FLASHING LIGHTS ──── 𝓴𝓲𝓶 𝓳𝓮𝓷𝓷𝓲𝓮.
❝𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵. 𝘸𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘥𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬, 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘪𝘯' 𝘮𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘨. 𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘪 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘭, 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘢𝘺𝘦, 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘦. 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯 (𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯).❞
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𝓟aring. switch!ex!kim jennie x switch!ex!fem reader.
𝓒ontent 𝓦arnings. alcohol, clit play, cunnilingus, degradation, dirty talk, gropping, pet names, praise, scissoring, squirting.
𝓦ord 𝓒ount. 4,6k.
𝓜asterlist.
the music thumps from the speakers, a steady pulse that mirrors the tension coiling in your chest. you lean against the bar, a glass of whiskey in your hand, the warm liquid a fleeting comfort as you scan the crowd. faces blur together in the dim lighting, but one figure cuts through the haze—jennie. she’s a few spots away in the center of the room, laughing at something one of the other guests said. every time her eyes flick your way, your breath catches, and you remind yourself to look away, to pretend you don’t notice the way she keeps glancing at you. but it doesn’t matter. you always end up meeting her gaze anyway.
memories of her press against your mind. the sharpness of her words during arguments still lingers in your ears, the way she’d glare at you before storming out, leaving you with the weight of her absence. it wasn’t just anger that drove you apart—it was a tangled web of frustration, miscommunication, and a love that had warped into something unhealthy. you remember the last night you two had, the breaking point that left you both raw. the realization that you weren’t enough, that neither of you was enough for the other, had settled like a cold truth. and yet, here she is.
a wave of nostalgia floods over you even as guilt tugs at your conscience. jennie looks exactly the way you remember—her auburn hair curled around her face, a soft smile playing at the corner of her lips. the same way she used to smirk at you when you made a joke, the way she did when she knew exactly what she was doing. it’s maddening. you should move on, be the person who stops looking, who lets her go. but you can’t. she’s still here, and the part of you that misses the fire, the passion—yes, even the toxicity—whispers that maybe it’s not too late.
from the corner of your eye, you catch your friends nodding toward jennie. one of them leans in and says, “you know she’s been looking for you, right?” another adds with a knowing grin, “you should go talk before someone else beats you to it.” their teasing is light, but it stirs something in you. a question. a possibility. and suddenly, the weight of not doing anything becomes heavier than the whiskey in your hand.
you exhale slowly, gripping your glass a little tighter as your friends’ voices blend into the background. their teasing is meant to be playful, but it stirs an ache you thought you had buried. the truth is, you're not sure what you want. part of you—more than you’d like to admit—feels the tug of familiarity. jennie’s presence hasn’t changed, but something about her has shifted in your mind. was it always the arguments you missed, or just the way she used to challenge you, force you to confront parts of yourself you’d otherwise ignore?
the temptation is real. her laughter carries over the music, and for a moment, you imagine how it felt to walk by her side, to hear it echo as you held hands. but then the memories of the fights seep in—screaming matches, slammed doors, the way she’d look at you like she could see through you and didn’t like what she found. you don’t want to go back there. you don’t want to risk the same heartache, the same exhaustion. and yet, standing here, watching her, you wonder if you’re already too far gone.
you glance down at the whiskey in your hand, swirling the ice around. was it ever about love, or was it about something else? the heat of that connection, the way she had always known how to push your buttons, how to make you feel something so vivid. you think about the last time you saw her, the way she’d whispered that she didn’t know if she could trust you anymore. and you had been so lost then, not knowing how to prove that you could be better.
a part of you truly does want to walk over to her, to see if things could work this time. but then there’s the voice in your head, the one that reminds you of the years you lost to her, to the chaos. you’ve built a life in her absence, made new friends, found moments of peace. what’s to say things would be different now? what’s to say she hasn’t changed, or that you haven’t?
a sharp jolt of fear tightens in your chest. maybe you should just stay here, keep pretending like you don’t want her. maybe that’s the safer choice. but the more you convince yourself of that, the more restless you become. and you’re not sure if it’s because you want her or if it’s because you’re afraid of what will happen if she walks away before you have the chance to do something.
the moment your eyes meet again, something flickers between you—something unspoken, electric. you barely have time to process it before she smirks, the same confident half-smile she used to use whenever she knew she had your full attention. it’s dangerous how much it still unsettles you. she lifts her drink in mock salute, and you feel the weight of it settle in your chest.
then she speaks, her voice rising just enough to be heard over the music. "hey," she says, the word light but deliberate, like she’s testing the air between you. you don’t answer, but your body tenses in response, your pulse quickening. she tilts her head, studying you, and you can’t help but notice how the dim lighting casts a soft glow over her face, the way her eyes seem to search you, not unkindly.
"come sit with me," she says, the words drawing a slow breath from your lips. there’s a playful lilt to them, an edge of challenge, as if she’s waiting to see if you’ll take the bait. your friends shift beside you, their expressions expectant, and for a moment, you consider pretending you didn’t hear her. but the truth is, you did. and your body is already responding before your mind can catch up. you take a step toward her, then another, the movement automatic, like you’ve been conditioned to respond to this pull all along.
she raises an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corner of her lips. "what, no witty remark?" she teases, and you can’t help but feel the old familiarity settle in. the heat of it, the way your body still flutters in response to her words. you clear your throat. "you’re asking me to sit with you," you say slowly, testing the weight of the words.
she leans in, her voice just above a whisper. "yeah. i am." the way she says it—playful, but with a hint of something deeper, something knowing—makes your stomach lurch. you feel the heat rise to your face before you can stop it.
and then she smiles, full this time, and the invitation is undeniable. you stand there for a moment, the weight of the decision pressing down, but you already know what you’re going to do.
you don’t hesitate as you approach. the space between you and jennie feels charged, like the air right before a storm breaks. she’s perched on a high stool at the bar, a glass in her hand, and as you settle beside her, the dim lighting catches the faintest shimmer of sweat on her brow. it’s strange how much of her face you remember—every curve, every shadow cast by the club’s strobe lights. her presence still feels like an old wound, one you pretend no longer aches but know still burns beneath the surface.
she leans in slightly, her voice carrying just enough of that old familiarity to make your skin prickle. “it’s been a while.” the words are light, but they hang in the air between you like an unspoken truth. you nod, your throat dry as you search for something to say. anything. but it’s not that easy. you know that better than most.
a silence stretches between you, thick with everything you never said in the end. the final argument, the quiet nights before the breakup, the way things had unraveled between you—it all lingers in that hush. you wonder if she’s thinking the same things, if she still carries the weight of what they became.
then she laughs, low and soft, as if she’s read your thoughts. “you haven’t changed,” she says, the corners of her lips tilting.
you raise an eyebrow. “you mean, i’m as awkward as ever?”
her smile deepens. “no. i mean,” she pauses, her gaze flicking to yours before she looks away, “you still look at me like you remember everything.”
the admission hits something raw in you. you should say something, maybe even joke to ease the tension. but instead, you find yourself asking, “do you?”
she exhales slowly, as if considering her answer. the silence between you is heavier now, the kind that feels like an unspoken promise or a threat. you wonder if it’s both.
the bartender slides a new drink toward you, and you accept it with a nod of thanks, needing something to steady your hands. jennie takes a slow sip of her own. “we used to do this,” she muses, more to herself than you. “sit like this. drink. talk until the world just faded around us.”
your fingers flex around the glass. “it didn’t exactly end well last time.”
her eyes meet yours, unflinching. “nothing ever does, does it?”
as you sit beside her, the weight of the conversation settles deep within you, a pressure that neither of you are willing to let go. every word spoken feels like a step back into a place you’d hoped to leave behind. you can’t help but replay the moments that led to your parting—the way things had unraveled, the last argument that had shattered something you can’t quite name. you remember how, in the end, you were both so convinced you were doing the right thing, so certain that this was the only way forward. and yet here you are, sitting beside her, as if the distance between you had never existed.
you wonder, in that moment, if you missed the point of it all. was it love you were chasing, or something else—something more familiar? you had told yourself you were done with her, done with the chaos, the emotional whiplash, the constant reassurance that you were enough. but standing here now, in the warmth of her presence, you realize that part of you still craves the intensity, the way she had always known how to push your buttons, how to make you feel something so deeply that it left you breathless. maybe you never stopped wanting that.
the thought unsettles you. you think about the person you were when she was still in your life, the one who had been both desperate and defiant, torn between the need to hold on and the fear of being consumed. you had left because you thought it was better that way, because you needed to believe you could survive without her. but now, in this dimly lit bar, you’re not sure if you were ever truly gone.
your fingers curl slightly around the glass. you catch the reflection of your face in the dark liquid, the way your eyes flick to her again and again. you tell yourself you just want to understand, to see if things have changed. but deep down, you know it’s not just about understanding. it’s about remembering how it felt to be close to her, even as the truth of what came before lingers in the back of your mind.
jennie takes another sip of her drink, her gaze locked on yours. “you still think about it, don’t you?” she asks quietly.
you don’t answer, but you don’t need to. because the truth is, you never stopped.
you sit there, the weight of the conversation pressing against your chest, and for a moment, you feel like you’re suspended between two versions of yourself. the one who left her behind, who promised they wouldn’t look back, and the one who still feels the pull of everything they were. the realization is both infuriating and maddening. you should walk away, shouldn’t you? you’ve built a life without her, learned to let go, to move on. and yet, here you are, sitting beside her like nothing has changed, like you can still fall into the rhythm of things.
you take a slow sip of your drink, the warmth of the alcohol doing little to ease the chaos in your mind. your friends are all around you, laughing and talking, but their voices seem distant, like the hum of a radio left on in the background. you don’t need them to read your thoughts, because you already hear what they would say. you should go for it. if it’s still there, why not see where it leads? that’s what they’d tell you, and maybe, part of you agrees. maybe another part of you knows better.
the truth is, you’re afraid. not just of getting hurt again, but of what it would mean to give in. if she’s still here, if you’re still here, then maybe the truth is that you were never actually done. maybe the break-up was just a pause, a breath between chapters rather than the end. and that terrifies you. you remember the way it felt to love her, to love her in a way that both exhilarated and exhausted you. you remember the arguments, the misunderstandings, the way trust had been built only to be destroyed. and yet, you also remember the nights when you had nothing else to say but i’m here, i’m not going anywhere.
a part of you wants to believe that this could be different. that maybe you could find a way to meet each other in the middle, to avoid the sharp edges that had once defined your relationship. but another part of you is scared of what that would mean. you don’t want to go back to the old ways, to fall into the same patterns, to feel the same desperation to prove that you’re enough. you know yourself well enough to know that you’d do it again, without pause, without thought. and that’s a dangerous place to be.
you glance at jennie again, her eyes searching yours, waiting. and you feel the tug again. the question lingers, unspoken. do you want this? are you ready for whatever comes next?
you sit there, the silence between you heavy with everything that could be said and everything that should never be spoken again. the music pulses on, the party continues its chaotic rhythm, but the world beyond the two of you seems to blur into something distant, irrelevant. all that matters is the space between your bodies, the weight of the conversation that has yet to reach its end.
the question lingers, unspoken and unfinished, but you already know the answer. you know the way you still feel when she looks at you, the way your pulse quickens at the sound of her voice, the way you can’t help but reach for something that may not be there anymore. you were supposed to be over this. you were supposed to have moved on, to have built a life without the ghost of someone who once meant everything to you. and yet, here you are, still caught between the person you were and the person you’re trying to be.
maybe that’s the truth of it all—that some people leave you, but you never really leave them. maybe that’s what love does, especially the kind that’s messy and complicated, the kind that doesn’t end with a clean break but lingers in the spaces between moments, in the way you hesitate before walking away, in the way you still feel something, even when you know you shouldn’t.
your fingers curl around the glass in your hand, your knuckles whitening slightly as you stare down at the drink. you could walk away now, return to the safety of what you’ve built, what you’ve told yourself is enough. or you could stay. you could let this moment stretch into something more, something unknown. you could let yourself fall into the same pattern again, see if this time, things will be different. or maybe not.
you exhale slowly, the sound barely more than a whisper. you don’t yet know what you’ll do. but you do know one thing—this moment, this choice, will linger in your mind long after the music fades and the party ends.
time skips forward. you’re now in a dimly lit bedroom upstairs, the party’s bass still thrumming faintly through the walls. the effects of the alcohol have made everything hazy and dreamlike.
jennie has you pressed against the door, her hands sliding up your sides under your shirt. her breath is hot against your neck as she murmurs in your ear. “you taste good, (y/n). i’ve been wanting this all night.”
she pulls back just enough to look at you with half–lidded eyes, her usual sharpness softened by intoxication. her fingers tangle in your red hair as she guides your head down to meet hers in a deep, passionate kiss. the world spins pleasantly around you.
jennie’s hands roam freely, exploring every inch of you as she moans softly into the kiss. she breaks away briefly, her lips swollen and glistening.
“bed.” she commands breathlessly, already pulling you toward the unmade bed covered in scattered clothes. “i want you on your back. now.”
jennie’s hands roam freely, exploring every inch of you as she moans softly into the kiss. she breaks away briefly, her lips swollen and glistening with a mixture of saliva and the faint taste of tequila.
“mmmh, you taste so good.” she purrs, her voice thick with lust and alcohol. “i’ve been wanting this all day.”
her fingers tangle in your red hair, pulling you closer as she guides your head down to meet hers in a deep, passionate kiss. the world spins pleasantly around you from the effects of the alcohol.
jennie’s hands slide down your body, her touch becoming more insistent and demanding. she pulls back just enough to look at you with half–lidded eyes, her usual sharpness softened by intoxication.
“get those clothes off.” she commands breathlessly, her own hands already fumbling with the buttons of her shirt. “i want to feel every inch of you, (y/n).”
she pushes you gently toward the bed, her eyes never leaving yours as she bites her lower lip in anticipation.
jennie’s eyes widen with excitement as she sees you stumble slightly, clearly feeling the effects of the alcohol combined with whatever else might have been in those drinks. she steadies you with her hands on your hips, her own pupils dilated and her movements more uncoordinated than her usual graceful confidence.
“whoa there, easy killer.” she giggles, the sound slightly slurred but still playful. “we don’t wanna fall before the main event, do we?”
she pulls you down onto the bed with her, the two of you tumbling together among the scattered clothes. jennie ends up on top of you, her hair falling like a curtain around your faces. she’s grinding against you slowly, deliberately, her breath hot and smelling of tequila on your neck.
“fuck, you’re so hot when you’re drunk like this.” she murmurs, her hands sliding up under your shirt. “i wanna see all of you, baby. let me have you.”
her fingers hook into your waistband, pulling at your jeans as she kisses you deeply, her tongue exploring your mouth with hungry desperation. the room spins pleasantly around you both, the distant music from downstairs just a muffled thrum.
jennie’s fingers hook into your waistband, pulling at your jeans as she kisses you deeply, her tongue exploring your mouth with hungry desperation. the room spins pleasantly around you both, the distant music from downstairs just a muffled thrum.
“mmmh, fuck yeah.” she moans against your lips, her hands trembling slightly as she works at your jeans. “you’re making me so wet, (y/n).”
she breaks the kiss, her face flushed and sweaty, eyes glazed over with lust and intoxication. jennie leans down to press hot, open–mouthed kisses along your jawline and neck, her hands finally managing to get your jeans unbuttoned.
“let me get these off.” she murmurs, her fingers fumbling with the zipper. “i need to see you. need to feel you.”
jennie finally gets your jeans pulled down your hips, along with your underwear, exposing you completely to her hungry gaze. she sits back on her knees between your legs, her own hands still working at the buttons of her jeans.
“god, look at you.” she breathes, her eyes roaming over your body appreciatively. “so fucking perfect…”
her tongue darts out to wet her lips as she leans down, her hair brushing across your thighs. jennie’s intentions are clear as she positions herself between your legs, her warm breath ghosting over your most sensitive areas.
jennie’s warm breath ghosts over your most sensitive areas as she settles between your legs, her eyes dark with lust and intoxication. she looks up at you with a wicked grin, her own jeans finally sliding off her hips to reveal she’s wearing nothing underneath.
“mmmh, i’ve been wanting to do this all night, honestly…” she purrs, her hands spreading your thighs wider to give herself better access.
she leans down and presses her tongue to your inner thigh, dragging it slowly up toward your core while keeping eye contact with you. the sensation makes you gasp, your body responding instinctively to her touch.
“fuck, you taste so good.” jennie moans, her fingers tracing small circles on your sensitive areas as her tongue continues its torturous journey up your legs.
finally, her tongue reaches its destination and she begins to lap at you with slow, deliberate strokes. her hands grip your hips tightly, holding you in place as she works.
“you’re so fucking wet for me, baby.” she breathes against you, her own arousal evident in her voice. “tell me how much you like it, (y/n). i want to hear you.”
jennie increases the pressure and speed of her tongue, her fingers exploring deeper, more sensitive areas as she goes. the room spins pleasantly around you both, the distant music from downstairs just a muffled thrum.
she pulls back briefly, her lips glistening with your arousal as she looks at you with half–lidded eyes. “i want to taste you more.” jennie whispers before diving back down, her mouth covering you completely as she begins to suck your folds in a gentle way, her tongue swirling inside of your cunt.
her hands roam over your body possessively, one hand sliding up to cup and knead your breast while the other grips your hip. jennie’s movements become more urgent and demanding, her own need matching yours.
“fuck, i need you so bad.” she moans against you, her fingers digging into your skin. “tell me you want this too, (y/n). tell me you’re as fucking turned on as i am.”
she pulls back just enough to look at you, her eyes dark with lust and her body trembling with need. jennie’s hands slide down to her own core, touching herself as she watches your reactions.
“come here and get what you want.”
jennie’s eyes widen with excitement at your command, a wicked grin spreading across her face. she quickly crawls up your body until she's straddling you, her thighs spread wide on either side of your hips.
“oh fuck yes.” she breathes, positioning herself so your most sensitive areas align. “i’ve been dying to feel you like this.”
jennie slowly, deliberately grinds her hips against yours, her wetness coating both of you as she moves. she throws her head back with a moan, her hands gripping your shoulders for support as she picks up the pace.
“mmm, fuck, (y/n)... you feel so good.” she gasps, her body trembling with pleasure. “this is so fucking hot…”
her movements become more urgent and desperate, jennie’s hands sliding down to grip your hips and pull herself down harder against you with each grind. the room spins pleasantly around you both, the distant music from downstairs just a muffled thrum.
“tell me how it feels.” she commands breathlessly, her eyes never leaving yours.* "Tell me you like my pussy grinding on yours..."
jennie’s fingers dig into your skin as she rocks against you, her breath coming in short, desperate pants. her own arousal is evident, her body trembling with need.
“fuck, i’m so close already.” she moans, her movements becoming more frantic. “your pussy is making me so fucking wet…”
she leans down to capture your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, her tongue exploring your mouth hungrily as she continues to grind against you. jennie’s hands slide up to tangle in your red hair, pulling you closer.
jennie’s hands slide up to tangle in your messy hair, pulling you closer as she continues to grind against you. her kiss deepens, becoming more urgent and desperate as her body trembles with need.
“mmh, fuck, i need more.” she breathes against your lips, her hips moving faster. “let me grind against you harder, (y/n). i need to feel you.”
she pulls back just enough to look at you with half–lidded, lust–filled eyes before slamming her hips down hard against yours. the impact makes you both gasp, jennie’s wetness coating you completely.
“ahh fuck!” she cries out, her body arching off of you as pleasure courses through her. “that’s it... right there…”
her hands grip your shoulders tightly, using you as leverage as she picks up a rhythm, grinding and rolling her hips in slow, deliberate circles. the friction is intense, building pressure in both of you.
she bites her lower lip, her own arousal evident as she continues to move against you, her body trembling with need. the room spins pleasantly around you both, the distant music from downstairs just a muffled thrum.
her eyes widen with pleasure as she feels the pressure building inside her, her movements becoming more desperate and erratic. jennie’s hands grip your shoulders tighter, her nails digging into your skin as she slams her hips down against yours.
“fuck, i’m gonna cum!” she cries out, her voice breaking with pleasure. “your pussy is making me so fucking wet, (y/n).”
she picks up the pace, her hips moving in fast, shallow grinds that make her body tremble with each movement. jennie’s breath comes in short, desperate pants as she loses herself to the pleasure.
“mmmh, fuck yes... right there... oh god…–” she moans loudly, her body arching off of you as waves of pleasure crash over her. her pussy clenches and spasms against yours, coating both of you with her arousal as she reaches her peak.
jennie collapses against you, her body shaking with aftershocks of pleasure as she grinds slowly against you, savoring the feeling. her face is buried in your neck, her breath hot against your skin.
“fuck... that was so fucking good.” she whispers shakily, her hands sliding up to cup your face. “you’re so fucking hot, (y/n). i can’t get enough of you.”
she pulls back to look at you with soft, satisfied eyes, her fingers tracing your jawline gently. the room is still spinning pleasantly from the alcohol and the intensity of what just happened.
“tell me you enjoyed it too.” jennie says softly, her voice still slightly breathless. “because i definitely want to do this again. multiple times.”
