine escape you, he looked rather pleased with himself.

“Take control of what little things you can then, princess,” he finally crooned, “we will help you.”

For a moment you thought he was going to fuck you right there. Press your face into the bale as you got fucked from behind, howls muted by it as he filled your cunt with his cock. Yet he didn’t do that; despite not even hiding how he and his pack wanted to spend your heat with you, the implication of them knocking you up - well… you had expected him to fuck you. A part of you, that sinful, bad part that you sometimes hated, was almost disappointed.

“Let’s get you inside’,” he said instead of touching you as expected, “dont wan’ you to get sick.”

He abandoned you by the door, telling you to get some more clothes on so you wouldn’t be sick. You just nodded, his words still in your mind.

“Take control of what little things you can then, princess, we will help you.”

But what could you control? It sounded like they had already planned out your entire pregnancy, down to how to best care for the pups and socialise them - figure out whether they would work best as lapdogs or working dogs.

You weren’t sure why it caught you so off guard; it really shouldn’t have. Seeing them both naked wasn’t a new sight to you, you had had sex with both of them. Yet seeing them like this, together, their chest hairs touching as they grinded against each other, Nikolai’s cock deep inside John.

The sight made you whimper. The scent of sex was heavy in the air and it made your own pussy wet. You took a step closer towards them, both men looking over at you, though their movements didn’t stop.

The very least they could do after upsetting you, would be to fuck you silly. Nik hands tightened on John’s skin, love clear in his eyes as he looked back at John, smiling.

You took another step forward, carefully moving to pull off your shirt.

However, Nik stopped John from riding him, your owner letting out a displeased sound, bare toes curling as Nik’s cock rested fully inside him.

The Russian tugged at you, making you stop where you were, letting go of your shirt.

They didn’t want you to join.

“Misbehaved earlier, milaya,” Nikolai pointed out, his big hands resting on John’s hips, who huffed, clearly not pleased with the pausing.

“Go to your room, princess,” John urged, his gaze softer, skin sweaty, face red.

“Please.” You weren’t beneath begging, despite your anger at them.

“Do you want time in the crate?” That made you bolt, ignoring their giggles that were soon replaced with moans again.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

You stole one of their jackets in the hallway since it was the closest, putting on a pair of boots, before you left the farmhouse once more.

This time you didn’t go towards the stables.

You felt embarrassed, but you were upset, almost desperate. One dog, seeking out another. The same hounds you had promised never to like.

But you were fucked up, you knew that somewhere deep inside, but your instincts were begging for some comfort. Since your owners weren’t willing to give it to you, you went to the next best. The ones you had declared your hatred towards all this time, who had hurt your repeatedly yet still made you smile as well.

You hadn’t been in their little house ever since last time; it looked almost the same, safe some more clothes and their scent more present. There were a few photos on the walls.

None of them were there. You whined, entering it anyways, toeing off the boots, carefully going into the dimly lit place. It was almost like a little home.

You could remember when they had tumbled out from their respective carriers, drugged and confused. You sniffed around a little, before you ended up settling in the hay area. It seemed to be the lesser used sleeping place and you didn’t want to intrude in their nest, despite your hatred for them.

They probably would have done that to you, you realized, but you wanted sex; not a fight. You sniffled as you curled up in the hay, feeling the vague prickling from the straws.

You felt lost. Angry, upset. Worse, horny. If they didn’t want to fuck you, you had other places to go. Things had changed, whether you wanted them to or not and you had no control there either. Despite not getting along with Nikolai most of the time, he and John seemed… happy together.

As you laid in the shed, you listened to the world outside. You could hear an owl, or at least, you were pretty sure it was an owl. That was what they sounded like in television shows. Then there was the wind. It made some nearby trees sway, some fields too.

You sniffled a little more.

You had changed too, you knew that. With or without your consent - so had the other hybrids, it seemed. Price had confirmed he still loved you however and despite your current anger and betrayal you felt towards him, you knew your owner wouldn’t truly abandon you. Nik wouldn’t want that either.

The nearby footsteps roused you from your half sleeping thoughts and a moment passed by, before the door was opened - you wondered for a moment, if it was John or Nikolai coming to pull you back inside for not following their commands.

Instead it was Ghost.

Despite seeing him just a mere moment ago, you had already forgotten how big and intimidating he was; it surely didn’t help that you were laying down or he was barely lit from the light above you.

“Princess,” he greeted, tipping his head to the side, clear confusion over seeing you here. You whined, doing your best to prove that you were not here to fight, carefully wagging your tail as you curled to the side a little, showing your stomach.

He huffed, looking over his shoulder again, but despite his lack of words, he didn’t seem to be against you being in there, in fact you could see his tail wag. The scent from him became a little thicker.

He let out a sharp bark.

You heard their movements a moment later and as Ghost entered, Soap and Gaz followed — clearly much more surprised to see you there, a couple of excited barks leaving them. A sharp growl from Ghost made them quiet down then and you curled yourself to the side again.

Fearing for a moment that he would turn you away as well. While Gaz and Sop began to pull off their outdoors clothes, Ghost walked to the edge of the hay filled area, squatting down, as you carefully sat up.

You must have looked like a little mess, eyelids puffy, eyes red, hay in your hair. Pathetic thing, your mind supplied, why would they want you?

“Why ar’ you here, princess?” Ghost asked and you felt your muscles tense.

“I can leav—“

“He dinnae say that,” Soap was quick to interject, letting you and Ghost have some space. He smiled at you - so did Gaz. You dared to look back at Ghost… he looked worried, a small smile.

“I - they didn’t want to fuck me,” you admitted with a whisper, “I want somebody to want me.”

Simon let out a huff and you tried making yourself seem smaller. Telling them that they were second choice had perhaps not been the best decision.

“Do you actually want us?” Kyle asked, his arms now crossed, a more sceptical look on his face.

“Yeah,” you whispered, because that was the truth; their mere eyes on you made your pussy clench around nothing, “want you. Nice. Show me, I…”

You didn’t know how to describe it. Instead you dared to crawl through the little hay, all close to Ghost now. Stopping, looking into his eyes that was staring right back at you; your faces were so close they would almost touch with the wrong movement.

“Princess,” there was hunger in his voice that made you lick your lips.

“I am taking control,” you whispered, “making my own decision.”

A smug smile appeared on his scarred face and then the hybrid leant forwards nuzzling his nose against yours for a short moment.

“Let’s get you to the nest,” he rumbled, an almost underlying hum in his voice, the scent of lust almost exploding from everyone in the little shed “we’re not fucking you in the hay.”

They were welcoming you to their nest. Not forcing you and you whined with happiness, letting out a yelp as Simon then lifted you quickly with a little grunt. You landed on their mattresses and blankets a second later, a wagging Soap next to you almost instantly, licking your cheek.

“Dinnae worry, hen - I’ll take ye’ where ever ye’ want.”

Gaz appeared on your other side, arms curling around you and nuzzling into your chest.

“Stay with us tonight,” he asked softly, “please.”

How could you say no to a polite offer like that? You nodded, his tail wagging as well, thumping rhythmically against a pillow.

A moment later an energy bar hit your stomach and then the others as well.

“Eat first,” Ghost commanded, “we will need the energy.”

Since you hadn’t eaten much earlier, you were only happy to, hungrily watching together with Soap and Gaz as Ghost pulled off his shirt.

Gaz turned and nuzzled against you after eating, pressing his face against one of your tits.

“I’m sorry they didn’t ask you ‘bout the litter beforehand,” he said, meaning that Ghost had told them. The big man shrugged as you shot him a look, as he focused on eating his own energy bar.

You looked up at the ceiling, licking your lips for a short moment. Your pussy was dripping wet by now, knowing it was a matter of time before the other hybrids would fuck you dumb all night. As a short of fuck you to John and Price, but also because you genuinely wanted it for once.

An idea filled your head, only shortly distracted as Soap grinded against you, his hard on most likely leaking in his own underwear.

“I can smell ye’ kitty,” he crooned darkly and you had almost forgotten how he had called your pussy that, “I’m gonna make ‘er purr, pretty lass.”

You let out a needy whimper, closing your eyes for a moment. Thinking. It was stupid, probably a dangerous idea. Yet it slipped from your lips as you sat up and looked directly at Ghost.

“Rip out my implant.”

The little house went quiet immediately.

“Wat?” It was Soap who spoke the first, sitting up and looking at you, confusion taking over his horniness.

“No,” Gaz said, uncertainty in his voice over your idea, “didn't they want to wait?”

You almost wanted to growl at him.

“If I’m having pups, I want them on my terms,” you huffed, sending Gaz a sharp look, his ears tipping down in submission for once and you looked back at Ghost, who was undoubtedly their leader.

“Knock me up.”

“It’s just yet anger, innit?” He pointed out, mean but with a smile on his face that looked almost hungry , “sure you want our pups, darlin’? We’re not lapdogs.”

“Want somebody who can protect me,” you pointed out, “protect me ‘nd my pups. Not a lapdog.”

There were pleased growls from all of them. Both Soap and Gaz began to touch your shamelessly, pulling at your clothes to get them off and Ghost got down on all four, crawling towards you, making you lay down again, helping them get your shirt off. Bared and without any agression, they all shared a look.

“This isn’t a one time thing,” Gaz earned, “if we do this you’re ours. Not just sometimes, all the time.”

You whimpered at his words, nodding as you felt slick wetting your panties even more. Soap growled into your neck, taking deep breaths.

“No takin’ the pups from us,” he warned, “no matter who of us succeeds.”

“I won’t,” you promised quickly, moving your head to tip it up to kiss him and agreeing against his lips, “want my pups to grow up with their daddies.”

They all growled in delight, more hands on you and you helped getting the last things off, tugging at their clothes as well, making them undress so you weren’t restricted by clothes.

Daddies - they were going to knock you up; breed you, like a dark part of your mind wanted, breed you for days, not letting you leave without being pregnant. Fucking you day and night, making sure your cunt was stuffed with their cum.

Ghost were grinning darkly down at you, hunger in his eyes, cock hard between his legs, dripping already - your hand resting against Gaz’ neck and Soap’s hair.

“Now Princess,” Ghost crooned darkly, his fangs almost shining in the dim light of the shed, all of your tails wagging, the heavy scent of lust, with your slick and their precum in the air, “in which arm is that implant of yours?”

751 notes · View notes

jellesreid · 5 months ago

Text

Spencer’s Double Shift

Dad!Spencer finishes a case only to find out he can’t go home to his wife (reader) and daughter as they have another case in New York. (fluff)

masterlist

word count: 2.5k

tags: dad!spencer, mom/fem!reader, parents, parenting, New York, behavioural analysis unit, date night, early birthday dinner, halloween mention, fbi, plane ride, first plane ride, subtle sex mention, fluff, marriage, married with kid, work, fear of flying, comforting.

no warnings

notes: I don’t really like the title of this but oh well, this is the first time I’ve written with the reader so its not amazing sorry. Hope you enjoy!

——————————————————🩷—————————————————

Spencer had been away for three days working on a difficult case but there wasn’t a day he hadn’t called you before starting and ending his day. He told you he had been calling because he missed you but you know it’s really because he missed your perfect daughter.

You and Spencer had the most gorgeous daughter, Delilah Reid, she’s four years old and a total daddy’s girl, she asks you multiple times a day if she can call when Spencer is away working on a case and when you explain to her why she can’t call it makes her cry but she stops when you remind her that her daddy saves lots of people. He is her hero.

Spencer had texted you a few hours ago to let you know he was now boarding the plane to come home as well as telling you he missed both you and Delilah and couldn’t wait to kiss you so when you saw his call coming through on your phone you weren’t surprised.

“Hi Spence,” You said into the phone as you went around the house putting Delilah’s toys away, “Good flight?”

“Hi baby, yeah good flight but I have some bad news,” Spencer replied running his hand through his fluffy curls.

“You have to stay late and do reports?” You groaned into the phone.

“Worse, Hotch got another call on the flight, bad case in New York, we leave in 2 hours. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay honey, it’s not your fault,” You were glad you weren’t FaceTiming right now because the massive frown on your face would make him feel worse and he didn’t deserve that.

“Can I be the worst husband ever right now and ask a favour of you?” Spencer asked.

“You’re hardly the worst husband. Shoot.”

“Could you bring me some clean clothes to swap over in my overnight bag and please bring Delilah I miss her so much I feel like I’m missing everything.”

“I can do that of course, I want to see you I miss you. You aren’t missing much with Delilah except a very messy playroom and a few princess stories at night.”

“Not the princess stories they are my favourite.”

You laugh, “Alright Spence, I’ll bring one for you to read to her before you leave.”

“Deal. Don’t be too long I miss you,” You can practically see Spencer’s pout just by hearing his tone.

“You need to let me hang up then.”

“Fine, be quick, I love you and be safe,” he blew a kiss into the phone making your heart flutter.

“I love you too, extra safe I promise,” You said before hanging up and getting his things together for him.

You knocked on the door of your daughter’s bedroom lightly to see if she was still napping, after getting no sleepy response from her you opened the door quietly climbing into the bed beside her as much as you could with the little space.

“Baby,” You stroke one of the brunette strands of her hair from her face.

“Mommy? Is Daddy home?” She mumbled sleepily to you.

“No baby, we are going to visit Daddy at work. Do you want to pick a book for him to read to you?” You played with the ends of her wavy hair.

“Really? I love Daddy’s work! Yeah, I pick a book,” she says trying to scramble out the duvet.

“Daddy’s got more people to help though baby so we can’t stay too long, just until he has to leave.”

Delilah pouts, “But mommy I miss Daddy he’s been away like a million days.”

You laugh, “I know baby, he’s sorry and so am I but we can do some fun things.”

“He’ll be back for Halloween?”

“Yes he will be back before Halloween sweetie,” You kissed her head, “Get ready and we will leave.”

“Can I stay in my fluffy pyjamas? Please,” Delilah dragged out the ‘e’ at the end of please.

“If you want to,” You smiled at your daughter picking her up to help her off the bed so she could pick a book to take.

——————

You helped Delilah get out of the car and passed her the princess book before swinging Spencer’s bag onto your shoulder and carrying Delilah at the same time.

You signed in at reception, Spencer had called to tell them you were dropping by, usually, they don’t let people come in without an employee badge but you had become friends with the receptionist after the many times you had dropped by to see Spencer in the times you were dating and while you had been married.

Once you were in the elevator you put Delilah down, she couldn’t get lost going from the elevator to the bullpen since they were opposite each other and she had been there enough times to know the way.

When the doors opened you spotted Spencer waiting on the other side of the open glass door. He knew his daughter would run out once she saw him and that’s exactly what she did. The small girl let go of your hand and ran towards her Dad the book still in her hand.

“Daddy!” She squeaked, you walking not far behind watching them as they collided in a hug.

“Hi Princess,” Spencer picked her up and spun her around. Hotch, Emily and JJ were watching from across the room smiling. Emily could see how much happier Spencer was as soon as he was talking to you or back with both you and your daughter.

“You should let him bring them to New York with us and maybe give him a day off while we are there,” Emily whispered to Hotch.

“I’ll speak to him about it,” Hotch spoke while nodding.

“I missed you, Daddy, don’t go, why do you keep leaving me and Mommy?” Delilah pouted with tears in her eyes.

Spencer held Delilah’s hair out of her face placing kisses over her face, “I’m sorry baby, I don’t want to leave you.”

You sighed seeing the tears almost spilling from Delilah’s eyes, “Honey I told you Daddy saves people.”

“But what if I need him,” Delilah started crying both your and Spencer’s hearts breaking as well as the others watching.

“Reid,” Hotch called Spencer signalling for him to come over.

Spencer tried to pass Delilah over to you but the girl cried harder refusing to let go of him.

“You can all come,” Hotch said walking up the stairs towards the office.

Once you entered with your husband and daughter who had stopped crying Hotch smiled, “Emily made a point to me that you haven’t been at your best recently being apart from your wife and daughter and proposed I talk to you about bringing them to New York with us, that way we can call you when we need but you can also do some exploring and be with your family,” Hotch said.

“Really? That would be great!” Spencer said.

“That really would be, thank you, Aaron,” You said.

“We will pick you up in an hour on the way to the jet.”

“The only thing is Delilah has never flown before, I don’t want her to get upset and distract you from your case,” You added.

“She’s no bother.”

“I’m a big girl I will be fine I going to eat a big pizza,” Delilah squealed, “Let me go Daddy I need to tell Auntie Emily and Auntie JJ,” she gasped, “Can we visit Nana and Auntie Elle and her girlfriend and her kitten too!”

“Slow down baby, we need to go home and get ready before we can do anything,” You crouched down to pull Delilah into a hug.

“Kay Kay, me and Daddy make plans on the plane!”

You all laughed before Spencer ruffled her hair with his hand, “Okay little princess.”

The three of you went back to your house to get ready, you already felt a little stressed about how little time you had to pack. Packing usually took you at least a day to make sure you had a list of everything you needed and you weren’t leaving anything behind.

Spencer stood behind you rubbing your shoulders, “I can tell you’re stressed.”

“Sorry, I just don’t know what to pack. What’s the weather going to be like? What are we going to do there? Fancy or casual dinners? I guess casual because Lilah is with us,” You rambled.

“We won’t be there more than four days, the weather is the right temperature for jeans and t-shirts, pack a jumper for the mornings, maybe take a coat in case it rains one day but nothing too thick,” he helps you out.

“Thank you, Baby,” You grab his face leaving a gentle peck on his lips before returning to your suitcase to finish your packing while Spencer went to help Delilah.

——————

You sat opposite Delilah and Spencer sat beside her on the private jet. The small brunette had her small hands on either side of the window watching the takeoff and the city becoming several long fluffy clouds.

“It’s pretty!” Delilah gasped.

“Yeah, it is isn’t it?” You replied.

“Daddy, do you want to see too?” Delilah asked him.

“I’ve seen it lots of times, you enjoy it,” He ran his hand over her hair before moving to sit next to you.

“Hi,” You move a little closer to him in the seat.

“Hi,” He takes your hand and laces your fingers together.

You rest your head on his shoulder your eyes fluttering closed for a second as he rubbed his thumb on the back of his hand.

“Are you okay?” He asked. You were sometimes a nervous flyer but you didn’t want to show it right now especially in front of your daughter for her first flight.

“I’m doing fine, this plane shakes less than a commercial aircraft,” You glanced up at him smiling.

“I didn’t get to give you a proper hello earlier,” Spencer leaned his head down connecting his lips with yours in a quick kiss that unfortunately didn’t go unnoticed by the young brunette girl.

“EW!” She shouted rather loudly, “You guys can’t kiss!”

“Why not? We love each other,” Spencer tells Delilah, “And you need to be a bit quieter baby. They are working,” He points to his team.

“It’s gross to kiss,” Delilah stuck her tongue out.

Spencer gave your lips one last quick peck before grinning at Delilah who was sitting with her arms folded and pouting.

Around halfway through the flight, the plane hit a small rough patch of turbulence making you panic slightly and Delilah started crying. Spencer wanted to comfort the both of you but you knew it was more important for him to look after your child and besides you always remembered the fact Spencer had told you about planes that they’re more likely to crash as you were taking off or as you are landing which made you feel a little bit better not by much but it was something.

You watched as Spencer moved Delilah onto his lap and rubbed her back trying to calm her down. When her breaths became more controlled he wiped the tears from her cheeks and placed a kiss on her nose whispering, ‘You’re okay baby I’ll always keep you safe,’ to her.

Seeing how he was with her always made your heart warm and melt in your chest, there really could be no better father for any child except maybe one that wasn’t in the FBI but you would never want anyone else as your husband or as Delilah’s father.

You left your seat to go to grab a coffee, Emily and JJ were standing by the coffee machine talking and quite obviously flirting. You were closer to JJ than you were to Emily but not for any reason other than JJ’s son Micheal and Delilah went to the same daycare.

“Hi,” You said squeezing around them to get a mug from the cupboard.

“Hi,” They replied at the same time before quickly turning their heads and smiling brightly at each other to acknowledge what they had just done.

You laughed, “Excuse me,” You directed at Emily who was standing by the coffee machine.

She moved to the side, “Is Delilah okay? We heard her crying, was it the turbulence?”

“Yeah she’s fine, she was just a little scared because she’s never experienced it before,” You answered with a small smile, “Spence calmed her down.”

“We saw, he’s an amazing dad. He was so good with Henry when he was younger too I’m so happy he has a kid of his own now,” JJ smiled.

Your smile grew hearing JJ say that. “He is an amazing dad,” You looked over at your husband, “He’s great. Spencer’s birthday is coming up and I really wanted to take him to dinner while we are in New York, Could you possibly watch Delilah tonight? It won’t be late because I know you will both have to be up early to start the case.”

“Oh yes! We’d love to look after her, she was so cute last time trying to read us her princess book,” Emily said.

“I might have to prep a few bits for the case but Em will be fine on her own with her she’s really good with the boys at home,” JJ said.

“Okay, thank you guys so much,” You took your coffee and returned to your seat.

——————

It was already 4:30 pm when the plane landed in New York and the hotel you were staying in was about 15 minutes away. Delilah had fallen asleep just before you went into the SUV, you were hoping she’d sleep until you got to the hotel so she’d be less irritable when you told her you and Spencer were going out for dinner.

You rested your head on Spencer’s shoulder, “I have a surprise for you.”

“What is it?” Spencer raised his eyebrow in curiosity.

“I’m taking you out to dinner,” You ran your hand up and down his arm.

“Thank you, How come?” He had a big smile on his face.

“Early birthday dinner, Em and JJ are going to watch Delilah while we are out.”

“Do you think they can watch her a little longer after dinner too?” Spencer whispered into your ear.

Your cheeks clouded with blush and a little laugh left your mouth, “Stop that Spence.”

“I didn’t say anything wrong,” He said with a smug smile and a little smirk.

——————

You and Spencer walked into Carmine’s Italian restaurant hand in hand.

Once you were sat down at the table waiting for your food, he reached across the table and started drawing circles with his finger on top of your hand.

“Thank you for this,” He tucked your hair behind your ear with his other hand.

“Thank you for being you, you’re such a good Dad and husband Spence I don’t tell you enough. Happy early birthday,” You leaned across the table to kiss him.

“You tell me more than enough love but I don’t think I tell you enough that you’re an amazing Mom and wife I don’t what either of us would do without you.”

Once your food arrived you ate and made small talk together until going back to the hotel to collect your beautiful daughter from JJ and Emily.

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