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sparklingchim · 8 months

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you're losing me 02 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

word count: 5k

genre: angst, married couple, age gap, ceo jk, nepo baby oc, second chance romance

rating: 18+

warnings: pregnancy scare, mean possessive jungkook 😾, unprotected sex, orgasm denial, fingering, choking, oc gets her hands tied bc she's a brat ! ☝🏼, blowjob, cum eating, car sex, teasingg, tipsy oc, v vulnerable oc :(, dirty talk, daddy kink, crying, one boob bite methinks

summary: having a bit too much fun at chanyeol's halloween party, jungkook unexpectedly joins the party too.

a/n: it's finally here !! i hope u like it hihi <3

you're losing me masterlist

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Chanyeol never misses with his Halloween parties.

And usually, you never miss with your costumes too, but given the circumstance you’re glad to even attend.

Truthfully, it was entirely your own fault, and you hate to admit it because you had been extremely excited to wear your customised Barbie doll outfit, but one spill of your wine and the dress was disastrously ruined.

So you had to come up with a spontaneous Plan B.

You finally found usage for the small Victoria Secret wings from their special collection you received during a fashion show. Cinching a lace-embellished corset from Dolce & Gabbana, you paired it with a flirty ruffled miniskirt from Chanel. Your hair was crowned with crystal-embellished hairpins by Jennifer Behr. And oh, those satin heels by Jimmy Choo, adorned with dazzling crystals, added the perfect dose of sparkle to the outfit. You think you might’ve redefined last minute-magic.

“You’re trending on Twitter.”

As you sit on the couch, reaching down to retrieve the ping pong ball for Eunwoo turn at beer pong, Chanyeol abruptly shoves his phone in front of you. His screen is showing the trending page on Twitter.

“Didn’t realise my costume is that cute.” You look down on yourself. It’s a basic costume, but you would have thought that Chanyeol’s vampire look gained more attention.

“Your outfit’s cute, but everyone’s talking about what you posted on your Story,” Chanyeol remarks. He taps on your name trending and scrolls through a myriad of Tweets, with people reposting the picture.

“Oh.”

Eunwoo peeks over Chanyeol’s shoulder and reads the Tweets. He chuckles. “Everyone’s just talking about how hot we look.”

You giggle, swatting his arm.

You didn’t expect a little mirror pic creating chaos to this extent.

It was just a funny coincidence seeing Eunwoo dressed up in a matching costume to in a devil costume, complete with fitting horns and wings, creating an impromptu couple costume. It was his idea to take a picture.

You probably should have considered that Eunwoo is a rising idol and actor. Everyone adores him. And seeing him photographed next to a girl off-screen, especially when it’s not for a highly anticipated KBS drama, might not sit well with everyone.

“Has your hubby seen it?” Chanyeol asks.

You shrug. “I dunno. Maybe? He does regularly check what I post.” But he told you how busy he is today, so you’re not sure if he saw.

“Have you thought about my offer, by the way?” Eunwoo asks.

“What offer?” Chanyeol curiously chimes in.

“The lead role in my next drama. They're srill looking for an actress and honestly, I think ___ would be incredible for this one.”

Chanyeol’s eyes grow wide. “You two in a drama? That’s insane.”

“I’ve never tried acting. Not sure if I’d be any good,” you confess,

“I feel like you’re good at anything,” Chanyeol assures with a grin.

“I’ll think about it.”

They both resume playing beer pong with the others while you watch them as you drink.

As you take a sip from your drink, the weight of lingering gazes persists – less intense than in the beginning, yet a subtle scrutiny remains.

The curious looks undoubtedly trace back to the headlines two weeks ago, when pictures of Jungkook and you in his car near the gynaecologist’s building surfaced online. Captured in a vulnerable moment, perched on Jungkook’s lap with tears streaming down your face, you know how it must’ve looked like to the public.

You couldn’t stand those pictures making the rounds, especially with you in tears.

2 weeks ago

“You don’t need to worry.” Jungkook gently traces his thumb over the back of your hand.

You huff, frowning at your interlaced fingers. “But I do worry.”

“Love, if you are potentially-”

“Don’t say it!” you cut him off. “Hearing the word makes me more anxious.”

You hear him utter an exhausted sigh. “You said yourself that your period has been irregular in the past.”

“Yeah, minus the morning sickness.” Your tone is a bit sharp, maybe even sassy, and you don’t actually want it to come off that way and in another circumstance you’d feel guilty, but you’re too drained from your emotions and the conversation to care.

“But the tests you took were negative,” he tries again.

“It’s just plastic. I can’t trust it.”

You took countless of pregnancy tests weekly, filled up the bathroom bin with those stupid little things until you finally acquiesced to Jungkook’s persistent suggestion to schedule an appointment with your gynaecologist.

The slow traces on your hand come to a halt. His fingers lightly squeeze your chin, directing your gaze at him.

“I promise you, whatever the outcome is we’ll make the best of it.”

“I don’t understand how you’re able to stay calm,” you say, eyebrows arching at his composed demeanour.

In truth, this is an authentic depiction of your relationship dynamic. You deal with lots of anxiety, always have been, and Jungkook stands as the serene counterbalance – tranquil and calm, akin to a gentle, silent breeze sweeping over your arms just as it gets unbearably hot in summer and you’re out of options to cope with the temperature.

But this is concerning you both and you can’t grasp the ease with which he handles the plaguing situation.

“Either outcome won’t change anything drastically.”

You head turns to the side and your stare out the windscreen, a hint of pique evident as your tongue pokes your cheek.

“I don’t want a baby.” It’s barely a whisper under your breath. “But you want one.” Your eyes flutter back to him.

Thinking about it, it dawns on you that a potential pregnancy would undoubtedly bring joy to everyone in your life. Especially your dad, who has been eagerly anticipating it for years – bugging you about it almost every time you see him. However, at 24 you have dreams beyond motherhood. The thought of being tied down to it now fills you with a quiet sense of unease.

You know that Jungkook views it differently. It’s understandable; he is 31, and despite mutually agreeing to wait for a baby, for him it’s not the end of the world. His calm demeanour, shaped by having navigated through a previous marriage and bringing a wealth of life experience, contrasts with your apprehension.

Jungkook hesitates. “I do want a baby,” he confirms, a shadow of regretful longing crossing his face. “But it doesn’t matter. Whatever the result is, I will support it – I will support your decision.” Upon squeezing your bare thigh, he realises how cold you are. “Love, you’re freezing.” He fetches a fuzzy blanket from the backseat that he keeps there just for you. He tucks you under the comfy blanket.

“It’s ‘cause I’m scared,” you mumble, leaning back in your seat.

“Come here.” He softly anchors his hands on your hips and guides you to his lap. “It pains me to see you like this.” He wraps the blanket around you tighter. “You don’t wanna go in there and get this done quickly? Avoiding the inevitable messes with your headspace.”

“Just a few more minutes.”

Jungkook mindlessly cups your cheek, tatted knuckle skimming over your skin.

Maybe it’s the way he peers at you. With a gentle shimmer reflecting sheer fondness and poised to unfold the world at your feet, build a home for you wherever your finger points to without having to ask. Maybe it’s the way he is holding you to himself, his hands serving as a protective embrace, a shield warding off any harm that would dare come your way. Or maybe it’s the tall, daunting building on the side of the road, towering over you like a spectre of uncertainty.

But something brings tears to your eyes – making you grow smaller and younger and suddenly fragile.

“My love,” Jungkook utters tenderly. It fills you with warmth and so much love.

Worry contorts his face. His hand around you holds you tighter.

“I’m not gonna cry.” It serves more as a reassurance for yourself than for him.

“You know you can when you’re with me.”

You refuse, adamantly shaking your head. But when you lose control over the tears stinging your eyes, you bury your face into his neck.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, adding a small peck to your temple. “It’s okay to feel this way.”

“Don’t like it,” you murmur into his now tears stained skin.

“But there’s no point in denying it.”

“There’s just...so much. All at once.” You lean back a bit, finger pointing right to your heart.

“I know, love.” He gingerly caresses your back. He softens at your trembling bottom lip, a piece of his own heart falling apart upon seeing you vulnerable on his lap. “I’ll carry everything you can’t, remember?” It’s a vow that formed the foundation of your shared existence. In the quiet assurance of his voice, he continues, “I’ll carry your worries, your fears, your doubts.” His promise is a soothing melody in the symphony of your shared moment. “As long as we talk – communicate properly, this won’t be difficult.”

“But we do talk,” you reply, scrunching your stuffy nose. “No?”

“Yeah, I know.” He nods, thumbing away the tear from the corner of your eye. “But I need you to be honest with me regarding this. No hiding your thoughts from me.”

“I won’t.”

“You’re ready now?” Jungkook asks. As much as he comforts you, traces of curiosity glimmer in his eyes.

“I think so.”

“There’s nothing to worry.” Jungkook smiles in that boyish and lovely way that it coaxes a weak smile on your face.

Jungkook had been right the whole time. You weren’t pregnant.

There had been nothing to worry.

You’re still in awe at how he never doubted his feeling. He just knew you weren’t pregnant – typical Jungkook, always has this uncanny grasp on things, like an innate ability.

Your gynaecologist attributed it to a lack of vitamins and advised better hydration.

Jungkook, feeling more than a tad guilty, bombards you with constant reminders to take your vitamins, drink and eat even more than he used to.

“Is that Jeon Jungkook?” A hushed female voice utters to the person beside her.

As you gaze upward, your eyes lock onto Jungkook in the back of the crowd. A flutter dances through your heart at the mere sight of him.

Jungkook’s presence demands every ounce of attention as people instantly recognise him. He’s draped entirely in black. His pants temptingly cling to his thighs, the buttons of his shirt straining across his chiselled chest and strong arms. His Rolex sits prettily around his wrist, it’s gleam harmonising with the brilliance of his wedding ring.

And you find it so funny, silly almost, because this is just Jungkook in his work attire, you see him like this every day, and yet people’s eyes morph into tiny hearts as he effortlessly strolls by, leaving a trail of heated admiration.

Sometimes Jungkook has a way of teasing your sanity. He turns your life into a whimsical romance, making you wonder if you’re living in a silly, sappy romance movie with the dreamiest guy as the lead. Because in this fleeting moment, the world around you dissolves into a blur, and you see nothing but him. Everyone fades, except him.

“Jungkook!” You stand up, a bit wobbly on your heels. He immediately wraps his hands around your sides.

“Hi, love.” He kisses you softly.

You missed his sweet, gentle voice when he talks to you.

He rakes a stare over you, one brow arched. “You’re already drunk? Who’s been giving you drinks?”

You deny his question with a dragged out “no”. “Just a bit tipsy – if even.” Before he can comment anything else regarding how many drinks you’ve already had, you ask, “Where’d you get these cute horns from?” Your hand reaches for the hairband with two attached red horns on them.

“Don’t know the brands name. Just a cheap store down the street from the company.”

You tilt your head as you ponder. “I don’t know of any cheap store close to the company.”

A ping pong ball rolls towards you on the floor. As you bend down to retrieve the ball, Jungkook’s hand pulls you back by the waist and he picks it up himself. His possessive hand travels to your butt and he slides his palm over the ruffles of your skirt.

“You’re not wearing any panties, are you?” he whispers into your ear. He throws the little ball towards the other end of the table. You shake your head, not really comprehending what he’s implying. Your more focused on how he effortlessly threw the ping pong ball straight into the cup.

“Yah, Jungkook! Come here, I need you in my team right now!” Chanyeol yells.

Jungkook lets out a humourless laugh. “Has Eunwoo not been good enough?”

Eunwoo sends a glare his way. “Chanyeol’s just taking everything too seriously.”

Jungkook rolls up his sleeve. “Too good that I’m also competitive.”

When Jungkook has enough of beer pong after carrying his team every round, he sits down next to you, pulling you to his lap.

You were just talking with Jisoo about the newest Dior collection, but she leaves the two of you alone with a knowing smile.

Jungkook swiftly takes the partially filled cup from your grasp and places it on the table. “You’ve had plenty to drink tonight.”

“I didn’t drink that much.” You don’t know exactly how much you drank because maybe you had too much to count, but you won’t tell him.

Jungkook cocks his head. He doesn’t need you to tell him to know.

“Get up.” His palms push your lower back.

“Huh?” You play with his necktie, leaning closer to his body. “For what?”

A crooked, entertained smirk crosses his face. “For what?” he scoffs.

His tatted arm snakes around you, his rolled-up sleeve flaunting the pretty inked lines adorning his skin. Jungkook grips you close to him. He angles your face down, his lips brushing over the sensitive part of your neck until he reaches your ear.

“Gonna fuck your brainless in my car. That’s why.”

His voice has got that pretty husky rasp you love so much. Tingles spread everywhere, especially your pussy. Jungkook sucks your earlobe between his teeth, and you think you can feel his smile when an unintended moan bubbles up your throat. You squirm in his lap.

“Someone’s got excited,” he teases as his hands run up your thigh, thumb disappearing underneath the white material of your skirt.

“Don’t.” Your fingers fly to his wrist. “There are people.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Now you care about people watching?”

Your lips pull together in a confused pout.

“You never notice, do you?” He decided against sneaking his finger further between your legs. Instead, he smoothens the hiked-up fabric of your skirt, though there is not much to adjust. It’s a skimpy skirt, it barely covers you.

“Notice what?” Your sparkly heels distract you and you move your feet around, watching every crystal glitter. “You’re being confusing, Koo.”

“I’m not being confusing,” he denies.

“Yes, you are.” You shift your gaze to him. A subtle crease appears between your brows. “You told me you didn’t have time for a silly Halloween party and yet you showed up.”

Jungkook dislikes seeing you upset. He really does. It creates this unexplainable feeling of protectiveness that sits right behind his rib – annoying and intolerable, coupled with a hint of guilt. But seeing your tipsy form upset delights him the tiniest bit.

“I was able to finish off early,” he explains. “Thought I’d join you, ‘cause you wanted me to.”

“And you were pretty mean to Eunwoo.”

“He can fuck off. I really don’t care about him.” His tongue peaks out as he swipes it over his bottom lip, teeth biting at the skin with furrowed brows.

“You’re such a meanie sometimes.” You run your fingers over his eyebrows, relaxing them.

“Want me to show you how mean I can be?” He tilts his head, a challenging glint in his eyes.

“You can’t be mean to me,” you say, shaking your head as your fingers settle on his broad shoulders. “Been good today.”

“You’ve been driving me insane tonight.”

“Me? What did I do?”

Jungkook rises to his feet with you, and you stagger a little at the sudden movement, but he keeps a safe arm around you. “Always so clueless,” he mumbles as he leads you through the crowd.

“___!” someone yells your name.

You stop when you see Karina rushing towards you.

“I’ve been looking for you all night!” She hands you a drink

You look at her through apologetic eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m leaving already. I’ll see you soon!”

Jungkook takes the drink from you after you had a sip and downs the whole thing. He tosses the cup into a near trashcan as you step out of the house.

“Oh, no. I told Eunwoo I’d give him my number,” you remember. “Lemme go back.”

But Jungkook’s hand on the small of your back remains firm.

“He’s not stupid. He’ll find a way to contact your manager.” Jungkook is pissed and you’re not quite sure if you heard it right, but you think he adds a small “Doesn’t need my wife’s number.”.

“Can you imagine me in a drama?” You giggle as you think about it. “Would you watch it?” You turn your head. “You don’t like watching dramas.”

“Of course, I’d watch it. Immediately.”

Your eyes spark up and Jungkook wants to have this image of your forever ingrained in his memory. A literal angel staring at him as if he was the one that hung up the stars.

You stumble over your heels when you refuse to look ahead, pretty eyes still admiring him. “Careful, love.” He quickly steadies you.

He unlocks his car when you reach it and opens the door to the backseat for you. But instead, you pull open the passenger door and bend over to open the glove compartment.

“Are there condoms left here?”

You search for the familiar package, but Jungkook hurriedly pulls you back, shutting it closed along with the car door.

“Nothing left,” he replies. “Get in the backseat.”

As you get into the car and settle on your back, you ponder, “Didn’t realise how many times we’ve fucked in the car.”

You're not particularly interested in cars, but in rare – or apparently not so rare – moments like these, you appreciate the spaciousness of Jungkook’s G-Wagon.

Before Jungkook joins you in the car, he scans the surroundings, vigilant for any lingering onlookers. He doesn’t need you on the front page of every media outlet again. You’ve had enough of that lately, and that darn Instagram Story of yours likely fuelled the gossip mill again.

Jungkook barely uses social media. You’re the only reason he has the apps on his phone. He doesn’t follow anyone except you, only has your notifications on. During a short break he mindlessly clicked on the Instagram notification, expecting a cute picture of your angel outfit – you had texted him complaining about your ruined Barbie dress and he suggested you could use the angel wings he once saw you carrying into your wardrobe.

Safe to stay he expected everything, but a picture with fucking Eunwoo wearing fucking matching costumes.

As hours passed by, his anger didn’t simmer; instead, it prompted his decision to make a swift trip to the dollar store and join you at the party.

“You tend to conveniently forget when you’re a needy brat.”

“It’s ´cause I’m not a brat,” you reply with a huff, yanking at his tie. “Just a bit needy sometimes.”

“Hmm, just a bit needy?” His knuckle follows along your jaw, teasing you with his gentle touches and the mock sympathy seeping from his tone.

You look so cute lying here for him, with the angel wings peeking from your sides and the little sparkly pins adorning your hair. He just wants to fuck you silly.

You nod pliantly. An innocent smile blossoms on your face.

Jungkook’s hand disappears under the ruffles of your skirt, middle finger sliding over your pussy. You gasp, body twitching at the sudden touch.

“So wet already?” he sneers. “All for me?”

You grind your pussy against him, hungry for more.

“And so greedy for me.” He spreads your pussy lips, gently rubbing the pad of his finger over your sensitive clit. Jungkook moves your skirt up and an immediate glint surfaces in his eyes. “So pretty.” He slips two fingers in, smirking when you shake beneath him. “Baby’s sensitive, huh?”

He pumps his fingers into you and your teeth sink into your bottom lip. The alcohol running through your veins heightens your sensitivity to his touch. Everywhere he touches leaves a shimmering trail of tingles, enveloping your body in a cloud of euphoria, a sensation both fuzzy and dreamy.

“I want you.” You reach for his cock, but Jungkook seizes your wrist.

“Did I say you could touch?” His voice drips with condescension.

You weakly shake your head, a frustrated whine accompanying it.

“Use your big girl words.” His fingers stop moving and he completely removes them when you remain silent. “C’mon,” he urges, growing more impatient.

“No, you didn’t,” you sulk. Even dare to look at him through a frown.

“You don’t get to do anything," he tells you. He loses hie tie, wraps it around your wrist in a swift, practiced motion and ties them above your head. “Just lie there and look pretty for me.” He pulls his pants and briefs down, stroking his hard cock before he teasingly nudges his tip against your clit.

You watch him play with your pussy and you’re unable to keep the desperate moans from leaving your mouth, eagerly waiting until he aligns his cock to your entrance, slowly filling you up with his entire length. A throaty moan reverberates when he’s all the way in.

“Pussy’s so good at taking me.”

A gasp leaves your mouth as he stretches you out. “So good,” you mumble.

Jungkook waits until he knows you’re used to h is size before he starts moving his hips.

Your tits move in the confines of your corset. Jungkook’s head dips down and you feel his tongue slide over the swell of your boobs that peek out, teeth slightly grazing over your skin.

“Don’t bite,” you utter between moans.

But Jungkook does exactly that. Even sucks on your skin a little bit.

“You think you have a say on anything?” His hand squeezes your face. Traces of petulance lie in your eyes. His other hand grips your hips, fingers buried in your skin to fuck you fast.

It’s almost ridiculous how fast Jungkook gets you to your high. He knows exactly what to do to get your walls clamp around his cock, begging him to give you just a little bit more to push you off the edge.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, eyes falling closed as you the pleasure builds up in your tummy.

But then Jungkook suddenly stops moving. You open your eyes to find Jungkook smirking at your trembling body, amused when a shaky breath escapes you.

“Why would you do that? I was close!”

He pulls his cock out, tapping it over your clit.

“Hmm, no idea why I would do that?” he asks, pushing his cock back into your pussy in one swift motion.

“I haven’t done anything,” you say meekly, staring at the way he slowly fucks you. He could make you cum so easily.

Jungkook sniffs a laugh. “Can’t recall anything bad you did?”

He picks up on his pace and you can’t think at all, barely able to shake your head as more breathless moans fly past your lips.

“Posting a couple costume picture online? Fuck, ___ what were you thinking?” He hooks his hands underneath your thighs, pulling them up to fuck deeper. “Wanted everyone talking about you two? Wanted to piss me off?”

“No,” you whine. “Didn't mean it that way. We- we didn’t plan on it at all. Just – when we saw each other it was really funny, and I just took a pic of it.” You’re a babbling mess at this point, the ability to form comprehensible sentences gone once Jungkook sticked his cock in you.

“I don’t fucking care,” he curses. “You know how people perceive this stuff.”

“You don’t... don’t think it was a silly coincidence?”

Jungkook is flush against you. Your nails dig into your palms at how deep his cock is buried in you.

“I should find it silly?” A deep glower settles on his face and in a sick, naughty way it turns you on, making your pussy involuntarily squeeze around his cock. “Fuck, ___, do you wanna cum at all?”

“No, please,” you fuss desperately. “Wanna cum.”

“Then start behaving. Quit being a brat.”

“I am good,” you try to convince him.

Jungkook shakes his head in dismissal. “Put on an angel costume and yet you’re such a dirty girl.”

While you may not encapsule the right persona regarding the angel outfit, Jungkook undoubtedly fucks you like the devil. So mean and selfish, teasing and cursing at you.

“Wanna be – wanna be good for daddy.”

“Yeah?” he breathes, hand travelling up your body until it reaches your throat. “Then don’t disappoint me.” With his shiny Rolex around his wrist, he wraps his fingers around you, squeezing the tiniest bit. You feel the familiar outline of his wedding ring press to your skin.

Your legs wrap around him and you try not to poke him with your heels, but tears obstruct your view and you can barely control yourself, the aching feeling to come undone is back in your tummy.

“Jungkook,” you utter between little desperate puffs. “Wanna cum so bad.”

“Only when I allow you to.” Jungkook looks down at your defeated, crushed face with a smug smirk. “Can do that, right? My wife’s capable of that, hmm?”

Your eyes flutter shut. A single tear rolls down the corner of your eye. “Yes, I – I can wait.”

“That’s my good girl.” He leans closer, whispering it into your ear. “Cock so good it’s making you cry, huh?” His lips press to the corner your eye and he kisses your tear away.

The more he talks and whispers dirty word into your ear, the harder it becomes to resist the temptation to pull yourself back and cum on his dick. But you want to be good for Jungkook, want to hear him praise you for being a patient girl.

“Slow down, please.” Your bound wrists unconsciously attempt to free themselves, but Jungkook’s knot is too tight for you to undo it. You’ll cum soon if he continues at this pace.

“Nuh-uh.” He denies firmly. “You can take it. Show me how good you are.” His fingers dig deeper into your throat and your eyes open again. His brows are furrowed, an angry flush tinting his cheeks. “That’s it. Look at me – look at me when you cum.”

It crosses your mind to secretly cum, but Jungkook’s got a knack for spotting your telltale signs, so it wouldn’t be that sneaky after all. You did try to do that once though. You couldn’t properly sit the next day.

Jungkook swipes his tongue over his thumb before he slips his hand between your legs and starts to slowly circle your clit. A devilish grin sparks up his face.

“You wanna cum so badly, don’t you?”

“Please.”

“Wanna cum all over my cock?” His thumb moves faster. “Make a little mess?”

“Yes,” you pant. Pleasure seeps through your entire body and the effort to ignore the feeling becomes so exhausting, more tears fill your eyes.

“Then cum for me,” Jungkook demands, keeping a gentle trace in his voice. His gaze remains on your face and he watches you with greedy eyes as you come undone beneath him.

It happens almost instantly, like a string that snapped. You’re body shakes as your orgasm rumbles through you and you’re so sensitive you want to yank his hand away fromyour clit, but Jungkook enjoys seeing your writhe way too much to stop playing with your nub.

Shaky breaths escape you. Jungkook fucks you slower now, still rolling his hips into you with precision to hit your sweet spot.

“Doing so good, love.” The hand on your throat moves to your face, swiping away the tears. “So good for me.”

And just as you’re about to tell him you’re too sensitive, Jungkook removes his finger from your clit and pulls his cock out. He sits down and pats your thigh. “Come here.”

Despite being tired from just cumming, you’re hungry for him just by the sight of Jungkook stroking his cock. You move to sit on your thighs, tied up hands on your lap.

Jungkook gathers your hair in his hand before he moves your head down. “Open wide,” he instructs, guiding his wet cock into your mouth.

You taste yourself on his dick as your slide your tongue around him. Jungkook is close to cumming. You can feel it in the way his he impatiently pushes your head further down his cock.

“Gonna cum in your mouth.” Tiny moans fill your ear and you take as much of him inside your mouth as you can. “Fuck, just like that.”

Your mouth fills with hot, salty cum and you continue bobbing your head up and down, getting every drop of it.

“Good girl.” Jungkook pulls you away from his cock. You swallow his load as you look at him. He hums approvingly. “Wasn’t too rough, was I?” he asks, untying the know from your wrists. He rubs his fingers over the red marks.

“I’m fine. Didn’t hurt.” Your eyes close when he pecks your forehead.

After he pulls up his pants and briefs, Jungkook checks his phone. His fingers are quick as he types something.

“Who’s texting you at this hour,” you ask, curiously peeking over his arm.

“Just work. I left a bit abruptly.” He tucks his phone away before you can read anything.

Before more questions can leave your lips, he meets yours in a sweet kiss.

“I’m not done with you yet,” he says, patting your hair to tame the mess on your head. “Once we’re home, I’m gonna give your ass the attention it hasn’t got yet.”

#jungkook smut #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook #jungkook x you #bts smut #bts angst #jungkook imagine

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shellshocklove · 11 days

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brat three: i don't wanna feel feelings | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x brat!female!reader – no outbreak

summary: joel’s brat summer is coming to an end.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap, enemies to lovers vibes? swearing, drinking of alcohol, smoking, reader wears a dress, heels and makeup but otherwise no other descriptions, use of pet names, some angst, smut, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, some daddy!joel, manhandling, some light bondage, degradation (whore, slut), oral sex (f+m receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: ok so here's part three to brat! there's one more part planned, and then that's it! <3 big thank you to @dustydaddyyy for reading through this, i love you!! <333 happy reading! 💚

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

The gravel moaned under your heels as you carefully left your uber at the foot of the driveway. The air smelled of summer; flower-y notes with a hint of anticipation. Cars lined the driveway, tightly parked with the wheels almost hanging in the air over the ditch. The sky turned purple then pink as the sun started to dip beneath the horizon, the small beams of light coming through the doors of the big barn beamed brighter and brighter the closer you got.

This wasn’t the first time you’d crashed a party, but it was your first wedding. You’d looked up the place online, Pecan Grove Ranch. It was nice, but pedestrian, not filled with the extravagance a party of this size would rank up in your father’s circles – the ones you’d been dragged too ever since you were old enough to put on a charming smile. This felt real, no fake happy smiles and secret codes, just people gathering to celebrate love.

Love.

It had always been a thing that happened to other people. To your friends, to the protagonist in a movie, to the person on the other side of your kiss. They always thought they were in love with you, but love always felt like a joke everyone was in on except for you, a story told to sell movie tickets or for a song to hit number one.

Sex was different, sex you understood. It was like acting, and you had no problem slipping into the role. It was fun, it was a release, it was a fleeting connection you couldn’t help but chase.

One you were chasing right now.

Maybe Joel was right, maybe you are desperate, but it was his fault for leaving you like that, right on edge but without the release. Honestly, it was his fault you were here, you thought as you stood outside the open barn doors.

Off to the side a few of the guests had gathered around a picnic table. Billowing white smoke clouded them as you watched their animated conversation between drags of their cigarettes and sips of their drinks. A small boy ran past you, almost crashing into you as a little girl chased after him with a giggling laugh. They chased each other on the grass, as they ran between the large trees where a million lighting bugs danced between them.

The air felt light like cotton candy, a sweetness of celebrated love coated the faces that emerged as you stepped inside. The picking guitar intro of TLC’s ‘No Scrubs’ met you at the door, followed by a large cheer, bordering on collective scream, coming from the people on the dance floor. Walking slowly, you followed the back wall of the barn. A light breeze came through the open doors and windows, and tugged at your dress as you closed in on the bar.

Open bar… Nice, Tommy.

Most of the guest had their assigned seats at the round tables pressed up against the wooden walls of the barn. They must’ve been moved to make room for the dancefloor, you thought as you leaned up against the side of the bar. It was rustic, made entirely of untreated wood and decorated with large white bows. The bartender was around your age, handsome, and painfully bored it seemed by the way he lit up when you approached.

“What can I getcha?” he asked, a charming lilt to his voice.

“Um…” your teeth caught on your bottom lip, as you scanned the drinks menu. They all had quirky names, most likely inside jokes or references to the wedding couple that mostly went over your head.

“One ‘Contractor Juice’, please?” you ordered, holding back from cringing at the name. At least you got this reference, and the promise of mint and citrus mixed with alcohol had never failed you before.

“Sure thing, doll,” the bartender smiled, a little too sweet for your liking, or maybe you’d developed a preference for grumpy frowns.

“So… bride or groom?” he asked, making conversation as he worked.

“Um… groom,” you told him, leaning your back against the bar as your eyes rolled over the tables, searching.

“Ain’t seen you up here yet,” he said, a question unsaid hanging in the air as he handed you your drink.

Turning around, you thanked him and slipped a five-dollar bill in the tip jar. “There,” you said, “Now you can turn off the charm.”

You watched how he tried to hide his smile, as he held up his hands in a surrender, “Who’s to say I can turn it off?”

He smiled when you rolled your eyes at him. It was cute, two dimples separated by perfect white teeth. At the start of the summer, you might’ve let him fuck you at the end of the night, but the summer was coming to a close, and you had your eyes set on someone else.

He had his back turned, but you knew it was him, you’d recognize those broad shoulders anywhere. Something bubbled under your skin then, and your hands felt clammy around your glass – you were nervous, there was a whole room between you, but he still managed to make you nervous.

Maybe this was a bad idea?

He sat with his body turned, his hand around a beer bottle, as he watched the dancefloor move. Your eyes followed his and found Tommy where he danced, his hand clasping a woman’s, a woman you’d only seen in photos.

Joel’s daughter.

She was beautiful. Clad in a dark lavender satin dress, matching the other bridesmaids. Her dark hair was slicked back and gathered at the nape of her neck, held together by a matching satin bow, perfect curls spilled across her back. Her smile was even prettier as she laughed and sang with her uncle, swinging to ‘Build Me up Buttercup’. It was the same smile you could see across Joel’s face as he watched them.

The drink burned slightly from the acidity at the back of your throat, and you were grateful that he’d been heavy on the liquor. You needed to catch up, let the alcohol loosen you up, pull away your unexpected nerves.

“Who’s that?” you heard behind you. A warmth coated your neck and cheeks at being caught staring, and the embarrassment mixed with anger.

“I don’t think that’s any of your fucking business,” you scoffed.

The bartender huffed out a dry laugh, “Jesus, it’s wedding small talk, no need to bite my head off.”

“Well, I’d prefer it if you didn’t talk,” you told him, sending him an annoyed look over your shoulder.

When you turned back around, Joel’s seat was empty, the beer bottle he’d nursed left behind on the table, the only sign he’d ever been seated there in the first place. Your tongue found the straw of your drink, twirling it around while you sipped, eyes scanning the dancefloor.

Nothing.

Did he slip out? Out to catch some fresh air or go to the bathroom? Maybe you could find the restroom, hover outside the door and ‘accidently’ bump into him?

No.

You cringed. Did you even hear yourself? As you took another sip, trying and failing to come up with a plan, a familiar gruff voice heaved a heavy sigh behind you.

“You got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

He didn’t look angry, but the way his hand rubbed over his face was worse, he was disappointed to see you.

“What the fuck you doin’ here?”

“Celebrating Tommy, and–” you squinted your eyes, looking at the name scrawled elegantly next to Tommy’s on the bar menu, “–Maria... aren’t you?”

You gave Joel an easy smile, and stepped closer, crossing one foot nonchalantly over the other. There was no way in hell you’d give him the satisfaction of seeing you even a bit phased he’d caught you crashing his brother’s wedding.

A huff escaped Joel at your lie before the corners of his mouth pulled ever so slightly in a dry, sarcastic smile.

“That’s cute,” he told you, his voice devoid of any humor in it, tone entirely disbelieving.

“I’ve been known to be described as such,” you grinned.

Joel didn’t seem to like your joke, his face not moving an inch. “You know this is way out of line, right?”

“What?” you snorted, taking a sip of your drink as your eyes fanned out over the room for a second, before landing back on Joel, “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Joel let out an almost incredulous scoff, shaking his head as his eyes quickly scanned across the room, going to Tommy still on the dancefloor with Sarah. Something seemed to flash over his eyes, or maybe it was the lights but he leaned forward then, fingers wrapping around your forearm in a firm grip.

“Way to make it obvious,” you said under your breath as he pulled you a bit. Not letting him have it, you planted your feet, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Don’t be a fuckin’ brat,” he told you, his voice filled with annoyance.

Something ignited in you then, and you knew you had him right where you wanted him. Unable to contain your smile as the words crossed his lips, you felt them settle in your core, drip down your thighs like sticky honey.

“You’d know just what do about that, wouldn’t you?” you challenged, your eyes burning into his, and for a second, you had his attention. He held your gaze, and his eyes flickered with the same intensity you felt.

A beat passed between you, and you watched as his jaw tightened, waiting for the bomb to tick down to zero.

Then it popped.

The guests cheered as a song faded into another, and Joel took a step closer to you. His hand released your forearm to slip around your waist as his eyes never left yours.

“Come,” he spoke through his teeth, his voice low and quiet.

The feel of his hand so close to your skin sent your brain into a temporary reboot. You’d craved it all week, missed him so close to you, missed his scent on your skin, and you let yourself be steered away.

Quickly, Joel led you out the barn doors, his hand firmly pressed against your lower back as he looked over his shoulder. The music faded as he guided you towards a handful of small, scattered cabins hidden away behind a grove of trees. The trail snaked its way from tree to tree, your heels digging into the gravel making it hard to keep up with Joel’s pace. He walked with haste, passing cabin after cabin until the hand on your lower back looped around your waist, turning you around to face him as he came to a stop outside the last cabin.

His eyes drilled into your own, giving you a wild look, “I want you to leave,” he said, voice stern.

Leaning into his touch, you tilted your head to the side and let your eyes roll over him. He’d combed his hair back, wavy curls held back by gel. You raised your hand to cup his cheek, letting your thumb run through his trimmed scruff, hints of salt and pepper shone under the rising moonlight. The full of his lips was pressed together in a tight line, your eyes trailing your thumb as you let it gently run over his lips. Something softened in him under your touch, his eyes brown and deep as they watched you, it made your heart pick up its beat, hammering out of your chest.

Leaning closer, your eyes flickered to his lips again, and you thought about how you didn’t know what he tasted like, didn’t know how his lips felt against your own. You were so close now; his breath came out in small puffs against your face. Slowly you tilted your head, your nose accidentally brushing up against the crook of his own.

“You owe me a fucking orgasm,” you whispered.

His hand around your waist tightened, and with a small huff he tilted his head back.

“I owe you nothin’, princess.”

God, he could be stubborn sometimes.

It might’ve annoyed you if it didn’t turn you on as much as it did. You loved how he made you work for it, and he was worth doing the work. Something deep down inside you knew it. Joel was a good man. If you weren’t careful he’d remove the walls built up by that lonely girl you’d kept hidden inside; one emotional stone at a time. Maybe it was ironic? The man who’d devoted his life to building walls, now breaking them down?

“Why do you deny yourself something you want?”

“You...” Joel swallowed hard, dark eyes watching your face with an unreadable expression, “You're a piece of work, you know that?”

The words stung more than you’d like to admit, and when Joel’s hand slipped from your body as he stepped away, a wave of anxiety washed over you.

Had you gone too far?

Joel didn’t look happy, and a small knot started to tie itself in your stomach under his gaze. You watched as he unbuttoned the top button of his tuxedo jacket, making it fall open and showing you his perfectly pressed shirt underneath. His right hand dug into his inner pocket, fishing out a white key card.

His steps were heavy up the front stairs to the cabin, almost dragging, like he moved through molasses. The lock clicked as he held the key card against it, a green light blinking before he opened the door.

Dumbfounded, you stood at the foot of the front steps. You’d riled him up, played your little game and he’d gone along with it like always.

Was this how it was gonna end?

He stood in the opening, hand on the handle with one foot on either side – halfway in, but also halfway out. He didn’t move, his head tipped forward, weighing his options. Then he sighed and pushed the door open, and stepped inside the darkness.

“C‘mon, get in before anyone sees you.”

The cabin was quaint, but cozy, with only the necessities. It was more like a hut, not bigger than a hotel room. A narrow hallway opened up to the bedroom, with a door to the right leading to a bathroom. Joel had placed his overnight bag on the chair in the corner, a worn leather duffle bag with a dark t-shirt and pair of jeans thrown over it, clearly thrown in a hurry to get ready. White lace curtains hung over the windows, bright against the dark wood of the paneled walls.

The clinking of Joel’s belt pulled you from the silence, your head twitched like a reflex turning towards him. He’d shed his tuxedo jacket, his broad shoulders fighting against his pristine white shirt. He walked towards you slowly as he removed his cufflinks; the warmth in his eyes had turned darker. Taking a step backwards the back of your thighs pressed into the chair, almost tipping you over, but he caught you, one arm tight around your wrist while the other threw the cufflinks on the pile of clothes behind you.

“You say ‘red’ ‘nd we stop,” he told you, eyes holding your gaze so intently you didn’t dare look away. An inaudible breath pressed past your lips when his other hand cupped your cheek, the touch reminding you to nod your head.

“Or I pinch you,” you said.

A pleased smile spread across his face, “Good.” He punctuated his approval with a light pat to your cheek.

Stepping away, he nodded towards the bed, an unspoken order, while his hands found his tie around his neck where he tugged at the knot. You sat at the foot of the bed, knees pressed together, waiting for him to make the first move. The white sheets smelled strongly of detergent, nothing like the faded hints of his cologne mixed with sawdust you’d smelled on his own sheets that first night he’d fucked you.

The tie slipped from his neck and you fell back on your arms, feigning boredom while you let out an audible sigh. It made him laugh.

“What’s so funny?” you queried, your brows pulled together in a frown.

A smile leftover from his chuckle coated his lips as he stepped closer, your legs spreading for him to slot between as he threw the tie on the bed beside you.

“Nothin’.”

Over you, he gently rolled up his sleeves with practiced hands before he wrapped a hand tightly around your upper arm. Then he tugged.

“Hey!” you said, fighting against his grip as he manhandled you. He turned you roughly, his other hand fingering the zipper of your dress, while the other held you in place. “Be careful with the dress,” you whined.

“Stop actin’ like a fuckin’ child,” he muttered, helping you out of your dress.

“A child? Well… that doesn’t bode well for you with what you’re about to do.”

That stopped him in his tracks, eyes burning as he let go of you. “Jesus Christ,” he hissed, throwing your dress over his pile of clothes, “you’re fuckin’ unbelievable.”

Freed from his grip, a smirk pulled at your lips as you shuffled up the bed. Leaning back on your elbows, you seductively parted your legs for him, showing him the darkened patch of fabric scarcely covering your cunt.

“You keep saying that,” you smiled, saccharine and sticky like syrup.

“I’ll stop when you finally start behavin’.” Joel’s hand wrapped around your ankle, tugging you towards him with a hard jerk, making a giggly squeal escape you.

“Never– HEY!”

A ripping sound tore through the room, your skimpy panties tattered in his large hands. A smirk spread over his face. The motherfucker looked mighty pleased with himself.

“Surprised you’re even wearin’ these,” he said, thumbing at the wet patch of arousal, before he tossed them to the floor. “A slut like you should’ve gone without, shouldn't you?”

The warmth of his touch over your knees had you twitching for him, goosebumps following his hands as they rubbed gently up and down your legs. His eyes never left your face though, watching every reaction you gave up.

“I…” your rebuttal trailed off when he fell to his knees, slotting between your own and spreading you open for him, one hand glided down the outside of your thigh to your ass, while the other found your aching clit.

Then he spat. A thick blob of saliva ran from the top of your mound down your clit, where it combined with your arousal shining through your glistening folds.

“Joel!?” you gasped when the rough pad made contact, pressing down with just the right amount of pressure, spreading his spit around in small circles.

You kinda hated this part; getting eaten out. No partner had gotten it right before. Not that it wasn’t enjoyable, it could be, but never seeing stars good… And you couldn’t help but think about that first time someone had gone down on you, about the boytoy you’d had wrapped around your finger freshman year. He’d given you an orgasm maybe 60% of the time he’d fucked you (which was a better successrate than your later hook-ups), but his comment as he’d gotten on his knees for you for the first time still rang loudly in your head.

It’s not supposed to look like that, is it?

The small laugh he’d let out had only made it worse, and you’d dumped him less than twenty-four hours later. Now, you hated having a man this close to your pussy.

Your hand found Joel’s shoulder, where it pushed. “I don’t…” you interrupted yourself with a hand over your face, not wanting to look at him.

“What, baby?”

Suddenly he was there, hovering above you, caging you in with his body, heavy hand pushing at your own over your face.

“Ain’t in the mood for the orgasm I owe ya, is that it?” he smirked, and you stayed obstinately silent for a second.

“What is it, hm?” he asks you, “Not gonna let me taste that pretty pussy?”

Pretty…

“Joel…”

Your eyes searched his face, looking to find where he’d hidden his lie. His face grew sterner, eyebrows pulling together in a furrow.

“Tell me.”

Your front tooth caught on your lip and a heat prickled up your neck. You couldn’t tell him, you just couldn’t. Joel’s palm found your cheek, heavy and safe against your skin, letting his thumb sooth you and your eyelids fluttered from his touch. A breath got caught in your throat when he leaned forward, placing a soft kiss to the column of your neck, your pulse vibrating under his lips.

“Do I have to wring it outta you?” he whispered against your skin, his hand gliding from your cheek to fit around your neck. The air between you changed and you forced yourself to snap back into your disguise.

“I’d like to see you try.”

A deep rumbling laugh vibrated against your skin and Joel found your eyes again. His hand around your neck soothed over your skin and you found yourself pushing up into his hand, daring him to tighten his grip.

“There she is… my brat,” he smiled.

Mine.

He was gone before the possessive word could settle, hovering over your body as he rid himself of his shirt. You couldn’t help but drink him in, he was so handsome, broad and strong with speckled grey hairs trailing to the heavy bulge hidden away behind the soft fabric of his dress pants. His undone belt clicked as he moved closer, climbing onto the bed between your legs.

“Scoot up,” Joel ordered with a tap to the outer skin of your thigh.

The huff you let out was exasperated, earning you a stern look as his large palms found the cheeks of your ass, patting your skin lightly, before he helped you move. The way he fluffed the pillows behind your back was almost tender, and your eyebrows pulled together in the slightest frown.

“Is your definition of ‘wringin’ it outta me’–” you mocked his drawl, “–fucking like a boring old married couple in missionary? Is that what you used to do with your wife?”

The way Joel’s eyes hardened made a smile break over your face. Quickly, you regretted the smile when his hand clasped around your wrist, bending it backwards towards the bed post.

“Hey! What are you doing?” you demanded, playfully fighting against his grip, but Joel was too strong.

“Behave.”

“But I hate that,” you exclaimed with a sigh, pushing your head back into the pillow.

His silk tie tickled against the thin skin under your wrist, and you had to turn your head to watch him as he tied your hand to the bed. The way he did it exuded no nonsense; his eyebrows were tied together in concentration as practiced fingers danced over the knots, testing them with a light tug.

“I’m givin’ you what you ain’t closed to earned– so you oughta be grateful, princess, ‘nd thank me,” he told you as he moved on to your other hand.

Joel raised an eyebrow at you when he grabbed a hold of it, daring you to put up a fight again.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

The way you said it was sugary sweet, and you knew he didn’t believe a word you said, but a pleased smile settled over his lips either way. Then his fingers found his belt, tugging it from his waist all in one go, his muscles moved under his skin from the strain. The leather felt harsher around your skin than his tie, but Joel made sure to not tie it to tightly. When he was pleased with you, he found his spot between your legs again.

His rough hands teased over your naked skin, eyes fixed on the way it gave way for him when he squeezed ever so slightly. You couldn’t help but watch him – there was nothing you could do now, your hands literally tied.

“I oughta tie these too I reckon,” he mused, pushing your legs wider, “but I’m outta rope,” he chuckled, way too pleased with his own joke.

“Ha-ha-ha,” you said, voice dry with an unimpressed look on your face.

Lowering himself, he placed playful lovebites to the soft skin of the inside of your thigh. The lower he got, the closer he got, you felt yourself brace for impact as your eyes found the ceiling.

You felt his hot breath first, gentle huffs against your spit-soaked clit. How soft his kiss was, you didn’t expect– didn’t expect the fluttering touch of his lips down your pussy, so gentle against the core of you. A stuttering breath caught in your throat, and quickly you melted against the pillows.

“Hey,” Joel caught your attention. He had that look in his eyes, something dark and filled with lust as he let the scratch of his rough beard rub against the thin skin of your inner thigh. “Look at me, only me, you hear?”

He underlined his order with a soothing kiss to the sensitive skin, pulling a nod from you. Pleased, his lips skated downwards, teeth nipping playfully at the skin, leaving small bursts of electricity in the wake of his touch.

“Such a pretty pussy, baby– all wet ‘nd messy f’me.” Joel spoke with a deep bass, as two fingers found your seam, swiping them through your folds. “Listen,” he told you, as the slick sound of your arousal filled the cabin.

The beat in your chest seemed louder and louder in your ears the more he taunted you. You didn’t want to do this with Joel – fake it – feel that stone of disappointment sink into the depths of yourself as the orgasm you so desperately wanted fizzled away into nothing. Couldn’t he just rub your clit a little? Finger you instead?

With his fingers Joel spread you apart and a heat travelled up your neck. You felt so exposed, and you had to fight not to look away from him when he leaned forward with the flat of his tongue, tasting you. A breath caught in your throat like a reflex, and a low hum rumbled out of Joel’s chest, almost in… contentment. Your eyebrows met in a furrow then.

He couldn’t seriously like this?

He continued to lap at your folds, taking his time, and it felt… good, really good. When he licked a stripe from your hole to your clit, you couldn’t fight back your moan.

“C’mon, let me hear you, princess,” he said, his tone of voice way too cocky.

He latched on to your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue in a way no man had ever done before. It was intense, sloppy, almost primal. Small, breathy sighs built in your chest, and you wished you could touch him, hold on to him.

Joel licked down through your folds again; his tongue teasing at your hole. “Is–” you cut yourself off with a surprised gasp, reeling from the way his tongue pushed into you. “Is t-this what you call e-eating pussy?” you tried again to taunt, far from convincing.

Joel didn’t bother with a reply. Instead, he switched his tongue with his fingers. The wet mix of your arousal and saliva made the slide easy. A breathy whimper escaped your lips when he curled them, hitting the spongy spot inside you and hurling you quickly towards your release.

“Fuck,” you sighed, bucking your hips against his lips closing around your clit again.

You couldn’t stay still, your hips moving erratically to meet the swipes and zigzags of his tongue. Never had it felt like this, this good, this perfect. His fingers moved easily in and out, in and out, with a slick squelch. Squeezing your eyes shut, Joel coaxed you closer and closer to your orgasm. The pads of his fingers hit you just right, massaging with every thrust. An increasing pressure swiweled in your stomach around the laps of his tongue around your clit. Your back moved on it’s own, arching off the bed as his makeshift restraints tightened with your movement. A hand found your ass then, holding you flush to his face and you felt yourself starting to wither.

“There she goes… my good girl,” he hummed against you, “Come all over my tongue, princess.”

You let the wave of pleasure wash over you with a broken scream. You didn’t have to fake a thing as your whole body shook with your orgasm. His fingers continued their pace, pushing through your spasming walls and prolonging your ecstasy. Every sigh and whimpering moan was real, and you lost yourself in the buzzing feeling of Joel taking you apart and putting you back together again.

When the aftershocks fizzled out Joel pulled his fingers, slicked up and soaked from your cunt. A cocky grin coated his face as he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking your cum off his fingers. When your eyes found his, something in them had you slipping under, a want so strong to drown in them.

He climbed off the bed, your blissed out gaze rolling over him as he removed his dress pants and underwear. You could feel yourself go doe eyed when he took his hard cock in hand, giving it a few practiced tugs as he studied you at his mercy, spread apart and dripping with a mix of your pearly arousal, his spit and your cum.

He was perfect; his broad chest, tanned under the Texan sun with speckled hairs trailing down his torso where it ended in a dark wiry patch at the base of his impressive cock. Your mouth dropped open in the smallest of o’s – you wanted to taste him again, feel your spit mixed with his precum on your tongue, the thick head of his cock knock at the back of your throat.

“Daddy…” you pleaded, putting on your best puppy dog eyes.

“What, princess?” he taunted, voice laced with fake pity as he climbed on the bed again. Letting go of his thick cock, he wrapped his hands under your armpits and hiked you upright against the pillows. Under him you couldn’t help but soften at the edges.

“What d’you want, huh? What does my slut want?” he continued, straddling your body, two strong thighs on either side of your torso. He was so close like this, veiny cock inches from your waiting mouth. Reluctantly, you tore your gaze away to find his eyes, focusing hard on finding your words as you could see him start to stroke himself again in your peripheral. The large head of his cock grazed your lips with every stroke, pearling a salty taste of precum for you to taste.

“Why do you ask, when you already know?” you said, your voice lacking your infamous bite. A smile tore at Joel’s face, and a rumbling laugh escaped him as he moved closer.

“Maybe my cock pluggin’ up that throat will make you behave f’me?” he mused, like he was speaking his inner thoughts out loud and you weren’t even there. “At least you’d be quiet for once.”

His other hand found your chin, then, robbing you of your answer as he squeezed at the flesh, forcing your mouth to pop open. “Kiss it for Daddy, princess,” he ordered, slapping his cock on your waiting tongue.

When he let go of your face, you wrapped your plush lips around his thick head, suckling wet kisses to the tip. A lewd moan escaped you at the familiar taste of him, his musk filling your nostrils. It was addicting, Joel was addicting, and you needed more.

The desperate whine you let out, earned you a reprimanding slap to your cheek. “Don’t get greedy now, ‘m gonna give ya what you want,” he told you and pulled back, while the sting prickled away. You couldn’t help the pout forming, and Joel was quick to sooth it away with his thumb tracing over your lips.

“Listen, baby,” he found your eyes, “You kick me, alright? You kick me ‘f you wanna stop.”

“Okay,” you sighed.

“Okay, what?” he demanded with a slap of his cock against your cheek, smearing glistening precum over your skin.

“Okay, Daddy,” you smiled and dropped your mouth open so he could feed you his cock – all the way this time.

“That’s it, my good girl.”

Eagerly, your plush lips wrapped around his cock, his heavy cock plugged up your throat as he made room for himself. You didn’t gag right away like last time, you had practice now. As he pushed himself deeper, his hand braced himself against the headboard, while the other cradled your head – his rough thumb skated gently over your skin as he gently rocked his hips.

“Fuck,” he moaned above you, “That’s it, slut, let me feel your throat open f’me.”

Closing your eyes, you tried to calm yourself, holding back your gag reflex as tears started to prickle at your eyes. Even with practice, Joel wasn’t easy to take. Your lips stretched wide around the girth of him, swollen and used as spit slicked up his pubes. With each rock of his hips you felt the bulbous head knock at the back of your throat, bruising your flesh.

The sight of you must’ve been pornographic; your throat bulging with every rock of his hips as your spit dripped down your chest, pooling at his thighs stretched over your chest.

A vicious gag choked you, and Joel pulled back quickly, his cock wet with your spit bopping heavily in front of you face. You spluttered between gasps of air, spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth as tears ran in a steady stream, smudging your make-up. His hand cradling your head tightened slightly, tilting you to catch his eyes as something close to worry flashed over his face.

“Don’t close your eyes, you hear me?” his voice was strict, “‘nd I need ya to kick me!”

“Keep going!”

Your voice was hoarse and wet, but it didn’t seem to convince Joel. His face gave nothing away, stern and hard, teeth biting down a scowl – but his hands were tender, stroking at your skin.

“Ain’t ever been with a woman who’s as much of a slut as you I reckon,” he mused, his hand leaving your face to grip himself, tapping the length of himself against your skin.

“Embarrassing way to admit you haven’t been with a lot of women, Joel,” you told him, hiding your smile behind a soft kiss to the wet head of his cock.

“Jesus Christ.” A laugh escaped him, surprisingly light for someone out to punish you.

Moving your head, you started to press light kisses down his shaft, waiting for Joel to take control again, to punish you – like you ‘deserved,’ but all he did was a whole lot of nothing. When your tongue finally reached the base of him, your cheek pressed into the crease between his thigh and hip as your lips brushed gently against the soft skin of his balls – so heavy and full. Wrapping his hand around himself, he stroked in languid motions, like he savored it, wanted to memorize every calculated jerk.

“‘s that what you want, huh?” he asked, voice low and dark, almost tainting, and you couldn’t hold back the mewl escaping you. “Go on then, princess, suck on my balls like a good whore.”

With his other hand he guided one of his balls to your mouth. When you wrapped your lips around him, suckling gently at the sensitive skin, a deep groan fell from Joel’s lips.

“That’s good, princess, that’s so fuckin’ good.”

Being so close, breathing in the masculine musk of him, you almost squirmed under his weight, your cunt desperate and dripping with arousal. You felt so dirty, sucking on the balls of a man more than twice your age as he had his way with you. It would never feel like this again with anyone else – you knew it, you didn’t know how, but you did.

“C’mon, give the other one some sugar too.”

Humming out in an agreement, you let go with a pop as he guided the other ball into your waiting mouth for you to suckle around. The rhythm of his strokes picked up when you flattened your tongue, licking at the seam.

“God,” he groaned, “such a fuckin’ slut f’me– so fuckin’ desperate for my balls in your mouth–”

Joel cut himself off with a deep groan, as he backed up, making you chase after him as he held himself at the base, squeezing. Your restraints dug into your wrists, and you whined in defeat.

This bondage act was starting to get old.

“Gonna come already, old man?”

Joel didn’t seem to like your attitude, his joints cracking as he climbed back onto the bed, the welcomed weight of him now gone.

“That’s rich,” he spat, “coming from the one showin’ up here all desperate for me to fuck her.”

“Well, I’m waiting,” you told him with a roll of your eyes, voice bored.

That seemed to finally inspire some action in him. With stern eyes, and a stern grip, Joel parted your legs to slot between. The way his hands dug into your skin hurt, angry finger-shaped welts as he manuveroured you, had you wishing for the dizzying pain of a bruise tomorrow to remind you of this, of Joel.

Your hips bucked when you felt the blunt head of his cock against your clit, making him throw a hand over your waist to keep you still. A heat coated your cheeks when you heard it, the slick sound of your wet cunt as he dragged himself up and down your folds, coating himself in your desperation.

“Missionary?” you bit, fighting hard to hold back your moans as he teased at your dripping opening, “You’re so old fashioned.”

“I like to watch brats break when they finally get a cock in them,” he bit back, “Now beg f’mine.”

“No,” you hiccuped, with a weak shake of your head.

Joel played dirty – his thumb came up to graze over your clit, as he continued to tease his cock at your opening, pressing in slightly and then pulling out again just as quickly. He had you squirming for him in seconds, desperate to feel him make a home for himself inside you.

“Beg, brat.”

His thumb on your clit pressed down harder in tight, practiced figure eights, and you had no choice but to break. You needed him, needed Joel inside.

“Please,” you gasped, “Please, fuck me.”

But Joel continued circling his thumb, drawing you closer to the edge again. It got harder and harder to stay still as he pushed at your boundaries. Everything inside you screamed for him, like you were a piece of metal and he was the magnet. You couldn’t stay away, you’d always end up pressed against him.

“Whose cunt is this?” he demanded, suddenly hovering above you, dark eyes staring into yours. A large palm held your head in place, anchoring you to him, his face, this moment.

“Yours,” you whispered, “Yours, Joel.”

His name left your lips as a sight, the syllables stolen out of the air when he pushed at your opening, heavy cock splitting you in two and seating himself in your heat. He had your legs shaking, head lulling into his palm at the pleasurable pressure poking at the depths of you, where no one but Joel could reach.

“It’s okay, baby– you come on that cock if ya need to,” he hummed, a hint of condescension in his low voice as he continued to rub your clit.

Everything was coming to a head. Pleasure beamed through your body, like a supernova, as you exploded for Joel, shaking under his body as your eyes rolled back in your head. Whimpering moans stole your breaths, and you almost didn’t register Joel’s deep voice rumbling against the collum of your throat.

“C’mon… that’s it… good girl, that’s my good girl– y’feel so good, baby.”

His warm breath felt sticky against your skin, and you found yourself hoping he’d never leave; that you could somehow tattoo how he felt against you on your skin, let him mark you as his.

When your legs stopped shaking, Joel’s thumb stopped bullying your clit. He let you catch your breath, heaving chest slowing to steady rhythm again. His eyes found yours again, and for a moment they were almost tender, as something real started to weigh between you. You wanted to say something, anything, but Joel pulled away, hooking his arms under your knees before he finally started to pound into you, chasing his own high.

“Fuck,” you gasped, your walls already sensitive from the multiple orgasms he’d already given you. The way he split you open around the girth of him, it was always too much, you couldn’t see how you’d ever get used to the feeling of him.

Joel's breath got heavier as he picked up his pace, balls slapping wetly against your ass, as deep groans vibrated through his chest.

“That’s it, princess, you take it,” he rambled, “Good girl– go dumb on that cock f’me.”

His hands dug into your skin, his mind so caught up in you, in the way you felt squeezing around him.

Slap, slap, slap.

He was so deep, he must’ve fucked his way into your stomach. You felt yourself go limp in his arms, letting him take what he needed, letting him use you for his own pleasure.

“God, y’were made f’takin’ my big cock, baby.”

“Gonna fill up this pretty cunt– watch it leak outta ya.”

“Please,” you begged between harsh thrusts, your tits bouncing with every sway of his hips, “Please, come inside me, Daddy.”

With a particularly sharp thrust, his balls pulled tight against your ass, and Joel came. Deep groans of satisfaction filled your ears, the sweetest sound, as he pumped you full. He rutted into you until there was nothing left, your cunt overflowing with his sticky seed. A content sigh left your lips at the feeling, your body finally sated.

Thoughts traveled to the next moments, how you wanted him to pull you into his chest, strong arms pulled tight around your body as you both calmed down. To be held close in his embrace, a comforting hand at the back of your neck. You wanted him to kiss you, longed to feel his lips brush over yours. You searched for Joel’s eyes, searched for a small inkling of reciprocation.

Maybe you’d say something stupid – finally let go of all the feelings you can’t control anymore.

But Joel’s eyes didn’t want to catch yours, and he pulled away too quickly, sliding his softening cock from your ruined cunt. You were gonna make a mess of his sheets, you probably already had judging from the slick feeling on the inside of your thighs as you closed them.

Something in the air felt loaded suddenly, and you wanted to reach for him, touch his rough skin and ground yourself away from your nagging insecurities– But you couldn’t, your hands were bound. His strong back muscles moved under his skin as he fished his shirt from the floor, now crinkled, ruined.

“Wanna go again?” you tried, pushing at his back, barely out of reach, with your foot.

He let you push at him, but the sigh he let out as he stood to his feet to get dressed had your stomach tie itself in a knot.

“This ain’t happenin’ again,” he sighed, getting dressed.

“Sure,” you nodded in a scoff, unconvinced as a mischievous smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. Between your legs you felt yourself start to leak, his thick spend running down your folds to your ass, and onto the sheets.

When he finally turned around, large fingers fiddling with the small buttons of his shirt, his eyes finally caught yours. Biting down on your lip, you spread your legs coquettishly, showing him where he’d claimed you.

His eyes, however, never wandered, the familiar warmth that you had seen barely a few minutes ago now gone, his expression stoic and unreadable. You felt the knot in your stomach from earlier tighten.

“I’m serious,” he told you, and almost on instinct you felt your legs close as he leaned over you, untying one of your hands, “You ever pull something like this again, and it’ll be the last time you ever see me.”

You felt your face drop despite yourself as he untied the other hand, the corners of your mouth straightening out as a small frown appeared between your brows. You were silent for a moment as Joel walked to the other end of the room, plucking his jacket up off of the chair. Your eyes tracked his movements apprehensively.

“I thought you liked it when I behaved this way,” you said eventually, and you hated the way your tone sounded. You had meant for it to be a challenge, a call-out of his hypocrisy, but instead you sounded like a child; disappointed and petulant.

“Listen,” he started, voice calm but with a seriousness that made a nervousness tug at the back of your neck. “You’ve had your fun, and I can tolerate a lotta shit, but–... you gotta learn some fuckin’ boundaries.” Your frown only deepened at his words.

“Comin’ here–” his voice stalled as he shook his head, shrugging on the jacket “This is my family, my brother’s wedding– my fuckin’ daughter is here… You can’t just show up in my life like some kind of trainwreck every time you need me to fuck you.”

“How else am I supposed to do it? You don’t exactly text,” you bit back, “And don’t pretend like you don’t like it,” you fumbled for a retort.

“That’s just a shitty excuse for unacceptable behaviour, and you know it,” Joel said, and you felt yourself get angry at how calm he was.

It was embarrassing; your cheeks burned bright like a flame, and it fueled a deep pit of annoyance inside of you, one you didn’t even know existed as your jaw bit down in a clench. Lifting your chin in a defiant scoff, you’re not proud of the next words out of your mouth.

“You’re full of shit,” you said with a shake of your head, “You’ll barely last a week and you know it... you love it, love putting me in my place like this.”

“Sure I do,” Joel said with a nonchalant shrug, “But I sure as shit didn't sign up to deal with your antics... that’s a job for your real Daddy, sweetheart.”

That last comment felt like a slap in the face. A job for your real Daddy. In your chest you felt something cave in, as a paralyzing shock swept over your body. You went cold, so cold as your eyes drifted past Joel, and swiveled into the wood walls. He was right, Joel was right, but you never imagined he’d slap you in the face like this with the truth.

“So, listen up now, this is what you’re gonna do,” Joel said as he stepped towards you, looking you straight in the eye, ”You're gonna take your shit, ‘nd your shitty attitude, ‘nd you're gonna quietly slip outta here ‘nd pretend like you were never even fuckin’ here in the first place. ‘s that clear?”

You were barely able to nod before he stepped back and turned his back on you. When his hand found the doorknob, he threw you one last look.

“You better not be here when I get back.”

part four -> here!

hopefully this was okay? please let me know what you thought of the new part! a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #the last of us smut #tlou smut #tlou fanfic #brat!reader #pedro pascal

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pathologicalreid · 9 months

Text

clue | S.R.

in which penelope hosts a new year's eve party. with a murder mystery theme.

who? spencer reid x fem!journalist!reader

category: fluff, slice of life

content warnings: all of the characters are dressed as detectives. marriage, murder, mentions of blood, fireworks, slight descriptions of fake violence, reader wears a dress, this is very haphazardly proofread. very slightly suggestive in the beginning if you squint.

word count: 2.95k

a/n: happy new year's eve friends! this idea has been rotting in my brain since i read the prompt. i started with the idea that i wanted reader and kristy to win and a dream, and now here i am. it was genuinely so much fun to write. (and now i have spencer x journalist!reader brain rot) i always see people writing for these challenges but this is my first time participating!

i wrote this for @imagining-in-the-margins' office party challenge based on the prompt "Penelope planned a Murder Mystery party... with a bunch of criminal profilers. Great. (Bonus if a non-profiler wins)" thank you so much for this challenge!

“I have no idea why Penelope felt the need to rent an AirBnB for a New Year’s Eve party,” you whispered, getting out of the car along with Spencer. “Or why we had to dress in costume,” you said, pulling your shawl over your shoulders.

Gently reaching over, Spencer tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ears, “It’s a Penelope Garcia party, that means it’s a production. Additionally, this is the first New Year's Eve we’ve been in town in four years, which means there’s no need for an MHM.”

Grinning up at your fiancé, you responded, “There does seem to be a moratorium on violent crime this holiday season.” The best Christmas gift you received this year was finding Spencer sleeping in bed next to you when you woke up.

You watched him reach into the back of the car for his jacket. The costume description Garcia had given him was similar to what he wore on a normal day. You helped him pick out the brown sweater vest and matching tie, but he selected the rest of the ensemble. “Did I tell you that you look incredible?” He asked, pulling his jacket on.

“I believe those were the words that caused us to be fifteen minutes late, Dr. Reid,” you chided but smiled nonetheless when Spencer pulled you close and embraced you.

You felt him smile against your neck, “Worth it,” he whispered.

Dragging him by the arm, you stood on the porch and knocked on the door. Almost instantly, a familiar voice rang out, “You have to use the knocker!” Penelope called out.

Sighing, you rolled your eyes and took the bronze adornment in your hand and knocked it against the red-painted door. The heavy door swung open and you were greeted by Penelope Garcia, “Welcome Dr. Reid and Someday Mrs. Reid, to the New Year’s party that will, likely, be the New Year’s party to end all New Year’s parties.”

“I have no doubt, Pen,” you stepped forward and hugged her. “You look great, I love this color,” you told her, settling your hands on your shoulders. She wore a lime green button-down dress with an old-timey collar, and her blonde locks were pulled up into a French twist.

Spencer and Penelope greeted each other, and Garcia led the two of you to a sitting room, “Where did you find this house?” Spencer asked, walking in behind you.

She waved him off, “I am the master of all things Internet, I found it online and thought it was perfect.”

Your heels clicked as you followed the two of them. They were quicker, Penelope knew where she was going and Spencer naturally had a long stride, not to mention the restriction of your gown. “Perfect for what, exactly?” You inquired.

“A BAU Murder Mystery party!” She answered as if it was obvious.

A wolf whistle from the other side of the room caught your attention, you turned around to see Tara grinning at you, “Well how about you.”

Blushing, you spread the skirt of the red silk dress out and gave a fake curtsy, “Oh this? Just something I had lying around.” In reality, you borrowed the dress from a coworker. Its only fault was being just barely too long for you.

Once you observed Tara’s costume, an off-white button-up with brown suspenders and matching pants, the gears in your head clicked into place. “We’re dressed as characters from Clue?” You asked, looking at everyone’s costumes. It all suddenly made so much sense, you were Miss Scarlet, and Tara was meant to be Colonel Mustard.

“Well, there are only so many characters to choose from, so I needed some other detectives to choose from. I picked Nancy Drew, Spencer is Sherlock Holmes with Matt as his Watson, and Krystall is Jessica Fletcher from the renowned television show Murder She Wrote.” Penelope pointed at guests as she explained their outfits, “Kristy is Daphne of the differently renowned television show Scooby Doo, and Luke refused to dress up at Hercule Poirot.”

Your eyebrows raised up, “I didn’t know not dressing up was an option,” you admitted. Despite the weather being unseasonably warm, you were still cold in your dress.

Sending a pointed look in Luke’s direction, Penelope cleared her throat before responding, “It wasn’t.”

Putting a hand to his chest in mock hurt, Luke feigned shock, “I did dress up as a very famous detective. Matt Simmons of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“But does that really count as famous?” The man himself, Matt asked teasingly.

In response, Luke gestured around the room, “Everyone here has heard of him.”

You tuned the two of them out. When provided the time, the two of them could bicker for hours. You looked at everyone else’s costumes, the rest of the group was from the board game. Emily was Mrs. White, Rossi was Professor Plum, JJ was Mrs. Peacock, and Will was Mr. Green.

The BAU spent so much time sequestered solving crimes that it was a wonder to have the entire group here at the same time.

After effectively shushing Luke, Penelope made her way to the center of the room, “Okay, I know what you’re all thinking ‘Penelope, we spend all of our days solving murders, why would you plan a murder mystery party?’” She stood up straight, pushing her shoulders back, “Well, I’ll tell you, the idea for this party came to me when I had the flu last month.”

“Are you telling us this party was conceived from a fever dream?” Emily asked, she leaned forward in her all-white outfit, resting her elbows on her knees.

Pointing at Emily, Penelope grinned, “That is exactly what I am telling you, my dear. Now, let me set the stage for you.” She clapped and the lights went out, bringing everyone’s attention to a projector screen that had just lit up against the only bare wall in this room. “Our victim was a resident of this house. What’s her name? You might ask. Patricia Gomez, heiress to a large fortune and a company that makes socks.”

A quiet chuckle came from the other side of the room, “This is quite the fever dream.” You had to agree with Rossi, Patricia Gomez was an almost painfully uncreative name. Still, everyone went along with it.

“Save all questions until the end, please!” Penelope scolded, “I have folders made up for each of you, with information on where your characters all were at the time of the murder. Before attending this party, the killer was already notified of their status, they may try to fool you.”

You skimmed through the folder that the technical analyst had handed you, it looked like a real FBI folder, but you didn’t doubt that Garcia had resources to make realistic fake files. The body had been found, stabbed in the kitchen, the time of death set at noon.

Matt stood up first, reaching out his hand for Kristy to take, but they didn’t get far. “Oh no, no partnering with your partners,” Penelope said, laying down another rule for her party.

“What are you saying?” Spencer asked, looking between you and her. It was sweet knowing that he had wanted to team up with you, it reminded you of how you first met. The FBI profiler and the investigative journalist.

Garcia sighed, “If you are canoodling with someone, you may not investigate with them.”

You shrugged at Spencer and walked toward Kristy instead, “What do you say, Daphne? Shall we?”

“Oh, I think we shall,” Kristy responded, hooking her arm through yours.

“Hey,” Luke interrupted, “It’s not fair for the investigative journalist and the lawyer to be teamed up to solve a murder.”

Stopping in your tracks, you stared at him for a moment, “Luke, you work for the FBI. If anything, I think we’re at a disadvantage.”

Together, you and Kristy made your way to the kitchen, as you walked away you heard Luke ask Garcia to be his partner, the two of you laughed as she told him she wasn’t playing because, “Somebody has to keep things organized, Newbie!”

Looking around the kitchen, you found a chalk outline, but not much else. Of course, this wasn’t a real crime scene, there would be no blood, and for all you knew, Kristy was the killer.

“What are you thinking, Dave?” You asked Rossi, who had teamed up with JJ. Maybe a seasoned profiler would push you in the right direction.

He cocked his head like he was weighing his options, “Well, the folder says there were only four people in the building at the time of the murder, and only one of them was close enough to the kitchen to pull it off. Logically, the best option is Mrs. White.”

So, he thought Emily was responsible. You scrawled some notes down about the kitchen before you and Kristy decided to move to the bedroom, “It says Watson – Matt - was in the main bedroom at the time of the murder, Mrs. White – Emily - was in the pantry, Jessica Fletcher – Krystall – was in the basement, and Professor Plum – Rossi – was in the library,” you read from the file.

“Then Dave is right, Emily is the only one who was close enough to get to Patricia,” Kristy reasoned. There wouldn’t have been time for anyone else to commit the crime in between the time the body was found and the time of death. The timeline of events was very short.

You shrugged, “Then I guess we could probably go to the library until the timer runs out.” Picking up the skirt of your dress, the two of you left the bathroom and walked into the library. Leaning up against the shelves, you intertwined your fingers in front of you, “Do you have plans for the new year?” You asked Kristy, tilting your head.

She hummed, “A lot of our plans tend to change. You know, with Matt’s job and the kids, but we’d like to take some kind of vacation, even if it’s just a day trip.” She answered, brushing her long hair over her shoulder, “What about you?”

“Oh,” you said, “You know, getting married.” You answered, “Then we’re just planning on seeing where life takes us, I think. You’re right, it’s hard to plan around the job. I can’t imagine adding kids into the mix.” The thought gave you a whole new respect for Kristy – and Will, for that matter.

Kristy smiled, “Totally worth it, though.”

Laughing it off, you pushed yourself off of the shelving, “I think I’ll take your word for it,” you responded. “For now,” you added, looking around the library.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, following your gaze around the library.

Realizing this must be how the BAU feels all the time, you answered, “Something is bothering me about this case.” Kristy beckoned for you to go on, “They all solve crimes like this every day, so in order to make it fun for them, Penny would have to make it at least a little bit of a challenge, right?” You asked.

“You think it was too easy?” Kristy asked.

You started pacing around the library, along the front of the desk. “The answer being Emily is too easy. There has to be something more to it.”

“Well, the file says she had experienced a blow to the head shortly before her death. So, is it possible she was incapacitated somewhere else and then moved to the kitchen to be killed?” Kristy asked, flipping through the file, she was sat on top of the wooden desk.

Nodding, you looked at the generated picture of your fake victim. She wore a large ruby necklace, her hair was pinned up, but in the list of effects and evidence, a necklace was never mentioned. “Did you see a necklace in the kitchen?” You asked, flicking your eyes over in her direction.

Immediately, she shook her head you spun around to go back to the kitchen. Mid-spin the heel of your shoe hooked into the too-long fabric of your dress, causing you to tumble ungracefully to the floor. “Are you alright?” Kristy asked. Not for the first time tonight, you found yourself jealous of her shorter dress. Damned board game characters.

Groaning in response, you blinked in an attempt to reorient yourself. In your peripheral vision, something caught your eye: a necklace. “Kristy,” you whispered urgently, hoisting yourself up into a sitting position before reaching over to grab the gold chain. It was crusted with something red that you could only hope was ketchup. Unless Penelope was taking this game way too seriously.

You lifted the chain curiously. “That’s the necklace that Patricia was wearing when she died!” Kristy exclaimed, “But that means…”

“Rossi did it,” you said from the floor. “And he tried to fool us with his poker face.”

Setting the necklace on the desk, you reached down to take your heels off. Kristy spoke, “Do you think the necklace is enough evidence for us to make our case?”

Raising your eyebrows, you looked up at her, “I don’t know. You’re the lawyer, do you think it’s enough evidence?”

She nodded, “I think the evidence pointing to Emily is circumstantial, but this necklace has substance to it. And no one else has gone through the library, so at the very least we’ll have a unique answer.”

You grinned, “I like the way you think, Mrs. Simmons.” You reached out your hand and she helped you up, “Let’s go show these FBI agents how it’s done.” The two of you headed back to the sitting room.

The room was full when you got there, “Ah, I thought we were going to have to send out a search party for the two of you!” Penelope said, “Sit, sit, I’m sure we have some excellent conclusions to go through.” She handed the both of you glasses of wine before you sat down next to each other on the velvet chaise lounge.

Honestly, it reminded you of grade school. When your teacher would go through the answers on the homework, only for you to find that, somewhere, you had done something terribly wrong. By the time it got to you and Kristy, half of the people said it was Emily, almost half had said it was Matt, and one person said it was Kristy.

Nonetheless, the two of you stood up and announced your conclusion, “it was Rossi,” you said in unison.

“First, we met with David in the kitchen, and we asked him what he thought,” you said. “He could’ve said no, he could’ve said something else, but he told us how he thought Emily Prentiss was the killer.” You explained, “Now, as extremely professional detectives, we know that frequently, killers can’t help but insert themselves into the investigations.”

Lifting her hand in a waiting gesture, Kristy continued, “But we heard him out, and we trusted his conclusion. Until we didn’t, that is.” She said, “After some more expert investigation, we went to the library, where Rossi had claimed to have been at the time of the murder. It was there that my partner discovered the victim's necklace. It was broken as if it had been torn off of her neck, and there was blood on the chain.”

“This is combined with the report that the victim had experienced a blow to the head before she died, which could’ve easily been inflicted by the corner of the very desk I discovered the necklace beneath,” you resumed. “We propose that David Rossi, otherwise known as Professor Plum, incapacitated the victim in the library, before moving her to the kitchen so he could claim he had no part in her death.”

Rossi looked up at Penelope, who grinned and nodded, “I didn’t even realize I had done that in the kitchen earlier. Are you by chance looking for a new line of work?” He asked, getting a chorus of laughter in response.

“For my two winners,” Garcia said, her smile still bright as she draped two medals around your and Kristy’s necks. “Thank you, everyone, so much for playing this game. I know it’s hard to see it as a game when it all feels so real, but I appreciate you for separating fact and fiction for tonight.”

It was Luke who responded first, “Of course.”

“But maybe,” Rossi said, raising his wine glass in his hand, “Maybe next year we’ll just do a normal party.”

Tara raised her glass in response, “If you’re hosting, I’m attending.”

You nodded, concurring, “Far be it from me to miss a BAU party.”

Behind you, Spencer loosely wrapped his arm around your waist, “It’s almost the new year.”

“Aha!” Penelope said, “I have one last surprise for all of my favorite people! If you’ll just follow me out to the deck, we’ll be able to see the fireworks from here!”

Outside, the cool air bit at your bare skin. Ever the gentleman, Spencer draped his jacket over your shoulders. Grateful for the warmth, you pushed your arms through the sleeves and turned to face him, “You know, we’ve been together for years, but this will be our first New Year’s kiss.” You said, studying his face, every detail that you’ve come to know over the past few years.

Distantly, you heard the rest of the group counting down, but you were too focused on Spencer. “It won’t be our last, though,” he promised.

You grinned up at him, “As long as we get to go to the BAU party, Sherlock.”

“Of course,” he whispered, leaning down to press his lips to yours. “Happy New Year, Miss Scarlett.”

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writers-potion · 5 months

Note

Hiiii

I don't know how to make the two love interest meet. I don't know if you understand without it actually being awkward or flat

Meet-Cute Ideas

Before I dive into meet-cute examples, let's look at some general tips for meet-cutes:

Four Different Kinds of Meet-Cutes

Pull/Pull Meet-Cutes where the two characters are instantly drawn toward one another.

Push/Push Meet-Cutes where they are opposites that push away from each other at first.

Push/Pull Meet-Cutes where one character falls for someone with no reciprocal interest (at first).

Neutral/Nervous Meet-Cutes where neutrality and nervousness create a cute scenario for characters destined to fall in love.

How to Avoid Cliche Meet-Cutes!

Subvert audience expectations by making them believe a cliche meet-cute is coming, and then adding a creative twist to make yours stand apart.

Place meet-cutes in unique locations.

Put characters in different scenarios and situations.

Meet Cute Ideas

A is in the waiting room of a hospital while their grandmother goes through a routine procedure. B walks in and sits across from A, head in hands, obviously distraught — “I lost the baby,” B whispers.

You accidentally sprayed them with yogurt when you opened the lid the wrong way.

Studying at the same table in the library, you see they are pulling the same study resources as you.

They mistook your bowling ball for theirs in the shared ball return.

They caught you when you slipped on ice and nearly fell over.

Accidentally stepping on their heel in a crowded room.

You both do the side-to-side dance when you try to pass them in the grocery store aisle.

Humming a song and having them begin to hum with you without thinking.

Tripping while getting into your seat in the theater and spilling your popcorn on them.

You matched with them in an online chat roulette room.

Both of you wore the same ugly Christmas sweater to a party.

A likes to visit the local humane society to say hello to the animals. On this particularly normal day, something especially abnormal happens — one of the dogs speaks. “Help me get out of here, will ya?”

A finds a book of magic in their grandparents attic. A takes it to a Wiccan shop and hesitantly asks B, the shopkeeper, to take a look at it. B takes one look at it and in hushed tones asks, “Where did you get this?”

They cover the small amount of change you are short on for a purchase.

You both go to the counter, having the same type of coffee called for pick-up.

A is walking down the street and notices B, who is staring at a large graffiti mural, tears streaming silently down their face. The mural reads, “you are alive.”

They pull you out of the way from the busy bike path.

They see your ice cream drop to the ground and buy you a new one.

You see your favorite book on their desk during class and ask them about it afterwards.

You walk out of a dressing room asking if the outfit suits you, but it's not your friend waiting outside the room like you thought.

Almost spilling a drink because you met their eyes and got distracted thinking how cute they are.

Getting paired up in a line dance.

Happening to sit next to each other on a park bench, reading the same book.

Being paired up at a beginners ballroom dancing class.

Sharing an umbrella at a bus stop as it snows.

They get your attention and return your phone that fell out of your pocket.

You help catch their dog when the leash slips from their hand.

They ask you to pretend to be their date at a bar to prevent an ex from talking to them.

You help pull a loose thread off the back of their shirt.

Meeting their gaze after throwing a coin in a wishing fountain.

Sitting next to each other at a very boring meeting and bonding over your shared lack of attention.

You wear matching masks at a masquerade party.

Holding the elevator for them and getting off on the same floor.

Bumping into each other while trying to pass through a doorway.

They jump into your car breathless and tell you to keep driving.

You throw a snowball at a friend but miss and hit them instead.

The two of you wear costumes from the same fandom at a costume party.

You help a lost child find their parent together.

Walking into the incorrect bathroom and meeting eyes with them before quickly realizing the mistake.

You help catch their hat as it flies away in the wind.

The person sitting next to you on the train is wearing clothes that match your lucky colors from your fortune that morning in the paper.

They knock on your apartment door instead of your neighbor's.

You both reach for the last umbrella in the store on a rainy day.

You fix your hair in the reflection of a window to see them smiling at you through it.

You get scared by them in a corn maze and lash out and hit them, quickly followed by apologizes.

A spots B writhing on the ground in pain and rushes over to help them — but it turns out that B was actually just filming for a prank video. A gets so mad and upset that B is forced to calm them down as a crowd is beginning to form around them.

Texting the incorrect number but continuing the conversation.

A stops at the pub near their house to pick up some food on the way home (they make the best fries in the neighbourhood) when A receives a phone call – and some terrible news. A starts crying and B, the bartender, asks A what’s wrong. As A opens up to them, B gives A a drink on the house, and helps talk them through it.

You both reach for the final donut in the case at a bakery.

Getting paired up on an amusement park that requires even numbered riders.

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theswordwrites · 21 days

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PART ONE (the alchemy)

Juniper receives good news and has no choice but to celebrate with her closest friends, leading her right into the path of Aemond Targaryen (again.)

(TW: 18+ partying, drug use, nothing too crazy!)

word count: 4.3k

NEXT PART

By midnight, June’s feet ached in the heels required by her uniform. It was ridiculous, truly. The gala attendees barely looked at her for longer than a few seconds, so why was she squeezed into a cocktail dress that had probably been handed down a dozen times and shoes that made her calves tense and sore for days? As she ran drinks to and from tables, flashing her best million-dollar smile, she reminded herself the paycheck would be worth it. Her rent would be paid, her credit card debt knocked down, and she could finally buy the cat tree that had been sitting in her online shopping cart for weeks. Maybe she’d even splurge on a night out at The Velvet Throne with her roommate, Arianne, and their friends.

After a night working the Green Party’s latest altruistic-yet-off-putting kickoff gala, she would need at least four martinis and a cigarette. She had spotted Alicent Hightower, as beautiful as ever, gliding through the room in a deep sage silk gown. June wasn’t sure what the gala was raising money for, but they had raised a hell of a lot of it. She had to admit, Alicent was so stunning she might have emptied her own pockets for her, too. The Targaryen-Hightower children had made an appearance. The eldest—whose name escaped her—was drunk by the time the opening speeches began. Helaena had left early, trailed by three bodyguards. She’d seen the second son, Aemond, only from behind. Taller than his older brother, and surprisingly, not wearing green. Odd, considering the rumor was he was at odds with party advisors ahead of the election.

That morning, Arianne, Edith, and Seraphina had dissected the election over bagels and coffee. Edith claimed he seemed different from his father, with more progressive policies aimed at gaining the younger generation's vote. Arianne rolled her eyes and insisted he might put on a good show, but he was just as much a Targaryen as his father, with his scheming grandfather pulling the strings. “I’m sure he’ll say anything to get into office, and once he’s there, he’ll line his pockets like the rest of them.”

June had stayed quiet, editing her thesis on her laptop and mulling over her use of the word "delve." She had no faith in the system, nor those who upheld it. But she had heard a speech Aemond had given about student debt, arguing that education shouldn't have a price because knowledge was power, and everyday people deserved to hold it. It intrigued her—how young he was, and the impact that could have. She promised herself she would research more closer to the election and do her duty as a citizen of Westeros. Her brain was too full of edits and deadlines to give it much space now.

“June, we need more champagnes to the front table, like right now,” one of the other servers hissed at her, voice anything but subtle. She nodded and forced her aching legs to move.

At the table sat the Hightowers and their equally powerful, politically savvy friends. She spotted Larys Strong, who had served the late Prime Minister, looking as intense and off-putting as ever as he leaned on his cane. Jason Lannister's spray tan was a shade too deep, and June had to bite back a giggle. How could someone be so rich and yet so blind? Surely, he could hire someone to remind him that a few hours was more than enough.

She set the glasses down gently, adding a smile and a dragon-embossed napkin. June tried to ignore that Alicent Hightower was looking at her but managed a polite, “Is there anything else I can get for you?”

“I think we’re okay for now, thank you,” Alicent replied, her voice as graceful as her movements.

June smiled again, hoping her lipstick hadn’t smudged, and glanced around the table. The eldest Targaryen son sat to Alicent’s left, and next to him was Aemond, the current parliamentary candidate. He was all sharp lines and elegance, with blue eyes that were now fixed on her. June paled, frozen in place. Her gaze traveled from his silver hair to the scar etched over his eye and then to the gold signet ring on his pinky.

He was a Targaryen in every sense of the word, elegantly leaned back in his chair, hands folded on the table, eyes like steel.

The seconds stretched into an eternity before her brain caught up with her body. With another awkward grin and a slight tilt of her head, she turned—no, scurried—away.

Nothing embarrassed June more than feeling out of place. And that had been mortifying.

Back in the kitchen, she sipped water and fanned her face, hoping she wasn’t too flushed. She quickly asked the manager—an older woman with a sharp determination to break in the new servers—if she could take her first break. The manager nodded, and June didn’t waste a second before slipping outside. The cool air of a late August evening felt refreshing against her skin, drawing out some of the heat as she leaned against the brick wall. Her phone dinged.

TO: JUNIPER GREYSONFROM: DR. ORWYLE

Miss Greyson,

I apologize for the late correspondence. I have just received confirmation that your dissertation has been approved by the committee. Please call my office tomorrow morning to set a date for your defense.

CongratulationsSent from my iPhone

She squealed—a high-pitched, elated sound that escaped before she could stop it. It didn’t matter who heard. She had spent three years on that thesis, hours upon hours of research and writing and scraping by, and now she’d done it. Her fingers found Arianne’s contact, and she didn't care if the brunette was with her “so-not-my-girlfriend” girlfriend.

After a single ring, Arianne answered, “Junie! Are you off work yet?”

“No, not yet. Another hour, maybe. Do you have a second?”

“For my beautiful, smart, strawberry blonde best friend? Of course!” June could picture her now, animated, hands moving as she spoke. Arianne always had a flair for the dramatic—and for flattery, which June usually appreciated.

“It got approved! My thesis, I mean. Dr. Orwyle just emailed. It’s going to committee as soon as I set a date.”

Through the phone came another excited, ear-piercing squeal.

“Oh, Seven! June, that’s incredible! I knew you could do it!”

“I—” June stuttered, adrenaline catching up to her, “I think I’m in shock. I expected another round of edits, you know? The conclusion didn’t feel right on the last read—”

Arianne cut her off before she could spiral into self-doubt. “Breathe, Junie. You got approved! That’s the only thing that matters right now. Any chance you can leave early so we can celebrate?”

June glanced from her phone to the open kitchen door. “Give me twenty minutes, and I’ll be home.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Arianne, Edith, and Seraphina were waiting for her with wide grins and a drink in hand when she finally stumbled through the front door. In the mere twenty minutes it had taken June to get home, they had somehow managed to drape a glittering “Congratulations!” banner across the mantle, fill the room with balloons, and crack open a bottle of champagne. The faint scent of perfume and laughter filled the air.

Her heart swelled as they swarmed her, squealing and hugging her like they hadn't seen her in years. "Junie, we are so, so proud of you!" Edith sang, throwing her long arms around June in a hug that rocked them back and forth. The others echoed their congratulations, their voices bright and cheerful, brimming with the kind of excitement only best friends can muster.

They didn’t give her a chance to catch her breath, herded her straight to the bathroom, insisting she shower and change. She let them fuss over her, laughing as they debated outfits, finally settling on something so skimpy it would’ve made her mother clutch her pearls in horror.

For a moment, June thought of her mother, a sharp pang tugging at her chest. She should call her, share the news— but just as quickly, she shoved the thought away, burying it deep. Her mother had been so distant since the accident, so different from the bubbly, over-involved PTA mom who used to cheer too loudly at every recital, every bake sale. It broke June’s heart, but it had been three years, and she had learned to lock those feelings away in a box that she only opened on rare, quiet nights. She was different now too—tougher, more self-reliant. Or at least that’s what she told herself as she swiped concealer under her eyes and dabbed on a thick layer of blush.

"Come on, Junie, let’s go!" Arianne urged, grabbing her arm with a grin. "The Velvet Throne is gonna have a line out the door!"

She barely had time to grab her purse before they were out the door, tumbling into the warm night air. The city buzzed around them—cars honked, street lights flickered, and the distant thrum of music seemed to pulse from every corner. They giggled like schoolgirls as they raced down the street in their high heels, their excitement infectious. After a few glasses of champagne, the ache in her feet had disappeared and she was ready to dance.

When they reached the Velvet Throne, the line was indeed snaking around the block, a mass of people dressed to impress, chattering with anticipation. But Edith, ever the charmer, knew the bouncer. With a coy smile and a flutter of her eyelashes, they were whisked inside and escorted up to the VIP level.

The music hit her like a wave, a deep, pounding bass that vibrated in her chests. One drink turned into two, two into three. The bartender, hearing their redheaded friend was on her way to becoming a doctor, poured them free shots. June held her breath, pinched her nose, and downed it, wincing at the bitter taste but reveling in the warm, numbing sensation that spread through her limbs. The music was so loud it seemed to drown out her thoughts, and for the first time in a long time, she let go.

She danced like she was weightless, the beat coursing through her veins, her friends spinning around her, hair flying, eyes sparkling under the neon lights. They were all in their own little world, a blur of laughter, movement, and joy. At one point, she caught sight of Edith slipping a small baggie from a man in a dark jacket, his expression unreadable.

Edith grabbed her hand, pulling her into a corner and shouting over the music, "Cregan’s at a party at the Keep! He said we’re invited." She opened her palm, revealing the little baggie with a sly grin. "I say we take our new little friend here," she gestured to the baggie, "and head over! Lots of sexy, rich men and free drinks!"

The girls cheered, their excitement infectious, and June felt a surge of adrenaline. This night was far from over.

The Keep was the heart of King’s Landing, home to the city’s wealthiest and most influential residents. The girls had been to a few parties there before, the most memorable being the one where Seraphina ended up spending the night with a Prince from Dorne. They hadn’t let her live it down for months, teasing her with “Your Majesty” until they were breathless with laughter. The prince had texted her the next day, practically begging her to hop on the flight back with him. Sera had only shrugged, saying that while he was amazing in bed and seemed like a nice guy, living in the public eye wasn't for her.

Arianne and Edith had disagreed, dreaming up all the scandalous headlines they’d make if they were ever involved with someone so high-profile. "We’d be the perfect all-Westerosi girls," Arianne had insisted, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

June, as usual, had just nodded and giggled along, content to listen. But now, with the buzz of champagne and a little powder still fresh in her system, she was feeling more chatty. “How did Cregan manage to get into a party at the Keep?” she asked, her voice louder than she intended, her words slightly slurred.

Edith shrugged, adjusting the hem of her skirt. “Old money, babe. His parents have a house there. I’m sure he’s got connections.”

June leaned in closer, her eyebrows raised, chin tipped playfully. “So, are you two ever going to date? Or finally address all that crazy sexual tension?”

Edith laughed, tossing her hair back, her eyes gleaming under the streetlights. “Ask me that tomorrow,” she replied with a wink, just as a car pulled up to the curb. She quickly touched up everyone’s lipstick and hair with a practiced hand. “That’s us!” she shouted.

The Uber ride was a blur, the city lights whizzing by in streaks of neon and gold. It took only fifteen minutes, thanks to the late-night traffic, but it felt like a heartbeat. By now, it was past three in the morning, and though June wouldn’t admit it, she could feel the exhaustion creeping in, the night beginning to weigh heavy on her bones. Still, she was committed to the bit, the thrill of the night pushing her forward.

Cregan was waiting for them outside, leaning casually against the wall in his usual outfit: an open button-up shirt and jeans that clung just right. They exchanged quick hellos, June’s eyes flicking to Edith, who was already batting her lashes and nodding eagerly at everything Cregan said. She nudged Sera with her elbow, tilting her head toward the two of them.

“He’s definitely ending up at your place tonight, I hope you can sleep through it.” June whispered, twisting the silver ring around her middle finger. Sera managed a quick eye roll before they were whisked inside.

The drunk crowd sprawled across the plush living room seemed almost out of place, like they’d stumbled into the wrong kind of party. The room felt like it belonged to someone who read classic novels by the fireplace or debated politics over brandy. June noticed a distinct lack of personal photos; instead, the walls were adorned with stunning artwork, pieces that seemed to glow under the soft lighting and made her mouth water with envy.

She glanced up, her eyes following the endless ceilings that stretched toward a glittering chandelier, so ornate it looked like it belonged in a palace. Above it, a second level.

“Who’s place is this anyway?” she asked, turning to Cregan.

He tore his gaze away from Edith, though his hand remained comfortably on her lower back. “One of the Targaryens,” he replied with a casual grin. “I play ball with Aegon on the weekends. He’s around here somewhere.”

June raised an eyebrow, amused by the casualness of his tone, as if dropping the name of one of the city’s most influential families was no big deal, “He’s the oldest, right?” Cregan nodded, “I worked their gala event tonight. Rumor has it he left early because he was smashed.”

An arm slid around her shoulder, the weight of it startling her. She could see blonde curls from the corner of her eye. A voice, smooth and amused, spoke close to her ear. “Smashed would be correct, little red. But I have sobered up enough to throw one hell of a party.”

“June, meet Aegon. Aegon, meet Juniper Greyson.” Cregan interjected, gesturing between them. The blonde took his arm away from her shoulders and offered his hand to shake.

June took it, taking him in. While he and his brother shared the same icy hair and serene blue eyes, there was a softness to Aegon’s features that set him apart. His nose had a gentle slope, and his eyes, though strikingly similar in color, lacked the hard edge she’d seen in his brother— but were identical to their mother’s set and shape.

Aegon turned his attention to her friends, his grin widening as he introduced himself. His blue eyes stuck to Seraphina as they walked to the kitchen. June withheld her giggle, watching Sera blush under his gaze.

The girls chatted and the boys eventually drifted away to find more of their friends, not before finding the girls cans of seltzers and bottles of water. June watched as her friends chatted, feeling that odd sensation of being inside the conversation, but also outside of it. She figured the drinking, dancing and coke had caught up to her.

“I’m gonna find the bathroom— be right back.” She gave her friends a tightlipped smile.

“Want me to come?” Edith offered, but June shook her head.

“No, I’m alright. Go talk to Cregan again, he’s been staring at you this whole time.” She nodded her head at him across the room, and he quickly looked away, almost embarrassed that he’d been caught.

The first bathroom had been occupied but what she could only assume to be the raunchiest couple in King’s Landing with the sounds that they were making. She scoffed, sure she hadn’t really ever had mind-blowing sex, but that level of noise was just so obviously unnecessary. The second had just been locked with no answer to her knock. She sighed as she made her way up the stairs, finding not a single bathroom, but a bedroom with one connected.

After taking care of her business and washing her hands, drying them off on the fluffiest hand towel she had ever touched, she wandered around the bedroom. It felt wrong to snoop, but with the lack of trinkets or personal belongings she assumed it must have been a guest room. The bookshelf was full of classics and history books, a few well-loved first editions she could guess by the aged and worn spines. Now, in the silence, her head began to pound as the music faded away. She counted the drinks in her head.

One at home. Three at the bar. Add two shots at the bar. One downstairs. Two lines in between.

She realized she had definitely overdone it. While June enjoyed nights like these with her friends—welcomed them even—it wasn’t something she wanted to make a habit of every weekend. The way her vision blurred told her it would take weeks to muster the courage to drink again. Sitting on the bed, she ran her fingers over the dark green quilt and giggled.

Green. Of course it was green. Like the hand towel and the bathroom rug. She wondered if that’s what the owner of the room had told the interior designer, “Well, you see I like green. And I’m so, disgustingly rich.” She said aloud in the poshest accent she could manage, making herself laugh even harder.

The door swinging open seemed to sober her up quickly, pulling any laughter out of her chest.

She looked up, horrified to find Aemond Targaryen in the doorframe. He was wearing the same dark suit from earlier in the evening, but his jacket had been shrugged off and tossed over his arm and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone. “You.” He said, something like recognition washing over his face.

“Me,” June stammered, feeling a flush rise to her cheeks. “I, uh, just needed to use the bathroom and get away from the crowd for a moment. The one downstairs was occupied by a couple making the most disgusting noises, and the other one was locked—someone probably doing coke or something. I thought this was a guest room. I’m sorry. I should go. My friends might be looking for me.” She rambled on, the alcohol making her spill a play-by-play of how she ended up in his bedroom.

Aemond remained in the doorway, his expression unreadable. Despite leaning against the frame, he was still a head and a half taller than her. “You were at the event tonight, and now you’re in my bedroom. Stalking me?”

“You’re a very tough guy to stalk, Mr. Targaryen. I spent all night knocking on doors until Aegon let me in here,” June found herself looking down at her feet, the carpet much easier to maintain eye contact with.

“So, you’re friends with Aegon then?”

“No, not really. One of my friends is kind of seeing Cregan Stark, and he’s friends with Aegon. We were out celebrating and he invited us. I didn’t realize whose house it was—or that you must live here with Aegon.”

“I don’t live here with Aegon. The place is mine, but Aegon thought it’d be a good joke to throw a party here.” He crossed his long arms over his chest, and June tried to ignore the enticing hint of skin peeking from his undone shirt.

“Oh, that’s kind of shitty.”

“Kind of shitty should be Aegon’s middle name. I’ve already kicked everyone out. Your friends might be gone, but if my driver is still out front, I can have him take you home.” He gestured to the hallway and began to walk. June followed, too tired to argue.

“You don’t have to. I can call an Uber.” She said, not wanting to be a bother. But she did think, in the back of her mind, that Elide would have a fit if she knew Aemond Targaryen’s personal driver had taken her home. Arianne would pretend to be less impressed, but would hound her later on the make and model; asking if there was a privacy shade and free champagne.

“Ride-share crime has gone up 10% last quarter, I can’t in good conscience—especially not to a constituent.”

“Trying to win my vote, Mr. Targaryen?” She asked, grinning.

“I was hoping I already had it.”

“You probably do. I saw your student debt speech and liked it, but I’ve been putting off thinking about the election until school settles down. So I can make a well-informed decision of course.”

They descended the stairs. Indeed, Aemond had kicked everyone out, and only Aegon lay sprawled on the leather sofa. “Little red! I see you met my brother, charmer isn’t he?”

Aemond’s gaze was cold as he replied, “Go back to sleep, you oaf. I’m going to have Criston take her home.”

“Oh, I sent Criston back home. Oops.” Aegon giggled, clearly drunker than the last time she saw him. Aemond only sighed as they reached the door.

“I can take you home. I don’t drink, so I’m as sober as can be.”

June nodded, too tired to argue. The liquor made her pliant, and she was eager to get home. Aemond led her to a sleek black Mercedes, opening the door for her with a practiced ease. She found the gesture oddly intimate.

As he turned on the engine, the hum of the car snapped her out of her daze. She glanced around at the luxurious, leather interior. “You’re a PhD student at KLU, right?”

“Stalking me, Mr. Targaryen?” She peered at him.

“Aemond,” he corrected, his tone softer but still firm, glancing over at her as he handed her his phone, maps open and ready for her to enter her address. “Call me Aemond, please. ‘Mr.’ makes me feel old. I stepped out for a smoke this evening and overheard you on the phone. Congratulations, by the way. Dr. Orwyle is not an easy man to impress.”

“Oh.” June’s lips curled into a smile at the praise as she handed his phone back to him. She watched as the map popped up on the car’s screen, showing it was only a ten-minute drive home. “Thank you. I’m excited for it to be over, I think. You studied under Dr. Orwyle?”

She found herself looking at him again, her gaze lingering on his muscular hand gripping the steering wheel. “For my first PhD. He was a hard-ass, but pressure makes diamonds, and I couldn’t have done it without him.”

“Were you nervous for your defense? I know you do speeches all the time now, but I can’t shake the feeling that it’s going to be the hardest part.”

“Can I tell you a secret?” He asked, his voice dropping close to a whisper, as if anyone else could hear him. “I still get nervous. Every time. Whether it's a crowd of twenty or two thousand. But I remind myself that it’s not about me; it’s about the content, about getting people to listen. All the other stuff—the cadence of your voice or your posture—will come naturally.”

She hummed in response, her head resting against the cold window. The city lights blurred past, and she wondered if Elide had gone home with Cregan. “That’s good advice, thank you.”

“If politics doesn’t work out, my mother thinks I should go into consulting. Perhaps I have a knack for it.” He glanced over at her, his gaze intense. June tried to imagine the setting of that conversation. Was he worried about losing, or was the confidence from his team (or his family) faltering?

“You might, but I think politics might suit you better. The whole country seems to be buzzing about you.”

He shrugged, a flicker of something—appreciation, relief?—in his eyes. “We’ll have to see if that's the case in a few months.”

“Oh, this is me, with the red door.” She pointed out, and he brought the car to a slow stop. Before she could unbuckle her seat belt, he was out of the driver’s side and rounding the car to open the door for her. She found his chivalry oddly compelling, a sharp contrast to his earlier indifference to seemingly everything and everyone.

“Thank you for giving me a ride home, Aemond,” she said again, her voice tinged with genuine gratitude and something more. He just nodded, watching her unlock the door and step inside,

Juniper and Aemond failed to notice the blacked out SUV across the street, a long camera lens poking out of the passenger side, snapping away.

okay part one is out! I see this being 7-12 parts, depending on how much i daydream about it in class tomorrow. please leave comments questions etc! so excited to share this <3

#modern!aemond targaryen x original female character #modern!aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd aemond #modern au #aegon ii targaryen #aemond x reader #creepy larys #beautiful alicent #drunk aegon

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candycandy00 · 1 year

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Pick Me Up - A Gojo x Reader x Geto Halloween Fanfic Part 1

Gojo and Geto are two serial killers who enjoy seducing their victims before killing them. Every year on Halloween they have a friendly competition, and this year the target they both choose is you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The first two parts will be fairly short and just serve to set up the way these two operate. The third part starts the “main part”. Any feedback or comments are greatly appreciated! Divider by @violetbudd

Smut. 18+. Fem Readers. Implied death/blood/gore (“offscreen” for now). Consensual sex. Gojo and Geto are both bisexual. First part is Gojo x Reader only. Geto will be the focus of part 2.

Unbelievable. You left your house with nearly a full tank of gas. Now, just thirty minutes later, your car is running on fumes on the darkest, loneliest highway in the area. You even double checked when you stopped at that gas station just outside of town to grab snacks.

You’re on your way to one of several Halloween parties taking place this weekend in the days leading up to the actual holiday. This one was supposed to be one of the best, out on the old Johnson farm.

But now you find yourself forced to pull over on the side of the road because your stupid car is out of gas. Must be a leak, you figure as you cut the engine and grab your phone from the passenger seat. You groan when you realize there’s no service. Of course not. You’re out in the boonies.

With an annoyed sigh you climb out of your car and hold your phone in the air, trying to catch a bar or two. No luck. Glancing at your car, you wonder if you could actually see gas leaking from the bottom if you look. But you don’t want to ruin your sexy Little Red Riding Hood costume. The skirt is so short and so tight that you don’t think it’s physically possible to squat down in it.

You walk a few steps away, still holding your phone up, still hoping for a signal. This is the last place you want to be stranded. Over the past two weeks, four different women close to your age have been found murdered along this road. Their deaths were gruesome, violent, and bloody. Two of them had their guts ripped completely out. The other two had apparently been skinned alive. Someone leaked a crime scene photo online and you saw it without meaning to. You couldn’t eat for two days after that.

So when you hear the sound of an approaching vehicle slowing down, you feel a mix of fear and relief. It could be someone who could help you. It could be a crazed serial killer.

You turn to look back toward your car, and your heart feels like it freezes in place when you see the rusty white van with blacked out windows pulling over. It might as well have had a huge sign on the side that said “Axe Murderer Inside!”

The thought crosses your mind to just run. But then you remember you’re wearing stiletto heels and an outfit that would be practically impossible to run in. Plus, whoever this is obviously saw you and are in a working vehicle. Running would do you absolutely no good.

You walk slowly back to your car, and as you start to pass by the van, the window rolls down on the passenger side. You nervously glance inside. Leaning across from the driver’s seat is a man wearing dark sunglasses. His hair is snowy white, styled in that way that looks slightly messy but was clearly done on purpose. He has a young, incredibly handsome face, and when he pulls his sunglasses down to look at you, he has the most breathtaking blue eyes you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Need some help, sweetheart?”

You can’t help blushing a little as you notice those gorgeous eyes moving up and down your figure. Your skimpy costume covers very little, and definitely enhances what it does cover.

“I ran out of gas,” you tell him. “I think I have a leak.”

“Want me to take a look?” he asks, a friendly smile on his face.

“Sure, if you don’t mind.”

He cuts the van’s engine and gets out. When he walks around to your side of the van and you get a full view of him, you feel yourself clamping your thighs together.

Oh fuck, he’s hot. Like, really really hot.

He’s tall enough to tower over you, and his loose black jacket does little to conceal how his toned body moves under his clothes. When he steps closer, you can smell expensive cologne, and when he squats down beside your car, his thighs spreading apart, you have to fight the urge to insert yourself right between his legs.

The man bends his head down and looks under your car, holding his shades in his hand. “I don’t see anything. Are you sure you didn’t forget to gas up?”

“I’m sure,” you tell him.

He stands back up and comes to stand right in front of you, his height dwarfing yours. “I can give you a lift. Where are you headed?”

“Oh, could I just borrow your phone?” you ask with a smile. “I can get a friend to pick me up.”

“No service out here, sweetheart, but I’d be happy to take you wherever you want.”

You stare at him, weighing your options. You know it’s dangerous to get in a vehicle with a strange man at night. Especially one in a van like this, on a road where women are turning up murdered. But hot damn he’s gorgeous! The thought of being in an enclosed space with him is soaking your tiny thong panties.

Fuck it. I’m taking my chances.

“Do you know where the old Johnson farm is?” you ask him.

He grins. “Sure do. Hop in.”

He opens the passenger side door for you and even helps you climb in. Like a gentleman. You wonder if this gentleman knows how badly you want to suck his dick as you slide into the seat.

As the two of you drive toward the Johnson farm, your mind races for ideas on how you could get him to join you at the party. Your friends will be so jealous if you show up with a snack like him on your arm. You watch him as he drives, admiring his large but elegant looking hands on the steering wheel, imagining them grabbing your ass.

He glances sideways at you. “So what’s going on at the farm tonight?”

“A Halloween party,” you answer.

“That explains the outfit then,” he says with a laugh, his eyes roaming over you again.

You cross and uncross your legs, trying to draw attention to your bare thighs. “You can come too if you want. It’s open invitation.”

He gives you a look that makes you melt, a knowing look, as if he can read your mind. “I’ll think about it,” he says, his eyes torn between the road and your legs.

You settle into the seat, subtly letting your legs spread slightly apart. There’s enough room for him to put his hand up your skirt. You hope he’s thinking about that.

The night outside the van window zips past you, and as you look out, you realize he’s missed the turn off to get to the farm. “Hey,” you say suddenly, “you missed the turn.”

He doesn’t slow down at all, but glances at you and asks, “I did? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, it was back there on the right.”

He doesn’t reply to you. Instead, he pulls off the road and drives down a dirt path, lined on either side with trees. You feel your heart pounding when he stops the van in a dark and empty place.

He gives you a sultry sidelong look, his beautiful eyes seeming to glow in the darkness of the van. “Do you really wanna go to some stupid Halloween party?” he asks. “Or do you wanna get fucked in the back of my van?”

The brief spike of fear you felt when he parked instantly vanishes. You suddenly lean forward and kiss him, practically crawling across the seat. He kisses you back, his lips soft but crushing, his tongue in your mouth, the taste of him sweet.

After a moment he pulls away and looks you in the eyes. “Want me to rearrange your insides?”

“Fuck, yes, please!” you breathe out. “I want you inside me!”

He runs his tongue across your lips and grins. “Oh I’ll be inside you alright.”

Minutes later, you’re in the back of his van, your micro mini skirt hiked up around your waist and your corset style top untied halfway down, allowing your breasts to spill out. The back of the van is big enough for you to stand up straight, but the insanely sexy stranger has to hunker down a bit to fit.

You watch with almost unbearable anticipation as he opens his black pants and pulls his cock out. It’s rock hard, and fucking enormous. You’ve had plenty of dick in your life, but this one might be a challenge.

A challenge you’re excited to accept.

Soon enough he has you pinned underneath him, the two of you on the floor of the van, his mouth on your neck, one hand in your hair and the other bracing himself as he thrusts into you with wild abandon.

He’s good. Almost too good. You’ve never been fucked so hard or so deep in your life, and you wonder how the hell you’re supposed to be satisfied with any other guy from now on.

You don’t even know this man’s name, but you think you’re in love.

He draws back to sit up on his knees, pulling your hips into his lap and fucking you from a slightly different angle, one that lets him go even deeper. You moan loudly, arching your back as his thumb strokes your clit. You’ve never felt more incredible than you do right now, cumming on a stranger’s massive cock in the back of a van.

A few more thrusts later, you feel his grip on your hips tighten as his cock twitches inside you.

You look up at him sharply. “Hey, don’t cum inside-“

“Too late,” he says as you feel him shoot a huge load directly into you. It feels fucking fantastic, but you’re not looking to get pregnant, and you wish he would have asked first. Oh well. What’s done is done.

He slowly pulls out, and you lie back, catching your breath and giving him a perfect view of his cum leaking out of your pussy. Guys love that sort of thing, or so you’ve heard. You raise your head slightly to look a him, and those crystal blue eyes are indeed staring at your body. But there’s a strange look on his face. It’s not the expected desire or lust, but something else. Something frightening.

He turns and begins rummaging through a box near the back. When he faces you again, he’s holding a rough-looking rope in one hand and a large shiny knife in the other.

He grins at you. “I satisfied your hunger. Now you can satisfy mine.”

You start to get up, even though your legs are numb, but he quickly jumps down and uses his knees to press you to the floor.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” you scream, struggling against his weight.

He’s already wrapping the rope around your wrists, pulled above your head. “We’re gonna have fun all night long, Little Red Riding Hood,” he says with a devious, slightly unhinged smile. “The big bad wolf is here to gobble you up!”

The knife in his hand glints in the dim interior light of the van as he brings it closer to your body, then uses it to cut away the clothing that had bunched up around your waist. His hand rubs over your stomach, pressing slightly into the soft flesh.

“I’m gonna dig around a bit in here,” he says, and all you can do is scream incoherently as he begins his grisly work.

Tag List:

@loyal-to-my-dilf @unearthlydream @noodlejitsu @itzmeme

If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, please comment to let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged!

#Gojo x reader #gojo x reader x geto #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo #Gojo smut #Geto x reader #tw: death

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oceedee · 19 days

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fizzygoblet · 1 year

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Make a statement with Fizzy Goblet's online collection of heels for women. Discover a variety of styles and elevate your fashion game.

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perspectivestarters · 5 months

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Perspective's Sentence Starters; The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess by Chappell Roan (Part I)

FEMININOMENON

Same old story, time again.

Got so close but then you lost it.

Should've listened to your friends.

You sent him pictures and playlists and phone sex.

Let's get coffee.

Let's meet up.

I'm so sick of online love.

I don't understand, why can't any man...

Can you play a song with a fucking beat?

Make a bitch go on and on.

It's a femininomenon.

So, let's say it's working out.

You pretend to love his mother.

He's such a goddamn good lover.

Got what you wanted, so stop feeling sorry.

You know what I mean.

You know what you need.

But does it happen?

RED WINE SUPERNOVA

She was a playboy.

She showed me things I didn't know.

She did it right there out on the deck.

I'm in the hallway waitin' for ya.

I just want you to make a move.

Slow down, sit down.

I just wanna get to know ya.

Guess I didn't quite think it through.

Fell in love with the thought of you.

Baby, why don't you come over?

Let's pick it up now.

I don't care that you're a stoner.

I like what you like.

It's my type.

Want me to fuck you?

I will 'cause I really want to.

I've got a California king.

Okay, maybe it's a twin bed.

Don't worry, we're cool.

I heard you like magic.

I've got a wand and a rabbit.

Let's get freaky.

AFTER MIDNIGHT

Nothing good happens when it's late and you're dancing alone.

It's not attractive wearing that dress and red lipstick.

This is what I wanted.

This is what I like.

I've been a good girl for a long time.

I like flirting.

Can't be a good girl even if I tried.

I'm feeling kinda freaky.

Maybe it's the club lights.

I kinda wanna kiss your girlfriend if you don't mind.

I love a little drama.

Everything good happens after midnight.

Maybe it's the moonlight.

Let's watch the sunrise.

I really want your hands on my body.

That’s my type of fun.

That's my kind of party.

Baby, put your hands up.

Be a freak in the club.

COFFEE

Can't meet you for dinner.

It's where I met your family.

Some words were exchanged.

We know where that leads.

I'll meet you for coffee.

I know that's a lie.

If I didn't love you, it would be fine.

Nowhere else is safe.

Every place leads back to your place.

He said let's do the park.

God forbid it gets dark.

I'd rather feel something than nothing at all.

We've done this before.

I don't need it anymore.

Let's not do coffee.

Let's not even try.

It's better we leave it.

It's never just coffee.

CASUAL

My friends call me a loser.

I'm still hanging around.

I've heard so many rumors.

I'm just a girl that you bang on your couch.

I thought you thought of me better.

We're not together.

Baby, no attachment.

Is it casual now?

I know what you tell your friends.

Get me off again.

I love being stupid.

Dream of us in a year.

Maybe we'd have an apartment.

It's hard being casual.

I try to be the chill girl that holds her tongue and gives you space.

I try to be the chill girl but honestly, I'm not.

You wonder why I'm bitter?

I get off when you hit it.

I hate to tell the truth.

I'm sorry dude you didn't.

I hate that I let this drag on so long.

I hate myself.

You can go to hell.

SUPER GRAPHIC ULTRA MODERN GIRL

Never waste a Friday night on a first date.

But there I was, In my heels with my hair straight.

This man wouldn't dance.

He didn't ask a single question.

He was wearing these fugly jeans.

It doesn't matter though.

He doesn't have what it takes to be with a girl like me.

I know what I want

I'm through with all these hyper mega bummer boys like you.

I need a super graphic ultra modern girl like me.

Look at her moving.

She's the one

Oh yeah, I need a super graphic ultra modern girl like me

Get up off your feet.

Get up on that bar.

Flash the camera.

You're a star.

HOT TO GO!

I could be the one.

It's all in my head.

I don't want the world.

Who can blame a girl?

Call me hot, not pretty

Baby, do you like this beat?

I made it so you'd dance with me.

You can take me hot to go.

I try not to care but it hurts my feelings.

You don't have to stare, comе here, get with it.

No one's touched me there in a damn hot minute.

I made it so you'd sleep with me.

What's it take to get your number?

What's it take to bring you home?

Hurry up, it's time for supper.

Order up, I'm hot to go.

Hurry up, it's getting cold.

Whew, it's hot in here.

Is anyone else hot?

You coming home with me?

I'll call the cab.

#rp sentence starters #rp sentence meme #rp sentence prompts #sentence starters #sentence meme #sentence prompts #lyric sentence starters #lyric starters #music starters #rp meme #rp memes #rp prompts #ask meme #exodusmusing #*mystarters #*trafoamp

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the-hype-on-tv · 9 months

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okay this is it imma bout to rant about fiction once again

tell me why everyone knows and loves or at least has a strong opinion about the Lego Batman Movie, but i might just be the only human being who grew up IN LOVE with the Lego Batman Videogame(s)???

[THIS THING CONTAINS SPOILERS, I TRIED TO KEEP EM OUT BUT WHATS THE FUN IN THAT]

the first one is CLASSIC, no voice actors so child me could (and also couldn't cuz i was stupid) understand what was going on since I didn't speak english at all, and i remember LOVING the designs (they're not as good as i remember 😭) even tho i had no idea who the characters besides batman, robin and catwoman were. also that was when i fell in love with poison ivy cuz she had like ??? love powers (as i said, child me was a dumdum) cuz there was this one level where she controlled batman with a kiss akjdkakfkakdja

i remember i had a crush on justin bieber a little before the second game came out (it was babybabybabyohh) and then BOOM suddenly my childhood crush was a friggin blocky plastic minifigure wearing goth furry clothes:

(also, young me wouldn't know, but this is where i got most of the superbat vibes from-- when i saw this ship years later i was like "oh yeah, i remember in the videogame clark was head over heels for B and bruce was like 'i am the knight' which is batman code for ilyt", plus dick (who's dressed at tim for whatever reason) is like "oh yeah, why don't we call superman?" I'm telling ya he ships it

...i remember the whole game story like it's a fever dream i had-- there's an award show which bruce wins, joker jokers it up and batman & robin chase him, then i remember robin says something about how "dick grayson couldn't attend the party because they didn't take teenagers" (I didn't know who dick was so this was my introduction to him) and then fire in the elevator, SUPERMAN, [SPOILERS] he and bats visit lexcorp but turns out the other gay couple aka lex and joker did some lexing and jokering around and got a weapon that kills... black???? so batman would die-- but like-- he's not black, he's wearing black clothes-- oh shit, are they racist-- /j

now comes the final one:

wow this one is in space! kinda-- brainiac shows up and i remember this was the first time i saw j'onn and-- wait-- this robin is the same but-- in the scene where [SPOILER] batman is being mind controlled he says his name is.. tim drake?? who tf is tim drake, kid me would say. wow, there's more than one robin, kid me would say.

but then again, I didn't have this game cuz my dad was sick of spending our lunch money on videogames, so he got a gameplay online (just the cutscenes), glued them together and told me IT WAS A MOVIE (actually, i just assumed it) and i kept believing that until i saw my friend GAMEPLAYING said movie on his VIDEOGAME, one more evidence to "i was a dumb child.

and there was superbat shit in this one as well!! there's this scene where [SPOILERS] big blue babyboy is being mind controlled and is giant (tbh idek why he's giant and I'm not sure if they address why-- something to do with brainiac's shrinking kink i think) and brainiac is like "kill him" and bruce goes like "clark, ur my bestie, I don't say it often but i realized i gotta say it more cuz earlier tim almost got his ass eaten by a random alien and i felt fear" and clark is like "🥺🥺🥺" and mind control breaks with yay power of friendship (the whole plot is how in the beginning tim saying he was tim got bruce out of mind control which meant bruce cares about tim but bruce thinks it was cuz the batmobile went shock on him, so in the end he admits he was wrong and everyone hugs wow)

and after that i forgot dc was a thing until like four years later when dc superhero girls came out

anyway, thanks tumblr for listening to this lmao i just dumped my whole childhood in here, I'm glad this thing don't have character limit

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samiwife · 1 year

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Halloween Party 𓆩♡𓆪 (Gerard Way x Reader)

𓆩♡𓆪= Smut

ੈ✩‧₊˚= Fluff

⋆ ★= Angst

A/N: This is part 3 of the request. Again this following fanfic is going to be smut. So hopefully you like this last part. <3 Thank you so much for reading <3

TW: Pet names, oral sex, rough, and cussing

(Reader discretion is advised)

Halloween was coming up and you had no plans for that day. Your roommates were excited about a party that another friend of theirs was throwing. They begged you to come along. You accepted for the reason of beer and having something sexy to wear. You had a week to think of a costume before the party. You already had the idea in mind, you were going as an angel. You had a white dress and white heels. You just needed the halo to finish it. Which was easy to find since it was easy to find online. Finally, Halloween came around and you got all dressed up. Your roommates drove you to the party and you walked in. Music was blaring and alcohol was everywhere. One of your friends at the party tossed you a beer and you quickly drank. You only had one beer and you already felt loose.

You danced and drank more. While you danced, you accidentally stepped on someone's foot. You quickly turned around and apologized. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" You asked frantically. The guy you stepped on was tall, had dark hair, wore red eyeshadow, and was dressed like the devil. He looked so beautiful and pretty. You couldn't make up words to describe him. "It's okay, you didn't mean to, angel." He said. You stammered and blushed. Angel? Damn, that's hot. "H-haha, I see what you did there devil man," you said jokingly while hitting the side of his arm. "I'm Gerard and you are?" He said while looking you up and down. You gulped and blushed. "I'm Y/N and surprisingly not angel." You said with a smile while leaning over to him. Gerard smiles and grabs your hand.

"Well Y/N why don't we go somewhere private?" Gerard said while leading you upstairs. "Okay sure, the devil is being a little flirty." You said with a chuckle. Gerard looks back and smiles wider. "Says you, you're being a little naughty for an angel," Gerard said with a wink. You and Gerard ran to a random room where nobody was there. It was just a small bedroom. Gerard closes the door and locks it. You didn't know whose room this was or cared. You just wanted to kiss Gerard or maybe do more with him. The alcohol was really making you horny and you wanted to take care of that with Gerard. You tucked Gerard's necktie around his neck. Gerard chuckles and wraps his arms around your waist. "Angel, you want me this bad?" Gerard said in your ear, chills shot down your spine as he whispered in your ear.

"Yes sir, I want you." You said under your breath. Gerard smirks and lifts up your chin to make you look at him in his eyes. "What was that? I didn't hear you." Gerard says lowly. You gasp quietly and gulp. "I want you, sir, I want you so much." You said loudly enough to make him hear you. Gerard smirks wider and gently pushes you down to your knees. "Is that so angel? Beg for it." Gerard said lowly. You chuckled, put your hands on your knees, and looked up at him. "I want your pretty cock in my mouth sir, please let me taste you." You said in a whiney tone. Gerard looks down at you begins to unzip his pants and slides them down.

Exposing his large member, you gasped at the size. You wrap your finger around him and start to move up and down. Gerard moans quietly and looks down at you. "God angel you're so pretty when you're doing that," Gerard groans. You smile and lean closer towards him. You lick his tip and begin to swish your tongue around him. Gerard's mouth swung open and moans escaped his lips. "Just like that princess, you're doing so good." Gerard moans out. Gerard grabs a fist of your hair causing you to moan.

Gerard smirks at your moans and you begin to bob your head. Gerard arches his back from you bobbing. "Agh fuck, I'm going to come baby." Gerard moans. You slide your lips off causing a loud pop and look up. "Then come for me, my little devil man." You said while jerking him up and down. Gerard blushes at your pet name for him. After a few minutes of jerking, you open your mouth slightly to catch his release. Gerard comes, his release lands in your mouth and you lick your lips. Gerard smiles and wipes the remaining come off your lips. "You're such a good little angel for me, I'll clean you up," Gerard said while running his thumb over your plump red lips. You smile and get up and kiss him. Gerard smirks and takes your hand to the bathroom.

#fanfiction #2000s emo #emocore #my chemical romance #my chemical gerard #gerard way #gerard way x reader #gerard way fanfic #gerard way imagine #emo aesthetic #emo music #gerard way smut

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bedsyandco · 2 months

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ᰔ ── 𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒆. 𝑰 𝒅𝒐𝒏’𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒌 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍 . . .

⟢ ꒰ BASIC INFO

𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞: emerson du pont

𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬: em (everyone) , emmy (friends/family) , princess (will) , rich bitch (cutter)

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲: October 2, 2003

𝐳𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐜: libra

𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞: san jose, ca

𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞: boston, ma / san jose, ca

𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲: american

𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲: american + french

⟢ ꒰ APPEARANCE

𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭: 5’7

𝐞𝐲𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐫: blue

𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫: blonde, waist length, straight

𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬: 2 lobe piercings in each ear. a little bow tattoo underneath her ear. ‘divine’ tattoo on her collarbone.

𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬: van cleef bracelet. cartier matching diamond earrings and necklace. these are the ones she wears more often. she switches her diamond necklace out for a locket that will got her for their anniversary with a photo of them in it. she’s not really a ring girl.

𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞: em’s style is mostly neutral colours and expensive. shes very much a skirt/dress and heels/boots girly. she doesn’t really own casual clothes. the most casual stuff she owns is probably workout sets. even in winter she doesn’t believe in wearing pants, it’s always stockings and a skirt. (fashion over comfort)

𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦: pdm.clara

⟢ ꒰ EDUCATION/CAREER

𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲: harvard university

𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞: Bachelor of Arts in Economics

𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: model + ceo and founder of MARAKI fashion and beauty

⟢ ꒰ SOCIAL MEDIA

𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐦:

@emersondupont (public / 1.2m followers / 1.7K following / 423 posts)

@emmy.dups (private / 1.3K followers / 510 following / 320 posts)

@.maraki (business / public / 993K followers / 216 following / 290 posts)

𝐭𝐢𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐤:

@emersondupont (public / 1.7m followers / 3K following / 497 posts)

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐛𝐞:

@emersondupont (580K subscribers / 35 videos)

⟢ ꒰ PERSONAL INFO

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲: ESFP. they are likely to be social, emotionally-driven people, who love meeting new people and going to large events. They tend to adventurously seek new opportunities. They may be sensitive to aesthetics and appearance, often valuing the beauty of what’s around them. They are likely to be naturally creative and optimistic, even in challenging circumstances.

𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡𝐬 . . .

-> bold/brave — em isn’t afraid to take risks. especially when it comes to career moves. no risk = no reward. she loves experimenting and trying new things.

-> sociable — she has a lot of energy and that energy is spent most often by socializing with others. she loves being the host. throwing parties and events.

-> creative — em is a very creative person. she’s always busy creating something. whether that be in her fashion sketch book or online content. she loves being creative.

-> leadership — leading her own company comes easy because she’s excellent at towing the line between friend/boss. she fosters a positive working environment that ends in success.

-> ambitious: once em sets her sights on something. she needs to have it. if there’s a project or goal she’s thinking about? expect it to be done eventually. she likes dreaming big and making those dreams come true.

𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬. . .

-> easily bored — em tends to get bored pretty easily. she has a ton of hobbies/projects she’ll start and then stop half way through because she got bored of them.

-> wasteful and spendthrift — she grew up with a lot of money and a family that spoiled her. she’s a trust fund baby. she has a lot of privilege. she is a bit wasteful and unaware of her privilege for a while until she gets older. (that’s not to say she doesn’t work hard though! x)

-> easily hurt by criticism — em will ask for constructive criticism but when she gets it and it’s not what she wants it to be, she gets really upset

-> not good at confrontation — she will do anything to avoid confrontation. she hates it so much. she’ll either avoid it completely or just agree with the other person so there won’t be conflict. (a bit of a pushover until she grows tired of it) she literally only went to harvard because she didn’t wanna fight with her dad about not going.

-> push too hard — em is a bit of a meddler and doesn’t know when to back off and leave something alone. it’s always out of good intentions but she pushes too hard sometimes.

𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲: heterosexual

𝐡𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐞𝐬/𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐬: speaks fluent english and french. currently studying spanish. sketching (fashion). painting. plays piano. good at makeup. styling. making jewelry.

𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬: impulsive online shopping. tapping her nails on things. crossing her legs. twirling her hair. biting her lip when she thinks. forgetting to eat. taking her water bottle everywhere.

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬: baggy pants. long queues. driving. red meat. the word moist.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬: makeup. fashion. magazines. long baths. gift giving. matcha. yoga. running. shopping. drawing.

⟢ ꒰ FAVOURITES

𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐬: legally blonde. the devil wears prada. how to lose a guy in 10 days.

𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐬: the bachelor. love island. emily in paris. pretty little liars.

𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜: sabrina carpenter. ariana grande. RAYE.

𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐫: brown/beige/cream/baby pink

𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝: pasta (meal) . tiramisu (dessert). peanuts (snack).

𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧: fall -> winter -> summer -> spring

⟢ ꒰ EMERSON CORE

social butterfly ノ early mornings ノ brooke davis ノ sunrises ノ vanilla scented candles ノ uptown girl ノ fluffy white towels ノ sundays at the market ノ weekly spa trips ノ summer in the hamptons ノ cream cheese bagels ノ matcha ノ early nights & mornings . . .

⟢ ꒰ HER APARTMENT / MATERIAL THINGS

⟢ ꒰ FAMILY

𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫: adelaide du pont (deceased since 2017)

𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫: alexander du pont (owner of the san jose sharks!)

𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): em is the youngest of four kids and the only daughter.

-> alexander “alex” du pont jr. — born 1997. single. took over as ceo of the family businesses when he turned 22.

-> nathaniel “nate” du pont — born 1999. single. midfielder for man united.

-> sebastian du pont — born 2001. bisexual. dating a guy who is a french artist named jules. michelin chef and owns a chain of restaurants across europe and america.

⟢ ꒰ RELATIONSHIPS

𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬: taken , will smith ( nov. 2023 )

𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬: before will em was in two other serious relationships

-> jace cormack: he was her highschool boyfriend. they broke up after graduation because he was going to UCLA and she was going to Harvard and they didn't want to attempt long distance.

-> lando norris: (april-augsut 2022) lando and her brother nate are good friends and they met when she was doing a semester abroad in the UK. they dated the summer after that semester but when em returned to the states they deiced to break it off. It wasn't gonna work out anyway, they were better off as friends. lando didn’t want to commit but em had real feelings for him but at the end of the day they ended on good terms. her brother and lando are still good friends, so is she and lando, so she does see him every now and then.

-> william eklund: (summer '23) they had a brief summer fling when they were both in san jose for like a week at the same time. it just happened. they were drunk the first time and then just continued as a sort of fwb thing for the rest of the time. there's no feelings involved, they really are just good friends.

⟢ ꒰ EXTRA

her mom Adelaide was from france and moved to america when she married em’s dad (who is american)

her mom comes from a very rich old European family and when adelaide and alexander married her used her family’s money to start up his business. her family insisted that they’d only invest in his business if he took their family name (so the name would be carried on to the next generation since Adelaide was the only child)

her dad started up a holding company and owns multiple successful businesses. mostly luxury hotel chains. luxury resorts. and restaurant chains. and he eventually bought the sharks a few years after that and it’s been in their family ever since.

em is the youngest of the four du pont siblings and also the only girl. her brothers and her dad are extremely protective of her. especially since their mom passed away. mostly her dad and alex, nate will let her get away with some things. she's everyone's favourite sibling and they spoil her rotten. she really is their princess.

em's love language is definitely acts of service and quality time. she's not really moved by gifts (although she does love material things) she grew up being able to just buy whatever she wanted and gifts were given very frequently in their household so it just isn't as special. them going out of their way to do something small for her or make an effort to spend time with her? definitely the way to her heart

em is a daddy's girl and she'll do anything not to disappoint her dad. she just wants to make him proud.

she didn’t really want to go to university at all but unlike nate and sebastian she didn’t have the back bone to go against her father.

she's a social butterfly and a bit of a party girl. if there's good music and she gets to dance? she's there.

she's always been active on social media. her socials definitely grew a lot when nate joined man united and people figured out she was his sister. and then it grew a lot when she dated lando. but most of her fanbase started following her when she started modelling professionally and got more famous in the fashion industry which happened around 2022.

she's always had trouble making genuine friends because people are almost always after her status or connections. she has a bit of tough exterior but once she lets you in? she's the best friend you could ask for

a girls girl through and through

a horrible driver. and in the snow? it's even worse.

when she's drunk? all she wants to do is sing karaoke.

loves shopping. for herself and for other people. a shopping spree can solve anything.

started her own fashion and beauty company almost right after she graduated from Harvard (2025) named MARAKI.

she goes on to model until 25 before she decides it’s not for her anymore and focuses solely on her business.

MARAKI is very successful and becomes a multi million dollar company.

she even launches her own fitness collection and has will, nate and other famous athletes as brand ambassadors.

since her mom died her dad is extremely protective over em and has strict rules when it comes to what she does with her life. he wanted her to work for one of the family businesses but em wanted to start her own.

her dad also made it a rule that under no circumstances is she allowed to date players that are affiliated with the sharks. especially because she’s as well known as she is. it’s not a good look for their family.

#ᰔ ─ emerson + will

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