the tanned triangle
title. the tanned triangle
paring. jersey shore/green day.
rating. r to nc-17
chapters. 1 // ?
note. this is my way of trying to get my writing muse back.
plus, i'm a little addicted to jersey shore.
I can’t say that he was something I needed. It wasn’t that I couldn’t function without him, that I couldn’t live with him. I just didn’t want to. My heart thumped in my throat almost suffocating me, but I wasn’t that lucky.
He watched as I watched him. It was beautiful, the way his eyes searched mine for some sense of want, need and something more. I know this because I searched his for the same. I needed him. In more ways than one.
Billie Joe was your typical stubborn, punk boy. His gelled black hair dangled in his eyes, his eyes were a stunning green, so bright and full of life, lips like pillows and a body like the devil. He was the definition of hot and for me to say that, he must be something.
---
I was shoved against the wall, back pushing into something hard and firm on the wall, but I didn’t care. All I cared about what having him so close to me, having his hips pressing into mine roughly. I was relishing in the sensation, sensory overload. Billie fingered the skirt, black and ratted from wear, off my hips. He shuddered against me when his fingers met soft, bare skin.
“Slut,” he commented, roughly pushing two fingers in.
I only moaned in return. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think. My body lusted for him. My hands left his neck, nails raking hard on his skin. They slid down his chest, halting at his belt. It unbuckled and I pushed his pants down, watching him shimmy them down his pale legs.
“More.”
“Why? I like this. I need this. I could fucking finger your tight vagina all fucking night, you whore. Maybe I don’t want my cock,” at this, I groaned, gyrating my hips down on his fingers. “oh, you want my cock? Maybe I don’t want to fuck you. What if I don’t want my hard cock in your wet pussy. Hmm, what’d you say to that slut?”
I opened my mouth to answer him, but nothing spilled out. Hot breath was caught in my throat, I couldn’t even express how good he was making me feel, how good his fingers scissoring and twisting made me feel.
“What’s your name? I need to know so when I shoot my multiple loads over you, I can scream out your fucking name,” he crooned.
God, he was so fucking hot. Billie was making me need him so bad. It was pathetic, it really was. “You can call me Snooki.”
“Like that girl from Jersey Shore?” Billie watched me nod.
I groaned as he spread my legs, lifted my hips up and pushed into me. No lube. No condom. It didn’t matter though, we both needed this so fucking bad and I would do anything to have him inside of me, fucking me without mercy.
paring. jersey shore/green day.
rating. r to nc-17
chapters. 1 // ?
note. this is my way of trying to get my writing muse back.
plus, i'm a little addicted to jersey shore.
I can’t say that he was something I needed. It wasn’t that I couldn’t function without him, that I couldn’t live with him. I just didn’t want to. My heart thumped in my throat almost suffocating me, but I wasn’t that lucky.
He watched as I watched him. It was beautiful, the way his eyes searched mine for some sense of want, need and something more. I know this because I searched his for the same. I needed him. In more ways than one.
Billie Joe was your typical stubborn, punk boy. His gelled black hair dangled in his eyes, his eyes were a stunning green, so bright and full of life, lips like pillows and a body like the devil. He was the definition of hot and for me to say that, he must be something.
---
I was shoved against the wall, back pushing into something hard and firm on the wall, but I didn’t care. All I cared about what having him so close to me, having his hips pressing into mine roughly. I was relishing in the sensation, sensory overload. Billie fingered the skirt, black and ratted from wear, off my hips. He shuddered against me when his fingers met soft, bare skin.
“Slut,” he commented, roughly pushing two fingers in.
I only moaned in return. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t think. My body lusted for him. My hands left his neck, nails raking hard on his skin. They slid down his chest, halting at his belt. It unbuckled and I pushed his pants down, watching him shimmy them down his pale legs.
“More.”
“Why? I like this. I need this. I could fucking finger your tight vagina all fucking night, you whore. Maybe I don’t want my cock,” at this, I groaned, gyrating my hips down on his fingers. “oh, you want my cock? Maybe I don’t want to fuck you. What if I don’t want my hard cock in your wet pussy. Hmm, what’d you say to that slut?”
I opened my mouth to answer him, but nothing spilled out. Hot breath was caught in my throat, I couldn’t even express how good he was making me feel, how good his fingers scissoring and twisting made me feel.
“What’s your name? I need to know so when I shoot my multiple loads over you, I can scream out your fucking name,” he crooned.
God, he was so fucking hot. Billie was making me need him so bad. It was pathetic, it really was. “You can call me Snooki.”
“Like that girl from Jersey Shore?” Billie watched me nod.
I groaned as he spread my legs, lifted my hips up and pushed into me. No lube. No condom. It didn’t matter though, we both needed this so fucking bad and I would do anything to have him inside of me, fucking me without mercy.