#but whiskey IS SUCH A COOL NAME
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
west-tokyo-incidents · 2 years ago
Text
Just me babbling about Annihilation's full team. Making up most of this on the spot. 100% open to suggestions and totally subject to change.
Whiskey is one of his handlers, a Fusataro instance taken from a timeline where Rage went rogue. She's particularly nasty personality-wise and mean as hell, but she's also insanely good at getting Annihilation to refocus on a target if he gets side-tracked.
Absinthe is the second of his handlers, a Michel taken from a timeline where Paresse had gone rogue and snapped off his limiters insanely early following an injury to Michel. Selectively mute to everyone but his own team, he's the only one, second to Anaari, who can approach Annihilation when he's having an episode. Really useful given that Anaari cannot go on missions with them. Usually.
Sake is the third handler, a Kei instance from the Edo period in a timeline infected by the Wandering Infection. While uninfected himself, his experience with it makes him very sensitive to minute changes, allowing him to predict the nearly unpredictable trifusion. He's the captain of their team, the trauma of the Wandering Infection in his timeline making his personality nigh unrecognizable from the original emperor.
Kori and Echo are two Regula instances, both in charge of communications between members across large distances. Echo stays near the handlers and Annihilation and is much more modified for potential conflict, while Kori stays with the rest of the team in the Compound. They use their Engrave as a way of communicating with each other messages back and forth between the two teams.
Monarch is a Pardonner/Rage fusion instance who acts as a medic, his speed enabling him to move quickly in and out of danger to retrieve injured team members and heal as quick as possible in the absolute chaos of Annihilation's attacks. Absolute harmacist.
Typically they team up with whichever reconnaissance team has been assigned to the timeline they're eliminating from, letting them be in charge of gathering new information acting as scouts for them as the mission progresses. This is pretty typical of elimination teams in general, but because Annihilation is used with the most dangerous timelines, they often team up with the higher profile recon teams as well, Dryo's team included.
5 notes · View notes
moonchild-in-blue · 3 months ago
Text
Oh mother, tell your children Not to do what I have done Spend your lives in sin and misery In the house of The Rising Sun
#okay but can we agree? House of the rising sun? beautiful amazing incredible timeless masterpiece? yeah?#all i want is to put on a cute 70s dress with the bell sleeves and some gogo boots and get my hair all pretty with the flip curls#and go to one of those really cool and dark and lowkey shady bars you see on the movies. with a pool table and a jukebox#hard-looking bartender with an impressive mustache named Mitch or Hank#and go up to the bar and he'd be like “whatya having doll?” “oh. anything sweet please”#and he hands me some soda-gin or whatever with a lemon slice. and the guy next to me notices my drink and is like#“hey Mitch. give the lady something nicer eh? maker a double from the back shelf. extra ice”#“i'm fine with this actually. i don't drink whiskey” “tonight you do sweetheart”#and he's wearing some really nice jeans and boots and a dark shirt and a leather jacket. dark hair but has some freckles. charming smile.#“what is a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this? i think them church youths go bowling next door”#“i am not lost. can't a girl enjoy some music” “does the boyfriend know?” “i answer to no one”#and he takes a long drag of his cigarette and chuckles. Mitch brings my new drink as gives him a look before drafting some beer#“so. the pretty lady likes a little danger eh?” “the lady has a name” .#i take a sip of the whiskey and try real hard not to cough. he thinks it's funny. i think he's a little cute#“does she now? and does the lady dance by any chance” and he's standing up quite tall and offers me a hand “she does”#and we go to the dance floor near the jukebox where quite a lot of people are dancing and eventually this song starts playing#and he kisses me surprisingly gentle and tastes like menthol cigarettes and hard liquors and I'm definitely a bit dizzy from the drink#he probably has a cute name like Daniel (Danny is what everyone calls him)#and maybe he has a bike or a really nice convertible. obviously red. je offers to take me home but we're just driving for a bit instead#“didn't you daddy taught not to get into stranger's cars?” “my daddy also taught me not to kiss pretty boys and yet”#“so you think i'm pretty?” “pretty enough”#and we laugh to the wind and the radio is on and this song starts playing again and it's a perfect moment#anyways. great song great band 👍#darya's mixtape#Spotify
17 notes · View notes
stuck-in-the-ghost-zone · 8 months ago
Note
HEY. MAC. HEY. SO EMIZEL GOT FUCKING DISINTEGRATED. WHAT THE FUCK. BRO GOT HIS ARM CUT OFF AND THEN ALL HIS SKIN BURNED OFF AND THEN HE JUST TURNED INTO DUST. BRO IS ASHES RN. BRO IS DUST. HE FUCKING DIED. THE DIERRRRRRR. WHAT THE HELL. MAC. HE’S COMING BACK RIGHT. THEYRE NOT LETTING HIM DIE YET RIGHT. HE’S GONNA COME BACK SOMEHOW RIGHT. SHILO IS GONNA PIECE HIS BROTHER’S ASHES TOGETHER AND DO SOME KINDA VAMPIRE SPELL TO BRING HIM BACK RIGHT. MAC. MAC I’M GOING TO EAT GLASS. MAC. MY BABYGIRL. WHAT IS SODA GOING TO DO WITHOUT HIS BF. MACCCCCC
Tumblr media
UM. I THINK. PERHAPS. YOU SHOULD LISTEN TO THE NEXT EPISODE ❤️
4 notes · View notes
anachronistic-falsehood · 2 years ago
Text
ohhhh i'm listening 2 a song i used 2 love and thinkin about some of my oldest ocs. there were 3 of them right. it's always been the three of them. two of them r twins and the other one is someone theyve known their whole lives. and even when one of the twins starts dating their friend no one ever feels like a third wheel. and this was in the ya novel boom so ofc the plot was "oh theres a terrible war we must fight and take down our oppressors" and the twin who was dating their friend was supposed to spearhead the revolution for Prophecy Reasons. but something really really terrible happened to them. their boyfriend put himself through hell and back to find them. their twin turned to drinking insane amounts of coffee and staying up all night in an attempt to find out where his twin went. and when they did come back They Were Not The Same. none of them were. but they stuck together regardless. but things just would not stop happening and this revolutionary leader went down a very dark path and their partner had to kill them. and it fucking hurt but they had to. but their twin didn't believe they were dead and put everything he had into trying to find his sibling again while the other one just. gave up. he was done. he lost everything. and they weren't dead!! and they would go back to the other two. they just,. had to get better first. and none of them were the same and they were all horribly changed by their circumstances but after years and years and years they came back together. i think i should write something with them actually they still drive me insane to this day
3 notes · View notes
vetchtibbles · 2 months ago
Text
if you're transgender and need name ideas, may I direct you toward the nato alphabet because like. delta? november?? echo?? romeo is like the butchest name. please consider foxtrot. being named whiskey would be cool as hell. I know multiple transmascs who were a bit too into english lit and are named victor now. I've met people named sierra who were trans in every direction. maybe don't name yourself golf
47K notes · View notes
nr1sealuvr · 13 hours ago
Text
^^Tags are what dr0gs I headcanon drv3 characters would use 😼 headcannons I made a few months ago with @d322a
Tumblr media
overdosed before the game even started
126 notes · View notes
bruciemilf · 4 months ago
Text
Need a the Waynes Lived AU where Martha’s a vampire. She snuck in a Wayne Gala for a potential late night snack, but Thomas thought she was a socialite.
“So, what do you do?”
“I drain people of their life sources.”
“Oh, you’re a CEO too?”
She can’t drink Thomas’ blood because he smokes too much, the baggy eyes indicate long nights spent on his feet during surgery, which means it’ll taste bitter, and she saw him drown 10 whiskey shots in one go.
It’s a taste thing, nothing against him.
He is, how ever, very handsome, and she decided she’ll be his house cat for the time being. Fast forward two years later and they have a vampire cherub of a baby named Bruce.
Babies usually don’t come out with fangs and tiny bat wings, so, yeah. His wife’s a vampire. Cool.
“How come I’ve never seen your wife outside during the daytime, Tom??”
“How come I’ve never seen you mind your own fucking business?”
9K notes · View notes
writersdrug · 4 months ago
Note
I NEED waitress!reader accidentally letting it slip that she’s got a date after her shift and so when bartender!simon overhears, he suddenly has a list of things she needs to do after work, causing her get to stay late ))): missing her date ))):
ANGST TIME
He's been watching you like a hawk for the past two hours - and rightfully so. You've been rushing through your tasks, rolling more than enough silverware, keeping your tables happy and stocked - you somehow managed to convince Soap to mop front of house for you. He doesn't like it. Why are you trying to get away?
"Got a date tonight." You tell him, skimming through your receipts as you sit at the bar and calculate your tips. You're not off the clock yet - you still have thirty minutes left. But the restaurant's empty, and all your tasks are done. Your makeup is a little nicer today, softer and less "morning after a deftones concert".
Simon's thankful for the mask, or else his frown would be impossible to miss. Is he dumb? Haven't you been flirting with him all week? Was this another one of your games, pretending to act innocent and coy, messing with him, then announcing you're going out with someone else?!
He feels his shoulders tensing as he watches you tap away at your phone's calculator. He shouldn't be so bothered by this - some things just need to be let go. But he can't. He wants to keep you in his back pocket, or in an empty whiskey bottle on his liquor shelf - not the one behind the bar, but the personal collection in his room on the third floor.
"That's nice," he grumbles, slicing through a lime. "Jus' make sure you finish your chores 'fore you head out."
"Already did!" You chirp at him with a smile. "Just need to do my tips, and I'll be done."
"Did ya clean the ice bins?" He asks.
You furrow your brow. "Huh?"
He jerks his head to the whiteboard on the wine fridge - sure enough, your name is scribbled in, right next to "drain and wash/sanitize ice bins + buckets", along with today's date.
You look back at Simon, your expression now crestfallen. Your date is in an hour, and you still have twenty minutes on your shift. "Don't you usually do it?"
Truthfully, he does. He could do it today, in fact. But his brain is acting on thoughts before he has the chance to consider the consequences. "Can't today, luv. Preppin' for a bigger crowd tomorrow."
Your shoulders slump. "How long does it take?"
"Well, you got to turn 'em off - one by one, I can't have two empty ice bins durin' a shift - then ya dump the ice, wait for 'em to warm up, then ya go in there with soap n' a rag, rinse 'em out, then-"
"God, can this please wait until tomorrow? I'll come in early and do it, I promise."
He looks at you sternly, and you suddenly feel ashamed for asking. "Wot, so I can pay you overtime?"
"Simon, please - if you do them, I'll give you half my tips for today."
"Now y' dumpin' your work on me?"
"I've got a date!"
"I've got my own shit too!"
You snap your mouth shut. He's never been this stern with you, but you know it's well deserved. It's your chore, after all. You'd been wrong to assume he would do it himself, despite that being the usual. You quickly hop out of the barstool and make your way behind the bar, unplugging the first icebin.
Simon watches as you scurry around, running to and from the ice bin into the kitchen, filling up bucket after bucket of ice and dumping it into the sink in the back. You pace as the machine warms up, glancing at your phone every few minutes, then touching the inside of the ice maker to check the temperature. After a few minutes, you're scrubbing the machine as fast as you can with a soapy rag and a bucket of sanitizer eater next to you.
Twenty minutes have gone by. You're supposed to be on your way to your date, but you're biting your lip, staring angrily at the ice machine as it cools down again. You need to wait for it to be cold before you refill it with ice, and only then can you start on the other machine.
You make another attempt towards Simon. "If I just do one tonight and do the other in the morning-"
"No." Simon snaps, his eyes angry as he drops a container of sliced fruit onto the bar. "This is part of havin' a job."
You look away from him, tears stinging your eyes now. You're so frustrated you want to snap back at him - but he's right, isn't he? Maybe you could ask him if you could just call Max and let him know you'll be running late - but the thought of asking Simon for anything right now (other than more chores) makes you queasy.
Simon doesn't know where the anger came from, but it's still simmering. He watches as you continue to run back and forth, filling up the old ice bin, unplugging the second one, dumping the ice in the back... he's refilling the bloody Mary mix and restocking the bitters. Simple things. He's got nothing to do after this besides go up to his flat and sit in front of the telly, or maybe chat with Soap before he heads home. Why didn't he just do it? Because you had a date, and that was a problem for him. Why? Now you're upset, and it's that knowledge that makes him finally feel the shame that he'd been swallowing down.
You finish dumping the last bucket of ice into the second machine. It's forty minutes after your shift ended. You still have to get to the restaurant you and Max were meeting at, which is a twenty minute walk. You were supposed to be there ten minutes early - now you're going to be an hour late. Frustration mingles with anxiety and burns in the forefront of your mind. But you can't be mad. You should've done your job.
Simon doesn't say anything when you run to the back, your phone pressed to your ear and tears in your eyes. You barely manage a wave to Soap as you grab your bag and jacket and flounder back into the restaraunt. You don't look at Simon.
"I'm leaving now, I'm so sorry- I had to finish up at work and it too longer than I-" you slowed to a walk, then a stop, standing in the middle of the floor. Simon was frozen, watching your shoulders shake.
"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I had-... it's not an excuse, I promise I'm-... listen, we can go for a walk or something, right? Or go get fast food, someplace still open, just you and me, and we can try again another-"
His eyes burn in his skull as he watches you stand there for a few more seconds, staring at your phone as the call disappears from the screen. He wants to say something - but what can he say? He's already fucked you over. And he doesn't feel any better than when he first discovered your little date. He feels worse.
You stuff your phone in your back pocket, unable to hide the single, choked sob that escapes your throat. You shoulder your bag and stomp your way out of the restaurant, door clanging behind you. Your bike is still in the alley out back, and your unfinished tips are still on the bartop. He wouldn't be surprised if you never come back to collect them.
Soap emerges from the kitchen breaking Simon from his thoughts and wiping his hands on a rag. "Real feckin' kind of ye, Ghost. Never seen such a right cunt." He glares at Simon, before slapping the rag on the table and heading back into the kitchen. His shift was over, too.
Simon has three more hours left to deal with himself before the bar closes.
2K notes · View notes
jjunberry · 2 months ago
Text
now playing 📽️ “punishment of a slut”
🎞️ you get what’s coming to you after you hatch a plan to make sunghoon jealous.
staring 🎬 park sunghoon x fem!reader, ft jay
⭐️ genre smut, slightly fwb
warnings 🎥 mean dom hoon, degradation, rope play, unprotected sex, creampie, kind of facials, name calling (he calls reader, slut and bitch a lot) marking, rough sex etc read at your own risk
wc .ᐟ 1.2k mlist .ᐟ
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
you were in for it, his piercing gaze could be felt on you with each move you made. the way your hips swayed against jay’s crotch. jay’s hands were tight against your hips, guiding your movements. this was wrong you knew it was, but sunghoon never made anything official with you, you just wanted to teach the boy a lesson. show him what he was missing, and show him you did. all night you clung to jay, dancing and drinking with him going out of your way to ignore sunghoon.
sunghoon finally had enough, he threw his head back finishing his drink in one gulp. his thick brows furrowed together as he stomped his way across the dance floor. your movements are halted as sunghoon’s hands grip your hair in a ponytail. he pulled you from jay’s grasp, making you look up at him. he brought his other hand up and patted your cheek, prompting you to open your mouth. looking at up him with an open mouth had his dick twitching in his pants. sunghoon was quick to spit a fat glob of spit in your mouth. you swallowed his saliva eagerly.
he leaned down to your ear, “apologize to jay for being a slut because we are leaving,” he let your hair go and shoved you towards jay. “i-i’m sorry for being a slut jay,” you said. jay smirked at sunghoon who was fuming behind you. “you’re in trouble,” he laughed before backing away into the crowd. sunghoon’s hand came down on your shoulder before he guided you out of the club and to his awaiting car.
sunghoon opened your door, allowing you to get inside before slamming the door closed. the loud noise had you jump in your seat. he rounded the car and got inside, slamming his door as well. his clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows had you clenching around nothing. sunghoon caught site of you squirming in your seat, desperately searching for friction. he was quick to land a smack against your thigh, leaving a red mark in its wake. “you’re such a fucking slut,” he grunted before increasing his speed while driving. he couldn’t wait to get you home. with each minute spent in the car the more your panties got wet.
the car came to a stop outside of sunghoon’s apartment. he turned the car off and quickly got out. opening your door he gripped your wrist pulling you along with him. you stumbled trying to keep up with his long strides. “sunghoon slow down,” he whipped his head towards you “you don’t get to talk,” he snapped. your mouth instantly shut at his words. sunghoon unlocked his apartment pulling you inside with him.
once inside he slammed the door closed, turning his icy gaze towards you. “strip, i want to see every inch of you he’s touched.” you quickly shimmed out of your dress, letting the thin material pool around your ankles. you stood there left in nothing but a pair of baby blue panties with a dark patch, letting sunghoon know just how much this turns you on.
“go upstairs, i want you face down do you understand?” you nodded. sunghoon gripped your throat, “i said do you understand?,” nodding again “yes,” you answered. sunghoon let you go. “good now go,” you were quick to run upstairs. once in his bedroom you positioned yourself as he said. your ass was up in the air and your head resting on a pillow.
sunghoon made his way upstairs a few minutes later. peaking behind you he stood there, with a glass of whiskey in one hand with the other he removed his belt. a small gasp left your lips, “eyes forward bitch,” you were quick to look away from him. he finished his drink before approaching you, using his belt he tied your wrists together behind your back. the cool leather felt nice against your hot skin.
he gripped your wrists and shoved you face down into the pillow, his free hand pulling your panties down. “oh fuck,” he muttered at the sight of your soaked pussy. “look at you, soaked completely..is this for me or for jay?” he smacked your ass. “i-it’s for you hoon its always for you,” he smirked at your desperation. “i know it is, jay’s not man enough to handle a bitch like you,” with that he landed another smack on your ass.
sunghoon freed himself from his pants, leaving him in his boxers wirh a prominent tent formed. “turn around, on your knees,” he ordered you. you were quick to wiggle around and set up on your knees, arms still tightly secured behind your back. sunghoon looked down at you, “open your mouth slut,” you opened your mouth instantly. he pushed his boxers down, freeing his large cock. precum dripped from the tip, you eagerly leaned towards his length.
he smacked his tip against your tongue a few times before shoving his cock in your mouth. you gagged when the tip hit the back of your throat. choking on him for a few minutes before you gained composure and started breathing through your nose. his right hand gripped your hair into a ponytail and used it as leverage to thrust deeper into your throat.
sunghoon threw his head back groaning deeply, “ah fuck,” his thrusting became quicker before he stilled shooting his thick load down your throat. he pulled out watching what cum you didn’t swallow spill from your lips. his dick twitched at the site of your mascara and eyeliner smeared, cum dripping from your chin. sunghoon lifted you from your position and tossed you flat onto the bed. you squirmed at the discomfort of your arms behind your back. sunghoon eyed you, finally deciding to free your arms.
you had no time to soothe the ache in your arms because sunghoon was on top of you in an instant. he pushed your legs into your chest, pushing his hard cock into your aching pussy. “oh fuck hoon,” you moaned when he bottomed out. you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. sunghoon leaned back wrapping his hand around your neck. “look at you so desperate for me, want me to fuck you like the bitch you are?,” you nod desperately. “yeah?,” he asked again snapping his hips against yours. “f-fuck yes, fuck me like the bitch i am,” you begged. sunghoon smirked before gripping your hips and thrusting into you roughly. your nails raked down his back, and with once final harsh thrust he released his load into your fucked out pussy. he thrust into you one more time causing the knot in your stomach to snap. he pulled out and your body was left shaking, as his cum dripped from your used pussy.
sunghoon backed away from you admiring the finger shaped bruises on your hips. the feeling of jay’s hands long forgotten as the sting of sunghoon’s grip still radiated through your body. sunghoon disappeared into the bathroom, you heard the shower running. you laid there fucked out, and sticky with sunghoon’s cum. you knew you weren’t getting aftercare, this was your punishment for being a slut. a small smile took over your face, already thinking of ways to piss him off again.
Tumblr media
credits 📹 this one is for kipo (who held me at gunpoint) i hope you enjoyed this one pookie ♡!!
special thanks to 📸 @jjunieworld @304files @ghstzzn @miaroseindreamland @babymochibeargyu @seuliecore
© jjunberry - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.
love , echo ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪
1K notes · View notes
sincerelyneo · 3 months ago
Text
no control | l.jn
“i can't contain this anymore, i'm all yours i've got no control”
💿now playing: no control by one direction
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
❯ summary: The guy sitting at the bar next to you seems pretty smitten - and Jeno hates it. He wants to be the one making you blush…or more accurately, scream his name.
❯ pairings: jeno x fem!reader
❯ genre: smut, friends with benefits
❯ words: 3.7k
❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, unprotected sex (don’t do this!), jealousy, arguing, wall sex, swearing, back scratching/marking?, possessiveness, public sex, reader uses she/her pronouns, pet names, slight begging, a bit angsty, porn with feelings, literally just jeno being petty and jealous.
Tumblr media
Jeno hates to admit it, but Mark was right. Casual, no-strings-attached sex does in fact suck. And God does he know it. It’s hard to forget when his friends keep bringing you up.
“Who’s she talking to?” Renjun asks.
Jisung replies with a simple shrug before Chenle chimes in with a quick, “I don’t know, haven’t seen him before.”
Him. Jeno feels that pronoun hit harder than expected, but he forces himself to keep cool. He doesn’t turn around to see who’s got your attention, even though every fiber of his being screams and begs for him to look.
His spying friends keep giggling amongst themselves as they sit on the stools at the bar. But it wasn’t until Renjun throws back the last of his whiskey and says: “He looks pretty into her.” That Jeno’s gaze is forced to find you.
Jeno’s too proud to admit it but he finds you instantly, you’re like a magnet, a force that he’s drawn to. And truthfully, he considers it a talent that he can seek you out of a crowd in seconds.
There you are, with some guy. Some guy he didn’t know. Some guy that, from what he could see from the side of his head, was probably good-looking. The good-looking ones always liked to try and talk to you.
Not that it matters, Jeno reminds himself, dragging his eyes away from you for his own sake. You hadn’t come to this party with him; he never even asked you. He agreed to keep this casual. You could spend your time with whoever you damn well pleased.
Even if that wasn’t him. And even if that’s a bitter pill for him to swallow. 
“Leave him alone guys,” Jisung finally speaks up. “They’re probably just talking. Besides aren’t you staying over at Y/N’s tonight anyway Jen?” He asked. 
Jeno takes his eyes off you for a second to look at his friends, he’s thankful for the reminder that he was supposed to be coming over to your place tonight. But now his mind is racing. Maybe you would change your mind, ditching him to hang out with that good-looking man instead.
You’re not like that, he tells himself. While you hadn’t attended the party with him, you had promised to spend the night with him, and you weren’t one to break promises. Besides, you didn’t bring strangers you just met home, either. He had nothing to worry about.
Except…what if he did?
When he dared to glance over to the last spot he had seen you across the lavish bar, he wasn’t expecting to still find you there. Surely, you would’ve found an opening to excuse yourself and re-join the friends you’d arrived with, but there you were. Still talking to that asshole. Smiling at him. Enjoying yourself.
Maybe it was just the whiskey talking, but Jeno felt like he was being replaced as if he was across the world and not merely across the room. Because it had been well over half an hour since he had first seen them together. And who knew how long you two had been talking before he or his friends even noticed?
Jeno doesn’t like this feeling. So he orders another drink.
He tries to ignore you – tries to focus on his friends but they keep mentioning it. Mentioning you. Which makes it so damn difficult to stop his eyes from sliding over, and noticing every little detail about you. 
The short dress that had ridden up from where you’d sat down and crossed your legs, showing off more than enough of your toned thighs. The deep black of it suited you, and not just because it was Jeno’s favourite colour, but because it complemented the tumble of hair falling over your shoulder. You looked like a goddess, untouchable. Especially when you smile. God, he loves when you smile. 
Just not when he’s not the one doing it. He should be the only one to make you laugh, to make you feel more relaxed at a party. Because he knows you, all the little things and your quirks.
But not once did you glance his way; and he’s fully aware of that because Jeno has definitely been staring. You’re ignoring him, and he hates it. So fucking much.
Maybe the alchohol was catching up to him, finally settling into his bloodstream and mixing dangerously with his jealous streak because he’s suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling that he has to do something. 
Impulsively, Jeno abandons the conversation he had already half checked out of with his friends, and doesn’t waste a second marching over to you and the man. Ideally, Jeno wanted you to be thrilled to have him sweep you away, but when he arrived at the booth you and him had been sitting at, Jeno sees your eyes flash with an undeniable ‘what the fuck are you doing over here?’
“Nice to see you, Y/N,” Jeno greets you charmingly, sliding right into the booth on your side without an invitation, blatantly interrupting.
“Hi, Jeno,” you reply, keeping your tone polite despite not moving to give him more room.
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” It hasn’t. “I thought I’d get you a drink and we could catch up?”
Jeno’s attempt to get you away is feeble, but it’s not exactly like he had enough time to devise a good plan. He was being impulsive, jealous, reckless – acting on instinct and he instinct was telling him that he need you, by his side. 
“Maybe later, yeah Jen?”.
“Why? You having too much fun already?” he asks, which was rather a loaded question, considering you had company sitting right across from you. 
“I’m having a lot of fun,” you emphasise a little more than necessary, glancing at the brunette across the table and playfully rolling your eyes. It had the man smiling in understanding, which was quick to piss Jeno off. 
“Really?” he said flatly. “You don’t look it.”
“Maybe you don’t know what I look like when I’m having fun.”
“I think I know better than most.”
That’s when Jeno squeezes your knee, and you want to disagree, but you couldn’t. Because Jeno knew, alright. He knew pretty damn well.
The guy opposite you shifts in his seat, probably aware that he had suddenly become a third wheel, thanks to the flirty tone in Jeno’s voice. Jeno gets a sick sense of enjoyment watching the man get uncomfortable – all the confirmation that whatever little plan he had going on was working. It made him only want to do it more.
So Jeno oh so casually reaches to tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear. You try not to react, but your head tilts slightly towards him, and your features soften. 
“You look beautiful,” Jeno compliments, fingers trailing down your hair, brushing over your shoulder before they settled back on your knee. “Black suits you.”
“Thanks,” you murmur. 
“Are you two friends?” The man asks, reminding you both of his presence.
“Sort of,” you began to say, just as Jeno declares, “Very close friends.”
With your cheeks now flushing, you cut him a look that he largely ignores, before feeling the need to explain yourself to the friendly guy you had just met. “We catch up sometimes. Occasionally.”
“We’ve known each other for ages.” Jeno emphasises because he liked that fact. Liked knowing he was here first, having that leverage and advantage over any guy you’d ever meet.   
“I should leave you to it then, let you two catch up,” the man says through a tight lipped smile as he began to slide out of the booth. He knew exactly what Jeno was trying to do. “Nice meeting you, Y/N. See you around sometime.”
“I hope so!” You reply trying to sound enthusiastic. You didn’t want to give Jeno the satisfaction he was clearly hoping for. 
Once the man turned his back on you, you grab your glass and take an extra generous gulp of your drink. 
Before Jeno had the chance to open his mouth and say something else that was only going to irritate you, you lean into him. 
“What the fuck was that?” you hiss. “Out. Get out. Let me out.”
Shuffling along as he was told, Jeno watches dumbly as you hastily slip out of the booth after the stranger, tugging the hem of your dress down with one hand and clutching your nearly empty glass in the other.
Jeno blinks for a second as you try to parade away from him. Then it registers in his mind and he’s chasing behind you and out of the bar. That’s when he tugs on your arm to stop you in your tracks. 
“Y/N. Stop, please.”
Much to Jeno’s surprise, you do as he says, turning around and holding up a commanding finger.  It almost seemed like a joke, but there was no humour in your tone when you asked, “What were you thinking?”
Jeno tilted his head to the side, tonguing the side of his cheek. 
“We weren’t at that party together! You knew that,” you continue your rant.
“I didn’t know it was a crime to speak to you in public,” Jeno replies naïvely with an innocent shrug of his shoulders.
“You know that’s not what we do. We don’t hang out at social events, Jeno. We agreed on casual. I don’t want a relationship.”
Casual. Yeah, you seemed to really not want a relationship when you were chatting up that guy for ages. The thought makes Jeno scoff, his gaze dropping to his feet. 
 You cross your arms over your chest, exhaling, “What?”
“That guy,” he simply says, his eyes flashing with a slight fury when he looks back up at you. “You were with that guy.”
You roll your eyes. “Oh my god, you’ve got to be kidding me.” 
“Who was he?”
“It doesn’t matter!”
“It does matter when you refuse to even speak to me in public, but spend your whole night with him.”
Jeno’s smile is long gone, and almost, almost, you wanted to forget this whole thing and bring it back. You hated when Jeno was mad at you, not that he was very often, but he was being irrational right now. 
“I just met him, it was all friendly” you explain. “I can’t believe you’re jealous!”
“I’m not jealous!”
Jeno knew he was, but there was not a chance of him admitting that seeing you with any other man drove him absolutely insane. Every single damn time. Still, you know better.
“You obviously are! Jeno, you know how I feel about you–”
“Do I? You didn’t seem to be into me tonight.”
“Because you came out of nowhere and acted like I was all yours!”
“You are mine!”
That was the wrong thing to say. Jeno knew it as soon as it came out his mouth, saw it in the way your expression tightened slightly. Even so, he wouldn’t take back what he thought was true.
“We haven’t defined anything–” you fumble, “Infact, I think we did the opposite—” 
“How would you like it if I’d been flirting with another girl all night?” He cuts in.
“It wouldn’t matter,” you lie. “You can do what you want.
Jeno takes a few steps towards you, and it makes you unconsciously hold your breath. He’s so tall and intimidating and goddam sexy—wait you’re mad at him right now! 
“What I really want, Y/N, is to be with you,” he spells it out frustratingly slowly. “Seeing you all night long in that short dress that barely covers your ass and knowing I can’t touch you, claim you, fucking kills me.” 
Your eyes betray you, because despite every brain wave in your mind telling you to yell at him for that slightly misogynistic statement—your eyes still soften. 
“Well, you should’ve just said that,” you try to explain instead of lecturing him. “If you’ve been feeling like that you should’ve talked to me instead of acting like a caveman.” 
“You don’t listen.”
“I’m listening now.”
Jeno blinks at you, his jaw loosening as his eyes watch your gaze drift down to his lips. The action is loud enough for him to not waste another second before his hands move to your waist, pulling you in to the kiss he had been dying to give you all night. 
It’s harder than he would’ve given you earlier, more possessive – oh, definitely possessive when he forces your back against the brick wall at the side of the bar and your arms have no choice but to hastily wrap around his neck. You stumble a little, but he keeps a firm grip on you.
If you wanted him to tell you how he felt, well, that’s exactly what you’re going to get.
He tells you in the desperate way that he kisses you, lips parting and unwilling to leave yours. He tells you by the way he presses his body flush against yours, pinning you to the brick so you can’t slip away from him, not again. He tells you in the low moan that escapes him when your hand tangles up in his hair and your own lips work just as eager.
When he breaks away for a moment, he takes his time to just look at you. So pretty, so desperate, and so undoubtedly all his. 
And when you gaze back at him through long lashes and eyes radiating with lust, he has to groan because he’s the one making you like that. He’s the one getting you to bite down on those pretty lips, lips that were made for him, belong to him. 
But you’re feeling too desperate and he’s taking too long. So within a mere few seconds, you’re reaching for him again. It has him thinking maybe you’re trying to tell him the same thing. But there was no need to do that. Jeno had made it abundantly clear that he was yours. 
There was still a lingering frustration fuelling the two of you – mostly from you; it was jealousy for Jeno. He is jealous that someone else – another man – had gotten to spend the night at the party with you. He needed you to know that he hated to see you with him, and that this – this was never going to be better with anyone else. 
No matter how hard a man would try, they could never know you the way that he did. They could never make you feel the way he did. 
Ridiculously, you want to apologise despite him reading the situation all wrong. You hadn’t been flirting with anyone else, and you thought it didn’t matter who you chose to simply talk to. You never knew he’d feel this threatened. Never suspected it would upset him this much. 
You proposed the idea of keeping things casual to not get hurt. Jeno was unbelievably attractive and could have his pick of any woman. You thought keeping him at arm's length would protect you—figures it’s only hurting him. 
Regardless, no matter the context there was no denying that he was being a jealous ass tonight and the two of you had argued. An argument that you were both getting very turned on by and had you conflicted between getting down on your knees for him or letting him fuck you against the wall, outside and all. 
You always found great thrill in surprising him: breaking from the feverish kisses, you reach up under your dress and yank down your underwear. The delicate fabric falls around your ankles, and you kick them off to the side, inviting him to what he so clearly wanted.
I’m yours right here, right now, your eyes tell him.
And you really thought you had won at the whole surprising thing, until he hooks your legs around his waist and presses his hips harder against you. You never pegged yourself or Jeno for being an exhibitionist but something about him taking you against the wall of the very same bar he thought a man was flirting with you at, awakens something feral inside him. 
All of a sudden the wall seemed like the perfect spot for make up sex. Honestly, Jeno just wanted any sex. As long as it was with you. 
He exhales heavily when he starts to ease his pants down and you fumble to undo his shirt buttons. But you get far too distracted by his lips beginning to trail down your throat. He reaches for your thigh, smoothing up your soft skin, as he hitches up your dress around your hips. 
You’re so desperate for him you can’t help but whimper. And just when you think ‘Yes, finally,’ a cocky grin spreads across his face as his finger slips effortlessly (and too goddamn slowly) over your centre. His teasing is somewhat annoying, but it’s so hard to be pissed at him when he’s touching you like that. Hell, it’s hard to be mad at him in general—you’re weak to him and that’s exactly why you’re pushed up against a wall. 
Jeno picks up his pace as soon as he begins stroking you with another finger. You squirm against the wall and he watches that hungry expression grow as he rubs you rhythmically, fingers sliding up and down, up and down, so easily from how wet you are. Pride swells in his chest because he did that. 
Every moan that leaves your lips is his own little reward, one that he is dying to receive more, and more, and more of. Forever. 
Jeno knows you’re close. It would’ve been easy to get you off right there, and he would’ve, had he not abruptly pulled away from you. You curse under your breath at the loss of contact. 
“Jeno!” 
He smirks, loving the way you squirm as he nudges your legs further apart. His breath is hot against your skin as he murmurs, “Got to tell me what you want, baby.” 
You groan frustratingly, since apparently he wasn’t going to give it to you unless you said something. “I want you, now. Just need you inside me.”  
He smirks, the grip he had on your thighs tightening and the muscles in his arms flexing beneath his shirt. He shifts his hips, pushing the crown of his cock against your entrance — slowly, sensually, tormentingly. 
You lean into him, nails digging into the fabric on his back as he presses his forehead against your neck, soft hisses escaping him as he feels you — wet and tight. 
“This pussy was fucking made for me,” he growls, cock buried to the hilt. He could stay there forever, selfishly he wants to, but he can hear your whimpers and the need to please you becomes priority. 
He bottoms out and then his hips are snapping forward hard, fast, possessive. Whatever words you wanted to say dissolves into a senseless moan. His thrusts become more erratic and needy and the pace has you clenching down around him. Fuck. 
Jeno stills. His breath ghosts over your collarbones and his fingers dig even further into your hips. You know that look, he’s struggling to keep himself under control, which, given the circumstances is the last fucking thing you want. 
“Not gonna last long if you keep doing that baby.” 
He’s trying to reason with you, but before you really have time to think about what you’re doing you’re clawing at his back, tightening your legs around and digging the heels of your shoes into his back hard enough that he growls, low and frightening in a way that makes your spine tingle. 
“Fuck,” he grits out thrusting into you hard. The sound of skin hitting skin is loud and vulgar in the middle of the street, but you don’t care and can’t care because fuck, all you can think about is how it feels as he rocks into you, again and again and again. 
“Jeno,” you gasp out, grip digging into his shoulders as he fucks you, ruthless and unforgiving. 
He’s relishing in it, you can tell by the way he’s looking at you that he’s trying to fucking burn the sight into his brain forever, the sounds you’re making and the way you shiver in his arms and the sheer force of it all. He groans and when he kisses you again it’s nearly violent, a clash of lips and tongues and teeth. 
“All mine,” he groans against your mouth. He hisses as you bite at his bottom lip, retaliating with a growl and driving his hips into yours with a newfound ruthlessness. “Tell me you’re mine.”
“Oh—fuck please,” you gasp out, breaths coming out in little huffs in time with the movement of his body. 
“Not what I asked,” he lowers his voice, serious. His pace slows down and it has you squirming and crying out.
“Fuck yes—yours Jeno. Always been yours. Just please don’t stop—” 
Jeno groans and kisses your neck. He picks up his pace again. The same low tone in his voice as he promises, “I’m all yours too.” 
You swear those three simple words were the sexiest thing you’ve ever heard. Your walls flutter around him and you don’t miss the prideful grin on his face as his hand moves down from your hip and his thumb presses against your clit.
His fingers move hurriedly and the pleasure is suddenly blinding and white and fuck fuck—
“Jeno yes just like that I’m gonna—”
“Good fucking girl,” he chokes out, your orgasm shaking him to his core, making his thrusts half-desperate. 
His rhythm falters and his own breath catches. He digs his fingers into your hip hard enough that it makes you hiss and then he falters and slows and gives one, two, three more thrusts before pinning you harder with a shaky, breathless sigh.
The two of you stay like that for a beat before he lowers you back to the ground, pulling down your dress. Then slowly, he brings his fingers to his lips and licks, tasting you with a roll of his eyes. 
“I mean it, you know,” He quietly says. “I’m all yours.”
Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him into a revering kiss, and you tell him the exact same thing back. 
1K notes · View notes
iarchmybaculaa · 7 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Pairing: Ex! Jungkook x reader
Rating: 18+ (Please be mindful of what you consume)
Warnings: Jungkook is subjectively a little toxic, Mentions of an ongoing divorce, possessive! Jungkook, Girl Dad! Jungkook, unprotected sex (don't do that irl), oral sex (f receiving), Slight brat reader, Jeon Jungkook is a menace, reader is implied to be black
Word count: 5.2 k (I think)
🎧: Woo- Rihanna
For: @hobicakess and Paige💗
Tumblr media
Jungkook is good at a lot of things
Hes a fantastic singer. He dances very well (even if he likes to fein shyness at parties). Jungkook can cook, he can multitask seamlessly and (almost) effortlessly, and he can put Jinhae to sleep in a matter of minutes… It would be much easier to list the things that Jungkook isn't good at.
Jungkook isn't very good at sharing.
He doesn't like sharing food, clothes or people.
You think it may be his biggest if not only flaw.
Jungkook considers the people in his life his. He doesn't expect them to have the same importance in someone else's life, as they do in his. And he doesn't expect them to think of other people the way they do of him, either.
You don't know if it's because he fears that he'll be replaced, or because he was raised as an only child. But whatever it was, Jungkook let it consume him. Holistically.
You remember how he had reacted when Yoongi- his mentor,had taken on a new intern. Jungkook and Yoongi had attended the same highschool within a few years of each other; and had met again when Yoongi was a TA at SNU. Yoongi had taken Jungkook under his wing, as less of a student, and more like a little brother; and their bond lasted way beyond college. Yoongi was so proud of Jungkook that he was practically All he spoke about. Jungkook had gotten used to things being that way.
Then one day, all of a sudden, Yoongi was no longer “Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook”; he was all “Jimin, Jimin, Jimin” much to the Younger's chagrin.
To his credit, Jungkook was nothing but nice to Jimin during the time he worked for Yoongi. He bought him coffee once in a while and even invited him out for drinks whenever the opportunity arose. Jimin was cool. Jungkook would even go as far as to say that Jimin was his friend. Jungkook barely knew the guy! He had nothing against him.
It was Yoongi he was pissed at.
Yoongi was the one who owed Jungkook his loyalty. Yoongi was the one who had nursed Jungkook through his first hangover, and held him when he cried about failing a class. Yoongi was there when Jungkook got his first, off campus apartment. Yoongi was Jungkook 's Yoongi.
At first, Yoongi didn't understand it. It made no sense that Jungkook seemed so fond of Jimin, yet he soured whenever the latter's name was mentioned. It gave him whiplash. It went on for a solid month and a half of Jungkook's scowls and petulant pouts for Yoongi to finally realize that something was deeply wrong, and that he needed to get to the bottom of it.
It took 2 bottles of soju and 3 glasses of whiskey for Jungkook to crack. His reasoning was so funny that Yoongi almost didn't feel bad for laughing at him. All it took to pacify Jungkook was for Yoongi to give him a hug, followed by a quick
“you'll always be hyung's favourite, Kook-ah.” as he ruffled his hair.
Tumblr media
Jungkook was only 22 when that had happened. And he'd like to believe he's grown a lot since then.
He's advanced enough in his career that he's not Mr. Bang's payroll anymore, but rather pays him. Jungkook has grown in a literal sense too, having had a growth spurt one random day after he turned 23 (there was no containing him once he realized that he was 6 feet tall) .
Jungkook has (helped) create life; your daughter Jinhae. It's the thing he's proudest of, second only to marrying you.
But Jungkook is only human.
So it's only natural that he feels an itch rise on the back of his neck everytime he picks Jinhae up from your apartment, and all she can talk about is your new boyfriend.
He got so…irritated the more Jinhae babbled on about “Woo- Woo” that he felt a little silly. But who could blame him? He would be holding Jinhae 's hand as they walked through the park for their daddy daughter time, and every other sentence would be about this ‘’Woo Woo”.
Seokjin had once joked that she had switched from being 'Daddy's girl' to 'Woo-Woo’s girl' , and Jungkook 's body took a screenshot. He shot Jin a look so vile, that the older stayed quiet for the rest of the day.
Jungkook really had tried to ignore it as best as possible. And he (thought) he was doing fairly well until that evening, when Jinhae had let it slip that:
‘’Mama kissed Woo-Woo today.”
He had just picked her up from her taekwondo class, and was about to pull out of the parking lot when Jinhae gave him the oh so lovely news.
Jungkook isn't a monster, he thinks he's let this little charade go on for much longer than was respectable. He wasn't going to let that slide.
He took a sharp left and sped down the highway. If he wasn't so caught up in his head, he would've heard Jinhae 's excited scream of:
“YAY! we're going to Uncle Yoonie's house’
Tumblr media
You had just finished taking a long, warm bath. Your feet had been aching, and your back felt worse than it did before you had gotten your epidural. You needed a break; desperately.
The silence in the apartment was a welcome change.
You loved Jinhae with all your heart, but children were tiring to deal with alone. Children could be incredibly difficult, just for the fun of it. Especially spoilt, almost-five year olds who are used to their daddy obeying their every beck and call.
God forbid you didn't do “ the voice” right, after reading “The little Prince” five times in a row! suddenly you were public enemy number one.
At least you could bask in the fact that Jinhae never threw (noisy) tantrums or threw things, but you felt that she had quadruple the attitude your hus- ex, accused you of having.
But tonight, the only attitude you have to worry about dealing with, was from Kim when you researched the earliest seasons of Keeping up with the Kardashians. What can you say? There's truly nothing funnier to you than upper class white women trying to be relatable. To this dat, their target audience was a mystery to you. You can't think of a single person whose biggest problem was how many times their name got googled in a day. You find it hard to take anything they ‘’go through' seriously, because if we're being honest, people really are dying Kim!
You walk out of the bathroom wrapped in a soft white robe.
You reach for the the lilac, silk pajama set laid out on your bed. You had bought it from an online lingerie store, after a few glasses of wine a few weeks ago. You had been so…bored that you did the most exciting thing your numb brain could come up with in that moment.
You scoff at your past self. It was more cute than anything, not nearly as scandalous as some of the items you have hidden in the back of your closest. But you're not complaining.
The shorts are a bit shorter than you expected, but the silk is soft a high quality, and the lace that lines the top isn't itchy at all. You untwist your bun, and your braids cascade down your shoulders. You grab the bottle of black castor oil from your dresser, and run the nozzle along the parts. You sigh as you reach up to massage your scalp.
It's in little moments like these that you miss Jungkook the most. You hate to admit, but you used to be just as spoilt as Jinhae. Jungkook used to pamper you in every way possible. He would oil your scalp for you, order your hair products months in advance so that you'd never run out, and give you massages whenever your shoulders stood too rigid.
But you didn't have Jungkook anymore. You suck your teeth in annoyance at yourself for thinking about him so much.
You had just finished applying your vitamin c serum to your face, when you heard an incessant pounding on your door. You pause your music just as Kali Uchis asks if she can get a kiss. You're confused as to why someone is knocking on your door, when you have a very obvious doorbell attached to the frame. It's even stranger given what time it is.
You slip your feet into your cow print night slippers, as you step off the plush rug that lay on the floor in front of your vanity; and unto the floor.
The slippers slap against the floor as you walk towards the living room, and to whoever the hell wouldn't stop pounding on your door at 9pm on a Friday.
You throw the door open, ready to demand an explanation when you stop dead in your tracks.
To say you're surprised at who is standing at your door would be an understatement. You're not sure who you were expecting to see, but it certainly wasn't Jungkook. You're even more surprised to see him without Jinhae in tow.
You don't think that you've been alone with Jungkook for more than a few minutes at a time since the divorce; and even so, Jinhae has always been just a few feet away.
You feel worry start to settle in your stomach.
“Where's JJ? Is she okay?” You ask, praying that what came out of his mouth next isn't bad news.
He chuckes. It's a sound that comes from deep inside his chest and reverberates across the empty hallway. It's an empty laugh, with no humour behind it. It makes a chill run up and down your spine.
“Jinie is fine. She's with Yoongi; and she's the last of your worries right now” he says.
For once, Jungkook hasn't cracked a single smile the entire time he's been in your presence. It's obvious that he's mad, but you're not sure at what. You're not sure that you vare.
He isn't wearing a suit right now, and you can't recall the last time you'd seen him in anything but.
Jungkook worked extraordinarily long hours. You knew that working late and being burnt out would be a part of his life, especially the more his business grew, but it hadn't phased you at the time. There was nothing to be phased about.
At the time, Jungkook always put you first. And when Jinhae was born, he did the same thing. There was never a time where he had left you to fend for yourself with a newborn. He had been there through it all. From colic, to 3 am feedings to explosive diaper changes. He had never let you feel alone as a parent, or in your marriage.
Until around 8 months ago that is.
Tumblr media
8 months ago, you feel like Jungkook had just stopped trying.
You know for a fact that Jungkook is terrified of being poor. It's why he always has another merger to make with one of his three companies, and dips his toes into every industry imaginable. His influence spanned over tech, real estate and even clothing. You think Jungkook's fear is understandable, you don't think it's fair. It was teetering on the edge of paranoia and greed.
He was trying so bad to make sure that he could take care of his family, that he wasnt.
He would get home from work after Jinhae went to bed, and left before she got ready for school. You had spent one too many nights falling asleep on the couch waiting for him to come home; only to wake up in your bed the next morning with a handwritten note on your bathroom mirror. They were sweet and all..but not much more.
As much as you appreciated the affirmations, his words meant nothing when there was no action behind them. Promises to come home home early the, family outings that never happened… You felt like you were a kid whose love was expected to be bought with money, and placated with empty commitments all over again. You could count on a bouquet of roses being delivered at your door every morning, more than you could count on your own husband being there.
You hated it.
You were starting to hate him.
Tumblr media
It had gotten to a point where Jungkook had just given his secretary reign over his personal phone. You almost lost your mind when you had called him to ask what he wanted for dinner once, and she answered and told you that he was busy.
You could hear Jungkook 's laughter in the background, and the noise was not a professional setting. In fact, it sounded a lot more intimate and cozy. Like a restaurant or small bar. You felt sick to your stomach. You couldn't even get the chance to talk to Jungkook about it, because you barely saw him.
The look on his face when you served him the divorce papers in person at his office was borderline comical. His eyes had widened so far out of their sockets, that you thought the expression was causing him physical pain. You had said nothing. You simply handed him the papers and stayed long enough for him to read the heading. He clearly wanted to communicate through words on paper, so who were you to not oblige him with some?
As far as you know, Jungkook had never signed the papers, but he did follow all the other conditions you had outlined in your petition for separation.
He got an apartment for you and Jinhae in a building he didn't own, and was never late for any pickups or dropoffs, save for once when he had the flu.
Tumblr media
A part of you had forgotten how young Jungkook was.
The suits he wore aged him plenty. Not in an old, haggard way, but in a way that made him appear more refined and serious than he actually was. His hair was always cut short and clicked away from his face. The collars of his shirts were always ironed to sharpness. Hell, he even wore sensible shoes.
If you hadn't seen every inch of Jungkook 's body before, and gone to college with him…You would have pegged him for an uptight dogooder. You're sure it helped him get taken seriously in the corporate world, but overtime, it was as if Jungkook had forgotten his roots. As if he had morphed into a no nonsense, mormon-esque version of himself.
But the Jungkook standing before you now, is the Jungkook you know and lov- respected. Jungkook who proudly wore his colorful sleeve of tattoos,silver hoops through his lips and a stud in his nose. The Jungkook who liked to wear cargo pants and oversized shirts with stomper boots he could barely walk straight in.
You knew he had showered before he had come over, because his hair was still curly. He hadn't blow-dried it. His hair is much longer than it was when you had last saw him. It fell past his eyes now. He had started growing it out sgain because Jinhae told him she wanted to. At least, that's what he had told you.
What had really happened was that Jinhae had been asking a lot of questions about “ when appa wasn't so old” one Saturday when they had gone out for ice cream.
“Appa, Mommy says your hair used to be w-eally long and pwetty. Can it come back? Mommy misses it.”
Jungkook hadn't cut his hair again since.
Tumblr media
“Aren't you going to invite me in?” He asks, one eyebrow raised at you.
You fold your arms across your chest.
“I'm not sure why I should. Besides, I don't think that this is a good time.”
“Oh? Why's that? You lip expecting someone else,princess?’ He takes in your attire from head to toe. His eyes linger for a little too long in your chest. His voice goes deeper as he struggles to finish his last question.
You don't answer, and it makes his eye twitch.
It's so ridiculous, yet so on brand of him to create a hypothetical scenario in his head and get all eaten up about it. He takes a deep breath.
He doesn't want to blow his fuse. Not here, Not yet.
“ I need to talk to you. Inside. Please.” He asks, but it's not really a request.
You roll your eyes and turn your back to him as you walk away.
He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth as he watches your ass jiggle in the tiny shorts. He enters behind you, and the door closes softly with a click.
You walk over to the fridge and grab the unfinished can of Arizona Iced tea, and a glass from the cupboard. You were looking forward to having a glass of wine tonight, but if you were going to talk to Jungkook… you needed to be stone cold sober.
“You want anything?” You ask, as you pour the content into the glass. “ I think I have some b-”
“What I want is answers.” He says simply, leaning in the arched entryway.
You look at him with confusion written all over your face, before your pettiness takes over.
“ Oh yeah? Well I wanted signed divorce papers, and yet here we are.”
You take a swig from your cup and let the sweetness of the drink coat your tongue.
You see Jungkook release a breath so deep that his entire body shakes.
“ Who are you kissing in front of my kid?”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he says with his arms crossed against his chest. “Who are you kissing in front of my kid?”
You're getting irritated now, because for one, what the hell is he talking about, and two…Who was Jungkook to talk to you like that?
“Jungkook. First of all, she's our kid. And secondly, I have no idea what the hell you're talking about. And even if I did… I wouldn't tell you jack shit. What or who I do is none of your business.”
Jungkook pushes himself off the threshold and starts walking towards you. His steps are slow and strong. His strides are long,and he has your back pressed into the counter in a matter of seconds.
You haven't been so close to Jungkook in so long, that everything about him overwhelms you in the best way possible. He smells so, so good. He smells like sandalwood and warm vanilla. He smells like home. His proximity to you is dizzying, and you can only pray that you'll keep it together.
He puts his arm on one side of you, leaving your left completely open. If you wanted to get away from him, you could. You stayed in place. It tells him everything he needs to know.
“Have you completely lost your fucking mind Y/N?” He questions. He reaches for your left hand and your heart sinks down to your ass. The diamond of your wedding ring glitters under the lights hanging from the the ceiling. The princess cut stone is practically mocking you.
“What do you think I gave you this ring for huh? Fun? Fucking decoration?” He jests, “You know, for someone who never shuts her big mouth up about divorce, you sure keep this on don't you baby?”
You don't deny it. There's no point in doing so. You know that if you do, he'll lift the ring upwards. And you know that when he does, he'll find the unmistakable circle of a tan line wrapping around your ring finger.
He strokes his thumb against your cheek, and you almost preen at his touch. “Who's ‘Woo- Woo’ baby?”
“None of your business.” You bite out.
“When are you gonna get it through your thick skull, that you are my business?!”
He runs his hand through his long hair, and you can see his face so much better. He's as beautiful as you remember and he's right in front of you.
You don't know who leaned in first, but you do know how soft lips feel as they press against yours. You fell the metal of his lip piercings touch the roof of your mouth as you suck his lip into you mouth.
He puts his hand under your ass, and your legs wrap around him on instinct. He lifts you and bring you over to the cool marble of the kitchen island.
His hand tugs on the hem of your blouse, and you pull away from him.
“Kook, we can't.” You whine as you pull away.
Jungkook uses his thumb to wipe some of the spit from the corner of your mouth, and fixes your shirt so your boob is no longer at risk of spilling out.
“Okay baby, we'll stop and we can talk over dinner. Do you want me to make something or do you want to get takeout?” He asked as he pulls away from you.
He doesn't get very far, because you wrap your legs around him, and pull you back to him.
“Wait- I didn't really mean that.” You whisper. Jungkook has a sneaking suspicion that you weren't just talking about telling him no.
“You want me baby?”
You nod your head yes, too embarrassed to open your mouth lest your voice shake.
He cradles your face, and tilts it upwards so you have no choice but to look him in the eyes.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.” You answer affirmatively, reaching forwards to capture his lips again.
Youre not even thinking about the Pandora's box that you might be opening; and quite frankly? You don't care.
You're acutely aware that you wont be able to blame your decision on being drunk or tipsy. The only thing driving you was a burning need to have Jungkook deep inside you (where he belonged).
He litters kisses along your neck as he slides his hand down your shorts. Your hips buck forward on instinct, and you shudder as you feel his fingers ghost your clit.
“Why are you naked under here?” He growls out. grip tightening around you waist. “I'm starting to think that you were expecting someone tonight.” he muses.
He spreads your folds with two fingers, reveling in the way your arousal leaks out of you and unto his fingers.
“ Is that why you're so eager, baby? Hm? Is that why you're so wet? You decided that you were gonna get fucked one way or another? Is that it?”
He asks each question as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you. It shallow. He doesn't allow you the pleasure of going further than his first knuckle. You try to grind down on his digits, but he holds your hips down with his free hand.
“Whoever you've been giving my pussy away to, hasn't been doing a very good job... have they?” He groans as you clench around him.
“Jungkook please. I want-”
“Shh baby, I know. I'll give it to you I promise. Just give me one first” he begs as he speeds up his circles on your clit.
He sinks his teeth into the sensitive spot on your neck, and you cum almost instantly. Your body shakes and you wrap your arms around his neck as your pussy convulses around his fingers.
You barely have time to recover before he's pulling your shorts down, and cleaning up the mess you made. He catches the slick of you orgasm on your tongue just as it starts running down your leg.
He goes at your pussy like a man starved. You cry out the moment his tongue enters you. You ride his tongue with vigor, gripping unto the counter for stability.
Jungkook pulls away from you for moment. His mouth is shiny from your juices, and his eyes are already so blown out that you want to fuck him even more.
He guides your hand to his hair, and encourages you to grab the tendrils.
“Use me, baby” he instructs.
His voice is so gravelly and raw, that you can do nothing but oblige him.
You grip the roots of his hair and push his head back between your legs. You both moan when he starts lapping at you again. You hold his head in place, guiding him where you want him; where you need him.
The second time you cum, your legs closed so tight around his head that Jungkook thought he had died and went straight to heaven.
You pull him away from your core by his hair, and bring him up to your face. You clean his face with your own tongue, and lean in to kiss him so you both taste like you. Your chests are still heaving when Jungkook carries you to your room.
Tumblr media
He lays you gently on the bed, and takes his shirt off at the same time you toss your blouse over your head. He's about to undo the strings of his sweatpants when he stops cold in his tracks..
“ Shit, baby…I don't have any condoms. I didn't plan on this-”
“ It's okay,” You reassure him “ I'm clean. Are you?”
Jungkook looks a little scandalized. “Of course I'm clean, I haven't - I havent been with anyone except you since before we started dating.” His honesty shines so brightly in his eyes that you almost want to pull him into a hug.
You release a shaky, nervous breath you didn't know you had been holding.
“ Good. I want to feel you, all of you.”
Tumblr media
The bed sinks as Jungkook climbs over you, one leg on each side of your body.
You've missed this view. Him on top of you, chain swining in your face, and big doe eyes filled with lust for you and only you.
He takes a hairtye from around his wrists, and pulls his hair into a low manbun. His cock is already painfully hard, red and leaking from the tip.
You spread your legs as Jungkook nestkes in-between them. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder, and presses a soft kiss to your calf.
He rubs himself between your folds, mesmerized by how quickly your wetness coats him.
He lines himself up with your entrance, and pauses.
“Are you sure you're ready baby? I don't want to hurt you.”
“ Is that it? Or are you scared that you don't hold a candle to ‘Woo-Woo’ my” you jest. Jungkook doesn't find it very funny.
He pushes himself into you, but as wet as you are, you're still so, so tight. Your pussy is so warm…hot even, that Jungkook almost cums the moment yes fully sheathed in you.
You're just as tight as he remembers, tighter even.
You both moan when he delivers his first thrust. You haven't had dick in so long,that you'd forgot what it felt like. How it felt like to have your walls stretched and your g spot caressed, how delicious and heavy the drag was inside you. How good Jungkook was at this. You feel so good that Jungkook practically forgets that he's supposed to be mad at you.
“You know you belong to me right?” Jungkook demands as he thrusts into you, slow and forceful. You don't answer and turn your face away from him He wraps his hand around your throat as speed up.
“Fucking look at me when I'm talking to you!”
His thrusts become faster, punishing. He practically ploughs you into the mattress as whatever restraint he had before vanishes into thin air. You scream the more intense the pleasure gets.
“ I should fuck another baby into you, you know that? Hm? Should swell your tummy up with another one of my kids, so you have nine months to think about why the fuck you would do something as stupid as try to leave me.”
He finds your gspot as effortlessly as he usually does, and he hits it over and over and over again.
“Jungkook PLEASE” you cry. You reach your hand out to push against the hardness of his abdomen. He takes your hand and kisses it. You're so close. So fucking close, and Jungkook can tell.
“You want to cum, don't you baby?”
You nod frantically. Your pussy is practically raw from overstimulation, and you feel so much pressure building inside you that you don't know whether you want to run away from the pleasure or dive headfirst into it.
“Yes! Yes! Yes! I need to please.”
“Then tell me. Fucking tell me you're mine”
“Fuck, I'm yours, Jungkook! Please!” you cry.
“ How many people have you fucked since you left? Answer me!” He commands you, adding a finger to your clit to the mix.
“Nobody, no one, Jungkook Please!”
“ I know baby, I just needed you to admit it.”
He leans down and places a soft kiss to your temple. He gives you two more delicious thrusts that make your toes curl and your eyes roll back. Your lurches forward as your orgasm rips through you. Your walls convulse around him, squeezing him so tight that Jungkook feels a bit dizzy.
“Baby,” he whines “unwrap your legs so I can pull out.” He gasps when your legs only wrap tighter around him. “Baby, I have to-”
“N-no,” you protest “ I want it inside Jungkook please.”
He cums so forcefully that his orgasm leaves him winded and his arms almost give out. He spils his seed into you, and you feel the warmth of it coat your walls.
He pulls out of you as he begins to soften, and collapse beside you as he tries to catch his breath. You both turn to look at each other, and Jungkook offers you a soft smile.
He notices the sweat starting to bead on your forehead, and turns his head to switch your fan on.
That's when you see it. Your eyes bug out of their sockets.
“Jungkook, what the hell is that on your neck?”
“ What are you talking about?”
“Right there,” you turn his head to the right to get a better look. Your heart starts thumming uncontrollably in your chest. Because there it was, your name in bold black letters for everyone to see.
“Jungkook…When did you get that?”
“Hm…about five months ago?” he chuckles. He had the decency to look sheepish.
“Jungkook!” You say as you slap his chest “ We weren't even together!”
“ Correction, we are together, we just have separate living arrangements.”
You look at him incredulously.
“You're crazy, you know that?’
“About you? Yeah..Real crazy baby” he flirts “Hey, you never told me woo this ‘Woo-Woo’ guy is anyways .”
You roll you eyes at him as you climb of the bed.
“I can't tell you who he's not. He's not the one whose cum is dripping out of me right now. Are you gonna join me on the shower or what?”
Fin.
2K notes · View notes
briseroyawritingsblog · 1 month ago
Text
𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒚𝒐𝒖 — 𝑨𝑼
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒇𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒐𝒓!𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒆!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓
• +21 minors do not interact. this is actually taboo, mutual flirtation, desire, inappropriate thoughts, large age gap, heavy kissing, professor is so horny in this (beware), darkish AU, light stalking (if you squint) mutual pining (little) mentions of rough sex, thinking of unprotected sex.
𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕
dividers by @anitalenia
Tumblr media
Yes it happened, he’d overwork so he didn’t have to return home. That home of his was nothing but cold, empty, and lonely. Another evening of sitting in his office and marking the last semester papers. He’d secretly drink some whiskey out of a coffee cup and remove his shoes to feel comfortable. Stretching his limbs he’d sigh and think what happened to his life. Children grown up and wife somewhere out there with a new man. Yes- divorce was messy but at the end the feeling in his chest could’ve been compared to elation, maybe freedom. Divorces ended up being messy because of the heartbreak but man in his age? He desired peace- adjusting the reading specs on the bridge of his nose and sighed coming across your semesters quiz. Naturally loving the way you curved the font of your name on his papers. Reading your essay only to the half way and marking it ‘excellent’ because to be truthful you were a very creative writer. Thoughts drifting to many places as he touched the coffee cup to sip on his whiskey. He could also definitely just retire because being a teacher in his late 50’s was quite challenging. Not because of the age range, he lost patience. Yes… it happened. Secretly hating his colleagues guts, but oh god when he saw you… there it was. The weak spot- what he liked the most that you’d always catch his gaze. Sitting at the back of the classroom leaning on your elbow and catch his gaze. Seeing you press your thighs together under the desk, at the praise he gave you for your test results. He liked praising you.
Being newly enrolled, finding new friends which you did instantly and they were cool people. Sharing mutual interests and forming a little study sessions in the library. It was honestly so good. But the moment you saw him passing by holding that green smoothie in his hand from cafeteria you loved so much. You caught yourself staring, goodness he was tall. That hair slicked back, and the specs, your chest felt like giving up. A breath caught in your throat as he locked his eyes with yours. Gripping the book against your chest you ran up to him “Mr..” stilling his feet he acknowledged you “Y/N” a smile greeting his features and you grew weak in your knees. Secrets… secrets again. You had tons of them. “Did they have any different flavors?” You pointed at his smoothie and he chuckled shrugging. “I’m not entirely sure, but this one caught my eye today.” You nodded “it’s pretty great. I get it all the time.” He moistened his lips as you spoke. “Oh don’t say, that good?” Bringing the straw to his lips he tasted it. The sweet flavors leaving his tastebuds dancing. “Very healthy, it’s sweet” he hummed. “Walk with me?” He motioned to his office at the end of the corridor. Your heart needed to calm down because god, you couldn’t stop the feelings. Holding the book against your chest forgetting about your study session and your friends soon finding yourself sitting in his office. Leaning back against his chair he sighed. Finally having you for himself- it’s been days since he last time saw you. “Read your essay, i must say it’s amazing” he praised. “Really? You think it’s good?” You relaxed your shoulders taking a breath. “I know it’s very good, you don’t have to study so hard in that library you already have it.” Answering you with so much confidence your attraction level towards him spiked off the roof. “Thank you Sir..” you smiled, eyes sparkling. “Most welcome” the Sir part definitely surged through his body and straight to his cock. You had no idea…
Tumblr media
Throwing his briefcase on the passengers seat, it was time to go home but he didn’t want to. He really didn’t want to walk into that cold empty house alone. Maybe divorce was fine but he didn’t expect to feel so goddamn lonely whenever he was at home. He could eat out, join his awful work colleagues because they constantly invited him. About to start his car he noticed you running across the road, he leaned back in his drivers seat adjusting his specs, your skirt bounced as you ran flashing him a sight of your thighs. You got in the car with a man he figured it’s your father. How much he wanted to drive you home, maybe hold your inner thigh with one hands and maybe- only maybe touch that sweet pussy of yours. He would trace your little folds and make them wet. He wanted to fit his cock right between those folds and fuck it until you’d cry for him to stop. Maybe a little rougher- maybe causing you a little lust filled pain. Snapping his hips right into you, faster and faster gripping you around your neck. These thoughts ran through his mind, making his cock heavy in his dress pants. Hissing softly as he touched his growing cock through his pants shifting in his seat, god he hated this. He hated not having you for himself and pound that little pussy of yours at every chance he’d be able to. Fill you right up with his cum, and stuff it back in you as it would leak out of you.
Seeing your professor sitting in his car, on the other side of the car park you waved. He seemed to be looking down perhaps reading something- and in fact yes he was reading a book because what else he’d have to do to make his little ‘problem’ suffice away. You told your father that you’d rather walk, the car park was nearly empty and it was getting dark maybe it was your chance to tell your professor about your new story what you were writing. No harm in that right? Getting out of your father’s car waving him goodbye, you ran back across the road to your professors car gently knocking on his window. He looked up, and god his heart sunk in surprise seeing you there. Sliding his window down slowly you stuttered at first “I-I just saw you sitting here thinking you were reading and yes you’re.” He nodded slowly masking the awful need in the pit of his stomach. “Hop in.” You excitedly did- getting on his passengers seat. “It’s actually a novel by my favourite author.” Handing you the book locking the doors. You eagerly read the info about the plot and bit your lower lip. “Have it. It’s from my library at home, I really don’t borrow books from the campus.” Your eyes grew wide. “Really?! I can read it?” He smiled nodding. “Of course! Give it back once you finish.” Your heart thumping against your chest cavity not containing yourself anymore kissing his cheek telling him endless thank you’s. Closing his eyes the moment your lips touched his cheek his breath hitched. He chuckled lightly giving your hand a gentle squeeze. Then it hit you- you kissed your professor even though it was not allowed at all you felt like breaking the rules. “I can show you.. the book, umm- in my home.” He offered, and you swallowed. Was this happening? Really? “I - I cannot accept it Sir. Honestly.. you’re too sweet.” He hummed at your words but not saying anything. “What if I like being sweet with you?” He then answered. Your cheeks deepened in red, lord… what on earth was happening to you?
“First editions? First official printings?” You gazed in utter awe tracing the books in his library. He was leaning against his table, arms folded in his chest. “What’s this?” You asked innocently trying to reach for a book much higher not aware that your professor was sweet enough to sneak up behind you reaching for it your hands touching. Alone just you two in his house. Tilting your head towards him your faces inches apart, your heart was jumping and juddering in your chest as his cologne hit your nose. It was woodsy, hint of spiciness, perhaps even a little tiny bit floral. “Here” whispering taking a whiff of your hair. “I should go-” you realized that this hole you were about to fall into would be hard to get out of. “So soon?” He whispered giving you some of his warmth, his chest pressing to your back. Warmth radiating from his body- your lips parted. Dropping the book by your two feet turning around his large hands capturing your ribs. Leaning down his mouth was on yours kissing you fiercefully. You moaned gaining him the access to your tongue and he kissed the hell out of you. Wet kisses, full of cravings and desire painting your soul in reds and oranges. Your hands finding rest on his back as you indulged yourself in the warm feeling, his large body pressing you against the books his hand hiking your thigh around his waist. The way your tongues glided and touched in your mouths the saliva strings connecting your mouths as you both hungrily kissed again and again moaning in sweet lust. Tilting his face to one side as he devoured your lips, you couldn’t stop the mewls which escaped you making his cock possibly harder. Your panties getting in twist pussy leaking with wetness drenching your own panties you both found pace rubbing against each other. The rough material of his belt buckle giving your clit a cold touch causing you gasping for air against his lips and his large hand gripped the back of your neck. His grunts and groans, surged through you. “S-Sir” gasping at the neck kisses wrapping your arm around his neck pulling him down on you feeling his kisses on your soul. His arms wrapped around you “let me make you feel good angel, i wanna take good care of you” your brain was telling you to stop heart telling you to give yourself to the man who was so passionately ravishing your mouth. Your body betraying you- you were so lost. “Been needing you so much lately” admitting all these things while touching your body in ways hand on your breast kissing your chest sniffing you his thumb circling your hardened peak through your bra and blouse. Your hands holding his back, wanting him all over you. “M’so scared this is not allowed but I want you” admitting making him kiss you passionately touching your pussy through your panties. Those kisses and touches were unforgettable that’s why it took you everything to gently push him away and run out of his house with tears spilling down your cheeks because this was not allowed. You might’ve loved your professor yes and he might have loved you back- but this could not happen at all. Wiping your tears with the back of your sleeve you ran as fast as you could. Even though your heart hurt immensely- you both knew you’d steal moments to be together.
My secret lover… my secret- only mine. “To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life.”
-
(Apologies for any mistakes and typos in advance)
Tumblr media
823 notes · View notes
prael · 3 months ago
Text
Chemistry
Jenna Ortega x male reader smut [Commissioned fic]
Masterlist word count: 9,196 Kofi(donations/commissions)
Tumblr media
"You know that's not my thing, right? Why even bring this to me?" You throw the papers down on her desk and they spill over the wooden surface.
"Did you even look it over?" She sighs, holding out her hands for you to take them back, "This could help you break out of the R-rated mould you've found yourself in."
"Look it over? You know this isn't my genre."
She rubs her forehead as though she's stressed, "Look, we all have to make concessions, right? It's a few months of filming and a lot of money."
"It's fucking romance," you dismiss.
She raises her voice in response, "It's your fucking career."
"What's that supposed to mean?" You push back, and she's taking a glass from the shelf behind her desk and emptying the whiskey within it in one practised motion. She's keeping her cool and taking a moment to simmer down by cleaning up the papers. The silence tells you as much as her words could. She's trying to help you like she always has.
She says, "You know what it means. You're no George Clooney. You're no Vince Vaughn. One trick ponies are rare. You gotta work on your range."
You stay quiet, clenching your jaw because you can't argue. This is what she does: tells you what you need to hear instead of what you want to hear. She's tough love and always has been. Took you under her wing and at times carried you to where you are today, so who are you to question her judgement?
"Did you ever stop to think 'why'?" She asks before taking a drink. "Why would I bring you a part that I know you're going to hate?"
You cross your arms, remaining silent as you stare at her. She smirks before answering her own question.
"Because I know who they're eyeing for the leading actress. Jenna Ortega. You know she's all the rage these days. Netflix deals and music videos. She's fuckin' viral and she's fuckin' money. Her name is gold so I want you on her fuckin' hip." She takes another sip, watching you absorb the information she's feeding you with an unrelenting stare.
She always gets like this, all the foul-mouthed excitement is enough to convince you that she really believes what she's saying.
"Alright. Got a pen?"
-
Pre-production is... well, it's different. It all feels a little foreign to you, right from the off with the script reading, because it's obviously such a different vibe than anything you're accustomed to. It's all so light and breezy and a little comical. You don't do comical.
There's no deep-seated angst, or hatred festering below the surface of your character, rather he's kind, loving, funny, a little bit of a klutz. It's a long stretch from the characters you usually play—murderers, drug dealers, car thieves. Now the viewers are supposed to like you?
Most days on set aren't that far outside of your comfort zone though—you don't think. You go through the motions like you always do, take direction and talk to the production crew, and keep it cordial and civil with the cast, especially with Jenna. Up until now, your characters have had a few brief scenes. It's all coffee shops and public parks, pretty places with lots of wide shots and lingering looks in the script, and you aren't sure how comfortable you are with it.
"Camera two," The director calls and you and Jenna take up position.
You grab her hand, and her smaller fingers curl around yours instinctively, holding on tight. She smiles at you and says softly, "Just like we talked about, okay?"
You nod and rub your thumb over hers to ease her nerves. There was this awkwardness for the first few days that has gradually eased away, the two of you talking more often. Not work stuff, which might have been smart. Just small talk. About food and places you've visited, TV, and bands, it kept things light and amicable.
"Quiet on the set."
Silence falls, and your heart rate speeds up. Your breathing is a little laboured as you wait.
It's the first time you're supposed to kiss her and somehow it doesn't feel like just acting, not really. Acting for you is fighting with some rogue cop or soldier, all stunted rage and brute force. Or you're stalking someone through the dark streets at night, the cold metal of the gun in your hand biting at your skin while you focus on nothing but landing a kill shot. There was never anyone looking at you the way Jenna is right now.
She's biting at her bottom lip, hazel eyes peering through impossibly long lashes to stare at you. You've been told this scene is important because it's a bit of a catalyst for the rest of the movie. She's looking at you, you're looking at her, and then when they call 'action' it's supposed to be one of those moments where fireworks erupt and the earth moves. That's what they want; a connection.
"Action."
Jenna bites her lip and brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, glancing up at you nervously. She's so much more practised than you, so much more effortless with putting on her act. All you have to do is smile and lean down to meet her lips. That's all there is to it, as the director says: just like that, perfect. But you want him to call cut. To say it's too staged, or the lighting is bad, or that the location isn't right.
No such luck.
You move slowly like she needs to be savoured. Of course, you've been coached, there's stage direction in your head in addition to her hand on your forearm.
Your lips brush hers tentatively, once, twice, and you tilt your head a little further to bring her closer. Close, but still not quite... until she breaks character and giggles into your mouth.
"I don't think you're supposed to be laughing," you joke, and there's an eruption of frustration from the other side of the cameras at a ruined take. You aren't bothered though, and neither is Jenna by the looks of it. She's half hiding her face against your chest and grinning like an idiot.
"I'm sorry," she says weakly, pulling away. "It's so hot in here."
She fans herself and starts pacing, while the director calls out, "What the hell was that?"
You wave a hand, "Sorry, my bad." You try to take the blame. "Can I get five minutes?"
The director sighs and gives in with a shrug. "Five minutes!"
"Really, you don't have to—"
"It's fine," you explain quickly, before turning to the line producer who just happens to be passing, "Hey, can someone cool her down? Maybe some water?"
"I'm fine," she tries to argue.
"You're flustered," you tease.
"You were doing this thing with your eyes. I don't know how to explain it. It was kind of intense, I had to laugh," she laughs again, and it's an easy, airy sound, the kind that soothes, and you decide that you like hearing it.
"I was? Damn," you sigh, running a hand through your hair.
"I know this isn't usually you're thing, I'm guessing it's your first kiss on camera? Just relax. It'll be nice," she shrugs, clearly far more sure of herself than you.
-
You're deep into the filming now. You think you're selling it, this whole relationship thing, making it seem natural as well as making the people around you believe that the chemistry is there. The weirdest thing of all is that you really enjoyed kissing her. Or, at the very least, you haven't minded it thus far. You don't know if that's the right feeling to have, there's no guidebook for this—not that you've read.
Off the set, she's nice, she's friendly and eager to get to know you. Maybe it's weird that she's trying too hard, maybe she just wants to work as seamlessly as possible. Regardless, it seems to be helping, because now, when it's your turn for coverage, you're more than happy to lean in and capture her lips. She's gotten bolder and so have you, to the point where she runs her fingers through your hair and kisses you back, so when 'cut' finally comes and the mood is broken, it takes a few moments to reorient yourself to the real world.
It's easy, you decide.
Now, the two of you have been joking about today for a while. She's been running this rhetoric of how excited she is for the car scene.
You remember your first read of the script and how this part had you almost cancelling the gig. So, sitting here in the backseat, with cameras fitted all around you and Jenna in your lap, is just a reminder of the monumental shift from where you were then to where you are now.
"Just ignore them," Jenna instructs and kisses you lightly. "Do whatever feels natural." She's echoing the words of the director, though from her they're much more relaxing to hear. You kiss her, her body languid and warm, pressed flush against yours. The touches you feared come so naturally now as you put a hand on her waist and trace her ribs, dragging her shirt up a little bit more with each pull.
There's something rather enticing, you must admit, about putting hands on her slender waist, even if it's under the watchful eye and strict instructions of the camera. Especially when her tongue does that thing where it flickers past her lips and finds your own. Fuck, she's good at this. There's no other word for it.
There has to be a call for a 'cut' coming soon, right? It was supposed to be a brief make-out, so says the script, but they don't seem too interested in stopping either of you anytime soon. You've heard that it's normal, to feel aroused while filming, but it certainly doesn't feel right. The fear is seeping in the longer this goes on; fear that Jenna will feel exactly what you're scared she'll feel.
But those short jean shorts she's wearing while sitting atop your lap, hips flush with yours, tend to elicit some automatic reaction, whether you want it to or not.
"Alright, cut! Great work everyone. Break for fifteen!" The director yells, the tension snapping immediately as Jenna rolls away, giggling.
She says something to you, you don't catch what as you blink in her direction, but she's already climbing out of the car, bending forward ever so slightly to give you a tantalising show of her ass before shutting the door behind her.
A few minutes later you've made your way to the drinks trailer for some much-needed water, that's when there's a tap on your shoulder and the unmistakable strawberry scent that accompanies Jenna hits your nose.
"You look a little shocked, is everything okay?" She has this wry smile on her face that turns your stomach a little bit.
"Yeah, I'm fine," you respond stiffly, cracking open the water bottle and taking a long drink. You nod towards her and state, "Good work out there."
"I should say the same to you," She's closer than before, the tip of her shoe bumping against yours as you stand with the picnic table at your back. "You're a natural. And the boner? Nice touch," she mocks.
She's far too cavalier for your liking right now, and more than a little brazen.
"Don't look so freaked out. No one is going to say anything. It happens all the time, don't worry."
"Do you just have a thing for humiliating me, Ortega?" It's a thing the two of you have been doing for a few days, the fake sternness and the use of surnames, like you're pretending to be angry with each other.
"What if I do? Are you going to go file a complaint?" She sings, tracing her finger down the centre of your chest.
"Watch it, Ortega," you respond half-heartedly, and she steps a little closer.
"How about you keep the boners to a minimum from now on though. It's distracting." The smirk on her face grows only more devious before she winks and then turns away, vanishing into the crowd and leaving you alone and in need of a very cold shower.
-
On-screen chemistry is the single most important thing in a film like this. If you don't make the watchers believe that the two of you are madly in love, then it's all pointless. You're getting good at this, playing this game, this new facet to your role. You think about the warmth of Jenna's kiss and her fingers curled around the nape of your neck; the feel of her in your arms.
Each take gets harder to finish. Make no mistake, it's not that the kisses are a problem, in fact, they're actually a little too easy.
You're both laid in a bed, under the covers, you're on your back and Jenna is half-draped over you. Her hair is a purposeful mess and there's lipstick on your neck. The implication is clear, the two lead characters hooked up for the first time, and you're simmering in the morning after, caught by your character's phone ringing beside you on the side table.
Jenna is quiet, watching the sheets twitch every time you move. You can tell that she's thinking by the furrow in her brow and the way she bites on her lip. The cameras are rolling and you need to answer the phone. There's no one on the phone, of course, that gets added in post. For the purpose of the scene, it's your ex-girlfriend who can't quite let you go.
"Why do you keep calling me?" You look weary like your heart is about to give up. The line is silent, but you know the script. "I don't care if you're upset with me, it's over. It's done. There's nothing left to say."
Jenna props herself up on one elbow, facing you with her dark eyes, her tousled hair falling over her shoulder. She is, in a word, mesmerising, and it feels wrong to turn your face away from her, even to add more angst for the camera.
"I'm hanging up," you continue, staring back at her.
Jenna pushes her hand under the sheets and balls it into a fist. She hovers it right over your crotch. Her character is supposed to jack you off while you're on the phone until you manage to hang up. That's what's supposed to happen.
You fake a gasp as her hand begins to move. When she bites down on her lip in response, it's the hottest expression you've ever seen. You swallow hard and your cock gives an honest twitch that feels as though it catches her attention for a fraction of a second. Her eyes widen and flick to the source of the movement, her jaw clenches and it brings you an almost unwanted satisfaction.
Each fake stroke presses down onto the growing ridge of your hardening cock, but neither of you breaks character or even dares to break eye contact. You keep up with your lines, and the strain in your voice is all too real, "I don't care how torn up you are about this, me and you are finished."
The ache in your muscles builds heat prickling under your skin, setting you on fire. You tighten your jaw in response as a means to control yourself. Only for Jenna to do the unthinkable. She lowers her hand and glides it down the length of your hard cock before wrapping her hand around it.
What's she doing?
She grips tightly, and even though there is a pair of underwear separating the two of you, it's still her. For the first time in the duration of this shoot, you drop out of character completely, staring at her in utter disbelief. What are you supposed to do in this situation? You can't just say something, it's going to get you both in trouble.
She strokes you beneath the bedsheets in tandem with the scene, so no one else has a chance of knowing. So, you keep talking, murmuring some fake dialogue and struggling with every word.
"It's—mmh," you turn your head, squeezing your eyes closed and steeling yourself. This is madness, utter madness. The throb of your cock only worsens the longer her hand keeps sliding, stimulating. It's a hellish limbo. "It's not fair for you to harass me like this, delete my number will you?"
This is the point where the ex-girlfriend realises something is wrong. In the script, she's figured it all out. She recognises the whimpers in your voice, and you're supposed to deny it. But Jenna won't stop touching you, pushing down harder, applying more pressure and using the full length of your erection as her playground.
Your breathing is heavy and strained. You try to clear your throat subtly, "No, no I'm not with someone right now." You glance at Jenna who grips tighter and smiles devilishly. "You have no idea what you're talking about. If you think, for even a second—"
You try your best to focus on your performance, but with the physical distraction, all your carefully practised lines start to fall apart, coming out jumbled. Jenna is rubbing harder, stroking faster, and her hand feels so good around your cock.
This is the point where your ex shouts, and you finally hang up the phone and drop it onto the floor, kissing Jenna fervently.
"Cut!" The director calls. "Perfect. Absolutely perfect."
Suddenly, the two of you are apart. A rush of cold air floods the space between you. Reality checks in again, reminding you that this was not in the script.
"You good?" Jenna asks, and you nod back. She looks proud of herself, the cheeky little smirk that crosses her features is all too telling. A reminder of just how insufferable she can be.
"What was that?" You lean closer and whisper, trying to make sure that the rest of the cast and crew can't hear you.
"That was acting." She responds confidently.
The director interrupts by calling your name and saying, "Alright, next scene. Going to need you under the covers. Prepare the phone call."
Now it's this whole role reversal, Jenna's character gets her own phone call from her own ex. That's the concept at play here. Meanwhile, you're down between her legs. The script says to 'mimic oral sex' which sounds... so much easier than it actually is.
Aiming to ignore the whole ordeal, or at least your conversation and what it could mean, you duck down beneath the sheets to prepare. She's lifting them up and watching you get into position. She's spreading her legs, while a team of assistants adjust the sheets over you to dress up the shot.
Looking up at Jenna under the sheets, through the darkness and at the apex of her thighs, this feels so wrong. She's... pretty. No. You stop the thoughts in their tracks. This isn't a time to indulge. You're filming a movie, playing a role. In reality, this is your job. There's a script, there's a purpose.
Still, the whole situation just feels so strange.
"Action," the director yells.
As per the script, Jenna drops the sheet as the phone rings. Now it's just you and everything below her chest, trapped under a blanket. Your hands are barely hovering near her thighs, and revenge is on your mind. If she can toy with you, you can toy with her.
So you hold her spread legs, grip them firmly just as you hear her answer the call, "If you want to grovel, then go ahead and grovel. Just remember the last time." Jenna's voice is perfect for her character, and just as it's always been, full of attitude and feisty. She's passionate, especially when it comes to putting her acting on display.
Alright, 'mimic oral sex'... first it's kissing. Lightly placed, right at the top of her thigh, little pecks to tease and taunt. You feel the slight tremble beneath your fingertips as she attempts to carry on the faux conversation. They said you shouldn't touch her. They said she shouldn't touch you.
But you feel the heat coming from her. You're mere inches away, and sure, there's the cotton thin fabric of her underwear blocking the way, but even still you catch the barest hint of her scent—sweet and musky. You grip her thighs more intensely and press your lips against the fabric.
"It was one kiss," Jenna continues, and her voice betrays her now. A subtle tremor that undermines how put together she had seemed moments before. It's enough to have you smirking.
You roll your tongue over the shape of her through the fabric, testing your limits. There's only so much you can get away with, but you'll push it. Push it as far as you can, this is the bed she made.
Jenna rolls her hips towards you, and, of course, the cameras can't see this, all they can see is her on the bed holding the sheets and pretending to talk to her ex.
"It didn't mean anything..." She tries again and fails, a breathy moan forcing its way out and revealing the growing pleasure, the need growing in her voice. She has to place her free hand over her mouth as you continue to taste her, your tongue working over her panties with no hesitation, all rhythm and no breaks.
You continue, running the flat of your tongue over her, flattening the damp fabric against her cunt, and you feel her throbbing. It's undeniable, the way she tenses under your grip and shifts ever so slightly, each slight movement an obvious clue towards her struggling with maintaining her composure.
It's not difficult to hear the change in her voice. The shake and strain of each breath only grow worse the more your tongue curls against her panties. Sure, you haven't yet come into contact with bare skin, but simply knowing just how enraptured she is by the teasing, is enough.
You can't help the slight chuckle that follows, and why would you? This whole performance is starting to become very personal, and when you squeeze her thighs, and apply pressure until it's enough to bruise, you can hear the soft mewl as she fights her way through a rather passionate phone call.
"Why don't you just fuck off?" She hangs up the phone and throws it to the side. In a moment, the same hands are wrapping around your head and dragging you close. As if there was any space left to separate you. "Oh god yes!" she moans out—it's all the script. The scene is supposed to continue until there's a fade to black. No one needs to know that the moan is real.
At the very least, she tries to contain herself. Though her hips swaying, and bucking rhythmically against your face say something very different. And the heat radiating from her core is undeniable. The cotton of her underwear sticks to her so heavily, clinging to the slight folds and wrinkles. Enough to get a good idea about what's going on behind it. That there is indeed a welcoming, quivering cunt that might benefit from an enthusiastic tongue.
Jenna's groans take on a noticeable tempo. "Don't stop, don't you dare stop. Fuck. Yes!" Her words are spilling out messily. For a moment, her responsibilities seem to vanish. She's abandoned her character and resorted to feeling your tongue against her pussy with such ferocity that, were it not for your hands pinning her down, she might have suffocated you in that tantalising heat.
As the cameras continue to roll, with filming still going on above the sheets, the pace only grows hastier.
You're aware of your heart rate spiking, the sudden realisation, the knowledge that someone might be onto the two of you, that you've crossed the imaginary line that exists between the bedroom scene. With the flicker of your tongue, that line gets a little more blurred.
And Jenna seems to be in no hurry to stop either. What was supposed to be just acting becomes a carnal need. Her hips wriggle frantically against your gyrating mouth.
"Cut!" Comes the much-needed command, and you rip away from beneath the sheet.
Jenna's chest heaves, her thighs tremble and her toned stomach tenses. You struggle, forcing back the burning desire to claim her, devour her, kiss her senseless.
It's just acting.
-
Filming goes late into the night, as it so often does. Jenna has a series of scenes with the supporting cast, and you're only there to support them. Still, you make sure to keep watch from the sidelines. She's beautiful when she acts, all passion and fire. That's another reason you're so drawn to her. Everything is so easy for her, flawless. Talented little minx.
Hours after sunset, you stop by her trailer to check in, like you so often do.
You knock, and seconds later she peeks out of the door, saying, "What? What did I do now? Oh, it's you." The harsh greeting melts away into relief, and you grin at the reaction.
"Damn, maybe I'll go then." You make a gesture to turn away, and Jenna grabs your wrist and pulls you inside with all her strength.
"Are you stupid?"
"Me? No, the very definition of sanity." You laugh and follow her further inside. It's bigger than your own, with a seating area and everything. Not that you can focus on the surrounding amenities. Because her black, lace thong is the only thing she's wearing, and, for a second, it leaves you speechless. It's impossible not to stare at the way her round little butt perks out behind her.
Jenna asks, "Like what you see?"
"What happened to your clothes?"
"My clothes are fine, I'm in my trailer aren't I? Nothing strange about relaxing like this." She says as she saunters off, the golden curves of her back highlighted by the single lamp she has lit in the corner. She stands in her kitchenette, bare back to you, pouring herself a glass of red. Her thong contrasts starkly with the honey colour of her skin. She stretches an arm back, and half glances over her shoulder.
"I can feel you staring, you know?" Jenna says, pausing for a moment while the cogs turn in your brain. After a while, there's no point in resisting. So, you close the distance between you, stand behind her, and embrace her thin waist.
"Am I bothering you?" you question, pressing closer.
"Only a little," she leans back into the touch. "But that doesn't mean stop."
An unseen force guides you. Perhaps it's those thoughts that came to mind when you were holding her, on set. What would happen if you just got to know her better?
Your mouth feels so dry from the nerves, but you drag a hand up the length of her waist, over her taut stomach, before cupping her breast. Jenna closes her eyes and hums in response, and when your palm rubs against her bare nipple, her mouth falls open.
You sink to her ear and bite it gently while catching her nipple between two fingers, which elicits a sharp gasp from her lips. You pull her firmly against your chest, and her back presses to your shirt. Fingertips brush her belly, stroking from hipbone to ribcage.
"I figured we had a little unfinished business. Remember?" You kiss her earlobe and grin, fully aware she can't see the expression.
"It did seem to me like you were quite close to being finished," she teases. Your fingers curl and squeeze the swell of her breast, earning a groan. "Tell me. How was my performance?"
"Could use some work," you mumble, kissing the side of her neck. Jenna's breath shudders when your teeth drag against her throat. She sets the glass down, freeing her hand to rest on your forearm. Holding, or perhaps holding on, you can't tell. Either way, it's an invitation to keep going.
"You think so? Looked to me like it was the best performance you had ever seen—ahem—felt."
You chuckle in her ear. All the while, her breathing becomes a little heavier. She even reaches a hand back, curling fingers in your hair to make sure your mouth remains on her. It sends an alarm bell ringing in the back of your head, a warning, a red flag, a stop sign. But what if you don't?
"I'm not like my character," she whispers. "She's all romance, nice dates and lovey-dovey shit."
"No?" you whisper.
"No," she says sternly. She twists under your grasp to face you. Your hand lands on her hip, and before she's looking up at you with her lips parted, she murmurs, "But I do enjoy being eaten out."
This time, Jenna pulls you down into the kiss. The sweet pout of her lips draws you in. She tastes sharp, like the wine, but her mouth is warm and inviting. You take her bottom lip between your teeth, and she moans, her painted nails scraping through your hair. You feel her hands fumbling, then the thud as your pants fall.
"Fuck me," she breathes the command when your palm finds the swell of her breast again. She's pushing you back, guiding you across the room, pinning you onto the arm of her couch. She lifts her knees and presses it between your legs. She pins you there and continues to kiss you, harder, rougher.
She grabs the collar of your shirt, and then the buttons begin popping. The air brushes your chest making you even more aware of the insanity unfolding in her trailer. As she unravels the rest of the shirt, Jenna pulls back, standing up with a cocky smile on her face.
There's not a chance to speak, or even comprehend, for that matter. She puts her palm on your bare chest and forces you back. You crash into the cushions, and the next thing you know, Jenna swings a knee over your head.
In an instant, she's hooking her thong to the side, then taking a handful of your hair and sitting on your face. Your hands move automatically, gripping her thighs, pressing thumbs into the soft, ample flesh. Your tongue brushes across her pussy, and the feeling of your tongue flicking across her makes Jenna let out a beautiful, quivering moan.
Her scent intoxicates. It's divine.
With strong hands, she leads your movements, grinding forward against your mouth. Daring, unashamed, desperate. She's just as much an animal as she is a woman, and that realisation makes your body tense. You part her tender folds with your tongue and taste the warmth of her nectar, causing Jenna to keen.
Her cheeks grind against your lips as she quivers atop you. Her sighs alternate between delighted huffs and breathless moans. As long as you're licking, the sounds keep coming. If anything, they grow stronger and more desperate. She won't hold back, and it makes your head spin, your focus becoming a singular, dizzy blur.
Her juices coat your mouth, slicking your chin and running down your throat. She tightens her grip on your scalp as if trying to punish you. But really, her actions only draw you closer. The taste of her makes you drunk, and not the kind that comes with a hangover in the morning, no. But the kind that makes the rest of the world and its expectations dissolve, leaving just the two of you in the remaining silence.
Jenna's pussy is a beautiful thing, you realise. Swollen and dripping, deliciously wet. It's a tempting treat just begging to be toyed with. You tongue her clit, rolling it back and forth. When you get just the right spot, a tremor passes through Jenna's frame, a hard squeeze of your scalp, as though it had been scalding her.
"Fuck, so good," Jenna groans. "Keep going. Just like that."
More noises pour out of her and splash into your ears, exciting you in a way you've never been before. And the little shimmies she gives you aren't unpleasant, or unwelcome, far from it. Those subtle dances send waves through you and make the motions of your mouth automatic. Your tongue can't get enough. Neither can your hands. You bring them higher, taking her firm ass, sinking fingertips into her plush, round cheeks and pulling her onto your face.
The movement makes her laugh. "Look at you, so excited. Hungry, are we?" You stroke your tongue up the length of her glistening wet cunt, and Jenna twitches on top of you. Her delight returns, a cry of joy and want. "Go on, eat it. Eat that fucking pussy."
The muscles in her abdomen tighten. Sore and taught, every part of her shivers and shakes, twitching and fluttering with your movements. She cries out in ecstasy, as driven mad by your tongue as you are by her taste.
Her thighs clamp around your head. You can feel her begin to writhe, twisting left and right as the pleasure rages through her. She can't control her hips, keeping them glued to your mouth and twitching violently.
Jenna cums, and her juices flow into your mouth. You drink the reward of your handiwork, as her words become hazy murmurs. An erratic pattern of curses and blasphemous platitudes. As if singing all her highest praises.
When she stands, her legs wobble with the aftershocks of an orgasm, but her posture says there are still things she wants, things only you can give her.
It takes seconds. Jenna's thong is on the floor and then she's pulling at your waistband, tugging them down until she has your cock free. Her nails scratch along the length of your length and her palm settles around it.
"Fuck, you're so hard."
Jenna strokes your shaft and gives it a playful squeeze. You watch the heat shimmer and roll around in her eyes as she sizes you up, and the way your cock gives a stubborn and needy twitch. She seems to like that, too.
When her eyes go lidded and she lowers her head down, opening her mouth and slipping her tongue across the head, you almost can't comprehend how good it feels. Your spine tightens, everything goes rigid, and you're left without a shred of control over your voice. That seems to matter not at all to Jenna.
"Hold on," she slips the head of your cock between her lips, just barely, and smiles around it as she smears your precum across her tongue. Before she looks up, meeting your eye, and then forces her head down further, wrapping her warm, wet mouth around as much of you as she can manage. You both gasp as her tongue sweeps along the underside, and you see her cheeks puff out for a moment, then relax once she settles into a rhythm.
It feels amazing, un-fucking-real. Jenna is bobbing her head up and down. Blissful moans leave her with every pass, and the lust-fogged look she gives you should be illegal. Wet sucking and slurping fill the trailer, drowned out by her hums of adoration. Each one sends vibrations shuddering through your cock.
You thread your fingers in her hair. It's a token act, your control as she moves means nothing. In a blink, she's sucking the length of you down to the very base. She struggles a little when you hit the back of her throat, but pushes through, going again and again, deeper and harder each time. Tears threaten in the corners of her eyes. Still, she won't stop.
"Jenna," your voice is thick and strained. "I'm going to—"
A few more passes of her hungry, slippery mouth have you finally toppling over the edge. If she has any intention of pulling away, the temptation or aversion isn't potent enough for her to react. She kisses and slurps, bobbing feverishly, drinking your spurts of cum and caressing your length with her soft, swollen lips.
Jenna stays with you in her mouth, breathing heavily, the look of satisfaction on her face intense and perverse. She takes her time to gently nurse the last pulses from your erection until you're twitching and overstimulated. Only then, and after a minute longer, does she finally concede and pops her mouth off your cock.
The emptiness it creates feels too much like a loss, and yet, all you can do is stare at her, heart hammering and unable to feel anything past the aftermath.
Jenna perches herself on the coffee table, her legs pressed together and angled to the side, letting her hair fall over her bare shoulders. With one hand, she cleans her mouth and smiles at you.
"I guess this puts a line through unfinished business, huh?" She laughs a little. "Long day tomorrow, best get some sleep."
Then just like that, you're half-dressed, watching her slip off to the tiny bathroom to clean up. A few minutes later the trailer door swings shut, clicking behind you.
Outside, the night air is cool and bitter. It snatches the warmth away from the memory of her touch.
-
They're saying it's going to be a success. Critics have reviewed the project already, including early screenings, and private showings. The reception is very positive. That's great, you know it is, and everything is piling up and coming to a close now. All that's left is one last night, the premiere itself, the main event. This will determine the fate of the film, whether it's a runaway hit, a fantastic start to awards season, or a straight-to-streaming disaster.
"Been a while," the voice behind you says and you turn to see Jenna at your shoulder. She looks exquisite, elegant, and alluring in her gown.
"Understatement." You take the time to look her over again. It was only a couple of months ago you saw her naked and had her on your face. It feels so distant, and almost like a dream. Maybe it is, given how quickly she went cold afterwards.
"Red carpets aren't really my favourite thing. It's... all overrated, isn't it?" She sighs.
"Yeah, you told me."
"I did?"
"At the party, on the last day of shooting. You said, and I quote, 'I hate red carpets, everyone is so fake.'"
She rolls her eyes and laughs. "I must have been drunk."
"You were very drunk," you confirm. "Remember? And you were doing that thing with your foot."
Jenna tenses. "I did, didn't I?"
It was a few hours into the party, and most everyone was way too drunk to even make sense. You found yourself sitting down, trying to stop your head from spinning the way it was. Then she came and sat across from you. Apparently, she'd been drinking more than usual, given the wide-eyed look she had when she'd approached.
"You're handsome," she told you and flashed a drunken smile.
"You're drunk enough to say that to anyone."
"You're smart," she leaned closer, and even in the darkness of the room, you were mesmerised by the way her tanned skin contrasted with the tight, white dress. "You're talented. I'm glad they cast you." She runs her foot from your ankle, along the inside of your leg.
Her toes met your knee. You think you stopped breathing as she traced circles on your inner thigh. You looked up at her face, and she was smiling, a devilish one that said she knew exactly what she was doing.
"You smell so good. Like coffee and mint. It's infuriating." Her shoe slid higher, pressing against the crotch of your pants, and she frowned. "No reaction. Maybe you're shy? Oh, wait."
She pulled her foot back and then bent to the side to reach down under the table. After a few seconds and a few confused expressions, as she fiddled with something out of sight, her shoe fell to the floor. Jenna slid the sole of her bare foot between your legs.
"That's better, right?"
She sat up straight and clicked her tongue. You couldn't believe it. Barefoot, hair down, smouldering gaze and curling her toes against your crotch. It was a lot for you at the time. She smirked, shifting again and sipping a glass of champagne before putting it to the side.
"So, how has it been? This whole romance thing?" She stepped closer with her toes and her heel pressed over your cock, digging in slightly.
"I hated the idea of it. Didn't want any part of it. But being here with everyone has made me change my mind. I've done well."
She started to rub the underside of her foot faster, creating an overwhelming amount of friction. And her smug, smiling face wasn't helping your cause at all. Then she leaned closer, so her chest was bunched up and exposed. She teased the top of your cock with her toes and rested her chin in her hand.
"I think you just have to accept it. Learn to enjoy it. It helps that everyone was so nice to work with."
"Was I?" she asks with a flirtatious lilt, pressing her toes harder against your stiffening cock. "Was I particularly nice to you?"
You choke out a laugh. "You don't need me to tell you that you're nice to look at. But you don't need me to tell you you're more than a pretty face either."
"Do me a favour, undo your trousers."
Now? Really?
"Seriously? Here?" You're sure your voice was shaking.
"Now or never."
The pressure in your loins was undeniable, and you went to work unzipping and undoing buttons. Discreetly you pried them open and pulled down your underwear. Your cock sprung free, and you sighed in relief.
She rested a hand on your arm. It was surprisingly comforting. Then she pressed her foot down to angle your cock against her instep, slipping her soft, warm skin up and down your shaft, barely rocking it back and forth.
"That's better." She smiled sweetly, teasing the head with her toes. "You were nervous." She circled the tip of your cock with her big toe. "That first day of filming, you were so worried about messing up."
"Well, yeah. New role, new movie, no way of knowing."
"Hindsight is always 20:20, but you worry too much. Don't spend so much time thinking about what can go wrong, focus more on the things that can go right."
"Like this?"
"Like this," she grinned as she spoke. Her foot pressed harder and moved faster, stroking you up and down and you did everything you could to keep a straight face as people walked by. Each with an innocent conversation, unaware of what was going on beneath the table. "Besides, you did alright."
Alright. Not great. Not good. Alright.
It's about as much of a compliment on your work that Jenna has ever given you verbally, though you wondered if the foot on your cock is indicative of anything.
"Thank you. I, uh, appreciate the feedback."
"We make a good team." Her eyes narrowed as she focused on getting you off and her top lip stiffened. "Solving problems. Improvising scenes." Her foot kicked up a gear, in a blur, up and down, faster and faster.
"Jenna, I'm—"
"Great on-screen chemistry. Great off-scene chemistry." She pushed you right over the edge with her sole on the underside of your cock. The look on her face said it all. A smile so wide as she felt you twitch against her, throbbing, shaking, and pouring cum right over her skin. "Though you are rather easy to manipulate, aren't you?"
She shot you a wink as she cleaned her foot with a tissue. "See you around."
That image has been burned into your head for a long time since then, though you work to shake it out of there while walking the red carpet. It's all camera flashes and the chore of being paraded in front of them. You follow her lead, and she meets the press with the very embodiment of what they'd want—grace, charisma, flair and passion.
You answer a few basic questions that can't reveal anything interesting or new. Something about keeping the magic, and hopefully breaking it when you win a bunch of awards. Wouldn't that be nice?
"Where do you think this opportunity takes you after the film is released?" one interviewer asks.
"Obviously, any opportunity to work with other amazing talents is an honour. I don't know when, if, or what the offer will be, but I'm certainly happy to be working again."
"And if you had the opportunity to work with Miss Ortega again?" It's a question that she overhears, and she throws you a look over her shoulder.
You try not to stammer. "Of course, if I was fortunate enough, I'd take it. She's... unparalleled."
-
This has never been your favourite part, it might even be the worst. Sitting through your own premiere, watching your own work, it's like a long, self-aware nightmare. It's a natural reaction, but that's little consolation, particularly when you know what scene is coming next. It's some over-complicated form of torture to watch yourself get a handjob on the big screen. Everyone's watching. Including Jenna, sitting next to you.
This is the cavalcade of self-humiliation.
To your surprise, Jenna reaches over to slip her fingers between your own. It's the gentle and comforting squeeze that's accompanied by a sly smirk from her when you glance in her direction. Her eyelids lower and an undeniable tension builds between the two of you. She leans in to whisper to you.
"About last time..."
You smirk. "Am I supposed to know what you're talking about?"
"The ending was abrupt, don't you think?" Her teeth catch on her lip, and those sinful eyes narrow.
"A little."
"Follow me."
Jenna stands up without waiting for an answer. Being in the back corner of the screening makes it fairly easy to slip out after her. When you reach the corridor leading to the bathrooms, Jenna looks you over and smirks.
"Tell me," she laughs out the words as she brushes a few strands of hair out of her face and pins you against the wall, "How often do you think about that night in my trailer?" She pushes up onto her tip-toes, wraps an arm around the back of your neck and pulls your ear to her lips. "Don't lie to me, I know you've thought about it."
Her tone is a familiar temptation, and you've missed it. The sensual inflexion in her voice winds its way through every bone and tendon until it's there, inside and immersing you in the raw carnality that Jenna makes you feel. "All the time."
"Me too." She pulls on your wrist, leading you again and heading for the bathroom. You let her, and she pulls you into a cubicle with her, closing and locking the door behind you. "And how many times have you got off imagining it, picturing it." Her hands stroke along the front of your trousers, and the button pops open in her fingers. You don't even get to reply before she says, "Yeah, me too."
There's something perverse about hearing her say that. Something lewd in the way she smiles at you and peels down your trousers and underwear and instantly slumps to her knees. There's no teasing, no showmanship, nothing but blunt hunger, naked and fierce.
"You're beautiful," you whisper, and her eyes dart up, and her lips pause just as she's about to take you. Her hot breath spilling over the tip of your cock.
"Shut the fuck up," she laughs. Her gaze narrows. She sinks her wet, warm mouth down onto your length, swallowing it bit by bit. When the head touches the back of her throat, she giggles as her eyes water.
A moan involuntarily slips out. Your hips buck forward. Jenna's tongue is like velvet, rolling around the tip of your cock, then enveloping your shaft. You can't help the thrusting. It's automatic, primal, a natural response to being encased in her intoxicating mouth.
Jenna looks up at you, cheeks hollowed, eyes wide with anticipation. She pops her mouth off your swollen cock with a wet noise, and immediately, her fist closes around it, jerking you. She smiles. "Wanna do it?"
"That's how you're going to ask?" You scoff, leaning against the cubicle wall, a slight grin pulling at your mouth. "Is the art of seduction really that dead?"
"Well, forgive me if I don't quote poetry at you and cover myself in rose petals," she says as she climbs back to her feet and places her hand on your shoulders. She guides you to take a seat as she jokes, "Poetry bores the shit out of me."
It's almost too fast when her slim hands lift her dress up to her waist. She watches your face, her teeth pin her lip as she reaches down to hook her panties to the side. She slips a finger inside her already dripping pussy. You throb, hard as a rock, when her hand withdraws and she's reaching up and pressing the gleaming digit against your mouth.
You taste her wetness, licking your tongue against it. "Fuck," you growl, the urge to have her, devour her, ravage her takes you.
"You want it?" Jenna sways her hips and bites her lip. Her tight little body was made for sinning, it's plain and simple. You can't resist touching her, teasing your hands up the back of her thighs and around the ample curve of her ass, then pulling her onto your lap.
"Want it," you breathe the words against her lips. Her hand settles around the base of your cock and drags it across her slick pussy. She sighs into your mouth when your thumbs dig into her hips. That's an invitation to slide inside her.
Then you fill her. Her lips seal onto yours, her eyes flutter closed, and a sweet, deep, hungry sound of satisfaction leaves her. It's a sudden rush, everything about this situation, here and now, is a euphoric madness.
She looks incredible above you, her round, firm tits straining against the dress fabric, beads of sweat at the hollow of her collar and the heat in her eyes. Perched on top of you, Jenna rolls her hips forward, grinding against your lap, coiling that hot, wet flesh around your cock.
"God, your cock feels so fucking good," she gasps as she rides you, the way she moves her hips, the wild shifts and squeezes of her tight cunt around you bring the knot in your stomach already. You buck up into her and a ragged cry tears from Jenna's throat.
You seize her hair and kiss her, swallow her cries and moans, her gasps and whimpers, drink every little sound she makes and lose yourself in the rocking grind of her hips. You're both animalistic now. Her with her bouncing, grinding and needy fucking. You with your digging fingertips and the pounding of your crotch against her. It's filthy, it's unhinged.
"This might be the last time we—"
"Shut up," you interrupt.
"Last time we do this."
"Shut the fuck up," your hands dig into her waist, pulling her down and plunging your cock deep.
"Tell me," she says breathlessly, slamming her hips to meet your thrusts. "If we end this right here, is that good enough?"
"Fuck no," you hiss the words. You reach up to pull down her dress, prying her perky, bare breasts free and enveloping one in your mouth. Your tongue traces the nipple and you draw it in deeper. Jenna slows to a firm grind, holding your cock tight inside her before she snaps forward, locking her arms behind your head. You feel the shudder inside her, feel her clenching on you.
It's a deep, powerful moan, straight to your ears, as she cums. Pulling back and grabbing your face in her palms, forcing you to look right into her eyes. The blissful, fucked-senseless expression on her face is priceless, so is the dizzying, tightening feel of her cunt. Jenna collapses, huffing and panting, while you still hunger for more.
You pick her up and slam her against the cubicle door. It rocks under the impact. She giggles and takes a handful of your hair.
"Go on, fuck me. Like it's the only time you're ever going to get the chance."
So, you do. What more could you ever do? Is there anything more rational than drilling Jenna Ortega against a door in a movie theatre bathroom?
"Good, yeah," she wraps her legs around your waist and curls fingers in your hair. "You're getting there." She tilts her head and you claim the side of her throat, biting her neck. "If I tell you that you can cum inside, will you fuck me harder? Is that it?"
You groan into her neck, grip tightens, and you draw her body right to yours.
"If I tell you how badly I want to feel you cum, that it's driving me crazy, would that make it better?" She tightens her thighs around your waist and huffs out the words as though the effort is too much. "Go on. Do it."
The door rattles on its hinges, but you hardly even notice. Everything is her. Her body, her eyes, her voice, her. Your fingers lock around her waist, hold her tight while you pound her. The sweat-slick strands of her hair hang across her forehead, her skin glistens, and you're mesmerised by how good she looks while you fuck her.
You sink your teeth into her shoulder as you fill her. You lose control, twitching, and buried to the hilt, a groan into her skin as you twitch inside her. Cum spurts, your body shakes, her sex pulsates and clenches. She milks everything, and the next thing you know, you're falling back onto the seat, her collapsed on top of you and heaving. Gentle movements of her hips keep the sensations alive until you have nothing left to give her.
Overstimulation sets in quickly, her fingers slowly entwine with yours as you sag back against the seat, trembling and spent. The pair of you stay there, sweat-drenched, messy and grinning, sharing the tangle of soft noises in the silence.
"So, that was..."
"Pretty fucking good," she cuts you off. She rests her head against your shoulder, her hands settle on your arms, caressing you.
"That's what I would have said," you tell her, as you run your hand over her thigh and palm her ass.
"Damn. We might as well get married and drive off into the sunset." She laughs, and you chuckle with her.
"Or maybe we could just do this again sometime?" you ask with a slight grin.
She considers it. Pouting her lips and twitching them side to side. Her expression takes on a knowing edge, something mischievous as she looks you over and replies. "I'll see you around, maybe."
Now that...
That's just cruel.
1K notes · View notes
stuck-in-the-ghost-zone · 2 years ago
Note
MAC MAC. SORRY I GOTTA RANT IN UR INBOX I’M HAVING MAD AT GENLOSS THOUGHTS. BUT THAT POST ABT THE BACKROOMS/POOLROOMS AND UR TAGS ABT WHAT YOUTUBERS DID TO IT GOT ME THINKIN. THIS IS THE EXACT PROBLEM WITH GENLOSS. ranboo took an already potentially scary concept—the deterioration of something when it’s been recorded over and over again until it’s incomprehensible, which could have been really cool if he had done it as an analog horror and made it so reality itself was deteriorating around them—and just fuckin. put Ooh Spooky Scary things in it and completely botched the concept. the fuckinggg. hey heres a big scary corporation CLEARLY WATCHING THE CHARACTERS!! ISN’T THAT SOOO SCARY AAAA!!!1! and the wire monster. and the “twist” villain hetch. the deaths. like. do u know brian david gilbert’s video Teaching Jake About The Camcorder??? that’s similar to what i wanted from genloss. if genloss was like some old video or show LIKE A SITCOM!! OR A GAME SHOW!! OR A HOME VIDEO!!! and the first season was was like almost completely normal and the second one was like a replay of the same episodes but Just Slightly To The Left and it progressed until it turned into something horribly irreparably distorted THAT WOULD BE COOL. THAT’S WHAT I WANTED. AUGH. PAIN. backrooms 🤝 genloss: oooh spooky scary monster makes things scary right??? ok sry i’m done i just HADDD 2 RANT. OK BYE
GODDDDD NO WHISKEY COME BACK UR SO SO SO SO RIGHT. I THOUGHT ABOUT GENLOSS AS I WAS WRITI G THOSE TAGS. actualy i was really thinking about the charlie/tommy/ranboo youtube vids where they just say "we're in the backrooms!11!1!" over and over again. like. aughghghhhg. god. genloss rlly is just ooooo let me shove this spooky scary thing in your face with 0 subtlety. there u go i have made horror. like thats NOT HOW IT FUCKING WORKS.
7 notes · View notes
ripcupid · 8 months ago
Text
FOCUS
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
“I can’t wait ‘till we chill, what you wanna do?”
- you left Price with the kids as you went on date, the date couldn’t be bad right?
୨୧ ex husband! price x reader
୨୧ word count: 2.6k 😨
୨୧ yes the title is a nct 127 reference! (If you even know who they are) also sorry for being gone for 4 months 🤭
Tumblr media
“John, can you come pick me up?” You shiver in the cool night air, pressing your phone to your ear as you hold yourself.
“Was he that bad?” Price snickers on the other side of the phone, “I told ya, love,” he chuckles making you roll your eyes at the pet name.
“Shut up,” you huff, annoyance lacing your tone mixed with a hint of amusement. “Just hurry… please.”
“Alright, alright I’m comin’.” Price hangs up the phone, leaving you to wait in the cold a little longer before his car pulls up in front of you.
You find yourself smiling as you stare at Price's hands gripping the steering wheel, dropping your smile as he glances over at you, a sly grin spreading across his face. “I see ya looking, love,” he teases, looking from the corner of his eyes over at you. 
You roll your eyes playfully, feeling a warmth in your chest at his teasing. "Just drive, John," you say, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips. You turn in your seat to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks, grateful for the darkness of the car. 
Price chuckles softly, the sound making your heart flutter as he drives the familiar route to your home. As you get out of the car, Price leans over the console, his eyes trailing over your body before locking with yours. "You gonna let me come in?" he asks, a smirk playing on his lips, "you know, say goodnight to my kids?"
"Fine, but just for a minute," you reply, trying to sound stern but failing. You feel his gaze lingering on you as Price follows you through to the front door and up to your twin's room.
You lean against the door frame, watching as he bends down to kiss your sleeping son goodnight, a warmth spreading through your chest at the sight of him being a dad all over again, remembering all the times like this before the divorce. He moves over to your daughter's bed and tucks her in tighter, whispering a soft goodnight.
"Are you staying for breakfast?" your daughter mumbles, looking up at Price with sleepy eyes. He looks down at her with a soft smile, "I don’t know, Ya gotta ask your mom first, sweetheart." Your daughter looks over at you with hopeful eyes, silently asking for permission.
"Of course, daddy can stay for breakfast, " you say with a smile as your daughter's face lights up with joy, "but you gotta go to sleep now." Price nods in agreement, giving the twins a final goodnight kiss before quietly leaving the room with you.
You walk him back downstairs, heading to the kitchen to grab two glasses and a bottle of whiskey. As you pour the drinks, Price leans against the counter, staring at you with a loving gaze. "What, John?" you ask, noticing the look in his eyes.
"Nothing, love, just looking," he replies, making your face heat up with a blush that you try to hide by turning back to the drinks.
"Don't call me that," you say under your breath, handing him a glass. "I'm not your wife anymore." Price takes the glass from you, a grin spreading across his face.
"Oh come on, what, you don't like it anymore? I thought you loved it when I called you that," he teases, taking a sip of his whiskey. You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the memories that flood back at his words.
"Yeah, when we were married" you mutter, taking a sip of your drink and avoiding his gaze as you stand across from him. Price chuckles, setting his glass down on the counter. He steps closer to you, holding your cheek gently in his hand. You wanna push him away but you can't help the familiar warmth that spreads through you as he cradles your face. He lifts your chin, locking eyes with you.
His thumb traces your lips softly, a gesture that still makes your heart race despite the months you've been apart. He pulls you closer, his lips brushing against yours causing your breathing to hitch in your throat. The familiar smell of his cologne clouds around you as you grab onto his shirt, bunching the fabric in your fists. "John, we can't keep doing this," you whisper in the small space between you.
"Tell me no then, and I'll stop," he responds his voice barely above a whisper. The tension between you two is palpable, but you never tell him to stop knowing that deep down, you don't want him to.
"One kiss won't hurt," you rationalize, leaning in to meet his lips with yours. The kiss is slow and passionate as he holds your face in his hand gently, letting his tongue slide against yours. As the kiss deepens, his hands roam over your back, holding you against him. You can feel yourself losing control as his hand slips under your dress, resting on the curve of your ass.
Price kneads the soft flesh with a hunger that matches his own, sending a rush of desire between your legs. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you run your fingers through his hair, tugging gently. "John, upstairs, please," you pant breathlessly between kisses.
"Ya sure?" You nod eagerly, letting him lift you effortlessly in his arms and carry you up the stairs to your bedroom. As he lays you down on your bed, he leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses along your neck and collarbone, making you bite down on your lip to stifle a moan. He slides down the straps of your dress, exposing your bare chest to the cool air of the room.
The anticipation builds as he kisses down the center of your chest, your back arching in response to his touch. You hold the back of his head in your hands as he moves to your tits, kissing and teasing your sensitive nipples until they harden under his touch. Your breathing quickens as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before gently sucking.
You look down at him with desire, feeling the growing ache between your legs. As he continues to suck your tits, you push your hips up against him, silently begging for more. Price moves to the other nipple, giving it the same attention as the first. His hands move slowly down your sides, tracing every curve of your body as he buries his face in your chest.
You moan softly as Price releases your nipple with a pop, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he sits up to look down at you. "Look at you, love," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. "So fucking beautiful." He pulls the rest of your dress off, revealing your naked body underneath before moving to your heels and slowly removing them, placing gentle kisses on each of your ankles as he does so.
You watch in anticipation as he spreads your legs apart, a smirk playing on his lips as he sees the growing damp spot on your panties. "No one's been taking care of my girl, huh?" He teases, sliding his hands up your thighs until they reach the edge of your panties. You shake your head, unable to form words as his fingers brush against the damp fabric, making you gasp softly.
"I gotcha now, don't worry," he whispers, his voice low and husky as he slowly slides your panties off, leaving you completely exposed to him. You sit up to stare down at him as he positions himself between your legs, his warm breath teasing your inner thighs. Price places a kiss on your aching clit, pushing your thighs to your chest to give him better access.
"Missed this pretty pussy of yours," he murmurs, looking up at you, making you shy away from his intense gaze. Your breath hitches as he leans in, his tongue darting out to lick a stripe up your slit before he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking gently. Your hands instinctively reach for his head, your fingers tangling in his hair as you moan softly, grinding your hips against his face.
Price pulls back, replacing his mouth with his fingers, slowly sliding them inside you as he watches your reactions closely, a smug smile playing on his lips. "You taste so good," he grunts, his voice low and rough. His tongue presses against your clit, flicking and teasing the sensitive bud until you're squirming and arching your back in pleasure, unable to contain your moans. "Shh, the kids are asleep," he whispers, his fingers moving faster inside you, his other hand gripping your hip tightly. "Can't -fuck, you feel so good," you moan, trying to reach for his hand.
"You wanna hold my hand, love?" he chuckles when you nod, intertwining his fingers with yours as his fingers curl inside you in just the right way to make you gasp. You cover your mouth with your free hand, trying to muffle your moans as Price returns to your clit, sucking and licking the bud with the same fervor as his fingers. Your hips sputter and buck against his face as you feel the heat building in your core, his touch driving you closer to the edge with each movement.
"I'm gonna cum, John, please, baby, don't stop," you whimper, your voice shaky with need. Price lets go of your hand, reaching up to knead your tits, teasing your nipples as he continues his ministrations. As you feel the tension in your body reaching its peak, you clamp your hand over your mouth to stifle the loud moans threatening to escape.
"That's it, love, come for me," he murmurs against your cunt. Your hips arch off the bed as you finally reach your climax, reaching for his hand for support as you desperately ride out the waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Price holds your hips tightly as you shudder and gasp, your body still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm.
You lay limp under him, panting softly as he presses gentle kisses along your inner thighs before kissing his way back up your body. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to your lips, kissing him slowly and deeply, tasting yourself on his lips.
Price's hands roam over your body, cupping your tits, eliciting soft moans from your lips as he brushes over your sensitive nipples. You continue to kiss him passionately, trying to get his shirt off, eager to feel his bare skin against yours.
Price breaks away from the kiss, his eyes never leaving yours as he quickly removes his shirt, revealing his toned chest. You chew on your bottom lip as he moves to his pants, pulling them down just enough to reveal his cock straining against his boxers.
Your breath hitches at the sight, anticipation building as he pulls himself free from his boxers, a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip. He wraps a hand around himself, stroking slowly as he watches your reaction, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Don't look so surprised," he groans, tightening his hand around his cock, "I know you can take it, love." You spread your legs wider, eager for him to fill you as you feel the heat pooling between your legs again.
You reach down to touch yourself, moaning softly as you match his rhythm, the anticipation of him inside you driving you wild. "I want you inside me, please," you whimper, your voice barely audible over the sound of his heavy breathing.
Price pulls you closer, pushing your legs further apart as he positions himself at your entrance, whispering, "Keep 'em open for me, okay?” You nod, eagerly waiting as his cock teases your wetness before finally sliding inside you. His eyes stay fixed on your cunt as he slowly slides deeper into you.
You sit up to watch as he slowly starts to thrust in and out, a whiny moan escaping your lips as you watch him disappear into you. The feeling of him stretching you out makes your jaw go slack, your hands gripping the sheets as you look up at him, feeling every inch of him filling you up completely. "Is this good?" Price asks, leaning over you, his eyes focused on your face as he starts to move inside you with a slow and steady rhythm.
"Oh my -fuck, yes," you manage to gasp out. You cling to Price desperately, your nails digging into his biceps as you meet his thrusts with your movements. Price holds your face gently in his hands, his eyes locked with yours as he whispers, "You feel so good, baby -god your body was fucking made for me."
He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he lazily plants soft kisses along your collarbone. You hold onto him tighter, savoring the feeling of his lips on your skin and the weight of his body against yours.
The room is filled with the sound of heavy breathing and your soft quiet moans as his cock slowly brings you to the edge once again. Price pants heavily against your ear, his movements becoming more urgent and desperate as he drives you both toward release. The soft sound of his name escaping your lips in a breathless plea only spurs him on even further, his hand gripping your hips possessively as he speeds up his thrusts, determined to have you come around his cock.
His eyes are locked on yours, filled with love and desire as he watches you unravel beneath him. You lean up to capture his lips in a hungry, passionate kiss, moaning against his mouth as your clit bumps against his pelvis with each thrust. Your body curls into his, your nails digging into his back as you feel the pressure building in your core. "I'm gonna come," you gasp, feeling the tension in your body reaching its peak.
"I know, love, me too," he grunts with a chuckle. Price's movements become more urgent as he feels your gummy walls spasm around him, pushing him closer to his own release as he helps you ride out your orgasm, his own release not far behind. He holds you close, grunting in your ear as he begs to come inside you.
"Please, let me come inside you," he pleads, his voice strained with desire. You nod slowly, still dazed from the intensity of your climax, feeling his thrusts becoming more desperate and sloppy as he reaches his peak. As he finally releases inside you, you whimper softly in response to the overwhelming sensation of him filling you up.
Price collapses on top of you, both of you breathing heavily before he rolls off to the side, pulling you into his arms and kissing your forehead gently. "This is the last time, John," you mutter, tracing lazy patterns on his stomach with your fingertips. Price chuckles softly, making you look up at him. "You said that last time, love," he teases, causing you to pull away to face him.
"I mean it this time," you insist, getting up from the bed and grabbing your clothes. "We can't keep doing this," you say, walking to your bathroom. Price watches you through the open doorway as you turn on the shower. "Can I at least shower with you?" he asks with a sly grin as he gets up from your bed, tucking himself back into his boxers.
You look at him where he stands in your doorway, a mixture of frustration and desire evident in your eyes. "Fine, but this is the last time," you say with a sigh, unable to resist him as he follows you into the bathroom. Price's grin widens as he follows you into the shower, knowing he has once again won you over once again.
Tumblr media
Send request 🌸
LISTEN NOW
1K notes · View notes
notquitecanon · 11 days ago
Text
Familiarity & Whiskey // Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader
Summary: Simon and Johnny get in a fight, which is how Simon crosses your path. Thinking your an easy mark for quick comfort and a quick fuck, he's not aware you're in the UK to meet your estranged father. Your circles running tighter with his than he thinks...
(Unedited)
Poor Simon can't catch a fucking break. Let this man nut and smoke a cigarette.
CW: feminine descriptions and pronouns used, alcohol consumption, making out, heavy petting, allusions to oral (male receiving), Simon's lowkey highkey manipulative, absent father!John Price, don't think too hard about age gaps i gave up
Request by: @i-live-in-spite
NSFW 18+ MDNI
Tumblr media
"Go to hell, Riley. ‘S where ye fuckin’ belong." 
That had been Johnny’s direct words.
 Which was the first and only time Johnny had addressed by just his last name. Usually it was some irritating nickname, his callsign, or his rank delivered with the Scotsman’s usual bright eyes and mirth that somehow made it less annoying to Simon. And when it was his real name, in serious times, it was his first name, with a sincere look and genuine inflection. Never just ‘Riley’. 
But Johnny had spit his last name like it was a curse. Something that tasted bitter in his mouth, something poisonous. 
Hell, maybe it fucking was. And it had him craving something volatile- destructive. Alcohol, sex, a pack of cigarettes… and if he couldn’t get one of those to self-medicate this poisonous streak, he’d settle for bloodying his fists before the end of the night. 
A shit mission with a shit conclusion. A shit day. Fuck, a shit year.  Culminating in a clash between Lieutenant and Sergeant, Simon’s icy seething clashing Johnny’s explosive rage about a bad call made worse by Simon’s version of coping- cold indifference and colder jokes.  Actions had consequences, isn’t that what Simon always told his sergeant? Maybe that’s why Simon was stewing in the shitty pub close to base crawling with recruits after Gaz and Price had forcibly split up the confrontation right as it was about to get physical. 
Price had all but shoved him off base while Gaz took Soap somewhere to cool off- probably the gym or some equally shitty pub on opposite ends of the city. So there he was, sulking in a corner, nursing the only bourbon this bar offered, stewing over whether or not he needed to apologize.  
The thought of apologizing burned worse than the bottom shelf bourbon he was sipping. He was Ghost. The Ghost. He didn’t apologize. This was one of those times he would’ve actually appreciated Price’s usually unwarranted ’sage’ advice- but he was tied up, still on base and pissed off because he was trying to wrap up mission reports and now was cleaning up Simon’s mess. 
"Excuse me? Would it be ok if I sat here? I’m waiting for someone but the guys at the bar won’t leave me alone." You were biting your lip a little, trying your best not to look too awkward as you asked the tall, dark, and you assumed handsome but you couldn’t tell around the mask he was wearing. You felt nervous, but not to be talking to you, you were nervous for a laundry list of other reasons. Including and limited to meeting your father for the first time since you were barely three years old. 
When the pub had been suggested to you, you’d thought the closeness to his base was an advantage- casual, easy, public, nearby- what you hadn’t accounted for was the herds of young soldiers that would also be there.  Trying to buy yourself a drink to calm your nerves while you waited had resulted in four heinous pick up lines, three cocktail napkins with phone numbers scrawled on them, two vulgar gestures, and one marriage proposal. Like the 12 days of Christmas song, but from hell. The only place that wasn’t buzzing with sloshed young soldiers was a dark corner with an absolute behemoth of a masked man, two empties and a half drank tumbler of whiskey.  Despite (or perhaps because of) the nerves, jet lag, and shot of tequila you’d just took because of said nerves, you considered yourself something of a strategist. 
After you asked, narrowed amber eyes flicked up to you appraisingly, pinning you to your spot. Even slightly slouched over his drink, he was huge. Not just tall, but built like a brick house. He wasn’t wearing an actual military uniform, but everything about him just read military. He stared at you for a second, then a minutes, stretching into two. To your credit, you kept your chin high and your eyes level on his. Right as you started to say, "Never mind, sorry to bother-" 
" ’s fine." His voice was deep and kind of gravelly, low enough that his quiet tone was almost lost to the barroom chatter. His accent wasn’t one you’d heard before, a bit sharper and choppier than the accent John had on the phone. He scooted further into the booth, dragging his drink with him. As you turned back and slid into the corner booth, he scrutinized you again, like you were supposed to be familiar to him, "I know you?" 
"Doubt it." You smiled, a tight lipped but warm thing. You knew you didn’t know him considering this was the first time you’d set foot in this country. Not to mention you’d undoubtedly remember a character like this. So instead, you offered him your name and an outstretched hand. He nodded, neither returning the exchange or shaking your hand, just grunting to show he heard you. 
Still, he scanned you again. Simon was sure he’d never met you, but there was something about you that was eerily familiar. It was the feeling of someone’s name being on the tip of his tongue but slipping between thoughts before he could place it, or a song that as soon as he tried to think about it the melody slipped away. It wasn’t your physical features, as pretty of a bird as you were. That little smile, the way you carried yourself, the saunter in your walk, how your shoulder were held, the set of your jaw, you were young in the face but seemed older, the casual confidence so rare for someone your age… These were all things so familiar to him, but he couldn’t connect it to it’s match. Maybe it was the bourbon. 
"Y’not from ‘round here." He stated, and it wasn’t a question. Simon knew it as a fact. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why someone not from here would patronize a piss-poor pub like this, especially a bird like you- pretty and warm and put together. He rose an eyebrow that shifted the brow of his mask, "What brings you?" 
Blunt and to the point. Definitely military.  You leaned back against the booth, your finger tracing the glass rim of the wine glass you’d set down in front of you. White wine from a shit hole like this was one of the many clues that you didn’t belong here. 
"Meeting someone important." You answered vaguely with another one of those warm but tight smiles. Seriously, where did he know that from? "He’s late." 
"A date?" He pressed further with eyes that were somehow intense and disinterested at the same time. You couldn’t decide if his bluntness was a military quirk or social dysfunction, or possibly both. Of course he couldn’t know that this was the furthest thing from a date you could be doing tonight, which made you laugh, loudly and suddenly. The noise took Simon off guard, but not for it’s spontaneity or for how bright and beautiful it was , but because it tugged at that feeling a familiarity, bordering on nostalgia. 
"Oh, god no." You rushed, shaking your head and forming an X over your chest for good measure, still laughing a bit as you took a sip of wine. Still, you weren’t sure how you were supposed to describe John. "Not a date. I’m just meeting…. someone important." 
Simon doesn't know why this pleased him. Something about you being available and talking to him as opposed to the damnably flashy and obnoxious grunts wearing their dress uniforms to the pub on a fuckin’ Tuesday… Simon’s mouth quirked into a subtle smirk as he lifted his mask enough to take a sip of his bourbon, not missing how your too-familiar eyes followed the movement, intrigued and keen, “Who then?" 
"Nope, I’ve already answered, like, three questions. Your turn?" There was that casual confidence again as you turned the question on him with that little grin, legs cross under the table as your nails clicked against the sticky wood table, "What brings you here?" 
Simon’s expression under the mask soured again, eyes fixing on the lipstick stain on your wine glass. Pretty color… He wondered how it’d look smeared along his mouth. Or his cock. He shook that thought out of his head, bringing his eyes back to yours. Maybe it was the bourbon that loosened his tongue, or maybe those eyes of yours, “Got in a fight with a mate o’ mine. It was… suggested that we give each other some space.” 
‘Suggested' was nice was of saying Price manhandled him all the way to the guard station at the gate. Like a scolded dog being put outside. 
“So you’ve put yourself in the corner? Are you in timeout?” You quirked an eyebrow in another frustratingly familiar gesture, something that made him chuckle instead of bristle as you gestured to the dark corner he’d been lurking in. 
“Something like that.” He nodded, swirling the whiskey in his glass. 
“What was the fight about?” You asked casually, taking another sip of your wine. Normally so private, Simon would’ve bitten a stranger’s head off for such a personal question. But coming from you, between his desire to keep your attention on him and the ever present nagging sense of familiarity, he just sighed. 
“Hard week pushed some buttons. We’ve both got tempers. Mine’s worse.” He explanation was simple, both from characteristic standoffishness and the fact the mission that had provoked this fight had taken place in a country the British Military was not supposed to be. Another deep sigh like the confession took something wrenching from him, “He puts up with me usually, but I… said somethings’ I shouldn’t’ve.”
You nodded sagely, taking in the rather vague information with eyes settled on the far wall as if you were doing mental math, quiet deductions. He recognized this look from somewhere, this was the look of someone looking for answers and solutions. Your fingers tapped against the table again before your eyes slid back to him, “So you were both assholes to each other, but you were worse?” 
“Yeah. That’s the gist of it.” Simon scoffed as you boiled down his already barebones explanation even further. You nodded again, looking at him quizzically. 
“Have you thought about just apologizing?” You rose an eyebrow at him, your head cocking a little to the side. The most obvious answer in the world that for some reason he couldn’t wrap his hand around. He opened his mouth to protest, but you were quicker, voice chiding in way he’d heard before- but from where?, “No, let me guess, it’s not that simple, you can’t just apologize.” 
For a moment you dropped your voice a little lower and attmepted a half imitation of his Mancunian accent which would’ve been offensive if it wasn’t exactly what he was about to say. You huffed a quiet lap before returning to your normal tone with a roll of your eyes, “Believe me, yes, it is that simple, and, yes, you can just apologize. And if you truly think it’s not something an apology would fix, let him get one good hit in and get it out of your systems. Problem solved.” 
“Get it out of our systems?” Simon asked a little incredulously, despite the sampling of a sharp wit and the occasional hard glint to your eyes, he hadn’t expected someone as soft looking as you to jump to punching as a serious form of conflict resolution. Hell, you sounded more like his Captain Price than some random pretty thing in a pub, “that’s terrible advice.” 
“You telling me you would’ve seriously taken my apologize and talk it out advice?” Your eyebrows raised again as you leaned forward on your elbows onto the table- another frustratingly familiar look that would’ve distracted him if your now exposed cleavage didn’t distract him further. He swallowed as he stared, feeling the growing need to get something out of his system, and his fight with Johnny was becoming less and less forefront in his mind. 
“Not a chance.” He shook his head, sniper eyes locking in on the drop of wine that escaped your glass and slid between your breasts, quickly disappearing between skin and under your shirt. He could find it with his tongue, bet your skin made the wine sweeter… 
“Yeah,” You laughed again, setting down the empty glass, finding this intriguing masked character to be a wonderful distraction from the anxiety of this upcoming meeting. And if John was running late, you’d take advantage of the distraction, “Figured as much.” 
___
An hour and another glass of wine later, you’d continued to scoot closer to the masked man in the booth with you. He was first to initiate contact, throwing an arm over your shoulders in the pretense of keeping you close enough to hear over the rowdy group cheering on a rugby game, it was you who had leaned into his side. His hand had found your thigh first, but your nails were tracing little shapes and words against his forearm. 
“Who was it you were meetin' 'ere, sweetheart?” Simon asked again, his mask still rolled over his nose again as he took another sip of his bourbon, lips grazing your earring as his breath fanned over your neck. He wondered how you would react if his teeth tugged one of the pretty little earrings you’d picked out. You were distracted noticing how his accent minced certain letters in syllables in a delectable way, “Only a fool’d keep you waitin’ this long.” 
Two glasses of wine and jet lag had done away with your need for vague answers as you leaned into him, shivering as the smell of bourbon, cigarettes, and gunpowder started to overpower your perfume. You swallowed, eyes meeting his with a bit of nervousness he hadn’t been able to pick up on you until just now, “I’m meeting my father. We’ve been estranged most of my life. And he’s an hour and forty five late now.” 
“Shit.” Simon muttered under his breath, not thinking you could’ve said anything that could really surprise him. Meeting your estranged father and yet you’d spent the last two hours coaching and comforting him through a fight with his friend. That level of self sacrifice should’ve clued him into your parentage almost immediately, but he was busy staring at how your wide eyes were staring up at him through your lashes, teeth toying with the seam of your lips that your tongue kept darting out to wet. 
“I’m a little nervous.” You admitted, the nail that was tracing shapes on his forearm dropped down to his massive thigh to brace yourself. If you leaned any closer, you’d be all but in his lap- which wouldn’t be the worse thing, both of you mentally decided. You took a deep breath, sipping some of the water you’d ordered midway through your third glass of wine,  "A lot nervous, actually.” 
One thing about Simon, was that as a sniper, he was opportunistic. When he saw a shot, he took it. And you just lined him up to test his theory on how long it’d take to convince you to slip into the pub bathrooms with him. 
His arm around your shoulder adjusted so he could gently brush some hair behind your ear, thumb purposely grazing your cheekbone before he tilted your face up to meet his, “Well, you know the best way to get over your nerves?” 
The sudden closeness stunned any witty retort to silence as you hummed for him to continue, swallowing thickly in a way that brought those keenly sharp eyes to watch the bob of your throat. He chuckled lowly to himself, so sweet and perfect, he was about to absolutely ruin you. But he wasn’t evil, he’d put you back together again… 
“Gotta… work... it outta your system. Just like you said, sweetheart.”  His other hand was kneading into your thigh through the pretty satin of your skirt, such a good girl, with a skirt below your knees, and he looked forward to shredding those tights underneath with nothing but his teeth and bare hands. But… he wondered if he could make you cum through them before he ruined them, and with the way you tensed and then melted at his touch, he was betting the answer was a firm yes. “Gonna let me help you like you’ve been helping me?”
You thought he sure had a funny way of equating this heavy petting to the teasing and mild comfort you’d offered about his fight with this ‘Soap’ guy, but you nodded anyway. All the pent-up anxiety made it an eager motion as he chuckled, leaning forward and catching your mouth, so possessive and borderline aggressive at your compliance. He was a bit of a bully, using his bulk and his weight so you would bend underneath him like he was testing how hard he had to press for you to break, and when you whined at the feeling of him biting your lip, he only swallowed your sounds and laughed into your mouth. 
Lips smearing your pretty makeup, one hand tangling your hair into his finger and the other fisting your skirt so it started hiking up your legs, and one of his boots nudging your ankles out of their polite cross so he could start prying your thighs apart.  God, you were making out (bordering on hooking up) with a nameless, masked man with anger issues while you waited to meet your estranged father for basically the first time… What had your life come to? 
Actually, the absent father bit explained the masked stranger bit if you thought about it for more than three seconds. 
“Fuckin’ hell, you’ve gotta be taking the absolute piss, Simon.” A sudden and angry voice, familiar to both of you sounded from the front of your secluded little booth. You jumped back away from your paramour. Simon, apparently was his name, while he only turned in frustrated confusion at his captain interrupted him blowing off steam, just as he’d been instructed when Price all but kicked him off base for the night. 
Your eyes went wide in absolute mortification, like you’d melt under the table and just die there. Standing there, watching you sloppily make out with someone he apparently knew, was your father. John Price. Who hadn’t seen you since you were three years old and compulsively carried around a Kermit the frog stuffie everywhere you went… He looked older compared to your hazy memories of him and the singular picture your mother hadn’t burned, and the interesting facial hair only made him look older. You suspected he was capable of looking warm and kind, your mother always said you got his soft eyes and smile, but right now he looked pissed.
“Price?” Simon questioned, yanking his mask back over his mouth to hide the smears of his lipstick, wondering if this temper had something to do with the mission or with his fight with the sergeant and if so, why it was urgent enough to interrupt him right now. He’d noted how you went rigid underneath him, batting his hand out of the balmy soft canyon between your spread thighs before they clamped shut again. Shit, that door was rapidly closing...
You spoke at the same time as Simon, your voice somewhere between hesitant questioning and caught teenager, “Dad?” 
“Dad?” Simon immediately parroted, his respect for his Captain superseding the whiskey and lust as he peeled himself off of you quickly doing mental math Olympics to figure out genetics and age gaps, “Bloody Hell, John-“ 
You shrieked, as Simon didn’t get a chance to justify himself or even ask, how was I supposed to know the bird I was trying to fuck was your kid you’ve never told anyone about? Because your father’s face went red instantly, jumping across the booth and landing a scarily hard punch across Simon’s face, spilling wine and whiskey all over you in the process. 
So it was going to be a bloody knuckles kind of night, after all. 
____
Sorry I kinda changed up your request a little bit, I started writing and it kinda got away from me. I'm a slave to the little worm in my brain.
405 notes · View notes