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summary: a couple months ago, pld was a guy from tinder in your phone, mid-quarantine with nothing better to do than trade all-too intimate texts in the early hours of the morning. now he’s at a family dinner as your cousin’s new boyfriend, and all either of you can think about are the things you promised you’d do to each other. pld x fem reader.
word count: 5.6k.
warnings: smut. cheating / morally grey (morally bad, actually lmao). little hints of size kink & dom pld, nothing super significant though. very vague alcohol mentions.
The first time you’d spoken to Pierre-Luc, it was moments after you’d swiped right on his dating profile with a scoff at the stupid one liner in the top line of his bio. Tinder had pulled your sharp attention from the jigsaw puzzle laid out like a big blanket over your coffee table, the quarantine days-blending-nights, online college and endless throwaway hobbies taking their toll on your circadian rhythms.
You’d barely realised it was 2am at all until Pierre-Luc’s grey bubble spelled here’s trouble.
And that did something, twisted your stomach, his understated flirting. He had you faster than either of you even knew.
summary: another indigo eyed boy had her first and she still feels the echos of them
wc: 1,542
a/n: also hey. im back from the fucking dead kinda. i had no clue who to write this for so, here ya go. (though im over writing for obx)
warnings: regular smutty things, with toxic/ slightly abusive ex, some angst
With a small pinch of cocaine coating her nostrils and new, uncharted electricity in her veins, she could pretend with some small understanding that some fundamental part of her nervous system knew the truth but still sits pacified with the fabrication of her reality. So, with the aid of hard drugs and the cold clasp of rings against the sweaty jut of her hip, the fluttering of her eyes makes her world blurry in a gloriously disastrous way that she knows will leave her throat thick with regret in the morning but she’s too focused on the sinful ministrations committed by the blonde hovering over her. His hands are roaming in the way overindulged high-school boys act when under the impression that something is free, but for the life of her, she cannot mind it. Despite her soft indignation at the high probability that the indigo-eyed boy leaving hickeys along her neck like a necklace was in fact one of those boys, her back still arched and the cocaine had carried her to a new high she never thought possible. A feeling she was quickly attaching to the pale-eyed, sharp-toothed boy sloppily pulling down her jean cut-offs. She doesn’t remember his name and doesn’t bother to learn what syllables she’s meant to chant as he grinds against her writhing hips, but he knows hers. He’s crashing into her without a shred of remorse he almost should feel, a soft whine crawling from his throat as the tips of her nails dig into the bulk of his shoulder. When she starts gasping like the oxygen in the room was depleting and her hips struggle to match his rhythm, he believes for a moment that she’s hooked; caught in his web, and finally ready to surrender to the truth once he gives her what she wants.
She is crying like she might just fall apart under him in a puddle of smudged eyeliner and bad decisions, her thoughts tangle hapharsdly as praises fall off her tongue and it becomes increasingly harder to keep her truth at bay when his head tips back with a moan spilling frm his throat the same exact way Rafe’s would when she would tug at the roots of his sandy hair. Unable to scratch together memory of this boy who’s a fucking magician and who he might be, she writhes under his teasing touch, pushing his calloused hands against her breasts because she cannot stop the fantasy that it’s him. She gives him the words she pretends he loves, enjoying the way his chest stutters under her palm and the elongated moan he cries against the shell of her ear when she flips them over. The sheets catch against her ankles, challenging her as she gives him new sights of the grandeur of her body; in sharp, hidden contrast to the wasteland of her mind she will never grant him the chance to decipher.
When the cold press of his myriad of rings presses against the boiling skin of her lower stomach, she gasps out in a raspy moan, fingers curling against the sheets as his thumb starts lazily drawing against her heat, a devious plan of manipulation the boy doesn’t understand he’s wielding. He likes the way her throat bobs in an attempt at control of her own body as she begins to shake and suddenly he wants her to say his name. JJ’s lusting after a domesticated ideal of her that will never come to fruition because she doens’t know his name and she’s keeping her eyes closed. So he removes the pressure of his hands and instead resigns to pushing her hips in a repeated motion that will have what ever this is ending and he can settle his nerves and forget her gasps of pleasure in a haze of marijuana.
She, on the other hand, is diminished to pleaing, not understanding the sudden magnetic pull of how this boy, that is so different from Rafe, is tying a string to her heart that threatens to snap. She feels as if the hand against her body was a declaration of love, however surface-level and lewd, and she aches at the loss of it in a deeper way than just primal lust. So she curls herself closer to the sweat-slicked expanse of his chest, pressing her palm against his ribs to feel the erratic thump of his heart that’s kicked into such a frenzy by her.
“Please,” she finds herself saying, unsure of what exactly she’s begging for, but all she knows is more. More of his shameless hands and the cold jolt of his rings that drag along her flesh in waves of goosebumps. She begs again, her hips slowing and stuttering as her movements become more lackadaisical, hoping her sudden attempt at intimacy works. The words continues to fall from her tongue, sloppy kisses littering his neck as she focuses more on the act of their need rather than the end. The emotion she suddenly feels atop this indigo-eyed boy blooms in her heart with a fevor similar to the rush of cocaine in her nose is almost painful. She feels the cracks in her heart with a intensity she believes to be love in her twisted understanding of the emotion.
JJ blinks, his thoughts stumbling as her body language changes, sincerity pouring from her in what seems like a fake rush. He briefly wonders if she ever learned the difference between love and lust as she rides him in pornagraphic fashion, a breathless smile matching her glazed eyes. Falling into her trap of honesty, the sweating boy brought his hips up in needy revolution, enjoying the contortion of her face as her orgasm nipped at her heels. A soft, nearly imprecepptiable cry of something that sounds a lot like fuck me haunts him. He knows she means it in a lustful, heart-less adolescent way, with mouths full of meaningless words. But, bouncing on his hips, skin pressed together and moans cascading into a final cry, she thinks this time it’s different. When above Rafe, with his aggressive hands and the wicked curve to his smiles, she said that in the way fuck me, was mean and sloppy, full of lust and only the end in mind. But here, with her fingers itching to be grasping his, not Rafe’s, but whoever he is instead, she thinks she means in it in way way fuck me was meant. With kisses and giggles and pleasure after love. She empties her heart into the words, wishing that for once her heart meant what it says and that she’s not foolishly chasing after something with a guy just because she fucked him and mistook it for more.
As their rendezvous of misplaced affection and foolish grasps at doomed teenage love ends, they realize, with shaking fingers and flushed faces that their mortal end is in fact as awkward and he feared and disastrous as she knew. She feels the need to interlock their fingers and kiss his cheek, because it seems domestic and sweet, a homage to something they might be, but she refrains. He lets whatever he imagined might spark from the kindling of their lust unraveled and fall from his grasp.
As she peels herself away, she can’t help but think of him and how this scenes is hauntingly familiar to all the times Rafe sniffed after he came, already searching for another high that was decidedly not her and the numerous times he would cradle her face and kiss her just a little too hard and blame it on the fact that he just felt overwhelmed about how much he liked but not loved her. She can feel her arousal sticky on her thighs when she stands and feels a type of selfishness overtake her; there was this boy with cold, rings and pale-eyes that seemed desperate for her touch, why couldn’t she love him? And why couldn’t she keep him all for herself?
He’s picking himself up, the fragile remains of his dashed hopes of love cutting against his skin as he tugs on his shorts, crass enough in his exit that his sweaty chest is still exposed as he maneuvers toward the doorway. She, fingers curling around the lacy fabric of her bra, watches, eyes widened in a half-plea as he waits by the door. She realizes that JJ is not, in fact, hesitating to confess his love, he’s waiting; respectfully with his back turned for her to change so when he opens the door, she’s not on display. Her cheeks heat at the action of decency that she knows belongs to only him, and yanks on her clothes in the form of an apology that they couldn’t be more. She’s gathering words to tell him to stay, but she doesn't know how to formulate such an emotionally available sentence. And he’s already gone- desperate to abandon the girl that attempted to be real during sex and forget the taste of her lips. So she remains, eyes cast to the door as if the sole memory of his figure can bring him back. But she’s too intimate with the understanding nature of impossible ends brought on by foolish wishes. So this time, she doesn’t.
it’s so frustrating (and heartbreaking) to see so many writers going on indefinite hiatus / deleting their blogs because they are not motivated to write anymore. worst of all: people would always be like ‘no why are you leaving we don’t want you to do so :(’ but they were nowhere to be seen in our notifications beforehand. the lack of support on this platform is a huge issue and it’s a shame that content consumers don’t get the hint when writers have been waving the red flag for months.
please support creators by rebbloging their posts, interact with them by leaving a few tags, a comment or an ask! if you’re too shy then hit that anon button and you’re good to go. show them that their works matter and you enjoy their blog, because when the decision to leave is made, it’s already too late.
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surprise birthday party that you threw for timmy and he gets drunk and makes a speech about how grateful he is to have you in his life <3
you ate the last of your ravioli, picking up the check before timothee could grab it. "baby it's your birthday, why would you pay?" you put your card in, holding the check book before the waiter came over to take it.
"because i told you, you will never have to worry about buying things when i'm around" he leaned over the table, kissing you softly with his finger under your chin. the waiter brings the book back and you tip cash, timothee standing up and holding out his hand.
you take it and follow him out the restaurant, stopping in the front and looking at him. "it's your birthday, your 26th. i gave you presents throughout the day, but i have one more gift" timothee sighs and holds your butt, kissing you slowly.
"i don't need anymore gifts, mon amour. you're the best gift i got" he mumbles into your mouth and you smile and curve your body into his.
"just one more" you pull away and pull a silk bandana. "and i have to blindfold you"
"showing the public what we do in private, hm?" timothee winked and you shake your head, tying the material around his eyes. you grab his hands and start walking.
everyone waited in the building quietly, poppers and noise makers ready. you and timothee walked, some paparazzi taking photos. "just taking my dog for a walk!" you shout and timothee barks, making you laugh. you stop at the front of the building, guiding his steps and opening the door slowly. you take off his blindfold and turn on the light, everyone shouting 'happy birthday!'
timothee's face glowed with joy, and you were nearly in tears. you had been planning this party for weeks, and he was so happy. he turned around and held your face, kissing you over and over.
"oh my god i love you, you did all this? i love you so much" he gushed, and everyone cheered for you two. the music started and everyone said hi to you and timothee, and you two got drinks while greeting people.
--
2 hours in, you and timothee were drunk and sweaty. bodies crowding the dance floor, you and timothee basically dry humping each other to nearly every song.
timothee got on the mic to sing karaoke, then made them stop the music. "hellooo everyone. i just wanted to thank you all so much for coming out and partying with us tonight" everyone cheered and his drunk eyes met yours. "and yn, baby, i want to thank you for doing this for me. you are my motivation to wake up, to keep going. everything i do is for you, because of you. i love you so much. i thank the stars you're mine, and one day i'll make you my wife. but for now, let's party until they kick us out!" he shouts and everyone cheers and claps, timothee running off stage and over to you.
timothee held your butt and the other hand on your back, dipping you softly as he kissed you passionately. your hand held his neck, and you two were slowly becoming the only people in the room. you only felt him, and he was all you always needed. "happy birthday timmy"
"thank you mon amour" he smiles, kissing you again before you two went back to drinking and dancing the night away.
You are not allow to complain about lack of content if you don't reblog content.
You're part of the problem. I don't care if it doesn't fit your aesthetic or you think that a like is "just as good". Reblogs are way more important than likes.
A like is like a quick almost mindless thing you do as a "neat" before you keep scrolling. At least that's what it feels like they are.
A reblog is telling that creator: Hey, I really like your stuff and want you to make more. I'll help by spreading your content around so more people can see it.
We all appreciate likes but they don't do any good if no one is sharing the content.
Every time I see such a difference in likes and reblogs it discourages me from writing more and I'm sure others feel the same.
With the recent situation that is happen with my dad, we are trying to make up for the bills we might not be able to pay for since he might not be working anymore and because of that most of the expenses fall to my mom, myself and my brother. A chunk of our money just went to help our family in the Philippines before all this happened so we are struggling a bit.
On my end I’m a broke college student. Even with my job I wouldn’t be able to even pay for my school. I’d be getting by on the bare minimum. I’ve always paid half(with the use of student loans) and my parents have paid the other half. On top of that I pay my own phone bill, my insurance, my textbooks, appointment for my auto immune decease, etc.
I’m asking if you guys could either donate to my kofi or dm for my paypal. Even just a share this it would really help.
I don’t usually ask for money help but I’m trying to help not only myself but do a little for at least my family.
I can open up commissions as well, just because I do want to give back to those who want to help me. So, if you request something I would be sure to definitely write something for you or try to as best I can. Especially, if you do like my writing this would be a great help. Thank you all for understanding.
Thank you guys so much!
Again my kofi is here and please share if you can.
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summary: they've never been anything but best friends and it's too late to toe the line
wc: 1156
warnings: unrequited pining, lotta angst, wlw angst, drug use/mention
note: oc is lowkey based off sarah's friend scarlett who im pretty sure is an canon character but i might've dreamed it. enjoy
With long, red glossed fingertips, Sarah tapped the side of her clear phone case in a subconscious beat of rhythm that matched flurry of irregular palpitations of Scarlett's inconsistent heartbeat, a familiar event of occurrence that happened anytime Sarah's jittery body strayed too far over her blue and white floral patterned sheets and tangled with the sun-tanned legs of Scarlett. Scarlett lay still, still lost in the minuscule details of her day refreshing in her mind, relishing in the fleeing of the salty breeze brushing over her skin from the half-open window above Sarah's bed and the soft hum of the room's AC working continuously in the corner. Sarah, with a set of dark-gold oblivious eyes and a curious mind that could never endure a stretch of five-second long silence, turned off the screen of her phone with an unsatisfied click of her tongue.
"Hey," the blonde-haired girl whispered softly, eyes illuminated by the mid-afternoon sun spilling across her dark-stained floorboards and casting her lithe figure in a honey-like light. Flipping her casually dressed body to the side, nestling in her velvety mountain of covers, Sarah drummed the round, pedicure soft edges of her fingers against the freckled expanse of her brunette best friend's arm, a small, secretive smile gracing her full, rosy cheeks. With an amused whisper, Sarah further prompted her friend. "Scar,"
Scarlet shifted with a pre-occupied mind rapt on the equations of pre-calculus and the dire need of paint her car was beginning to show, rather than the weight of Sarah's fingertips on her arm and the dazzling, classic smile worn just for her. Scarlet blinked once before Sarah launched into her newest tangent of marijuana-induced wonderings of theoretical prose that she usually bestowed on her helpless friend whenever Scarlett allowed the dirty blonde to ravage her strongest supply of joints without missing a beat. Scarlett waited with baited breath, the edges of her pearly white teeth peeking out from her bemused smirk.
"Do you ever wonder if there's a random person in the world out there thinking of you? Like, just you, somehow?" Sarah giggled, the edges of her words curling around the shell of Scarlett's ear as the dainty blonde leaned closer, breathless and unaware of the shakey shutter of Scarlett's chest as Sarah tapped the side of Scarlett's blushed cheeks in a teasing manner.
"Like of course people do, but like, do they really think of you?"
"I really think of you." Scarlett offered an unsure confession to her high friend in a state of flustered nerves that only bested Scarlett when Sarah was a hairs breath away from brushing her sea salt chapped lips on Scarletts or giving her that certain look from lowered eyelashes that made Scarlett want to rake the edges of her nails into her eyes.
"And what do you do when you really, truly think about me, Scarlett?" The mock sultry tone of Sarah's words was coated in slurrings and half-thought-out sentences of flirtatious roots that whenever the two girls found themselves continually skirting the lines between platonic and romantic thoughts. Despite the very obvious fact that Sarah was placing herself over Scarlett in a way that told the brunette she would not get away without some semblance of an answer, and the glorious way the syllables of her wretched name fell off Sarah's tongue, Scarlett hated the sickeningly romantic feelings rolling through her. The wild, freckled russet-haired girl hated the uncanny feeling that Sarah knew but liked the game of teasing the line and pushing too far to ever approach Scarlett about the real reasons Sarah always texted her in the sleepless nights of the early morning asking the girl to leave her own bed and crawl next to her because when Sarah felt the weight of Scarlett's arm thrown over her waist in the deep of sleep she could wake to find morning.
Scarlett was trying to form syllables that refused to rise on her tongue in more appropriate manners of speech but Sarah's lips teased the junction of her throat and neck, her tongue sliding out to give the illicit reality of Scarlett wildest dreams that included the tawny eyed girl before her. "I could give you a hickey." Sarah breathed, her whisper hot and heavy against the gentle curve of Scarlett's neck, oblivious to the hitch of Scarlett's breathing that carried far more meaning than the blonde could try to comprehend. "Make Tyler Crosby jealous." Sarah finished, her words strict and sharp compared to the usual weed-infused flirtations of her regular speech.
With the sharp tug of a cruel shard of ugly truth pushed into the delicate skin of her heart, Scarlett brushed off the eager, convincing lips of her friend and sat straight on her blue and white floral patterned comforter.
"You're a fucking tease, Sarah Cameron." Scarlett snapped, her tone harsh and unforgiving, the bitten nails of her fingertips digging into the bruised flesh of her palms so tightly that when Scarlett slipped from the heated, suffocating confines of Sarah's bedroom to her bathroom, she found bleeding, red half-moons carved into her palms. The cool tile of marble flooring soothed the angry feeling of humiliation rolling through her veins, the burn of her cheeks, and the memory of just how easily Scarlett could entertain the fantasy that Sarah would bruise her neck purely because the dirty blonde wanted her so badly. Scarlett couldn't deny the blatant need that swelled in her blood whenever Sarah's beachy, citrine smell flooded her senses in welcoming cascades, but she knew it would never amount to anything. All her desire and the wildest moments of her midnight fantasies of the girl she called her best friend would never come to fruition because that just wasn't Sarah. Sarah Cameron wasn't into her and Scarlett closed her silver-rimmed eyes against the hopeless ache of falling without anyone there to catch you.
Back on the crumpled sheets of her soft bed, Sarah dangled her feet off the edge of the mattress, her dark eyes tracing the glittering dance of the speckles of light dripping on her floorboards. With fluttering eyelashes collecting the beginning of hot, sticky tears, Sarah willed the cream-white bathroom door to open, and for Scarlett to come back. Reverse the time to when Scarlett's skin was under her lips and her breathing became so erratic it made Sarah want to carve the sound in her skin just so she could have it forever. But the door didn't ease open, revealing a sultry-eyed Scarlett ready to rewind the past minutes. The petite blonde wanted to drag her nails against the door and beat her fists against the wood until Scarlett caved and let her inside with the subtle click of the lock. Sarah was left on the edge of her bed, staring at the mold of her bathroom door, her pretty features drawn forlorn and her emotions trapped inside the beat of her rebellious heart.
Hi! I just wanted to get your permission to reblog your writings because I didn’t want to disrespect you. I will tag you and I just want to do it so people read it if they haven’t already.
summary: when their rivalry stumbles into something more heated, he leaves her wanting more
wc: 1,582
warnings: sex. pure filth. enjoy mofos <3
"Do it, Maybank," she prompts salaciously, the edges of her lips curling into a taunting slant of pearly teeth and red-coated lips. His stomach flipped with the lilt of her rolling voice, the click of her tongue as she worked his name out of her mouth. The edges of her mascara lined eyes bat with practiced innocence, conjuring up every filthy, depraved thing he'd commit with his expert tongue tracing the outline of her figure.
"Say it." He demands, his canines flashing with his iron-willed command that settles a pleasant, dangerous shiver down the ridges of her spine, a twin spire of smoldering, long-anticipated desire curling through her thrumming veins. Her pulse was jumping; high with adrenaline and the promising events that would follow if Maybank kept that tormenting smirk tipping the edges of his lips.
But she kept her chin high, waiting for the moment the tension building thickly around them would snap; and she'd be damned if it was her who begged first. Her eyes tracked the small, lust-filled movements of JJ's twitches; the shift of his position on the heather-gray couch below him in an attempt to hide his obvious reaction to her displayed cleavage and the sultry rasp she dipped her words in. Knowing all too well how to bait the indigo-eyed instigator, she dug her teeth into the soft flesh of her bottom lip, leveling her dark, lust-glazed eyes at him.
"Make me, Maybank."
There is was; the smallest flicker of his jaw muscles and the uncontrolled twitch of his hands that told her he was right where she wanted him. Out of control enough for one more push, and he'd be hers. Just one more push-
"What are you going to do me, JJ?" her words were tantalizingly naive, a particular intonation that set a fire in the blonde's veins, tearing through every layer of his well-constructed self-control until it was nothing but the carnal desires looping in his mind leading him forward.
A gasp pushed from her cherry lips as the pad of his thumb digging into the soft flesh right under the bone of her jaw, feeling the rapid, unrelenting flutter of her pulse, the rest of his long, ring-clad fingers going to grip her face. She could feel the hot sheet of his breath fanning over her face, and the burn of his grip as he forced her to chin up so she'd look right into the blown irises of his pale eyes.
"You have no idea what you started, pretty girl."
"Show me," she breathed back, her words weightless and wobbling with the fierceness of her want double with his intoxicating proximity.
A sharp, knife-edged curl of laughter left his chapped lips as he grinned in cruel desire. "You're bold tonight."
"All for you, Maybank."
Under the iron-willed touch of his grip, she waited until his control frayed enough for the press of his rough, warm, liquor-coated lips to press against hers. JJ's lips collided onto her own in a heated display of his need; the underlying competitiveness of their rivalry heightening every move he made. A loud moan crawled from her mouth, JJ swallowing the sinful sound in a greedy, sloppy kiss, spurred on by her sounds. The tips of his fingers trailed along the delicate bone of her clavicle, digging against the skin as he pushed her back, guiding her down against the plush, gray-scaled cushions with the erotic tour of his lips. Muttering a curse against her teeth, he pulled back, his pulse racing against where her wrists locked tightly around his neck.
"Do you want this?" he breathed the pale, thin ring of his irises hardening in his temporary moment of seriousness.
Her answer was the brazen line of sloppy need given by her tongue up the length of his neck, followed by an echoing array of open-mouthed kisses sending the blonde boy into a state of euphoria. The edges of his fingers curled around the bunched-up, silky black material of her cocktail dress, the pads of his fingers soaking in the warmth of her smooth skin. Another illicit curse fell from his swollen lips as her desire-filled assault continued past the bounds of his clavicle, her impatient fingers tugging relentlessly at the threadbare cloth of his shirt, asking for more. JJ was helpless to ever stop her; especially when her fingers were dancing with a temptress's skill along the band of his cargo shorts and her lips and teeth were leaving love bites down the valley of his ribs.
"You give me so many problems."
With a sharp, high-pitched gasp as JJ's large, rid-clad hands pressed the girl down against the fabric of the couch, peeling himself away from her long enough to sneak the waistband of her pants down, she struggled to find an appropriately witty response that would deepen the valley between his brows. JJ's tongue slipped out as he peppered well-placed hickeys from one hipbone to the other, his fingers desperate to dive into her and have her call out his name.
"What," she gasped, the words sticking in her throat as she struggled to redirect her lagging mind to formulating a response. "What sort of problems do I give you?"
JJ's lips curled against the jut of her hip bone as he grinned at the sound of her breathy, choked words as she shook slightly under the caress of his skilled lips. He yanked the dark metal of her zipper down, his desperation becoming increasingly obvious as the flat of his palm rubbed against her sweet spot. Her body reacted immediately to his sinuous touch, her spine arching towards him as her head went back against the couch a surprised moan falling from her bruised lips.
"You," JJ drawled slowly, the pad of his thumb working at her from the barrier of her cotton underwear, the tips of his canines showing in his feral grin of delight at her unraveled state. ".. give me countless problems, pretty girl. Like how you always tease me, and I can never touch you."
With that, his intense touch left her sweet spot, her body falling against the couch in disappointment. An irked pout tugged at her lips as her elbows propped her up against the overstuffed couch as she stared him down with her blown pupils. "You can touch me now, though J," she whispered softly, the coax of her words ever tempting to his prominent erection and nightly erotic dreams of her.
"I know, baby." JJ's fingers rested heavily against the band of her underwear, his fingers peeling away the soaked material off her and pulling it down with slow cruelty. A needy whimper fell from her lips, even though the rest of her surrendered to his touch, her mascara-lined eyelashes falling shut against the faint pleasure. With her pants off, JJ bathed in the sight of her completely laid out for him. A thick swallow follow his low, under-the-breath curse as his fingers reached out to play lightly with her clit.
"However," the indigo-eyed boy continued, "I've counted every little thing you do that I can't do anything about and I think it's time I settled the score, yeah?"
Before him, she couldn't even nod, her eyes squeezed in pleasure, her fingers grasping at the surface of the couch. "Please, Maybank."
With her plea, JJ took the invitation to slide a single digit into her waiting warmth, curling it ever so slightly to get her back to arch. "One: you never let me win in any of the games we play."
"Fuck me," the helpless words filled the sex-scented room, making a satisfied smirk slant across JJ's strong, sun-kissed features.
"I plan to, pretty girl." He kept his finger pumping slowly in and out of her, loving the way she reacted so intensely to every twitch of his movements. How easily she fell apart now he's gotten his fingers inside her. "Two,"
He added another finger, the cold chill of his ring making a small squeak of surprised pleasure fumble from the crest of her lips as her chest rose and fell rapidly. With two fingers, she became a ravaged, unfiltered version of the controlled girl she was usually.
"You only call me stupid little nicknames."
Deep in the pit of her stomach, as JJ's relentless pumping of his long fingers failed to cease, she could feel the fragile build of an orgasm settling into her stomach. Trying to subconsciously urge him harder, she rocked her hips down against his fingers, burying him deeper inside her. A loud, uncontrolled moan burned against her throat, filling the tension-thick air. Shuddering gasps and echoes of her small whimpers followed as JJ continued his routine, waiting patiently until her long legs started shaking with a fast impending orgasm.
"Please, JJ." she cried softly, her fingers curling against the flat surface of the heather-gray couch, feeling the coiled ring of her orgasm threatening to snap in the base of her stomach. "Holy shit, I'm going to cum."
"Three," the indigo-eyed boy whispered, his fingers pulling out of her twitching warmth and coming up to push her slack-jawed mouth open. He pushed his juice-soaked fingers into her mouth, a sly, satisfied smirk curling the edges of his mouth as she obediently sucked on the long digits of his fingers. His intoxicating smell washed over her in fresh waves as his lips hovered over the soft shell of her ear.
"You give me blue-balls." He crooned softly. "All the damn time."
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