( if he wants her to drive her crazy, he definitely opened the flood gates of that. whether it's the kind he wants, well, maybe he can debate on that later. because hearing those words and the way he emphasizes them, a light switch within her flicks. the softness of her vanishes and her face flushes in such a craze yet satisfying state. her eyes glistens hauntingly with the devil underneath her manic smile (especially when he grips on her thigh for that leverage).
with their foreheads pressed together, she bites her lower lip to muffle her hysteric giggles (don't want to sound too out of her mind to have someone interrupt them) -- like she just unleashed the most massive missile she made with her own two hands. her body is burning like that horrible and disgusting city of bullshit progress back home. she can almost imagine everyone running in a frenzy while each little fancy building combusts. the sweet sweet smell of wood filling the air, and ashes showering down to land on her skin or her lightly freckled cheeks, and the sky? oh how the reds and oranges mash together like a ballroom waltz. she is his girl, he said so himself. she belongs to him, she belongs to him, she belongs to him. and she will do absolutely anything for him. she'll fight for him, stand down, or kill for him if he wishes it — whatever quentin wants, quentin will get, and she will make sure of it no matter who or what stands in her way.
jinx is so hooked up on this wild feeling that she throws her head back again, still grinning wildly and in giggles as her nails dig deeper in his skin (whether you want her to break skin is your choice). and although her other hand is useless, she forces it to lift to her mouth at least, using her own knuckle to chomp on. the way they're moving is driving her batty and she is trying to speed up the pace by bucking back harder and faster to him. )
'More, more! Please, faster. I can't handle it like this! I need so much more! I want to come again, Quentin. Please make me come again.'
cw: being crazy lel
with their foreheads pressed together, she bites her lower lip to muffle her hysteric giggles (don't want to sound too out of her mind to have someone interrupt them) -- like she just unleashed the most massive missile she made with her own two hands. her body is burning like that horrible and disgusting city of bullshit progress back home. she can almost imagine everyone running in a frenzy while each little fancy building combusts. the sweet sweet smell of wood filling the air, and ashes showering down to land on her skin or her lightly freckled cheeks, and the sky? oh how the reds and oranges mash together like a ballroom waltz. she is his girl, he said so himself. she belongs to him, she belongs to him, she belongs to him. and she will do absolutely anything for him. she'll fight for him, stand down, or kill for him if he wishes it — whatever quentin wants, quentin will get, and she will make sure of it no matter who or what stands in her way.
jinx is so hooked up on this wild feeling that she throws her head back again, still grinning wildly and in giggles as her nails dig deeper in his skin (whether you want her to break skin is your choice). and although her other hand is useless, she forces it to lift to her mouth at least, using her own knuckle to chomp on. the way they're moving is driving her batty and she is trying to speed up the pace by bucking back harder and faster to him. )
'More, more! Please, faster. I can't handle it like this! I need so much more! I want to come again, Quentin. Please make me come again.'