#gin ash | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

perfectyeager · 3 months ago

Text

ꨄ Plug!Eren fucks his innocent girlfriend.

EREN YEAGER was a well-known dealer in the area. a tall, mysterious, often hot-headed drug dealer — someone you definitely wouldn’t wanna mess with unless you planned on getting shot.

so, when you, a perfect little pink princess angel was seen with eren’s tattooed arm around your shoulders and your bag in his hand — everyone was shocked to say the least.

you were pretty, quiet, intelligent, came from a good family background, never missed a day of college or any homework, never smoked or did drugs, and the only alcohol you’d ever had was a sip of your mother’s gin & tonic and you hated it.

you were the complete opposite to eren.

you were innocent.

but somehow you were drawn to him.

you had met at a party your friend mikasa dragged you too — someone he’d known from childhood and you bonded over your mutual friend. eren knew he liked you from the moment he set eyes on your uncomfortable frame amongst your drunk and high friends at the party. you got on very well much to eren’s surprise and he vowed from that moment on to protect you no matter what.

so, you hung out more & more and you grew to love each other. eren asked you to be his girlfriend at a fancy dinner — a pretty bracelet in a velvet box being accompanied by the sweet words, bringing tears to your eyes as you couldn’t help but kiss his face as you cried against him, whispering ‘yes’ a thousand times as you covered him in your lipstick.

you cherished eren and treated him with the utmost kindness and respect a man deserved. you always put him first and devoted your life to making sure he was happy. and eren protected you with his life — literally. he would take a bullet to the brain for you, not caring that he’d never wake up again, if only you were happy and safe. you were the only woman he’d ever truly loved, and therefore he never wanted anything bad to ever happen to you. n he spoilt you like a princess, his drug money making sure your nails were never bare, as long as he could pick the design here and there, and your hair looked freshly done and perfect and any outfit or meal you wanted was paid for by him.

eren never pushed you into anything, he knew where you stood with his life and what he did, but he knew you’d never stop him from making his money the way he did. he knew you hated that he sold & did drugs but he reassured you with his life that he would never ever put you in danger or make you unhappy. he’d give it up if you were genuinely upset about it — but he knew you weren’t that petty to make him change his life that much just for you.

he also never pushed you to like his friends — who had the same values as him. so, when you met them all for the first time, you could tell you were definitely the elephant in the room, as a little princess like you stood out amongst all the drugs user thugs themselves.

“ guys, this my girl i’ve been tellin’ you ‘bout.” eren introduced, a sweet smirk on his face, as he smiled down at you, arm around your waist as you stood before a few of his friends.

smoke filled the air as they all smoked their individual joints, all in similar dress to eren and all tatted up — you, in a short, pretty pink dress, frilly socks and comfy trainers and your hair in a high ponytail held together by a pink scrunchie.

“ hi, nice to meet you.” you smiled sweetly, waving your manicured hand, eren smiling as he caught a glimpse of the initial ‘E’ on your ring finger.

one day he’d convince you to get it tatted — not yet though.

connie was the first to speak, standing up, brushing the ash off his jeans to force his hand into yours in a handshake, “nice to meet ya, pretty, ‘m connie. we’ve heard a lotta ‘bout you.”

“watch it” eren warned, shooting connie a glare at the compliment he weaved into his words.

connie only chuckled, retreating back to his seat as you giggled quietly at eren’s possessiveness.

next to greet you was a tall, mullet-headed man named jean who only offered a nod and a quiet hello — someone you knew eren had had issues with in the past and knew not to overstep the line when it came to his girl. after jean came reiner, a muscular blonde who was the sweetest of the bunch.

“nice to meet you — i hear you’re making our eren very happy.” he smiled, blowing smoke from between his pink lips.

“i hope so.” you mumbled nervously, “i love him a lot.”

eren could’ve fallen to his knees and cried at the way you looked up at him with such pure adoration and devotion in your eyes after saying the sweetest words any girl had ever said about him.

“y’know you do, baby.” eren spoke, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“you’re not his usual type so i am surprised.”

“shut ya fucking mouth, kirstein.” you nearly flinched at the pure hatred in eren’s voice as his head snapped towards jean who only smirked evilly.

“what? a man’s not allowed to speak the truth anymore, or ‘sum?” jean laughed, “no offence, sweetheart, but yeager usually goes for more..experienced bitches, y’know?”

connie kissed his teeth loudly as reiner sighed, knowing exactly what was coming. a frown appeared on your face as jean’s words hit your ears, feeling suddenly uncomfortable at jean’s insinuation.

“so, just don’t get too comfortable, darlin’, cuz he’s likely to leave ya for some other bitch that actually knows how ta act her age.”

“i’d shut up, kirstein.” connie warned, a knowing smile on his face as if he was enjoying this.

you could feel eren was tense from how his hand gripped your waist and how you could hear him grinding his teeth together in anger.

you hated seeing eren like that. you just wanted him to be happy.

“well i’m sorry, jean, b-but eren loves me and me only just as i am and that’s not going to change so you’ll just h-have to get used to it.”

your heart hammered in your chest as adrenaline flowed through your veins — swallowing thickly as the words left your dry throat. your hand flew to eren’s against your waist as you gripped his fingers, reminding him that you were there with him.

jean’s face dropped as he expected eren to give him a piece of his mind — he wasn’t expecting your shaky voice to greet his ears.

eren, though, could’ve cum on the spot. you, defending him against horse-face…? jeeeesus that was fucking good to hear.

“daaaaaamn, kirstein, get told you asshole.” connie laughed, slapping his knee as reiner smiled against the joint between his lips.

jean kissed his teeth, “man fuck you.”

“nah fuck you, bro” connie fought back, “bein’ nasty to eren’s girl for no damn reason, fuckin’ cunt.”

“oh shut ya fuckin’ mouth, springer — “

“go wait in the car for me, sweetheart.” eren whispered down at you, his voice taking over your brain from the boys argument, his large hand cupping your cheek lovingly as he slid his car keys into your petite hand.

you nodded and did as he asked, blocking out the argument as you retreated out the room, offering reiner a polite, yet awkward smile. you knew trouble was underway as eren’s name being called in desperation muffled through the walls of connie’s apartment as you hurried down the stairs.

eren often got like that if you were disrespected by anyone. didn’t matter if he was in the room, if he knew them or not, if the person who said it was online or if they were 1000 miles away — eren had to fuck them up until they were on the brink of death for upsetting his perfect girl.

you had waited in his obnoxiously big mercedes for what felt like half an hour as you anxiously picked at your nails, your eyes glancing down at his initial — worry filling your tummy. but, alas, your boyfriend emerged from the apartment complex in a state you weren’t surprised at.

sweaty, flushed cheeks, strands of hair flying from his bun, bruised and bloody knuckles and chest heaving angrily.

“‘rennie.” you whispered as he flung himself into the car, slamming the door. your sweet, loving hands coming to touch his cheek.

if it were anyone else, eren would’ve flipped his lid at anyone touching him. but you? no. he craved your touch right now. more than anything. i mean he was practically melting at the touch of your small palm on his face.

he turned his head to press a long, loving kiss to the palm of your hand, eyes closed as if to savour the feeling of your skin on his lips.

“‘m sorry for keepin’ you, baby.” eren whispered, quickly turning on the ignition and pulling out of the parking space, “let’s go home, yeah?”

you merely nodded, offering him a reassuring smile as he drove away, slightly more erratic than normal due to his heightened mood — but he knew not to take it too far as you were in the car with him. as you know, he’d never ever put you in danger.

eren remained in a mood for the rest of the day. never showing it fully to you as to not upset you, but you could tell he was still bothered by what jean had said.

“eren?”

“wassup, beautiful” eren’s monotone voice filled your ears as you watched him from across the dinner table in his dining room. he even looked perfect eating the chinese takeout he’d bought you both.

“what happened earlier?”

eren tensed up again. the memories of the afternoon crept up his brain, “why, baby?”

“please, honey.” you pouted, instantly breaking down his guard at your perfect face, “i wanna know.”

eren sighed, reaching over to tug at your jutted out bottom lip, “can’t ever say no to you, mama, jesus.”

you smiled slightly against his finger, watching as he let his fork drop into the cardboard box full of noodles, running a hand through his hair.

“well i beat the shit outta him. broke his nose or ‘sum i think, i really don’t care.”

“eren!”

eren kissed his teeth, leaning back in his chair, “what? he fuckin’ deserved it.”

“eren yeager.” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, frowning, not knowing eren secretly enjoyed the way you got so protective of him.

“shiiit, full name n’ all, now ‘m in trouble, ma, huh?” he smirked, his golden grills flashing at you.

“yes, ‘ren, he’s your friend.” you whined, feeling to blame for your boyfriends antics.

“nah he’s not.” eren scowled, returning to his food nonchalantly despite the topic of conversation, “especially not if he talks ‘bout you like that.”

you sighed, pushing at your food with your fork, pouting slightly, still feeling guilty.

“baby, ‘m sorry i’m not like the other girls you’ve dated.”

uh oh! shouldn’t have said that!

eren threw his fork to the table, startling you slightly as he slid his chair quickly towards you — forcing you into a feverish kiss, taking you by surprise. eren’s large hands grasped desperately at your face, his lips moulding against yours as he kissed you with the most passion and love you’d ever experienced.

“—‘nngh’ — ‘rennie!—giggle—stop!—hah!” your words struggled to come out as eren kissed from your lips to your nose to your cheeks, eyes forehead and chin.

“don’t you ever say that again, ma, i mean it.” eren warned, suddenly serious as he finally pulled away looking you dead in the eyes, “you. are perfect. and nothin’ like those bitches thank fucking jesus lord. they ruined me, made me half the fuckin’ man i am. you changed me you fixed me you are the one for me because you are you, baby, y’get me?”

you couldn’t help but smile against his hands, your cheeks squishing slightly against him as you couldn’t contain your grin, “‘rennie, you mean that?”

“more than anything in th’fuckin’ world.”

and he sure as hell proved that!

“..nnngh—ugnnnh! fuuuck, ‘rennie!”

eren laughed loudly, pulling back from between your thighs at the sound of his name being called, slick covering his lips and chin, as you sat up on your elbows, arms shaking.

currently, he had you on your back on his bed, completely butt ass naked like the day you were born, and his tongue working wonders on your clit. you’d already cum twice and he was trying to force a third out of you.

“‘wassup, baby?”

“— ‘ren, hah — no-no more — nnhuuugh.” your whines of pleasure and fatigue only stirring him on as he jutted against the bed frame in his boxers, now feeling awfully tight against his throbbing cock.

“please, mama, one more for ‘rennie, please? y’were such a good girl for me today baby. standing up to that fuckin’ prick — makin’ ‘rennie s’proud of you. gotta reward m’ baby, yeah?”

you whined once more, his words hitting you straight in the core as you fell back onto your back, chest heaving.

eren took that as a yes — his tongue resuming its mission your aching clit, his ring clad hands gripping at your pudgy thighs as you cried out, your legs instinctively clamping around his head at the over stimulation.

eren flicked the tip of his tongue continuously over your clit, pleasuring the swollen nub, occasionally licking long strips or sucking on it, earning louder moans of intense pleasure from your plump lips. eren ate pussy good — that was one of the first things you learnt about him, feeling excited you had him all to yourself but secretly annoyed other girls got to enjoy this before you.

but he was yours now so it didn’t matter.

eren didn’t have to wait long until you were cumming again, legs nearly crushing his skull as you shook against him, tongue lapping at your clit at record speed as you whined his name loudly, bucking your hips up to reach your third orgasm.

“fuck fuck fuck, ‘rennie — cummin’, ‘m cummin’, baby, fuck!”

“yeah, that’s it, princess, give it to me. give it to ‘rennie, fuckin’ cum for me.” eren whispered, his fingers rubbing swift circles on your nub as your third orgasm ripped through you.

eren grew harder and harder in his uncomfortably tight boxers as you creamed all over his tongue, whining and panting as the overstimulation grew. as you came down from your high, you kicked eren away from your pulsating sex as he lapped up the cum that dribbled out of you, fatigue washing over you.

but eren wasn’t done with you just yet.

kneeling on the bed, eren slotted himself between your open legs as he pulled his achingly hard cock free from his briefs, both of you watching as it bobbed between your thighs lewdly. eren wasn’t small at all — a humble 8 inches and girth always made your ability to walk be ripped away from you.

“gonna fuck you so good, mama. ya such a good girl f’me, deserve to take this big dick, hm?”

you could only whine as words failed your sex-drunk mind, clit twitching as eren’s mushroom-shaped tip nudged the abused nub. he gathered your ever-increasing slick over his hot length, heart pounding as he pushed a leg further up to his shoulder.

“ya ready, sweetheart?”

this wasn’t a question, this was a warning. eren did this to make sure you knew his desperate monster of a cock was about to destroy your insides.

“mmm.” you nodded, biting your lip, anticipation eating you alive.

eren bit back a moan as he pushed the tip past your drooling lips into your tight gummy walls — a loud whine leaving your lips, only stirring eren on.

“jeeeesus, fuck, baby.” eren groaned, throwing his head back as he pushed further inside you, the sheer girth of his fat cock stretching you open more n more with each inch.

eren was only getting harder n harder as you panted and whined beneath him, your pretty chest clad in a white lacy bra rising and falling quickly as he filled you up.

eren loved lookin at you while he fucked you. sure he loved seeing your ass clap back onto his dick while he fucked you from behind — but watching your gorgeous face contort into expressions of pleasure while he fucked you dumb made him feral.

eren wasted no time — wanting nothing more than for you to feel good for your amazing act of service to him today. he dragged himself slowly from your wet cunt, hissing at the tightness that was your pussy that engulfed him, only leaving his throbbing tip inside.

“please ‘rennie.”

that was enough for eren. one hand gripped your hip and the other on your levitated thigh as he began an unholy pace. your back arched off the bed as eren’s cock slammed in and out of your sloppy pussy — the sound of your wetness filling the air like a dirty porn video, only stirring eren on as his mouth fell open at the feeling of your clenching hole squeezing him just the way he liked. your legs were tensed as your eyes squeezed shut; pleasure consuming your body as eren fucked you senseless, grunting to himself as he thoroughly enjoyed you.

“such a good girl f’me, aren’t ya, princess?” eren panted, turning to plant hot, open mouthed kisses against your ankle as he fucked you open — chest heaving in arousal as you cried out louder at his praise.

“e-eren!” you cried, eyes shooting open as his fingers landed on your overstimulated clit, rubbing circles on his twitching nub, coaxing another orgasm outta you, shooting up from the bed.

eren’s large hand landed from your waist to your neck — grasping your throat in a chokehold and shoving you back down onto the bed, knocking the wind out of your lungs, “don’t you fuckin’ dare try and stop me.” he warned “you’ve been such a good girl all day baby don’t ruin it now. let rennie make ya cum one more time yeah?”

“rennieeee, can’t. i can’t, b-baby, can’t cum anymore. ‘s-sensitive.” you whined, trying to ignore how good it felt as his cock bullied your g-spot and thumb rubbing dangerously slow circles on your clit.

eren laughed darkly, his pornographic pace never faltering as his blown out, fucked out eyes flicked from your bodies connecting to your lewd face, “you wanna cum with rennie though, right?”

you nodded quickly — loving nothing more than feeling him stuff you full of cum while you orgasmed around him.

“then shut ya bitch mouth n take it.”

with a squeak of agreement, eren’s hand slipped from your throat to your tits — pulling one out manhandling it, earning himself some pretty moans as he rolled your nipple between his fingers.

“fuckin’ c’mere, mama.” eren spoke, tossing another leg over his shoulder, practically folding you in half as he pushed you further onto the bed, now leaning over your fucked out body.

“aaaahnnng! fuck, fuck fuck! eren — eren, fuck, eren!”

your whines only granted eren all the confirmation he needed that he was doin you good as he pushed his cock further into you — his tip kissing your cervix.

“jeeeeesus,” eren panted, throwing his head back at the new angle, “fuckin’ takin this dick so good, mama”

“yeah, yeah, yeahhnhhggh!” you were practically brainless by the time eren had even started his new pace, his cock bullying its way into you as your eyes practiced hardcore R.E.M as they rolled back and all over the place.

eren’s hips snapped back and forth against the plush of your ass and gripped your waist — forcing you down onto his cock harder as he fucked you. his bun was falling loose as strands stuck to the sweat on his forehead, bottom lip between his teeth flashin his grills as his eyebrows twitched.

eren pushed his cock deeper as you whined with every thrust, blabbering his name as tears slipped from your eyes at the pure pleasure your eren was bringing you — big bad eren making you feel so good behind closed doors!

eren’s hand resumed its tortuous work against your clit as he grunted against you, flicking your nub back forth.

“doin’ so good, babygirl, fuckin’ can’t wait to nut in this good girl pussy.”

“oouuuugh ‘rennieeeeuuugg!”

“yeah, tell me ‘bout it mama, feels good, yea?” eren teased, slamming his now twitching cock into your slobbering pussy — his dick throbbing in arousal at the way you’d clench around him and then a milky white ring of your cream would form around the base of his cock, “ya like it when rennie talks you through it, hm? dirty girl.”

“yes, ‘rennie! yes, ‘rennie! yes, ‘rennie!”

eren laughed darkly as he watched your eyes nearly turn towards each other as you blabbered loudly, drool now falling from your lips — he just loves fuckin’ you dumb!

“fuck, baby, gunna cum,” eren mumbled, hips twitching slightly as he neared his finish, “where y’want me, sweetheart?”

“inside!”

“oh, fuck.”

eren didn’t need much more to be said before his hips stilled as he spilled his load inside you. the feeling of eren fucking his cum back inside you as his hips twitched forwards as he came, sent you the edge as well, manicured toes curling and a loud cry of pleasure being released as you came around him. eren’s head fell forward against your chest as you clamped down on his sensitive cock — forcing another spurt of cum to shoot inside you along with his fat load.

you both laid in silence for a few more seconds before eren slowly sat up, letting his softening cock slip out of your warm heaven — smirking proudly as a dollop of his cum dripped from your pussy which clenched around nothing.

“did so good f’me, beautiful.” eren whispered, reaching down to rub gentle, apologetic circles to your bruised hips and a sweet, loving kiss to your temple, his heart hammering in his chest from your adorably tired face.

“i love you, ‘rennie.” you mumbled, curling up in his sweaty sheets — which you knew he’d be changing for you in a few minutes as he retreated towards the bathroom to grab a warm washcloth to clean you with.

“i love you more, princess.”

2K notes · View notes

maplerisu · 1 year ago

Text

Original story stuff! I don’t really know where to get started with this hehe. So, this is Gin. She means well, but she’s easily excitable and can be too much for people sometimes. She’s a fire bender, which is a banned form of magic in my story, and while Gin is really good at using fire magic, it’s the only kind she’s able to use. Her magic combined with her tendency to not think before she acts and her curiosity with combustion make it hard for Gin to find lasting friendships. She’s trying her best!

The person she’s kissing in the 4th pic is Isla, Gin’s girlfriend. Hope to get to her someday, just know she’s a grump.

#maple scribbles #made in ibis paint #traditional art #return to ash #original character #Gin #Isla #art #AWARTA

0 notes

worginarts · 4 months ago

Text

John Ash, but he came back from the Void wrong.

Messing with some designs for Gin’s father who I’ve recently decided wasn’t dead, but imprisoned by the Void for about 30 years.

( @drunkenworgen )

#koala tea art #my oc #John ash #Jonathan ash #gin #wip

3 notes · View notes

t0rturedp0etry · 2 years ago

Text

TEST MUSES.

#& ── step inside‚ you leave everything else behind . . . 𝖻𝖺𝗅𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗓𝖺𝗋 𝖻𝗅𝖺𝗄𝖾 .#& ── smells like gin and failure . . . 𝗀𝖾𝗈𝗋𝗀𝖾 .#& ── for him‚ wanting tastes like blood and silence and ash . . . 𝗌𝖺𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗁𝖾𝗇 .#& ── inhaled the words like nicotine . . . 𝗆𝗂𝖼𝗁𝖾̀𝗅𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝖽𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗑 .

0 notes

shujichii · 27 days ago

Text

would burn down the world for you;

♡ geto suguru, fushiguro toji, ryomen sukuna, kamo choso, gojo satoru, sylus, caleb, shinazugawa sanemi, iguro obanai, akaza, kokushibo, jugram haschwalth, bazz-b, kurosaki ichigo, aizen sosuke, kenpachi zaraki, hitsugaya toshiro, grimmjow, ichimaru gin, calcharo, childe, diluc, eren yeager, levi ackermann, uchiha sasuke

would burn himself to keep you warm;

♡ nanami kento, itadori yuuji, okkotsu yuuta, zayne, rafayel, xavier, sylus, rengoku kyojuro, kamado tanjiro, agatsuma zenitsu, tomioka giyuu, himejima gyomei, tsugikuni yoriichi, sabito, ichimaru gin, ukitake jushiro, hisagi shuhei, kuchiki byakuya, ishida uryuu, hirako shinji, ishida ryuken, kyoraku shunsui, coyote starrk, ulquiorra cifer, brant, xiangli yao, jiyan, armin arlert, uchiha itachi, hatake kakashi

would walk through hell to reach you;

♡ nanami kento, fushiguro toji, fushiguro megumi, zayne, rafayel, sylus, uzui tengen, rengoku kyojuro, tsugikuni yoriichi, hashibira inosuke, kurosaki ichigo, ishida uryuu, abarai renji, kyoraku shunsui, grimmjow, jiyan, calcharo, wriothesley, diluc, reiner braun, jean kirschtein, uzumaki naruto

would rebuild a world for you from the ashes;

♡ gojo satoru, okkotsu yuuta, ryomen sukuna, geto suguru, sylus, rafayel, xavier, caleb, kamado tanjiro, rengoku kyojuro, uzui tengen, kyoraku shunsui, ukitake jushiro, aizen sosuke, urahara kisuke, brant, xiangli yao, wriothesley, neuvillette, ayato, alhaitham, eren yeager, armin arlert

a/n: uhh random draft that took me longer to put together than a normal fic LMAO. might be inaccurate unless you see the vision... THE vision. i also might've misplaced some characters mb

952 notes · View notes

cloudtransprncy · 4 months ago

Text

One Night Only - Directors Cut

Jennie Kim X Male Reader | 8k words

One night. That’s all you ever get. By morning, she’ll be gone. You’ll tell yourself this was the last time. You’ll both know it’s not.

AN: Ya’ll might remember this if you followed me last year. Spent the last few weeks reworking it—call it the director’s cut. Also Jennie is still my ult and so her coming back into the light is great.

Consequence. The word sits heavy in your mind as you watch the city from your hotel window. Thirty floors below, New York keeps moving. Never stops.

You flick ash from your cigarette. Every choice has weight. You know this. You called her anyway.

Jennie's mouth is on yours, soft and demanding at once. She tastes like cherry lip gloss and expensive gin, sweet and sharp. Her full lips part against yours, tongue sliding against your bottom lip. Her fingers pull at your hair, just rough enough to send shivers down your spine. Between kisses she breathes, "This is stupid," but her body presses closer, breasts pushing against your chest, hips finding yours.

Commitment. You've spent years avoiding that word. Being tied down always felt wrong. You need movement, new cities, different faces. Maybe that's why things fell apart—she saw what you couldn't admit. You'd always choose the road over staying still.

Her skin burns under your hands, smooth and impossibly soft. When you slide your palm down the curve of her waist to the flare of her hip, she sighs against your neck, her breath hot on your skin. "I've missed this," she says quietly, like she's admitting something she shouldn't. You back her against the wall, pinning her with your body. She arches into you, head tilting back in invitation. You feel her pulse jump beneath your lips when you kiss her throat, right at that spot that always makes her grip your shoulders tighter.

The hotel room is all clean lines and empty space. King bed with white sheets. Bathroom with too many mirrors. Mini-fridge you've already raided. View of the city that probably costs extra. Your record label covers it, so you don't care.

As a kid, you'd search for Virgo in the night sky. Stars were constant when nothing else was. Jennie's like that. No matter how far you go, you always circle back to her.

In the half-dark, her eyes catch the light from outside. She's always seen through you, always known the parts you try to hide from everyone else.

---

She'll come. She always does.

You know she's with someone else now—an actor with a jawline made for billboards. In her world of flashbulbs and red carpets, he makes sense. But you were there first, and somehow, you're still not gone.

It's been a year since you ended things, if you can call it an ending. When you call, she answers. When she texts, you drop everything. Some connections don't break clean.

Stop. Go. Stop. Go.

A day between Chicago and Toronto shows up in your tour schedule. When you hear she's in New York for some event, changing your plans feels inevitable.

At sunset, you text her from your hotel room. The message is simple: Here for the night. Room 3045.

She replies with just a question mark. Your conversations have become this—shorthand that only works because you share history.

"I'm in the city for one night," you say when you call her. The silence on her end isn't hesitation; it's calculation. Background noise filters through the phone—glasses clinking, people talking.

"I got a room, for me and you" you add. "One night only." You hang up knowing she'll decide whether to come. You also know what that decision will be.

The knock comes at 12:17. Three quick taps.

When you open the door, your breath catches in your throat. Jennie leans against the frame, champagne glass dangling between her fingers, but it's her body that has your full attention. Her black dress hugs every curve like it was painted on, stopping mid-thigh to reveal legs that seem endless. The material stretches tight across her hips, then tapers at her waist before swelling to accommodate her breasts. The neckline dips just low enough to make your mouth go dry.

"Started without me?" you nod toward her drink, trying to sound casual while your pulse hammers in your ears.

"Needed something to get me here," she says, her lips curving into that smile that's haunted you for months. Her eyes are dark and knowing, lined with perfect black wings that make them look even more dangerous.

Jennie walks in like she owns the place, hips swaying with each step. Those knee-high socks hug her calves, leading up to a thin garter belt that disappears beneath her dress—a promise of what waits underneath. Her skin glows warm and golden against the black fabric. Her dark hair tumbles in loose waves past her shoulders, the kind of perfectly tousled look that makes your fingers itch to grab it.

Her perfume wraps around you—roses with something darker underneath, expensive and intoxicating. The scent that's followed you to hotel rooms across the country, lingering on your sheets and clothes long after she's gone.

She finishes her drink and sets the glass down with deliberate slowness. Her red-painted nails catch the light as her hand moves to your chest. "We shouldn't keep doing this," she says, but her fingers are already working your shirt buttons, knuckles brushing against your skin with each one. Her touch leaves heat trails down your torso. "It's not fair."

"When has anything been fair?" you ask. Her mouth curves into the smile that's always meant trouble.

"Never," she agrees, pressing her hand against your chest. "So we might as well take what we can get."

When she kisses you, it feels like she's taking something back, something she left with you months ago. Tonight, in this room, she's not the girl from magazine covers or someone's girlfriend. She's yours again, temporarily.

"It's been a while," she whispers against your mouth.

"Too long," you admit.

The door clicks shut behind her. You have until sunrise.

Something electric sparks between you the moment the door clicks shut. The air feels different - charged with memory and want. Your bodies remember each other before your minds can catch up.

You're on the couch in minutes, her weight settling into your lap like she belongs there. This kiss is different from the ones you remember - hungrier, more desperate. Her tongue slides against yours, and you taste gin and desire. Her body presses against yours, soft in all the places you've missed.

Your hands find her curves through the thin fabric of her dress. You squeeze her ass, pulling her closer until there's nothing between you but clothing. She moans into your mouth when you press your hardness against her. You can feel her heat even through layers of fabric.

Jennie breaks the kiss, a thin strand of saliva connecting your lips for a second before it breaks. Her eyes are dark pools reflecting the city lights outside. They hold yours with an intensity that makes your throat tight.

"I've missed this, Owen," she whispers. Her voice is rough at the edges. She grinds against you, slow and deliberate, the friction making your breath catch. Her fingers tighten in your hair, pulling you back to her mouth. This kiss is deeper, messier, with teeth and tongue and need.

Your hands slide under her dress, finding warm skin. The sound she makes when you touch her bare thighs shoots straight to your groin. You push the fabric higher, revealing more of her, inch by inch. Her breathing quickens as her hips roll against yours. Her nipples are hard points pressing through the fabric, rubbing against your chest.

She lifts her arms as you pull the dress over her head. You toss it aside, forgotten before it hits the floor.

Moonlight spills through the windows, painting her skin silver. She's all smooth curves and shadows in the half-light. Her body is a map you once knew by heart - the slight curve of her waist, the fullness of her breasts, the dip of her collarbone. You take it all in again, relearning her.

Your hands can't stay still. You need to touch every inch of her, remind yourself that she's real. Her skin is impossibly soft under your fingertips, warm and alive. Each touch makes her shift against you, seeking more pressure, more contact.

The sounds she makes are better than any song you've written. Small gasps when you squeeze her thighs. A sharp intake of breath when your thumb grazes her nipple. Low hums of pleasure when you find a spot she likes. Each sound builds on the last, creating a rhythm that guides your hands.

You need to taste her. Starting at her collarbone, you press your lips to her skin. Salt and sweetness and expensive perfume fill your senses. She sighs, her head falling back to give you better access. You work your way across her shoulder, down her arm, learning the texture of her skin with your mouth.

When you reach her breast, you feel her whole body tense in anticipation. The skin here is softer, more delicate. You circle her nipple with your tongue, feeling it harden further. Your hand finds her other breast, thumb rolling over the stiff peak.

"Oh my god," she moans when you take her nipple into your mouth. Her back arches, pushing more of her into your face. The taste of her skin goes straight to your head like strong liquor. Her chest rises and falls rapidly with each breath.

Your free hand slides down her stomach, fingers spread wide to feel as much of her as possible. You trace the edge of her panties, feeling the lace against your fingertips. She rocks against your hand, seeking more pressure. You cup her between her legs, feeling the heat and dampness through the thin fabric. Jennie gasps, her thighs trembling as you press your palm firmly against her covered pussy.

"Fuck," she breathes, grinding down on your hand. Her fingers tighten in your hair, pulling hard enough to make your scalp tingle. The slight pain only makes you harder.

You move to her neck, dragging your teeth along the sensitive skin below her ear. When you bite down - not hard enough to mark, but enough to make her feel it - she whimpers, her whole body shuddering. Your thumb makes slow circles against her covered clit while your teeth work at her neck, finding the spots that make her grip your shoulders.

"I forgot how good you feel," you say against her skin, your voice rough with wanting.

"I want to feel you too," she says, eyes locked on yours. Her pupils are blown wide with desire. Her hand traces up your arm, across your shoulder, around to your back. Her nails dig into your skin, leaving trails of sensation. She tugs at your shirt, impatient now. You let her pull it over your head.

Her hands are everywhere at once, exploring your chest, your shoulders, your back. Her touch starts gentle but quickly turns hungry. She leans down to kiss your neck, her lips hot against your pulse point. Her teeth graze your skin, just hard enough to make you hiss.

As her mouth works its way down your chest, a thought flickers through your mind - does she do this with him? Does she make these same sounds, move in these same ways? The thought knifes through the pleasure for a split second before her touch pulls you back.

Nothing exists outside this room. Not her boyfriend. Not your tour. Just her hands on your skin and her breath in your ear.

"Fuck! I need your dick in my mouth," Jennie says, her voice thick with desire. She slides from your lap in one fluid motion, her body moving with practiced grace. She settles between your legs, her knees pressed against the hotel carpet, thighs spread slightly apart. Her hair falls forward, framing her face as she looks up at you through her lashes.

In the half-light, she's a vision – lips parted and swollen from kissing, chest flushed and rising with quick breaths, her breasts full and nipples still hard from your attention. The garter and stockings against her bare skin create a contrast that makes your mouth go dry.

She runs her hands up your thighs, fingers pressing into your muscles. Her red nails stand out against your skin as she hooks her fingers into the waistband of your sweatpants. There's something almost reverential in how she tugs them down – slowly at first, then with growing urgency. Her eyes never leave yours, even as she licks her lower lip in anticipation.

The fabric slides past your hips, and your cock springs free, hard and aching. A small smile plays at the corner of her mouth as she takes you in. She leans closer, her breath warm against your sensitive skin. When she finally looks up at you, her eyes are dark pools of hunger and something deeper – a look that's always been reserved just for you.

"You can have it tonight," you say, your voice rough as her hands wrap around your cock.

"All of it?" Jennie asks with a smile that's pure trouble. Her eyes don't leave yours. You nod, unable to form words.

She leans closer, parts her lips, and lets a strand of spit fall onto the tip. The warm wetness makes you twitch. She uses her fingers to spread it down your length, coating you. Her hand starts moving in slow strokes that make your breath catch.

Jennie sweeps her hair to one side, giving you a clear view. She doesn't break eye contact as she moves closer. Her breath hits you first, warm against sensitive skin. Then her tongue, wet and soft, circles the head of your cock. Your hands grip the couch cushions.

When she takes you into her mouth, the heat is shocking. Her lips stretch around you as she slides down, taking you deeper than you expected. Her tongue works against the underside, finding spots that make your thighs tense. The wet sounds fill the quiet room.

She pulls back, only keeping the tip in her mouth. Her tongue swirls around it, teasing the sensitive spot just underneath. Then she moves down again, a little deeper this time. The rhythm is maddening – not enough to get you there, just enough to keep you desperate for more.

Jennie pulls off completely, her hand still working you in slow strokes. She looks up, studying your reaction. Her free hand moves to your balls, cupping them gently, then rolling them between her fingers. The touch is unexpectedly tender compared to the hunger in her eyes.

"You like that?" she asks, knowing the answer. Her thumb traces circles at the base of your cock while her other hand continues its exploration. "You always did."

She leans down and runs her tongue from base to tip in one long, wet stroke. Then does it again on the underside, where you're most sensitive. Your hips lift off the couch involuntarily. She smiles at your reaction, clearly enjoying the power she has over you.

Jennie takes her time, alternating between her mouth and her hands. Sometimes she focuses just on the head, sucking gently while her hand works the shaft. Other times she takes you deep, then pulls back to circle the tip with her tongue. There's no pattern to follow, nothing to prepare you for what comes next.

Her hand slides lower, massaging your balls again before moving even further back. The unexpected pressure makes your whole body tense. She watches your reaction with dark, knowing eyes.

"Hold my hair," she says, pulling off for a moment. She grabs your hands and places them on either side of her head. "I want you to watch."

With your hands holding her hair back, you have a perfect view of her face, of her lips as they stretch around you again. She takes you deeper this time, her eyes watering slightly at the corners. The sight alone nearly pushes you over the edge.

She pulls off but keeps stroking you with her hand, tight and slick with spit. With her hair pulled back, you can see everything – her flushed cheeks, her bare shoulders, the tops of her breasts rising and falling with each breath. She looks like something from a dream you've had too many times.

"You just can't stay away, can you?" she says, her voice low and teasing. Her hand never stops moving on you. "Always calling me back. Always wanting one more night."

She takes you back into her mouth, just the tip, sucking hard before releasing you with a pop.

"You think about this when you're with other girls?" She speeds up her strokes, twisting her wrist in a way that makes your vision blur. "Bet you do. Bet none of them do it like I do."

Her words hit something deep inside you – a truth you don't want to admit. You tighten your grip on her hair, pulling just enough to make her eyes flash. She smiles, knowing she's struck a nerve.

"That's why you keep coming back," she continues, dropping her head to lick a slow circle around the base of your cock. She moves lower, taking one of your balls into her mouth, sucking gently while her hand keeps working your shaft. The dual sensation makes your legs shake.

When she looks up again, there's challenge in her eyes. "Tell me I'm wrong."

Before you can answer, she takes you deep into her mouth again, all the way until you hit the back of her throat. She holds there, swallowing around you, her eyes never leaving yours. The sensation is overwhelming – wet heat and pressure and the sight of her taking all of you.

"Fuck," is all you can manage, and she hums in satisfaction around you.

Jennie works you with perfect focus. Sometimes she takes you deep, her nose nearly touching your stomach, staying there until she needs to breathe. Other times she pulls back to use her hand with her mouth, twisting her wrist in a way that makes spots dance behind your eyes.

Every few strokes she pulls off completely, gathering more spit, making everything wetter, messier. Saliva coats your cock and her chin now, catching the dim light. It should be gross but it's the hottest thing you've ever seen.

Time stretches and blurs. It could be minutes or hours. There's just Jennie's mouth, her hands, the heat building at the base of your spine.

She changes her approach, focusing just on the head, sucking harder while her hand works the shaft in quick, tight strokes. The new sensation makes your leg muscles jump. You feel yourself getting close.

"Fuck, Jennie, I'm—" you try to warn her, reaching to pull her head back. You want to make this last, to feel more of her tonight.

She slaps your hand away, hard enough to sting.

"You're giving this to me now," she says, voice raspy from having you in her throat. "And you're giving me more later." Her tone leaves no room for argument.

Jennie doubles down, moving with new determination. One hand squeezes the base while her mouth works the rest. Her other hand slides between your legs, fingernails lightly scratching your inner thigh. The unexpected touch makes you gasp.

She takes you deeper again, moaning around you like she's enjoying this as much as you are. The vibration, the suction, the sight of her – it all becomes too much.

The orgasm hits you like a punch. Your vision blurs at the edges as waves of pleasure roll through you. Jennie doesn't pull away, keeping perfect suction as you come. She swallows around you, the motion extending your pleasure until you're gripping her shoulders to stay upright.

She keeps going until you're too sensitive, until you have to gently push at her shoulders. Only then does she finally release you, looking up with satisfaction in her eyes. A small drop of white clings to her bottom lip before her tongue darts out to catch it.

She reaches for your discarded shirt and wipes her mouth and hands, casual as if she'd just finished a meal. The sight of her using your clothes like this only adds to the intimacy.

Jennie rises to her feet in one fluid motion, her body unfolding before you. She's petite but perfectly proportioned - slim waist, delicate shoulders, toned legs that seem to go on forever despite her height. Standing there in just her knee-high socks and garter, her small, perky breasts catch the dim light. Her skin has a golden glow against the darkness of the room.

She steps between your legs, looking down at you with hooded eyes. Her slender fingers reach for your chin, tilting your face up to meet hers. The gesture is possessive, almost commanding. She leans down, her straight dark hair falling forward to frame both your faces, creating a private world. Her lips find yours, softer now but still hungry. You taste yourself on her tongue, salt and skin.

"I'm not done with you," she whispers against your lips. "You brought me here. We're gonna make the most of it." Her fingertips trace your jawline before she steps back, grabbing your hand to pull you toward the bed.

As you follow her across the room, the city sounds filter through the windows – car horns, distant music, the constant hum of life that never stops. The soft lighting catches on her skin, giving it a warm glow that makes you want to touch her all over again.

Jennie moves onto the bed with natural grace. The curve of her spine draws your eye down to where her waist narrows before flaring into her hips. The small black thong she still wears cuts across her skin, the thin fabric disappearing between her cheeks in a way that makes your mouth go dry.

She positions herself in the center of the bed, her movements deliberate and unhurried. She folds her legs into a 'W' shape, showcasing their length despite her petite frame. The knee-high socks create a striking contrast against her bare thighs. The entire pose is an invitation you could never refuse.

Her hands begin to move across her own body, touching herself with slow confidence. She traces circles around her small breasts, fingers dancing across her skin with a self-assurance that's hypnotic to watch. In the dim light, every movement feels like it's meant just for you.

You notice how different she looks now compared to when she arrived at your door. Her carefully applied makeup is smudged around her eyes. Her hair, once smooth and perfect, is wild from your hands. She looks beautifully undone, more real somehow, and even more stunning for it.

She runs a finger across her lips, still swollen from taking you in her mouth. Then trails it down her neck and over her chest, drawing your eye along the path.

"Come here," she says, her voice low but commanding. She rolls onto her back, her body a landscape of curves and shadows in the half-light.

Though still wearing her thong, the thin black fabric does little to hide what's underneath. As you move closer to the bed, she hooks her thumbs into the waistband and slides it down her legs with deliberate slowness. The last barrier between you disappears as she kicks it aside.

With the same unhurried confidence, Jennie reaches down and uses her fingers to part herself. The gesture is both vulnerable and bold – showing you exactly what you've been missing all these months. Even in the dim light, you can see how wet she is, glistening with want.

You climb onto the bed, feeling the expensive sheets against your palms. The fabric is cool and smooth, a stark contrast to the heat building between you. The mattress gives slightly under your weight as you move between her legs.

Jennie is breathtaking beneath you. Her skin has a slight sheen in the low light, catching the glow from the bedside lamp. Her dark hair fans out against the white pillows, framing a face that's haunted your dreams for months. Her chest rises and falls with quickening breaths, her small breasts topped with hardened nipples that beg for your touch.

But you're not rushing this. Not after all these months apart.

You start at her ankles, where the knee-high socks still cling to her calves. Your lips press against the delicate bone there, feeling her pulse beneath the skin. She watches you through half-lidded eyes as you work your way higher, placing open-mouthed kisses up her calf.

When you reach the top of her sock, you peel it down slowly, revealing more of her skin inch by inch. The newly exposed flesh gets special attention – your lips, your tongue, even the gentle scrape of teeth that makes her shiver.

"What are you doing?" she asks, but there's no impatience in her voice, just wonder.

"Appreciating the view," you murmur against her knee. "Been thinking about this body for months."

You move to her other leg, giving it the same treatment – slow, deliberate kisses that make her skin prickle with goosebumps. Your hands slide up her thighs as your mouth follows, feeling the muscles tense and relax under your touch.

Her inner thighs are softer, more sensitive. When your tongue traces the crease where leg meets hip, she gasps, her fingers flexing against the sheets. The scent of her arousal is stronger here, making your mouth water.

You detour, moving up to kiss her stomach, the dip of her navel, the subtle ridges of her ribs. Each breath she takes makes her abdomen rise and fall beneath your lips. You work your way to her breasts, taking your time with each one – circling the nipple with your tongue before sucking it into your mouth, feeling it harden further.

"Owen," she sighs, arching into your touch.

Your hands never stop moving, exploring every inch of her like you're memorizing her by touch alone. The curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, the softness of her sides – all of it perfect, all of it Jennie.

You make your way back down, leaving a trail of kisses from her sternum to her stomach. Her breathing quickens as you move lower, anticipation making her shift restlessly beneath you. When you reach the neat strip of dark hair between her legs, you pause, looking up to meet her eyes.

"You're fucking beautiful," you say, your voice rougher than intended.

Her eyes soften for just a moment before that familiar challenge returns. "Are you going to stare all night, or are you going to do something about it?"

You answer by settling between her legs, pushing her thighs wider. You can't help but stare at the view before you. There's something almost reverent in how you look at her – taking in every detail, every curve and shadow. Her thighs part further, an invitation that needs no words. Between her legs, you notice she's not completely bare – a neat, dark landing strip of hair points down like an arrow, the contrast of it against her skin making your mouth water.

The scent of her hits you first – warm and musky and distinctly Jennie. You breathe her in, letting it flood your senses and cloud your thoughts. Nothing exists but this bed, this woman, this moment.

You lower your head slowly, maintaining eye contact until the last possible second. The first broad stroke of your tongue makes her gasp. You take your time, exploring her with long, flat licks that cover her entirely. Her taste is familiar yet new – sweet and tangy and addictive. You could drown here and die happy.

"Fuck," she breathes, her hips already lifting slightly to meet your mouth.

You switch to softer, more focused touches, tracing her folds with the tip of your tongue. Each pass draws different sounds from her – soft sighs that gradually build to more urgent moans. You map her with your mouth, relearning what makes her breath catch, what makes her thighs shake.

When you find her clit, you circle it slowly, teasingly, not giving her the direct pressure you know she craves. Her fingers find your hair, tightening in frustration.

"Don't tease me," she warns, but there's no real threat in her voice – just desire strained to its breaking point.

You smile against her before giving in, wrapping your lips around her clit and sucking gently. The reaction is immediate – her back arches off the bed, a strangled curse falling from her lips.

Your free hand slides up her body, finding the toned plane of her stomach. You press down firmly, holding her in place as your mouth works against her. The contrast of your hand on her abs while your tongue explores her most sensitive areas makes her writhe beneath you.

She's getting wetter, her arousal coating your chin as you work. You move your tongue in circles, then switch to quick flicks across her clit that make her thighs tremble. Each change in pressure or rhythm pulls new sounds from her throat.

"Oh god, right there," she gasps when you find a particularly sensitive spot.

You slip a finger inside her, feeling her heat clench around you immediately. She's impossibly tight and wet, her body welcoming the intrusion. You curl your finger to find that spot that always drove her crazy. When you find it, her whole body jerks like she's been shocked.

"Right there," she gasps. "Don't stop."

You add a second finger, stretching her gently while continuing to work her clit with your mouth. The combination makes her hips buck wildly against your face. Her hands tighten in your hair, pulling almost painfully.

With each thrust of your fingers, you quicken the tempo, driving deeper into her. Her muscles clench around you rhythmically, like she's trying to pull you further in. Your tongue never stops its assault on her clit, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention.

"Owen," she moans, her voice breaking. "I'm so close."

You pull back just enough to look up at her, your fingers still working inside her. "You still think about this when you're with him?" The question slips out before you can stop it. Your thumb replaces your tongue, circling her clit as you watch her face.

She glares down at you, but her body betrays her, clenching around your fingers. "You're such a dick."

"But you're here anyway," you say, curling your fingers against that spot that makes her whole body jerk. "In my bed, not his."

Her breath catches. "Shut up."

You lower your head again, sucking her clit between your lips while adding a third finger. The stretch makes her gasp, her back arching. You can feel her getting closer – her thighs tensing, her breathing becoming irregular. Her entire body is flushed with heat, a thin sheen of sweat making her skin glow in the dim light.

You establish a relentless rhythm – fingers pumping while your tongue works her clit. The wet sounds of your movements fill the room, mixing with her increasingly desperate moans.

Just as she's about to peak, you ease back, slowing down just enough to keep her on the edge.

"Tell me you missed this," you say against her inner thigh, your breath hot on her wet skin.

"Don't stop," she pleads, hips lifting to chase your mouth.

You stay just out of reach. "Tell me no one does this like I do."

Her hands tighten in your hair, trying to force you back down. "I hate you," she says, but there's no conviction in it.

"No, you don't." You circle her entrance with your fingers, teasing but not pushing in. "Say it, Jennie."

She fights it for a moment, pride warring with desire. Then breaks. "No one does it like you do. Now please—" her voice cracks with need, "please don't stop."

The desperation in her voice sends heat through your entire body. You give her what she wants, diving back in with renewed hunger. Your tongue circles her clit rapidly while your fingers press firmly against that sweet spot inside her. The dual sensations push her toward the edge fast.

Her legs wrap around your head, thighs clamping against your ears as her body tenses. Your free hand reaches up to find her breast, pinching her nipple between your fingers. The added stimulation makes her cry out, her voice cracking with pleasure.

"Owen," she warns, her voice tight and strained. "I'm gonna—"

"Come for me," you command, increasing the pressure, the speed, giving her exactly what she needs.

Her breathing turns ragged, her moans more frantic. The muscles in her stomach tense under your hand as her body coils tight, ready to snap. Her inner walls clench rhythmically around your fingers, the first tremors of her orgasm beginning.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh—" Her words dissolve into a broken cry as it hits her. Her back arches high off the bed, her body going rigid. Her thighs shake violently around your head as waves of pleasure crash through her.

"Oh my God!" The words tear from her throat as her fingers pull painfully at your hair. Her body convulses beneath your mouth, wave after wave of pleasure washing over her. "You're so good at that, Owen."

She bites her lower lip hard, her neck straining as her hips jerk uncontrollably against your face. You don't let up, working her through the peak, extending her pleasure until she's gasping and writhing from the intensity.

The aftershocks ripple through her body like tremors, her skin flushed and damp with sweat. Only when she weakly pushes at your head, too sensitive to take any more, do you finally ease back. You place one last gentle kiss against her before resting your cheek on her inner thigh, looking up at her wrecked expression.

Her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath, her eyes closed, lips parted. She looks utterly spent, flushed and beautiful in her satisfaction.

After a moment, Jennie gathers herself, her breathing slowly returning to normal. She looks down at you, her gaze dropping to your obvious arousal. Without a word, she reaches forward and spits on it, her saliva glistening as she begins to stroke you. You groan at the contact, your body responding instantly to her touch. You don't let up, working her through the orgasm, only easing the pressure when her hand pushes weakly against your head, oversensitive.

You place one last gentle kiss against her before resting your cheek on her inner thigh, looking up at her flushed face. Her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath, her eyes closed, lips parted. She looks wrecked in the best possible way.

After a moment, Jennie gathers herself, her breathing slowly returning to normal. She looks up at you, a predatory gleam replacing the post-orgasm haze in her eyes. Without warning, she reaches for your cock and spits on it, her saliva mixing with the wetness still coating her lips from going down on you earlier.

"Now," she says, voice raspy and demanding, "I'm going to fuck you."

She doesn't wait for your response, just straddles your hips and positions herself above you. Her thighs flex as she hovers, teasing you with the heat of her center just inches away from where you need it.

"Tell me how bad you want this," she demands, one hand flat against your chest for balance.

"Just get on my dick already," you growl, grabbing her hips to pull her down.

She resists, maintaining control. "Say please," she taunts, her eyes challenging you.

You nearly laugh. "Fuck you."

"That's the idea," she says with a wicked smile, then finally sinks down in one swift movement, taking you to the hilt.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you hiss as her heat surrounds you. She's impossibly tight after her orgasm, still pulsing slightly from the aftershocks.

"You're so fucking big," she gasps, adjusting to the stretch. There's no sweetness in her voice – just raw appreciation for how you fill her.

Jennie starts to move, not with gentle rises and falls but with demanding, forceful motions. Her thighs flex powerfully as she lifts herself almost completely off before slamming back down. Each drop makes a slapping sound that fills the room, punctuated by her sharp gasps.

The sight of her riding you is mesmerizing. Her small breasts bounce with each movement, nipples hard and dark against her golden skin. Her stomach muscles visibly tighten with each rise and fall, showing off the definition in her abs that she works so hard for. Her hair, now completely wild from your hands, whips around her shoulders as she moves.

"Touch my tits," she commands, grabbing your hands and placing them on her chest.

You squeeze roughly, pinching her nipples the way you remember she likes. Her head falls back, exposing the elegant column of her throat, a string of curses falling from her lips.

"Fucking hell, your cock feels so good," she says, grinding down hard. "Tell me you've missed this pussy."

"Every fucking day," you admit, thrusting up to meet her movements. The force of it nearly bounces her off you, but she adjusts her balance, her strong thighs gripping your sides.

She leans forward, her hands braced on your chest. The new angle lets her grind her clit against your pubic bone with each thrust. Her nails dig into your skin, leaving crescent marks that burn. Her face hovers above yours, her hair creating a curtain around you both. Sweat beads along her hairline, one drop sliding down her temple to her jaw.

"No one fucks me like you do," she admits, the words sounding torn from her. "No one."

With a surge of need, you move between her thighs, pressing her into the mattress. Her legs wrap around your waist, drawing you closer. Your eyes lock as you drive into her, taking control of the pace.

"Fuck, I missed this tight pussy," you growl, watching her eyes flash at your words.

"Shut up and fuck me harder," she snaps back, digging her heels into your lower back.

You slam into her, setting a brutal pace that has the headboard cracking against the wall. Each thrust jolts her body up the bed, her hair splaying across the pillows like spilled ink. Her small breasts bounce with the impact, nipples hard and begging for attention.

Your hands move to her waist, fingers nearly meeting around her small frame. The contrast of your large hands against her tiny waist makes your head spin. You can feel her hip bones under your thumbs, the delicate architecture of her body beneath your palms.

"Like that? This how you want it?" Your voice is rough, almost unrecognizable with need.

"Yes—don't fucking stop," she gasps, her nails raking down your back hard enough to leave welts.

You lean down, capturing her mouth in a bruising kiss. Your tongues battle for dominance as your bodies slam together. The taste of her—sweet with a hint of salt from her sweat—fills your senses. You break away to trail bites down her neck, leaving marks that will remind her of this night long after you're gone.

She arches into you, offering more of herself. You take advantage, moving to her shoulder, then her arm, leaving a trail of bites and kisses along her skin. The salt of her sweat makes your head spin. When you reach the sensitive skin of her inner arm, she lets out a surprised gasp that turns into a deep moan.

"Oh fuck, don't stop," she pants as you run your tongue along the delicate skin of her armpit, tasting the most primal part of her.

In this position, you can see everything—her face contorting with each thrust, the way her stomach muscles tighten when you hit deep, how her lips part on silent screams when you find the perfect angle. Her hair sticks to her temples with sweat, dark strands clinging to her flushed skin.

Sweat makes your bodies slide together, the hotel room filling with the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin. You grip her thigh, pushing it higher, opening her wider. The position stretches her leg up toward her chest, showing off the flexibility from her years of dance training.

"Harder," she demands, her voice breaking as you comply. "Fucking wreck me."

You reach down, gripping her jaw, forcing her to look at you as you pound into her. Her eyes are wild, pupils blown with arousal. "This what you came here for? This what you needed?"

Her breathing changes, becoming more ragged. You recognize the signs—she's close again. You adjust your position slightly, hitting that spot inside her that you know drives her wild.

"There!" she cries out, her nails digging crescents into your shoulders.

You maintain the angle, the rhythm, watching her face as pleasure builds. Her eyes are squeezed shut, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Her body tenses beneath you, on the edge but not quite there.

"Let go," you urge, your thumb finding her clit. "Come for me again."

She shakes her head. "Not yet—not without you."

Something snaps in you at her words. Without warning, you pull out completely and flip her over in one rough motion. She gasps, surprised by the sudden movement as you manhandle her onto her hands and knees. Your hand lands hard on her ass, leaving a bright red handprint on her skin.

"Fuck!" she cries out, more in arousal than pain.

You grab a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back as you position yourself behind her. Sweat drips down your chest, landing on her back as you line yourself up. You can hear her panting, waiting, her thighs trembling slightly in anticipation.

"This what you want?" you growl against her ear, your chest pressed to her back, cock teasing her entrance.

"Yes," she hisses. "Give it to me."

You slam into her without further warning, burying yourself to the hilt in one brutal thrust. The sound she makes is primal—half scream, half moan. Her arms nearly buckle under the force, but you hold her up with your grip on her hair.

"Fuck!" she cries out, her fingers clawing at the sheets.

You establish a punishing rhythm, each thrust making her entire body jerk forward. Her hair is wrapped tight around your fist like a leash, forcing her back to arch at a severe angle. Sweat makes your bodies slide together, your skin slapping against hers with obscene wet sounds. The musky scent of sex fills the air, heavy and intoxicating.

"Look at you taking it," you say, giving her ass another sharp slap that leaves a fresh handprint. "Always said you were made for this."

She looks back over her shoulder, her face a perfect picture of pleasure-pain, mascara smudged at the corners of her eyes. "Fuck you," she pants, but pushes back harder against you, contradicting her words.

The sight of her is overwhelming – her narrow waist flaring out to perfectly rounded hips, the elegant curve of her spine dipping then rising, her hair tangled in your fist. From this angle, you can see everything – the way her back hollows out, how her ass bounces against your hips, the glistening evidence of her arousal coating you both.

You lean forward, running your free hand up her side to roughly grab her breast. The position pushes you deeper, making her gasp. Your fingers find her nipple, pinching hard as you maintain your relentless pace.

"Oh god," she moans, her arms shaking from supporting her weight. "Don't stop."

Her body is covered in a fine sheen of sweat, making her skin glow in the dim light. You can see the muscles in her back shifting beneath her skin with each impact, the way her shoulder blades move as she braces against your thrusts.

"Owen," she warns, voice strained with need. "I'm so close."

Her words push you closer to the edge. You increase your pace, chasing both her pleasure and your own. Each thrust now has purpose, driving deeper, harder. You can feel the pressure building at the base of your spine, your control slipping with every sound she makes.

"I'm close too," you admit, rhythm becoming erratic. "I'm gonna cum."

Her body tenses beneath you, muscles tightening as she approaches her peak. You can feel it building—the way she clenches around you, the trembling in her thighs, her increasingly desperate sounds.

"Oh my God, Owen!" she cries out, her voice breaking on your name. "Fill me up!"

Her orgasm crashes through her—you feel it in the way her body convulses, in how she rhythmically tightens around you, in the broken sounds that escape her throat. The sensation of her pulsing around you pushes you over the edge.

Your release hits with an intensity that whites out your vision—powerful, overwhelming, unstoppable. You empty yourself inside her, every pulse accompanied by a wave of pleasure so intense it borders on pain. Her body milks you, drawing out every last sensation until you're both trembling from the force of it.

As the intensity fades, you collapse beside her on the bed, pulling her close against you. Your arm wraps around her waist as you press gentle kisses to her neck and shoulder. Her body still trembles with small aftershocks, her breathing gradually slowing to normal.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The only sounds in the room are your labored breathing and the distant city noise filtering through the windows. Sweat cools on your skin, making you shiver slightly. Despite the roughness of what just happened, she turns toward you with unexpected tenderness, her small hand coming up to cup your cheek.

She presses her forehead against yours, eyes closed, just breathing you in. A small, almost inaudible snort escapes her as she tries to catch her breath – a startlingly human sound that cuts through the haze of post-sex euphoria. It makes her seem more real somehow, more Jennie than the polished celebrity the world knows.

Her chest still rises and falls rapidly, her heartbeat a quick rhythm you can feel where your bodies press together. Her fingers trace idle patterns on your skin, moving from your chest to your shoulder and back again. It's these quiet moments that always feel more dangerous than the sex – this gentle intimacy that makes you think of what could have been.

"Shit," she finally whispers, a small laugh bubbling up. She looks slightly dazed, her makeup completely ruined, hair a tangled mess. "I forgot how good we are at that."

You brush a strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear. The gesture is too tender for what this is supposed to be, but you can't help yourself. "Some things you don't forget."

She looks into your eyes and you see a complex mix of satisfaction and something deeper—a longing that mirrors your own. Her hair sticks to her face in damp strands, her skin flushed and glowing in the dim light. Even like this—especially like this—she's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

As she lies in your arms, her breathing gradually steadying, you can't help but think about what might have been between you in another life—one where you could stay instead of always leaving. One where "one night only" wasn't all you ever had.

---

Hours later, once you’re sure she’s asleep, you slip out of the bed. The sheets make a soft sound as you untangle yourself from her limbs. She doesn't stir.

The hotel room feels different at 3 AM. Quieter. The luxury that seemed impressive earlier now feels hollow, just expensive emptiness. You find your sweatpants on the floor where she pulled them off you hours ago.

The balcony door slides open with a whisper. Thirty floors up, the city spreads out like someone spilled light across black velvet. You light a cigarette, cupping your hand against the wind even though there's no one here to see the brief flare of your lighter.

Inside, Jennie sleeps. Her small body barely disturbs the white sheets. In the dim light filtering from the bathroom, you can see the marks you left on her neck, her shoulders. Evidence that you were here. That this happened.

She belongs to someone else now. The thought should bother you more than it does. Maybe you're just used to it - this pattern of coming together briefly, then separating again. Maybe you've convinced yourself it's better this way.

You take a deep drag, feeling the burn in your lungs. It's cold out here in just sweatpants, but the chill feels necessary after the heat of her body against yours for hours.

You've never been good at staying. It's not a point of pride, just a fact, like your height or the sound of your voice. Commitment feels like drowning to you, always has. You've tried to explain this to her before. She said she understood, but the way she looked at you afterward told a different story.

Below, taxis crawl along streets like yellow insects. People spill out of late-night bars, laughing too loud. The city that never sleeps. You'll be gone from it tomorrow. Another show, another hotel room indistinguishable from this one.

You wonder if her boyfriend knows where she is tonight. If he senses something when she slips back into their shared life tomorrow. If he can somehow smell you on her skin despite the shower she'll take before going home.

The cigarette burns down to your fingers. You flick it over the edge, watching its orange tip tumble into darkness.

Jennie knows you better than anyone. This is the thought that keeps you up at night in cities whose names you sometimes forget. She knows your body, your sounds, the things that make you come undone. Worse, she knows the parts of yourself you try to hide from everyone else.

A melody forms in your head. Something slow and hazy, like smoke curling off a cigarette. Words follow naturally - about being in town just for one night. About needing her. About the room you got for just the two of you.

You mouth the words silently, testing how they feel:

I'm in town for one night,

one night only

I came around to put it down, for one night only

Your fans will think it's just another song about sex. They won't know about the way Jennie looked at you when she came. How her body felt like coming home. How you're already planning when you can see her again, even as you tell yourself this was the last time.

Just one night

Got a room for me and you, for one night only

You wanna ride for a lifetime, this is one night only

The song takes shape in your mind, already feeling like a hit. Your producer will love it. Your label will push it. No one will know it's about her. No one except Jennie, if she ever hears it.

The city is turning blue at the edges when you finally go back inside. Morning approaching. Soon you'll have to leave for the airport, for the next city, the next crowd.

Jennie hasn't moved. You slide in beside her, your skin cold from the night air. She makes a small sound in her sleep and shifts toward your body heat, instinctively seeking you out. Her hand finds your chest, rests over your heart.

You wonder what she'd say if you asked her to come with you to Toronto. You won't ask. You both know the routine by now.

One night only. It's never enough. It's all you can handle.

END.

#cloudtrnsprncy #malereader #smut #kpop smut #cloudtsmut #jennie kim #jennie #male reader x jennie #Spotify

888 notes · View notes

drunkenworgen · 6 months ago

Text

Having Feelings™ about Gin’s parents. Who wants to hear about them?

#they’re terrible people gin just never got to know her dad #prompt #Jonathan ash #minerva ash #Jonathan #Minerva

0 notes

feasibilities · 5 months ago

Text

Mrs. Muckraker | Thomas Shelby x Author!Reader ✍︎

✍︎ Synopsis: Your controversial writings catch the attention of local kingpin, Thomas Shelby. ✍︎ Warnings: Hatefuck, Dub-Con, Spanking, Manhandling, Period-Typical Sexism, Blackmail, Manipulation, Veiled Threats, Slurs, Shame ✍︎ Author's Note: My first full-length fic of 2025. I'm trying to tackle darker themes. Enjoy!

Your tendentious writings are causing a stir in the literary world, especially in Birmingham. You tackled hot-button topics like corruption, misogyny, crime, sexuality and more. Against the advice of your publisher, you refused to use a pen name to protect your identity. This led to a myriad of angry letters from local priests, husbands with shaky marriages, and stuffy bureaucrats like Inspector Campbell. You had also caught the attention of the Thomas Shelby, the patriarch of the family and leader of the Peaky Blinders.

Against your instincts, you decided to spend an evening at the Garrison. You were surprised to see it empty with the exception of a few drunkards. After ordering a glass of whiskey, you saw Thomas emerge from the meeting room with a stern expression. Harry wordlessly poured him a glass of gin while you rolled your eyes at his acquiescence. Taking note of your irritation, Thomas sat next to you.

“The Virginia Woolf of Birmingham, eh?” He teased.

“I’m surprised someone like you knows who she is.” You retorted, sipping your whiskey.

“Do tell, who am I?” He asked with a pompous tone.

“A witless cunt.” You criticized.

“Very creative, sweetheart.” He praised sarcastically.

“I am not your fucking sweetheart.” You shot back.

“I suppose so. I thought you would be sweeter.” He purred, touching your hand. You snatched it away. His chuckling angered you even more.

“Fuck off. I’m taking this to go, Harry.” You declared, walking to the door with the glass.

“Before you leave, I have a preposition for you.” He said. You continued out of the pub without another word.

—

The next morning, you found refuge at a local tea room. Your peace was swiftly interrupted by the crook you met the night before.

“Nice to see you again.” He spoke, lighting a cigarette and sitting at the table.

“Is this the only tea room in town?” You huffed.

“I’m a regular here, dove.” He replied, smoke ghosting in front of his mouth.

“Fucking any woman that comes through the door doesn’t make you a regular.” You sniped.

“I’ll take that as the compliment it was meant to be. I have news for you.” He said.

“What news?” You complained.

“Shelby Company Limited is willing to publish your next novel at a far better percentage than your current publisher.” He declared, handing you a copy of your contract with Orchid Publishing. You felt ill at what he could’ve done to get such a private document.

“I’m not interested in anything under the table. Your intimidation tactics won’t work on me.” You said, handing it back.

“Of course. I’m confident that you’ll sort everything out once you’re dropped due to public outcry and a ‘firm recommendation’ from Inspector Campbell.” He revealed, tapping the ash of his cigarette. You were almost impressed by his business acumen but refused to compliment him. Thomas saw the wheels turning and decided to take advantage of the opportunity.

“If you’d like to discuss this further, I’ll be hosting a dinner for the Shelby Foundation. I would hate to see talent like yours go to waste.” He stated, pulling a golden envelope from his suit pocket. He sat it on the table and stared at you intently. You kept eye contact with him as you took the envelope in your hands.

“I’ll let you know of my decision at the dinner.” You said plainly, standing up. He gave an affirmative nod as he watched you leave.

Thomas provoked your ire like no other. His need to dominate every industry that came through Birmingham was close to swallowing you whole. You feared that your writings would be diluted under the authority of Shelby Company Limited. The wrong decision could end your career as you know it.

Arriving at the foundation dinner, your dress earned concupiscent gazes from male attendees and glares from their wives. You hurriedly took a glass of champagne from a nearby waiter’s tray. Dread wore on your face as you pondered the inevitable.

“You clean up well.” A gruff voice whispered behind you. You were ready to elbow the man in the face until you realized it was Thomas. He circled you like prey while admiring your beauty.

“For me?” He said arrogantly.

“No, the invitation said formal. Don’t be so proud of yourself.” You replied, sipping from the flute.

“Sure.” He said, looking you up and down once more. You felt butterflies in your stomach. A longtime colleague of his stopping by seemed to embolden his peacocking. You became an awkward background character to their lively conversation until his colleague recognized you.

“She’s the spinster keeping up trouble in Small Heath?” He realized. You finally came to as you heard the insult.

“She is but she’ll be an ally of ours soon, eh?” He smiled, placing a patronizing hand on your shoulder. You snatched his hand away and smashed the half-full flute on the floor

“Stupid fucking Birmingham scum, the both of you! You’re nothing but a stupid gypsy bastard with nothing to speak for but the money you’ve taken out of our pockets!” You shouted, causing the party to go silent. Thomas retreated into an aggrieved, icy quiet as the humiliation soaked in. Exasperated, you tilted your head waiting for a response. The partygoers, including his colleague, grew nervous at what could happen next.

“I’ll have to excuse myself. Carry on everyone.” He announced, walking to his study. Whispers traveled like a virus through the attendees as they were stunned at his allowance of your vituperative attack. Soon after, the festivities resumed while you were smoked a cigarette outside. As much as you hated it, you worried that you might’ve bruised his ego this time. You were also worried that you signed your death warrant as he was the most feared man in town. Sneaking past nosy attendees, you found the door of his study. You knocked and waited for an answer.

“Come in.” He said. You came in and stood at his desk. Before you could speak, Thomas began reading a scathing excerpt from your latest novel.

“The Peaky Blinders can be compared to a family of plague rats. Spreading disease, death, and degeneracy wherever they end up. Thomas is the captain of a sinking ship and has no qualms about leaving his crew behind if they grow lame or impotent.” He read the excerpt as if it was a bedtime story.

“I came to apologize and-“ You started before being cut off once more.

“Thomas seems to think he can fuck and drink his way into being elected MP. This region has truly gone to shit if he is ever elected.” He read another excerpt. This time, you stayed silent to avoid any interruptions. He removed his glasses and sat back in his chair.

“You forgot to notify me of your decision.” He said with an eerily calm tone.

“I haven’t made one yet. I just came to apologize.” You said, trying to gauge his anger.

“For what? The gypsy bastard part or the degeneracy commentary?” He said, feigning confusion.

“For all of it, I suppose.” You relented, feeling deep shame.

“Oh, no. Don’t apologize for speaking the truth.” He pushed back, standing up and walking to you.

“What?” You asked.

“I’m pleased to let you know that I’m everything you said I am. A gypsy bastard. A drunk. A pest. An enjoyer of women. Now, what is your decision?” He heralded.

“I..can’t work with you. I would forego my morals.” You rejected.

“Why not? A man like me would be great print.” He implored, walking closer. With each step he took forward, you took a step back.

“The answer is no. I apologize for the outburst and I won’t write of you again.” You concluded, reaching for the doorknob. Suddenly, you were slammed against the wall with a painful grip on your face.

“The truth is that you need someone like me. Someone to keep you in line.” He threatened, eyes boring into yours. Your attempts to escape were hopeless as he relished in your panic.

“Let me show you something.” He whispered, slipping his other hand in the top of your dress. His hand stalled at your chest. Your heart jackhammered against his warm palm.

“Feel that?” He asked. You nodded as you pulled your dress off your shoulders and moved his hand to your breast. Finally, you two kissed with a burning hatred for each other. You two yanked away each other’s clothing with such disdain. You found yourself bent over the cool mahogany of Thomas’ desk. You lifted your head to insult him before your head was roughly pressed back down.

“Be a dear and stay still.” He said with condescension.

“Fuck you.” You spat, trying your best to hide your lust. He groped the soft flesh of your ass before landing a series of harsh smacks. Each slap evoked a wanton mewl from you. He went back to massage the tender flesh to vex you even more.

“Let’s make this quick…” He huffed as he plunged inside of you. Your back arched and another lecherous noise left you at the sensation. Soon after, your body began to lurch forward with his merciless thrusts. Your hands searched for purchase on the hard surface. Noise barely escaped your open mouth as the air was expelled from your lungs. Restrained groans came from Thomas while bruises formed on your hips. The stress of pleasure in your abdomen finally broke like an overextended rubber band. He watched as your body violently convulsed with rapture. When you finally came to, he kissed the back of your head.

“You should get dressed.” He said coldly, slipping on his dress shirt. With shaky legs, you haphazardly dressed yourself. His lack of affection stung but you understood that it was his intention.

“Hey, sign this before you go.” He said, handing you a pen and pointing to the empty line on the contract.

#my writing #peaky blinders #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #smut #dark academia #drama

147 notes · View notes