#ACTUALLY GNAWING ON MY FIST

[wwooyology]

when they ask how you are and you have to say that you're fine when you're not really fine 😭

you and jake are seat mates in class and the teacher was talking about sex education, you turn to jake and see him smirking at you and his hands go on your thigh and…

AND AND…he slowly moves up your thigh, tracing the pads of his fingers against your soft skin causing goosebumps to form. you’re keeping your eyes locked on him as his eyes drift to your plush thighs, seeing the effect he was having on you. tucking his lip between his teeth as you start to rub them together.

jake carefully scoots his chair closer to yours, leaning his shoulder against yours and whispering, “no no baby, spread those pretty legs for me, ya?” while sliding his hand down the middle, pressing his fingers between your closed thighs to spread them, giving him the access he so desperately wanted.

he continued his movement upwards, eventually tucking his hand underneath your skirt and rubbing his middle knuckle against your clothed heat. biting down hard on his lip to keep from groaning at how wet you are already, completely soaked through your panties and how your slick coated his fingers.

you grip the seat of your chair, forcing yourself in place to not squirm and have all eyes on the two of you. and oh man was it driving jake insane. only pushing him further over the edge. he’s now rubbing the pads of his fingers against you, looping his thumb through your panties and pulling them to the side, “spread your legs more,” he whispers, eyes rolling to the back of his head when you don’t protest and instantly moved them. his fingers sliding knuckle deep into your cunt so smoothly and perfectly. it took everything in jake to not force you out of this lecture hall and down to his dorm room at the feeling of your cunt wrapping so beautifully around his fingers. god he could only imagine how goddamn good you’d feel around his cock.

the real challenge for you now was to not moan. to not slide down into the chair and spread your legs further. to act busy and that you’re paying attention to the lecture in front of you. knuckles turning white from gripping the seat with each movement of jake’s fingers sliding in and out of you.

“I can’t wait to fuck you after this,” he whispered in a gasped quiet moan, “going to put you in every position we are talking about in this lecture I swear to god.”

and god did you hope he would keep that promise. jake perfectly intends to bend you over every surface of his dorm and into every position possible by the end of the night. he just had to make it through this class. he was palming himself now, biting even harder into his lip until he could taste iron on his tongue. he was loosing his composure, and by the looks of it, so were you. then finally the professor ended the lecture off for the day and you and jake were the first ones out the door.

[wwooyology]

don't ask me anything, I only know Kim Sunoo 🧎‍♀️

[geroya]

i wish the mc would / be able to just wear gloves .

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

@teddybeartoji @staryukis @dollsuguru @neptuneblue

matching <3

[sillyfudgemonkeys]

Makoto: *doesn't get physical or defend herself against a threat* Me:

Makoto: *gets physical with her fucking friends* Me:

[racew1nn3rs]

─ 𝘴𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘦 𝘪. (𝘪'𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦) 🧶

⤷ summary: the world meets the newest mclaren team member, and they are loving it! it's poor oscars first day and shit's already hitting the fan sorry dude ): LMAO. lando just experienced love at first sight, while y/n is ready to fist fight

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liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, and 32,890 others

mclaren oscar's first day of kindergarten, done. pre-season testing, done. (we'll be even faster soon 🙏🏼 don't worry guys)

2,568 comments

user2 HELLO??? WHO HACKED THE MCLAREN ACCOUNT

user6 we'll be racing past redbull in no time

mclaren a girl can dream

user7 lando is this you??? 😭

user8 budget dropped so low they had to hire the drivers for social media

user3 this is haas money behavior

mclaren excuse you i am NOT LANDO

user8 oscar????

mclaren no sir, i'm the owner of this house 🫵

user9 idk if this is a new admin but this is so unserious

mclaren new year new me babe

user9 give her a raise mclaren 🙏🏼

mclaren REPOST REPOST REPOST

landonorris first day on the job and already asking for more money?

mclaren i'm so sorry lord lando, you forget that us lowly peasants aren't on an athelete salary 🙄

user10 HUMBLE HIM, WE LOVE TO SEE IT

user11 mclaren admin beefing with lando was NOT on my 2023 bingo card

user12 she really said, "ik we're slow but LET US COOK"

mclaren TRUUUSTTT THAT COMEBACK IS COMING (im manifesting)

oscarpiastri KINDERGARTEN??? i'm nearly 22 mate

mclaren teensy weensy baby basically

oscarpiastri your fired /:

mclaren HAHA YOU CAN'T DO THAT 🏃🏻‍♀️

user13 petition for all the f1 team accounts to be run by young admins, this is tooooo good

mclaren screenshotting this for my boss so they don't see these comments and fire me

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user14 she. looked. up. his. salary. 💀 ICON

user15 hiring her was such a rare mclaren W

user16 MCLAREN ADMIN HEAR OUR PRAYERS AND MAKE TIKTOKS 🙏🏼

user17 OMG CAN U IMAGINE

user18 HOW MUCH MONEY DO I HAVE TO PAY MS. MCLAREN FOR THIS OMG

user19 will our team win? probably not BUT AT LEAST WE'LL BE GETTING CONTENT 😘

user20 AYYYYEEEE

user21 LANDO MAY NEVER WIN, BUT THE FANS NEVER LOSE 🤞🏾

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liked by mclaren, maxfewtrell, and 60,050 others

landonorris don't mind me, just living my lord life on my athlete's salary. bahrain here we come!

10,750 comments

user22 WHERES THE MCLAREN ADMIN

user23 lando nowins flexing on us poor people

user24 someone come get this man's phone

user25 oh i KNOW pr is mad 💀💀💀

user26 daniel ricciardo leaves and mclaren loses it's mind

user27 daniel leaves and all of us lose our minds 🥲

oscarpiastri jesus christ mate, log out

mclaren i'm not sure he knows how, he might need to pay someone to /:

user28 CRAZZZYYYY

user29 THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTING

user30 "f1 is a serious sport." the serious sport in question:

user31 the papaya hat 🫵

user32 HE'S SO FINE IM GNAWING AT THE BARS

user33 BARK BARK WOOF WOOF

mclaren phones. on the table. NEOWWW

user33 holy shit this is actually so embarrassing

mclaren at least ur self aware!

user34 she clocked ur asses 😭😭😭

maxfewtrell lord lando flying economy

landonorris I AM NOT

user35 bro took that personally

user36 me thinks the man doth protest too much

danielricciardo i leave you alone for a few months and this is what you're doing

landonorris i learned from the best

danielricciardo DONT BLAME ME FOR THIS

maxverstappen1 ... that's my plane???

landonorris SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP

maxverstappen1 you can't just take credit for my private jet. its mine.

mclaren this just in, little lando norris is a little LIAR

mclaren when he steals a plane and wears bucket hats 🫵🤣 everyone point and laugh

landonorris I QUITE LIKE BUCKET HATS

mclaren i quite like bucket hats 🇬🇧☕️🤓

maxverstappen1 🫵🤣

danielricciardo 🫵🤣

charles_leclerc 🫵🤣

carlossainz55 🫵🤣

maxfewtrell 🫵🤣

oscarpiastri 🫵🤣

landonorris OSCAR????

oscarpiastri 🫵🤣 🫵🤣 🫵🤣

mclaren damn he got you there

user37 this cannot be real

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There were quite a few things Lando expected to be on his agenda when he arrived in Bahrain after him and Max went seperate ways to their own teams. He figured he would meet with his engineers, spend some time getting adjusted to working with Oscar (especially given he hadn't had very much time to meet or bond with the rookie over the break or during pre-season testing), and doing some press interviews as per usual. However no where on his list was an impromptu meeting with Zak Brown. Oscar seemed clueless as to what was going on as well, and Lydia, Lando's personal assistant of two years, was just as clueless.

Lando and Oscar filed into the board room, bottles of water in hand, only to be met face to face with their team manager. Nothing seemed suspicious which Lando hoped was a good thing, but after their underwhelming performance in pre-season testing he knew anything was a possibility.

"Have a seat guys, it's good to see you both. I hope you've been well-rested since testing," Zak greeted with his usual cheerful attitude. Lando and Oscar looked at each other warily but nodded at their boss nonetheless. Zak was usually more of a 'get to the point' kind of man, so this change of pace was unnerving to say the least. Normally it scared Lando a little bit, but truthfully, right now, Lando wanted to be done with this meeting and to get to race preparations.

"That's good, you need all the rest you can get if we're going to try and put up a fight this weekend. In all honesty, I think within the next two years we have a chance to become real competition here. I think we can give Red Bull and Ferrari a run for their money and earn plenty of points this year. Hell," the older man chuckled, "maybe we can win it all."

Lando didn't want to seem skeptical, but he was definitely skeptical. He did not think the car he was given in testing could win the championship, but he would sure as hell be trying.

"But no matter how hard the engineers work the car, and no matter how many sims we do, the one thing we're lacking in is presence. McLaren is notable, we have a famous team and a long roster of famous, successful drivers, including the two of you, but we don't have the same dominating media presence that Mercedes or Ferrari do. And that's what gets us sponsors, and celebrity visits, and fans, and funding. We may not be struggling for money, but if you guys like your multi-million dollar salaries and you want your car to keep being better, we need more media presence. Which is why we decided we wanted to go a bit of a different route this year, with media and all of that."

Oh god. Lando knew where this was going. This was about the new social media admin that had been ruthlessly harrasing him- albeit teasingly- for days now. Only employed for less than two weeks and already stirring up the pot across platforms. Lando looked at Oscar, noting that his teammate was clearly following as well now.

"I know you both have come to realize this already, but there is a new social media manager who runs all of the McLaren accounts. We wanted someone young, someone trendy, someone who knew what the internet is looking for, and who can help us connect and start getting more eyes on McLaren. We want her to meet with you guys today to share a couple of ideas so you can be on the same page for what we'll be doing online. The new manager is just outside. Let me get her so you can speak with her."

Lando nodded dumbly. Right, ok, he could do that. Lando was young, he was online, he was trendy. Plus, most of if not all of the F1 drivers had some kind of media presence already. Lando streamed, he had instagram accounts and twitter, and he even had Quadrant. Lando steeled himself. This would be just fine. An adjustment, but fine.

Zak greeted someone outside of the door and a small bit of shuffling sounds were heard. Before Lando had a chance to stand, Zak was turning and nodding a quick goodbye. Leaving the office room, as a smaller body replaced the space he had been in.

Lando felt like the air had been knocked from his lungs and hoped he hadn't made a noise out loud. He stared, he couldn't help it. He was sure he was slack-jawed, mouth agape and flies coming in. Somewhere in the back of his mind he registered that he should be professional and behave like a normal human being. But the other part of his brain, the dominant part of his brain, was in awe.

Lando looked at the girl in front of him up and down, probably far too obviously, and was stunned. He saw jean shorts, a faded and a mid-washed denim. A colorful-tighter cropped shirt and some layered gold jewelery. Rings on her fingers. Sunglasses in her hair, making her look way to cool to ever speak to him. She rocked on the balls of her sneaker-clad feet- sneakers that matched her clothes perfectly much to Lando's delight- and quickly moved to set her laptop down of the table. She left her small colorful handbag on the table alongside a cup of iced coffee that was already melting in the Bahrain heat. She looked as if she had jumped straight from a Vogue cover (or one of his favorite dreams) and landed right in front of him.

Was it the heat that was making it so hot? Because Lando was becoming suddenly aware of the heat beneath his shirt collar. A stifled cough from Oscar drew Lando from his observation- or rather his creepy, stalker staring- and Lando realized this was not the social etiquette that the situation called for.

Before Lando could even take a step, the girl smirked.

"Nice to finally meet you guys. Hello Oscar," the girl leaned over and shook the taller man's hand. "And Lord Lando, is it? It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Y/N L/N, i'm the new social media manager for the season."

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Y/N could now officially say she is not a fan of Lando Norris. The online feud she had cleverly created to generate some conversation about McLaren before the season started had been banter. She had taken no offense to Lando's jokes at all, but now that she was in front of the man and could feel his judgement, her opionions had changed.

From the second she walked in Lando had begun unabashedly staring at her. Looking her up and down, from the shoes she had recently bought to the hair clipped back on her head, and was not sparing a single detail. She felt vaguely like a mannequin on display and it unnerved her.

Oscar smiled at her politely as she set her things down, and she felt thankful for the reprieve from the judgement and critcism she had been recieving since she arrived and was now experiencing again from Lando in full force.

Y/N was aware that her outfit wasn't uniform or professional, but those were not the qualities she was hired for. Y/N had been confident coming in here, feeling like she would likely connect better with people her own age, but was thoroughly dissapointed to find this was not the case.

Oscar ultimately cleared his throat awkwardly, and it appeared as though this finally snapped Lando out of his judgemental stupor, so Y/N decided to finally make her introductions.

"Nice to finally meet you guys, hello Oscar," she leaned over and shook the taller man's hand. "And Lord Lando, is it? It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Y/N L/N, i'm the new social media manager for the season."

Lando groaned loudly and Oscar laughed.

"Lando I don't think you'll ever live this one down," and Y/N forced a laugh and nodded in agreeance.

"No, probably not. But that's good, that's what I was hoping for." Y/N stated bluntly.

"You were hoping to torture me?" Lando stuttered out and Y/N rolled her eyes, "You'll live I promise." Oscar laughed before pointing out, "at least your not a kindergartener."

Lando stifled a laugh but agreed.

"What purpose did Oscar's baby jokes serve?" Lando asked, and Y/N forced herself not to punch the man at his judgemental tone. He clearly didn't believe in her ability to do her job.

"It's funny, that was it's purpose," she stated, gesturing to the table for the boys to sit as she opened up her laptop. She turned to face toward them, lifting herself slightly so was seated criss-crossed in the chair. She never had liked sitting normally. The boys across from her stared at her expectantly.

"So you create jokes the make people look at us more?" Oscar asked.

"In a way yes. My job is to manage the accounts, but I've also been hired to help get you guys more fans. Fans love to be interacted with, they love seeing you guys joke around, they like feeling like they have content to consume," Y/N explained.

"By playing into these desires, you get more fans, because they feel they 'know you" in a way they don't know the other drivers." The boys nodded their head in understanding.

"So the plan is for me to keep interacting with fans through the McLaren accounts, playing up jokes with you too, and for us to give the fans new content in a way they don't usually get it. Livestreams, youtube vlogs, inside internet jokes, TikToks, the works." Y/N stated.

"Essentially," she said dragging the word out, "I'm going to make you guys the internet's little papaya stars," Lando laughed but nodded. Y/N, despite her first impressions and her developing dislike for the driver, found herself smiling. She could see the vision. Both Oscar and Lando would be awkward and loveable and humorous. The perfect mix for internet support.

"So where do we start?" Oscar asked.

"I'm glad you asked," Y/N smirked. "Have you heard the clip of 'Cuffing Season' by SZA? There's a TikTok trend I think will be perfect for you to do."

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user38 can we talk about how gorgeous admin is?!?!? LIKE OH MY GOD

user10 only hot people go to mclaren

user40 that check better be huge for her

user41 oscar was so mf stiff 💀💀 free my boy

user42 who had a gun to oscars head, he was so scared

user43 lando thirst trapping ICB 😭 I NEED A BIG BOYYY

user44 god admin is so sexy and smart, that was art

user45 CAN WE DISCUSS HOW LANDO LOOKS AT HER

user46 ikr 💀 get off the floor lando your drooling

user47 i want a man to be that down bad for me

user48 lando loverboy era unlocked

user49 meanwhile admin didn't look him in the face

user50 f1 2023 is going to be a WILD RIDE for us mclaren fans if this is before the first race even starts

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hope you all enjoyed! please let me know your thoughts and feel free to leave a request for me to write something for your fav <3

-

𝙩𝙖𝙜 𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

@lemon-lav @slutforpopculture @m4rt10ne

[featherandferns]

risk (fic)

jj maybank x fem!kook!reader | partly inspired by this incredible scene

content warnings: sexual content; physical violence

word count: 18k.

blurb: after a hurricane, a Labrador shows up at JJ's house. After some posters go up around the country, JJ begrudgingly returns the dog to you on Figure Eight. Little did he know that his life was about to change forever.

This is actually insane.

JJ has no idea how everything went to shit faster than a penny falling from the top of the Empire State Building. It seems to be the crux of his life.

One minute Rafe is beating the shit out of JJ’s face, Kelce holding him tight in a headlock, with Pope being strangled to his right by Topper, and the next everyone is still like rock.

There you stand, holding up a gun, safety unlatched, with the aim set directly at the centre of Rafe’s forehead. He’s already called your bluff once. It’s a classic Mexican stand-off. Nobody knows what you’re going to do next, not even JJ. Hell, he’s not even sure if you know what you’ll do next.

And it’s crazy to think that all of this started because of a dog.

Two Months Earlier

It always sucks when JJ admits to himself that Kiara was right. She was right about most things, in fairness, but just this once ��� just for a change – he had hoped that she wasn’t.

The blonde-haired boy stands in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at a poster taped to a streetlamp. His teeth gnaw on his lower lip in thought as he tugs the poster free, as if gaining a closer look might change what he sees.

MISSING DOG

IF FOUND PLEASE RETURN TO 12 SILVER CANOE WAY, FIGURE EIGHT

REWARD AVAILABLE

The picture is an uncanny reflection of the dog currently sat by JJ’s feet. He’s panting in the sun, blissfully unaware of the curveball tossed at his temporary owner. As JJ looks from the black-and-white poster to the middle-aged dog, he has to begrudgingly admit to himself that Kiara was right. This dog wasn’t a stray. Instead, he was the pet of some bratty, spoilt Kook.

“Whose dog is that?” Kiara asks.

JJ follows her gaze to the labrador cosied up on the porch, soaking up the sun like it was his God-given right.

“Mine,” he says.

“Yours?”

“Yeah, he just showed up after the hurricane."

It was true. The morning after the hurricane, JJ ventured out of his house to assess the damage only to hear a rustling and whimper from under the porch. Getting down on his hands and knees, expecting to find some beaten racoon, JJ came face to face with a petrified, middle-aged labrador. No collar. His cream coat was covered in dirt and dust and a small cut near his eye told JJ he’d found his way to his house during the hurricane, likely seeking shelter. After he coaxed him out with some fresh fish, the dog seemed to take a liking to the seventeen-year-old. JJ took it as the dog distribution system shining the light on him but Kiara didn’t seem so sure.

“And you’re just gonna claim him?”

“He’s a stray,” JJ tells her.

She looks to the dog again, then back to JJ. Her face essentially says, ‘seriously, dude?’

“He is!”

“A dog that well-groomed and that well fed is not a stray, and you know it.”

JJ’s stomach twists. He’d thought the same thing once he’d given the dog a wipe down. A full stomach, trimmed fur, trained to do more than just sit…Strays don’t come like that in Kildare County. But JJ liked the company the dog brought. He’d always wanted one, ever since he was a kid, but his dad would never allow it. Waste of money and food, he’d say. But so far, JJ had managed to keep the dog’s existence on the downlow. He wasn’t very loud or yappy. In fact, he was as calm as sea turtle. JJ liked the bond that had so quickly grown between them. So, swallowing the faint feeling of guilt of keeping someone’s dog, he tells Kiara:

“Well, until someone puts a poster up, I’m sticking to my gut. He’s a stray and he belongs with me.”

It’s like the universe was calling his bluff or something.

JJ crumples the poster in his fist, litters it on the street, and gently tugs on the leash.

“Come on, boy,” he mutters.

The dog gets to its feet and follows JJ down the street, back to the Chateau. He seems rather drained from the brief walk around the cut. Curls up by the front door in a patch of shade, yawning before nestling his head between his large paws for a nap. JJ watches him from the kitchen as he sips on a cold cider. His mind is in battle between right and wrong (as it usually is) as he contemplates the poster.

Kiara nearly falls over the dog as she walks into the Chateau. Then, she shoots a deadly glare to JJ.

“You didn’t go to the vet, did you?”

“Who actually microchips their pets, anyway?”

“Most people, JJ. It’s a clever way to make sure you get your dog back if, let’s say, it runs off in a hurricane without a collar,” Kie returns.

JJ rolls his eyes and takes another swig of his drink. “I’ll take him tomorrow.”

“Actually, there’s no need,” Kiara says. She walks across the room to him and pulls something from her back pocket. As she unfolds the rectangle of paper, JJ comes face to face with the very poster that had been occupying his mind for the past half hour. She holds it out to him.

“See? This is someone’s dog.”

“That could be any dog,” JJ lies.

Kiara quirks a brow. JJ breaks easily, sighing.

“Look, can we just consider the possibility that this dog would be happier with me?” JJ argues. He ditches his cider and makes his way over to the animal. “I mean, he likes me, Kie. And he listens to me. And I like having him around.”

Lowering to his knees, he pets the dog awake from his slumber. He makes an adorable grumbling-whine as he rouses from his sleep. Looking over to Kiara, JJ must resemble an eight-year-old begging their parents for candy at the grocery store.

“I’ll take good care of him,” he promises.

Kiara sighs. Her icy exterior softens, features overcome with sympathy. She joins him and the dog on the floor, scratching at the pet’s back.

“I know you will, JJ,” she says. “But this is someone’s pet. And they clearly want him back. It’s the right thing to do.”

“Since when do I ever do the right thing?” JJ mumbles. He looks down to meet the chocolate brown eyes of his new best friend.

“Since today, hopefully.”

JJ holds the dog’s gaze. There’s such tenderness in his eyes, as the dog stares up at him. Makes JJ feel as though he is the most important thing on this earth. Dogs don’t care about money or mind: you treat them right and give them a good stick, and they’ll be happy forever. Unconditional love like that is rare to find in humans. It seems to JJ like it’s almost impossible, really. But then he thinks of the dog looking at a little girl or boy like that, and how (as spoilt as they may be) the child feels nothing but love for the dog in return. It seems cruel to take that away. He knows deep down what the right thing is. The moral thing.

“Tomorrow,” JJ quietly says. Looking up, meeting Kiara’s eyes, he nods reluctantly. “I’ll take him to the house tomorrow.”

She smiles smally, nodding to herself. Getting to her feet, she leaves JJ alone with the dog to enjoy the last few hours of time together. He ends up falling asleep on the pull-out couch with the dog, face buried in the scruff of his neck, as he unconsciously counts down the hours left until he gives him back.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

JJ stretches out the walk to the house for as long as possible. He lets the dog sniff at every scent and even tries to coax a million pee breaks out of him. He lingers by the sea, stroking the dog’s fur, and shares a hot dog as they pass a gas station. Eventually, they arrive at Figure Eight. The hurricane left the cell towers down on The Cut, so he didn’t bother with his phone. That leaves him to follow street signs until he’s making his way up Silver Canoe Way.

The houses are insane. Marvels of architecture and money. Bright green hedges trimmed into the most obscure shapes; useless statutes standing pretty in front gardens, protected by walls and security cameras. Fountains on almost every property, and a pool probably found in every back garden. Lucky sons of bitches.

House 12 is gorgeous: cream stone bricks and oak-style wood accents. There isn’t a gate, which is curious considering all the others down the road have one. JJ feels as though he’s trespassing as he makes his way up the driveway. There's not a single weed sprouting between paving slabs. There’re two cars in the driveway, each probably cost more than his life insurance pay-out. He imagines birds that dare shit on them get taxed: it’s the only way to explain their cleanliness. God, living like this and he can half understand why Kooks are as obnoxious as they are. What appear to be marble steps lead to a huge front door. The dog seems to know where he is, tugging excitedly on the leash as he guides JJ up the stairs.

JJ stands for a long moment. He looks down at the dog, takes in its wagging tail, and sighs. As he lifts his fist to rap against the door, it swings open. JJ is just as stunned as you. He doesn’t have time to apologise for startling you, because your eyes drop from JJ to the barking dog. You sink to the floor, mouth falling open, and willingly let your dog tackle you in a hug. His leash slips from JJ’s hold. You scruff the dog’s neck, press kisses all over his face, and giggle tearfully as your dog greets you after almost a week apart.

“Oh my God! Ranger! Oh my God!” you happily cry over and over again.

JJ immediately feels evil for even contemplating keeping your dog, Ranger, to himself.

The moment Ranger seems to gain some composure, you remember JJ’s existence. Looking up, you quickly wipe away your tears from under your eyes and clamber back to your feet.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I’m so rude!” you laugh, sticking out a hand. He shakes it as you introduce yourself.

“JJ,” he replies.

There’s a moment of recognition that passes over your face but it’s gone as soon as it comes, like the flash of green at sunset on the horizon.

“Thank you so much,” you say. One of your hands reaches down to ruffle at Ranger’s neck. JJ takes in how happy he is, staring up at you, grinning and panting, tongue out with exertion. “Where did you find him?”

“He kinda found me,” JJ replies, scratching the back of his neck. “Showed up under my house just after the hurricane. Guessing he got spooked or something.”

“That’s what we think happened,” you say. “I woke up to find the backdoor open. He must have jumped and bolted; he frightens easy, you see. I felt awful when I realised he was gone.”

As JJ listens to you speak, he’s partly distracted. It’s hard to follow along to what you say when you’re standing gorgeous like the first day of June.

“Well, like I said, it’s no trouble,” JJ repeats.

You smile brighter than a brand-new penny, teeth pearly white and perfect aligned. JJ doubts you ever needed braces. Probably born with a set of veneers. It’s with that bitter thought that he reminds himself what he’s dealing with here. A kook who lives in nothing short of a mansion, who can’t even keep her dog inside during a hurricane.

“The, uh, poster said something about a reward…” JJ awkwardly mentions.

Your face dawns with realisation and he momentarily feels guilty, but then you’re nodding fervently. “Of course! God, I can’t believe I forgot!”

“I mean, I would have brought him back anyway,” JJ bold face lies.

“No, don’t be silly, it’s the least I owe.” You pull your door open. “Come in, please,” you say, heading into your home.

JJ falters in the doorway. It feels as though even stepping into your home might put him short of a few hundred bucks, just from breathing the air. He follows the route you took into the house, closing the door behind him. The minute he’s out of the entryway and in the main corridor, his eyes widen like he’s witnessing a supernova.

“Holy super kook,” he mutters, gaping at the interior.

Marble everything. Expensive obnoxious artwork that must only be interpretable once you reach a certain tax bracket. Framed photos of yourself and your family on the wall at various vacation spots: France, Italy, Mexico, China. There are others, too, of dance recitals. A shelf of trophies and awards. Ornaments and figurines standing on podiums like he’s in a museum. JJ’s terrified to walk, as if one step might send everything falling off the walls.

He finds himself blindly following you into the kitchen. It’s crystal clean and white. Granite counter tops beautifully cluttered with every appliance you can imagine. You head to the fridge.

“You want a drink?”

“Uh, sure. Water’s fine, thanks,” JJ replies.

You nod and grab a glass that probably costs JJ’s entire monthly wage. Then you go to your fridge (it has a touchscreen for Christ’s sake) and dispense ice cold water. Holding it out to him, you smile, sweet like buttercream.

JJ sips and watches as you reach for a bag that lies on the kitchen counter, retrieving a wallet. Holding out two fifties, you wait for him to take them. His eyes stare at the unwrinkled notes. JJ’s momentary pause makes you frown.

“Sorry, that’s a bit tight of me, isn’t it?” you say. You dip into the bottomless wallet and retrieve another fifty. “Is that enough?”

“Uh, I couldn’t…” He clears his throat and finally snaps out of his stupor. Taking the money, he passes two fifties back, saying, “I can’t take all of this.”

You shake your head and push the money back towards him.

“I insist. You brought my dog back! I should be giving you more,” you say.

JJ holds back his laugh.

More? It’s a fucking dog! You’re about to give him $150 for a Goddamn seven-year-old labrador? God, Kooks really do just think different.

He looks up from the money and takes you in, properly this time. JJ recognises you. Not from keggers or house parties – he’s seen you at neither of those things – but from church. He used to be subjected to Sunday school in a desperate bid to ‘send him on the right life path’, and he could remember seeing you there. You’d attend the service, sat safe in your father’s shadow. Even though JJ stopped going, he’d still see people heading in the direction of the county church if he were in the area. You were a regular. Dressed in the prettiest dresses, hair perfect and proper, jewellery to the nines, always sandwiched between your mother and father. You didn’t indulge in the debauchery that most teenagers on the island did. JJ would know if he’d spotted you at one of the many hangs; you had the kind of beauty that demanded to be seen, like a rare bird on the marsh. No, girls like you didn’t partake in those things. You spent time with your parents and a small circle of Church friends, probably just as sheltered and saintly as yourself, and was in bed before sunset and awake before sunrise.  

And yet, you never rubbed JJ the wrong way like all the other Kooks did. He didn’t know you from Adam – in fact, the first time he’d ever shared a word with you was today – but something about you…You seemed different. Genuine. Rich, no doubt, but not exactly snobbish.

An idea suddenly comes to JJ. It’s stupid, and rather out of character given his prejudices, but for some reason, it’s miles more appealing than $150. A part of him wonders where his sudden charity is coming from. Maybe it’s something about your personality and his underlying infatuation he’s had with you since Sunday school. Maybe it’s your dog and how doting he appears to be of you. Hell, maybe it’s because you’re pretty. JJ’s always been a sucker for pretty girls – Kook or not – and he’s always wanted the things that he can’t have.

All these thoughts race through his head at a hundred miles an hour, and there’s only half a minute that passes before JJ speaks.

“How ‘bout this?” he says. “I take a fifty, and you let me take you out.”

You blink once, then twice. “Take me out? Like…on a date?”

“Yeah,” JJ nods. The fact that your whole face didn’t immediately shrivel up like a prune at the suggestion gives JJ hope that he might have a chance. “What’d you say?”

There’s a moment where your eyes dip down to Ranger. He’s sat at your feet, watching the two of you interact with his tongue hanging out, mouth in a seeming smile. The second your eyes lock with your dog's, you look back to JJ with new-found confidence.

“Depends,” you say, correcting your posture, chin held high. “What did you have in mind?”

JJ’s never had to pitch a date to a girl before in his life. Usually he asks and they’re there: hook, line and sinker. His brain thinks hard and fast. “I can pick you up. Go for a drive, grab a bite maybe. Get to know one another,” he says.

You quirk a brow. “Is that all?”

Of course, you have standards. Hell, the guys that court you probably dine you at The Ritz and gift you a Rolex. JJ isn’t deterred though. Instead, he’s rather amused.

With a boyish grin, he says, “princess, I promise one date with me and I’ll change your life forever.”

Your eyebrows raise. “Bold statement to make, Maybank.”  

JJ takes note of how you know his last name and thinks back to when he introduced himself; that strange flash of recognition on your face. You know who he is and yet, you’re entertaining the idea of letting him take you out. Curiouser and curiouser.

JJ doesn’t beg or barter. Instead, he just stares you down, waiting for your response as you visibly contemplate his offer. There’s a hint of a smile on your face, the type that might come when you’re trying to suss someone out. It’s barely there but JJ’s sure he can see it. He knows that look all too well.

“When would this be?”

JJ’s painfully aware of how desperate he may sound as he says, “Tomorrow night?”

“I have ballet practice tomorrow.”

“Thursday then.”

“Piano recital.”

“Jesus, woman,” he can’t help but mutter. It makes you smile.

“I’m free Friday,” you offer.

And, holy shit, no way you’re actually agreeing to this. JJ hopes the shock doesn't show on his face.

“Friday works. The, uh, cell towers are down on The Cut so how ‘bout I just pick you up? Seven thirty sound good?”

“Sure.”

You speak in a manner that tries to give the impression that this whole conversation is rather mundane to you. That you have Pogues asking you out every other hour, almost like a nine-to-five job.

“But pick me up on the street outside, not in the driveway.”

JJ doesn’t question it. He’s not going to argue to your terms when he’s somehow landed a date with the hottest, goody-two-shoes kook in Kildare.

“Alright. On the street, Friday at seven thirty. Wear something pretty, yeah?”

Your brows quirk. “Any other demands?”

“Yeah. Give me a fair chance?” JJ wonders, half-joking.

Your eyes flit from JJ’s face, down his body, right to his toes, and back again. Smiling, sweet like cotton candy, you reply, “I think I can do that.”

His body goes ice cold. JJ nods, cementing the dates and times in his memory like he’s remembering nuclear launch codes.

“Then, I guess I’ll see you soon, princess."

“I guess so,” you say, returning the leftover fifties to your wallet. JJ pockets his fifty, gives one last pet to Ranger in farewell, and shows himself to the front door. As it shuts behind him, JJ leans against it. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back. Then, he laughs. He laughs and laughs, mouth upturned in an astounded smile, and shakes his head.

“No fucking way,” he mumbles to himself.

John B is not going to believe this. None of the Pogues are.

Rubbing at his face in disbelief, JJ repeats, “no fucking way” one last time before walking down the driveway. He spares one last glance at the house. Friday. Seven-thirty.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

JJ has never been one to care all that much about his appearance. Half of his clothes have a hole in them somewhere, whether it be on the collar or in a pocket, and his hair is constantly tousled with salt-water from the sea. He isn’t unclean though. He showers and shaves and washes his clothes (though perhaps not as much as he should). He doesn’t think he’s bad looking, either. Lived experience shows that to be true, as he’s never struggled to land a date or hook-up. But there’s something about you, something about this particular meeting, that has him turfing through his chest of drawers.

He’s pretty sure he’s settled on an outfit. It’s ironic that it looks almost thrown together when JJ’s spent fifteen minutes obsessing over it. He washed his hair with shampoo and conditioner (that he stole from Kiara) and even used some hair wax to try and style it. Again, it probably looks the same as usual, but he feels better for it.

All the faffing leaves him running late. It’s closer to 7:45 than 7:30 by the time JJ pulls up your road on his bike. He’s aware of how loud the engine is in this area, rumbling as he slows to a stop. You’re stood in the sidewalk, arms crossed anxiously over your chest, glancing up and down the street. As JJ approaches, your eyes fall on him and a nervous smile sparks to life. JJ bullshits himself by labelling his hammering heart as adrenaline from riding a dirt bike on Figure Eight. You push some of your hair behind your ear as you walk up to meet him halfway. You’re practically glowing under the sunset sky, skin shiny with body butter like you’ve been bathed in glitter. He shuts off the engine and sits back in the seat.

“You’re late."

JJ cringes playfully. “My bad?”

“Mhm.”

You step over to him and linger by his bike. He quirks a brow. “You hopping on?”

As your eyes survey the vehicle, JJ starts to grin, smug. “You ever been on a bike before?”

“Course,” you say, almost too quickly. “Just…Not one like this.”

JJ offers out a hand and you hesitate for a second before taking it. Grasping your hand in his, you climb onto the back of his bike. Your summer dress rides up as you do and you nervously tug it down. Then, your arms gently loop around his waist. Laughing, JJ shakes his head. He tightens your grip on him.

“Gotta hold on tight or you’ll fly off,” JJ remarks.

“Promise not to do anything stupid?” you say, voice thick with nerves.

JJ starts up the engine. “Princess, I can’t promise anything like that,” he grins. Looking over his shoulder, meeting your terrified eyes, he softens his smile. “But I promise you’re safe.”

Your own smile battles through the queasy nervousness. JJ revs the engine and turns his head back to the road, and then he sets off. Your arms immediately latch tighter like a vice. It makes him laugh, and you mutter a meek ‘shut up’ in reply. Having you close like this; he can smell your perfume. It’s expensive, encapsulating you like you’ve been doused in it. Several bangle style bracelets lining your wrists press into his skin through his t-shirt, only slightly uncomfortable, and when he turns a corner, they shift and jangle melodically together.

Zipping down the roads of Figure Eight, JJ drags out the journey the same way he did walking Ranger back to your house. Gradually, mansions turn to shacks and quaint homes, and well-kept children’s parks into overgrown yards surrounded with chain-link fence.

He pulls down a dirt track, heading nearer to the marshland, and eventually comes to a stop. You catch your breath as he turns off the engine.

“Feeling alright?” he checks, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” you reply.

You look a little windswept. Instinctively, JJ reaches out a hand to brush some hair from your face. Embarrassed, you help, calming down your hair and fixing your appearance. Then you use JJ’s shoulders as an anchor, climbing off his bike.

“So…You brought me out to middle of nowhere…” you say, looking around.

JJ kicks on the stand and pulls the keys form the ignition. “Scared?”

“Should I be?”

JJ chuckles, shaking his head. “Come on. I got something planned.”

He takes your hand, smiling to himself as you intertwine your fingers with his, and guides the two of you through the shrubs towards the water side. The P.M.S. Pogue sits moored in the marsh. A loan, if he helps John B clean out the chicken hut next week.

“Now, I know this probably ain’t like all the fancy yachts you and your folks have,” JJ starts, walking up to the boat side. “But I promise it runs like a dream.”

As he looks back to you, JJ’s eyes shamelessly sweep along your figure. The dress you’re wearing is pastel green adorned with dainty flowers of white and ivy. It ends just past the point of tortuous on your legs. You’re pretty as a vine and sweet like a grape, decorated with expensive jewellery. Pearl earrings and a Tiffany necklace. On your wrist, though, JJ finds a series of handmade friendship bracelets amongst your bangles. They’re made with shells and beads and tiny pendants of silver. Several rings sit pretty on your fingers.

Looking back to the boat, JJ pulls the ladder free with a grunt. It creaks from want of use: himself and the Pogues usually just climb inside or jump on from the jetty. “Ladies first,” he says, offering out a hand.

You look between his hand and the ladder, and then something deterministic overcomes your face as you place your hands on lip of the boat. With a huff, you use whatever upper body strength you have to climb up. JJ stands, taken aback, and his eyes falls to your bare legs. Your toes are pointed, calve muscles tense and strong, and he can almost picture you in pointe ballet slippers. Amused, JJ lets you clamber up into the boat. Sighing, you correct your dress and jewellery before looking down at him.

“Well? You coming?”

JJ gives a small laugh before nodding. “Yes, ma’am.”

He climbs with significantly less difficulty than yourself, proudly flexing his muscles as he does, shameless in his peacocking. When he gets to his feet, he finds you staring. “Like what you see?”

Your face flushes. You try and play it off though. “Just checking if you needed a hand.”

JJ grins, playing along, and you roll your eyes and walk to the wheel of the boat. He follows, pulling the keys from his short pockets, and turns on the engine which sputters to life. You hold onto the side of the steering hold as JJ guides the two of you into the marsh.

“You wanna steer?” he asks once you’re in wider waters.

You wordlessly step up and take the wheel. It’s easy, guiding the boat along. JJ hovers behind you, testing the waters by placing a hand on your waist. You don’t shrug him off. Soon enough, JJ’s placing a hand back on the wheel and guiding you to a certain spot.

“I found this place a while ago,” he says over your shoulder as he steers. He can feel your gaze on him. It’s terrifying, having you so close to him. God, he hopes it doesn’t show. “Best stargazing spot in the whole county.”

He slows the engine to a shuddering stop and steps away to toss the anchor down. It’s silent out in the water, asides from sea birds and marsh-side insects. Fish that break to the surface for a split-second disturb the water every now and then. Crickets and distant hooting owls. It’s dark now, too. Everything painted in a dusky blue. JJ grabs the old blanket that he stole from the twinkie and lies it down on the nose of the boat.

“Here,” he calls.

You make your way over, accepting his hand as you step up. The two of you settle to lay side by side. JJ tucks his arms behind his head as a makeshift pillow. You stare at the sky, eyes falling open at the endless expanse.

“Woah.”

“Pretty sick, right?”

“Yeah,” you say, laughing quietly. “It’s awesome.”

JJ grins. Nailed it.

For a while, the two of you just stargaze. He can hear your breathing, steady and calm, and once more your perfume invades his senses. A bottle of the stuff probably cost more than his bike. That thought prompts him to break the silence. Sitting up, he looks down at you.

“Alright, I gotta ask,” he says.

You sit up on your elbows, curiosity piqued. It takes everything in JJ to keep his eyes trained on your face and not your chest.

“Why’d you agree to go out with me?”

You smile, somewhat amused. It’s like you’ve been waiting for him to ask. “Well, that’s an easy question.”

“Oh, is it now?”

“Mhm,” you grin, teeth sinking into your lower lip. Christ, you’re angelic. “Ranger.”

“Your dog?”

“Yep.”

“What? You kooks manage to translate what they bark about or something? He give you some words of wisdom?”

You laugh, shaking your head. Sitting up fully, your bracelets chime together. “He liked you.”

“Yeah?” JJ says, brows tugging together in confusion.

“Ranger doesn’t trust easy. He’s a rescue and he practically chose me. The shelter people said he hadn’t let anyone near him since arriving, but with me, he came running over, like he knew me or something. He likes men even less. He won’t let my daddy within five yards of him without barking and cowering. He wouldn’t hurt you, but he gets scared and jumpy. But he seemed to like you. Seemed to trust you.”

“So, that made you agree to go out with me?” JJ checks.

Shrugging, you simply reply, “dogs are the best judge of character, after all.”

Humming in thought, JJ looks out to the marsh as he considers what you’ve said. It’s a little hilarious that a runaway dog is the reason that he’s got you here, alone, on the P.M.S. Pogue.

“My turn,” you say, seemingly initiating a game of twenty-one questions. JJ looks back to you. “Why’d you ask me out?”

“Pretty obvious. You’re fucking gorgeous,” JJ replies.

Whilst your smile turns to mush, you roll your eyes and act as if you’re unaffected by his words. “Seriously, though. I didn’t think I was your type.”

“Smoking hot girls? Nah, you’re pretty much my type to a T,” JJ goes on, charming smile in full view.

“What about Kiara?”

JJ gives a bemused smile. “What about Kie?”

“I know she hangs out with you guys. We’re pretty different people, me and her.”

It’s obvious that you’re far from low maintenance. You're proud of being a kook. You don’t shy away from it: happy to show off your money and beauty. JJ doesn’t get the sense that you’re haughty but it seems rather clear that you live your life to a certain standard.

JJ shrugs. “Guess that’s why I’m not dating her.”

“I know your reputation, you know. About all the girls you hook-up with and stuff.”

“Oh. You jealous or something?”

“No,” you say. Voice turning softer, you continue. “But I feel like I should to tell you that I’m not the kind of girl who has a lot of hook-ups. Or the kind who puts out on the first date.” When JJ doesn’t say anything, you feel the need to add, “just, before you get your hopes up.”

Pursing his lips, JJ nods slowly. He had a feeling that was going to be the case. You weren’t exactly known in the community for being particularly flirtatious. Hell, he wasn’t sure he’d ever known any guy to date you. From the way you spoke, careful with your words, and the way you acted, you were almost made of solid gold: pure through and through. So, having you take sex off the table for the foreseeable future didn’t exactly blind-side JJ. That to say, if you had offered it up, he would have jumped at the opportunity. God, he’s half sure he’d die if he ever saw you naked.

He could be a gentleman, though. He could. Something about you had JJ entranced outside of just the physical. So, if a hook-up wasn’t in the cards, maybe getting to know you might be all the better.

He’ll just have to learn to keep his eyes and his dick to himself.

Sighing, JJ lowers himself to lay down again. This time, he only tucks one arm behind his head. The other, he outstretches into your expanse of the blanket.

“Alright, princess. I think I can live with that,” he says.

Seemingly content with his reply, you lay back down, resting your head in the nook of his arm.

“It’s your turn,” you quietly say after a moment’s quiet.

“To do what?”

“Ask a question.”

JJ filters through the many in his mind, tucking the inappropriate ones away for a later date, and finally settles. “Alright. Was Ranger the only reason you agreed to go on a date with me?”

You let out a small tuneful hum of contemplation. “No. I wanted to see what you were like.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, I’ve seen you around the island and heard the stories. I suppose I wanted to know for myself,” you say. “Plus, I always do what I’m supposed to do. I guess I wanted to do the opposite, for a change.”

“Rebelling against your dear old daddy with the derelict from the Cut?” JJ jokingly asks.

“Hmm. Something like that,” you say, playing along. You turn your head to the side and meet JJ's eyes. “You’re just a pawn in my game, Maybank.”

JJ’s too sucker-punched from that to come up with something witty in reply. There’s a foreign thump in his chest and a selcouth feeling in the back of his throat as you look at him. JJ swallows it away, returning his attention to the star-lit sky.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

JJ revels in the miracle that he landed a second date with you as he fixes his hair in John B’s bathroom mirror. His best friend sits on the closed toilet lid, watching him.

“I can’t believe you’re seeing her again,” John B says for the millionth time.

JJ grins at his reflection. “I know.”

“I mean, what do you guys even talk about?” JB continues, face contorted in confusion.

JJ shrugs. “I don’t know. We just spent the other night talking about all sorts, really.”

“And you’re sure she isn’t being paid to go out with you?”

“Maybe the first time, but not this time, no,” JJ replies. He stops messing with his hair. Licks over his teeth, checking for trapped food, and dusts of his t-shirt. Looking to his friend, JJ asks, “how do I look?”

John B barely takes his appearance in before saying, “like she’s out of your league.”

“Come on, man,” JJ groans, shoving his best friend’s shoulder. He leaves the bathroom, John B hot on his tail. “You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Yeah. That I’m macking on a kook and you ain’t,” JJ tells him. Opening the fridge, he tosses a beer to John B before taking one for himself. “I know you’ve had a thing for Sarah Cameron since we were kids.”

“No,” John B quickly says, shaking his head. “No, no, I do not have ‘a thing’ for Sarah Cameron.”

“JB, you’re a terrible liar,” JJ sighs. He takes a sip of his drink. Liquid confidence. Eyes glancing up to the clock hung on the chateau’s kitchen wall, he reckons he has about five minutes before he should leave for your house.

“So, seriously: what is this? Why this new flavour of the month?” John B grills.

JJ shrugs. “I dunno man. She’s just…She’s cute. And hot. And rich, and easy to talk to, and kinda funny, and, oh did I mention, rich as fuck. I don’t see any downsides, really.”

“Mhm, well, I do,” John B gladly counters. “She’s a kook.”

“Yeah, but she’s not like a kook kook. Kinda like how Kiara’s a kook,” JJ argues.

John B looks bewildered. “She is nothing like Kiara.”

“Alright, not in personality or looks or actual money, but in general kook-ness.”

“All I’m saying is that if you think this thing has a long shelf-life, you’re way more crazy than I thought you were,” John B says.

JJ doesn’t reply. Downing the rest of his can, he tosses it at the trash can (dismally misses) and heads for the front door. As he goes, he taps John B on the shoulder in a brotherly fashion.

“Nice to know you’re rooting for me, man,” he jovially says in farewell.

Then, he’s heading down the porch steps, climbing onto his bike, and setting sights for your house for the fourth time in his life.

Your house stands like a castle in the streets. JJ practically sees the driveway as a crocodile infested moat. He waits on the street at the foot of the driveway for you, arriving in time to see you make your way down the drive. You’re dressed in Levi shorts and a Tommy Hilfiger shirt, designer sandals on your decorated feet with anklets and toe rings. JJ sits back on his seat, engine running, and finds himself grinning as you smile at him. When did that start to happen?

“Not late this time, huh?” you playfully say.

“Learnt my lesson.”

You don’t hesitate as you climb on the back of his bike. You wrap your arms around his stomach, fingers splaying out across his chest over his t-shirt. JJ revs the engine.

“Ready?”

“Hell yeah.”

Grinning, JJ sets off down the street.

Once again, you’d left the plans in JJ’s hands. It was a little surreal to him, how trusting you were of him. Might be a place of concern, even. But, hey, JJ will take the win.

It’s still light when you get to the cliffside. From here, the view is incredible. An orange-pink sky that looks like it might taste of tangerine and peach hangs above a rolling sea. The view stretches on for miles, with the mainland off along the horizon.

JJ admires you as you stand in breeze, looking out at the view. You turn to face him.

“Why does every place I let you take me get more and more concerning every time?”

“We’re going cliff jumping,” is JJ’s reply.  

Your eyebrows nearly shoot off your head. “That’s called suicide, JJ.”

“Nah, not here,” he says, shaking his head. He grabs your hand and tries to coax you nearer to the edge so you can see the drop. “Water’s plenty deep and cliff’s plenty high. It’s fun.”

You catch on that he’s not joking. Laughing nervously, you shake your head and take several large steps back to safety. “No, no, no.”

“Come on! It’s fun!” JJ swears.

Your smile begins to fade and your head shakes faster. “No way. I don’t do…That. And I’ll ruin my hair. And what about my jewellery?”

“You can take off your jewellery,” JJ argues, walking towards you, “and your hair’ll look good either way.”

“Easy for you to say,” you snort, eyeing him up as your arms cross over your chest. “You’re a guy.”

“First of all: rude.”

JJ tugs his shirt over his head, tossing it to the ground. Your eyes instinctively glance down at his chest. JJ doesn’t bother hiding his smirk.

“Second of all: live a little, princess.”

You scoff. “I live plenty, thank you.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. Really. Have you ever been to Paris? Seen the Eiffel tower? Been in the catacombs? Or gone to Italy and tasted wine fresh from a vineyard?”

JJ raises a brow, sarcastic as he says, “yeah, every Tuesday. Now come on.”

He grabs for your wrist, tugging you towards him. You don’t push him away as he lifts his fingers to the clasp of your necklace, only momentarily struggling to get it loose. He gently places it on top of his t-shirt, and soon your many rings follow. You lean down and take off your toe rings and anklets, and then your earrings. The handmade bracelets stay, though. Standing upright, you take a shaky breath.

“Look, you don’t have to,” JJ quietly says. He can see the fear clear as day on your face. But you shake your head, newly determined by his offer of an out. Clearly you don’t like having your bluff called.

JJ’s eyes nearly fall out of his head as you pull your shirt off. He doesn’t even have time to recover before your wriggling out of your shorts, stepping out of them and carelessly tossing them onto the pile of clothes and accessories like you got them from a bargain bin at a thrift store. Stepping out of your sandals, standing proud in matching Calvin Klein underwear, you grab his hand and interlock your fingers, guiding the two of you to the cliffside. As you pull him into motion, JJ comes out of his filthy thoughts, mouth dry.

You come to a sudden stop a safe three feet away from the edge. JJ’s done this too many times to count but the adrenaline that floods the system before the first jump shocks him every time like a cold plunge. You gnaw on your lower lip in trepidation. JJ squeezes your fingers, mutters your name, and captures your attention.

“You trust me?”

Your beautiful eyes dance across his face. JJ almost sees you go calm, like a baby soothed by its favourite nursery rhyme. It seems that his question, as simple as it is, made something click in your mind.

“Yeah,” you breathe, as if realising it in the moment. “I do.”

With that, JJ gives one last squeeze to your hand and a fleeting smile, and then he starts running towards the cliffside. You run too, only a step behind, and the two of you hurl yourselves off the edge at the same time. Your scream echoes in the wind as air rushes past JJ’s ears. He whoops on his way down. The two of you pummel down towards the water, your hand never leaving his until you reach the surface. His eyes press shut and he prepares for impact as he crashes into the depths. The water is cold but not icy – it cools his skin comfortably. Everything goes quiet in the water, mellowed out and muted. JJ pushes to the surface and takes a breath of air, shoving wet hair off his face. As he looks around, treading water in the currents, he feels the adrenaline rise once more when he can’t find you.

JJ starts calling out your name, looking left and right and left again. Just as he’s about to dive under, you break. He gasps out in relief.

The minute your eyes open, they land on him. Then, the biggest smile he’s ever seen comes over your face. It etches itself on his brain with permanent marker. JJ could be senile and decrepit and still remember that look on your face.

“That was amazing!” you scream, throwing your hands up, spraying water everywhere. “Oh my God! We have to do that again!”

JJ laughs, soaking in your joy.

It’s weird seeing you, wet and without all your dressings. It’s like seeing a priceless painting outside of its frame: it makes it somehow even more beautiful. The setting sun warms your wet skin as you throw your head back, eyes shut, grinning like a mad man. JJ wants to seal this moment in resin and place it on his mantle as a keepsake.

You make JJ climb up that cliff and jump into the ocean about five times over, until the sun has almost fully set and you can’t risk the dark. As it slowly inches down and down towards the horizon, you and JJ sit side by side on the grass. Your hand is so close to his, fingers reaching out like growing ivy, teasing at making contact. The moment the jumping was done, you’d returned all your jewellery to your body. It sparkles with the damp. As his eyes drift down from your profile to your figure, he picks up on those handmade bracelets again.

“What’s with the friendship bracelets?” JJ asks.

You look down at them then up at JJ. “I make them.”

“Why?”

Laughing, you shrug. “I don’t know. Why does anyone do anything?”

“Do you sell them?”

“No,” you say, messing with one. “I just enjoy doing it. I make them for my friends.”

“That’s sweet,” JJ hums, looking back out to the view.

“What about your shark tooth necklace? Someone make that for you?” you ask.

JJ glances down at it. “My ma. She used to collect shark teeth that washed up on the beach.”

“Well, she’s pretty talented,” you smile. “Maybe she can make one for me, one day.”

JJ swallows thickly, jaw ticking tight. “She, uh, ain't around anymore.”

“Oh…I'm sorry.”

“It’s alright. You didn’t know.”

The awkward quiet that comes passes like a summer breeze. Sighing contentedly, the two of you watch as the world gets darker and darker, and the sun gets lower and lower.

“So, how are you finding it?”

“Finding what?” you ask.

JJ gestures to himself, to everything around him.  “This. Pogue-life. Rebelling against your dad. Not doing as you’re told.”

You laugh, shaking your head. JJ watches as you pull your knees up to your chest, sitting dainty as a robin balanced on a branch. Tucking some hair behind your ears, you look out to the horizon as if caught in a daydream. A solemn look threatens to cross your face as you say, “it’s making me realise just how much I’ve been missing out on.”

And that…JJ wasn’t expecting that. He was expecting one of your usual playful jabs, soaked in sarcasm. Not that. It makes you more human and less Kook. More real. More attainable, even, for JJ. It’s like with every minute he spends in your orbit, he gets closer and closer to you. But everyone knows the story of Icarus, and what happens when you fly too close to the sun.  

~*~*~*~*~*~*

By the fourth date, JJ’s practically foaming at the mouth, feral from restraint.

He still hadn’t kissed you. Hadn’t had the opportunity. You’d kept teasing him with it, temporarily placing it on the table before taking it away. He knew he had to go about this carefully. One wrong move and he could screw up all his hard work and send you off running.

What surprised JJ more than most was the fact that feeling your body under him was one of the lowest ranking motivators to spend time with you. Don’t get it twisted – it was still a pretty bloody strong motivator – but JJ wanted to know you and be known by you. You were interesting and captivating, and caring and kind. You were funny and had this sweet sense of humour that glimmered through from time to time, like a kaleidoscope hanging from a window-frame. With every minute in your company, his prejudice of Kooks was dismantled piece by piece. One run in with Rafe or Topper and it would probably be rekindled ten-fold, but for now, JJ learnt to see past it. You were a little out of touch but you didn’t act like you were better than him. Then again, he hadn’t taken you to his house or the Chateau yet. He kept the dates on common ground, where he never felt out of his depths or wallowing within them.

You hit like a crisp, ice-cold beer on the hottest day of summer. More intoxicating than any blunt he’s ever smoked, or any line he’s ever snorted. Light like a feather in how you move, soft like rain and driven like fresh laid snow. You had hijacked nearly all of JJ’s thoughts, in one way or another, and it fucking terrified him.

“So, I went for white and pastel blue. I think they’re cute. What do you think?”

You hold your fingers out for JJ to inspect your nails. JJ couldn’t care less about nails – half the time, his are dirtied with mud and oil – but you care an awful lot, so he can pretend. To be honest, he had only been half-listening to your story. His eyes had been fixated on your lips, daydreaming about how they’d feed against his own, how soft they might be as he nips at them with his teeth, how wet they might be if he were to slip his dick between them…

“JJ?”

He blinks out of his gutter-brain and takes in your nails.

“They’re pretty. I like the, uh, sheen on them,” he says.

You practically become alight with the comment. It feels like another brownie point that he can tally. Bringing them to your gaze, you nod fervently. “Right? I’ve never gotten metallic powder on them but I think I like it.”

With that, you sigh and lay back on your towel. The two of you are at the beach and have been since two in the afternoon. It’s now nearly seven in the evening. JJ thinks you’re at your prettiest in the golden hour. It’s like God himself is shining a spotlight on you, highlighting every perfection of your features. The way your designer jewellery twinkles in the rays, the sun-kissed sheen of your cheeks, the ethereal-like glow of your eyes…It’s taking everything not to look at your body, proudly displayed in a bikini. It’s blue. It seems you like blue an awful lot.

JJ distracts himself from your figure and his tightening swim shorts by petting Ranger. He’d tagged along for the day and is currently napping in the sun. You’d brought plenty of water and dog snacks to keep him going. JJ had supplied the seltzers and bag of chips for the two of you. He’d noted how you’d been making one can last for about two hours. He wondered if you’d been tipsy before, or drunk even.

When he looks back to you, eyes sweeping up your sand-scattered stomach, he finds you threading the seashells you’d been collecting throughout the day on string. You’d brought a little kit with you in your bag and had spent the last three hours making jewellery on and off whilst talking to JJ. You lay in a sea of designer accessories – Ray Ban sunglasses, Dior lip-gloss, Clinique sunscreen – as you craft.

“That’s coming together nice,” he comments.

You glance up to meet his eyes, smiling. “It’s for you.”

“Me?”

“Mhm. Need to check if it fits, actually,” you mumble, shifting onto your knees.

JJ willingly holds out a wrist for you as you coil it around. It looks hilariously dainty on his built form. Seashells and blue and white and silver beads. Then he notices the small letters you’d interwoven into the design. JJ. His heart makes that awful, jarring tug again. JJ can’t decide he likes this effect you have on him.

“Perfect,” you say.

You tie it off and fasten it around his wrist. He shakes his arm out a little to check its fit. You’re right: it’s perfect.

The moment your eyes glance up from his arm, meeting his, JJ forgets all his manners. He takes your face in one hand and presses his lips to yours. You let out a gasp as he does, hands coming up to press at his shoulders, pushing him off.

“What are you doing?” you gasp, fingers flying up to your lips.  

His heart is loud in his ears, hammering like he’s thirteen and having his first kiss all over again. In the deafening beat of it, he dumbly replies, “kissing you?”

“Well, you can’t just kiss me,” you say, almost offended. “You have to ask first.”

“Alright…Can I kiss you?”

Your eyes are like raging storms as you stare at him. Anyone would have thought from your expression that he just asked to take you roughly in the streets. Trying to calm yourself with a drawn-out breath, you cock your head.

“Why should you?”

JJ frowns. “What?”

“Why should I let you kiss me?”

Now usually, JJ would be pissed. Annoyed and impatient, and would get up and leave and never look back. But for you, he can’t find it in him. No, it’s all offset by that same damn curiosity that got him here in the first place. You’re like an enigma. A blackhole. He wants desperately to know more, to understand, but is terrified of being sucked in completely. Terrified of what it might all mean.

So, JJ deliberates your question. “Cause you like me?”

“I do?” you ask, quirking your brows.

You must. You wouldn’t have stuck around for this long if you didn’t. Wouldn’t have handmade a bracelet. So, he nods, feeling his confidence grow like the swell of a wave.

“Yeah, you do. I think you like what I bring out of you.”

“Making a lot of assumptions here, Maybank,” you practically warn. But the anger is gone. Gives him hope that he’s on the right track. JJ tries and fails to bite back his smile.

“Maybe,” he says. “But it’s only cause I feel the same way.”

When you don’t speak, he takes it as a cue to continue. As he goes on, his heart shudders with the anxiety that vulnerability brings.

“I like the way I am around you. I like how you make me feel. I like talking to you, and I like hearing you talk. You just have this way of speaking that’s…It just makes everything feel like it’s good. Everything’ll be good.”

Something in what he’s said seems to take you aback. You blink a few times, lips parting as you sit, looking at him all the while. He hopes that if your thoughts are still set on the idea that he’s in this for nothing more than a lay, he’s just proved that wrong. He supposes with his reputation on the island amongst the youngsters, he can’t be all that surprised if that was what you had thought. But surely, after spending so many hours in your company, doing nothing asides from talking and innocently touching, you had seen past that. Didn’t you say that you wanted to get to know him, to see him for yourself?

“Do you mean that?” you quietly ask. It’s almost sad, the tone of your voice and the look on your face, like nobody’s ever said something like that to you before. JJ swallows the sick feeling that it brings.

He nods. “Yeah. I do.”

Slowly, a smile blossoms on your face like the first budding flower of spring. With a small, slight nod, you tell him, barely louder than a whisper, “you can kiss me now.”

JJ does so gladly. But he’s careful with it this time, makes it count. He sweeps one hand from your shoulder, up against your collarbones, until it cups your jaw gently. Tilting your head just-so, he leans forward and pauses just a breadth before your lips. And then, he kisses you. It’s soft and sweet and different to the usual blind-haze rush that JJ finds himself in when making out. The pacing to it makes it almost sensual. The feeling the kiss brings is alien to JJ; he can’t quite place a name to it.

One of your hands finds home on his jaw, exploring his skin, fingers looping into the hair on the back of his neck. When he coaxes your mouth open with his tongue, you sigh gently against his lips.

As the two of you kiss on the beach, that new-found sensation in JJ’s chest intensifies, and then it dawns upon him - this new feeling that your kiss brings. Different from lust and libido.

His eyes fly open. Stomach plummets through the sand.

JJ Maybank is falling in love with you.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

As the summer stretched on, JJ realised he’d spent most of June in your company, growing closer and closer. It felt natural now to have your hand intertwined with his. JJ can hardly remember a time when wasn’t talking to you, or talking about you, or thinking of you, or organising his days around meeting you. He knew what it meant, what all of it meant, and this impending feeling of something grew with every word passed and every kiss shared. It almost felt like he was watching a sand-timer. Seeing each grain slip by, counting down until the inevitable end, just like most things in his life did.

He'd introduced you to the Pogues upon everyone’s insistence, including your own. John B was still in disbelief that JJ had managed to keep you around for as long as he had. Pope, on the other hand, was practically suspicious of it. It was as if he needed the cold, hard evidence for proof that JJ wasn’t spinning yarns. Kiara had of course jumped at the opportunity to gloat about the ‘good karma’ she’d bestowed upon JJ, by encouraging him to return Ranger to you. When she’d met you, she’d be apprehensive. Distrusting of your Kook status, having known you more than the others from attending Kook Academy with you. But JJ was sure she’d warm up, bit by bit. It helped that you wanted to try new things. You wanted to try the whole Pogue lifestyle. You let JJ take you surfing and begged to try his bike out. You let John B teach you to fish and wrestled Pope on nights spent around the campfire. You’d share seltzers with Kiara and sang along whenever she played the uke. And, oh, of course you could sing. You’d had lessons, you see, as you had with practically every other extra circular on earth. Piano, violin, ballet, tap…Shit, it was like you were collecting Pokémon or something.  

In fact, it scared JJ how easy it was to pick up on the little details about you. It was like collecting stones on the beach: before you know it, your pockets are weighing you down, filled with tiny little pebbles. You were a fruity girl: cocktails and sangria and wine and seltzers – never beer. You weren’t a heavy drinker. Didn’t partake in shots apart from Cherry Bombs. You preferred sweet over salty; always took creamer and syrup in your coffee, in that order; rom coms from the nineties and noughties were your kryptonite, and you loathed fast and furious; skirts before shorts; Tiffany before Pandora; lip gloss over lip stick. God, the tingly sensation from plumping lip gloss was all too familiar to JJ now, from having it smear off your mouth to his.

After the kiss on the beach, mouths and hands had only continued to wander. It’s like JJ’s admission that this was more than just trying to score you for sex was the passcode to open you up. You weren’t prudish. In fact, when JJ met you, he was half certain that maybe you were a virgin. But no…now he found that very hard to believe.

Saying all that, it still felt bizarre to be seen out in public with you. It wasn’t a secret, had never been really, but JJ remained surprised at how willing you were to take his hand in public. To be seen with him by everyone in the County. It was like you wanted to show him off, parade him around like he was something special, like one of your many Prada purses. It almost made JJ want to question if you had ulterior motives.

“You wanna just split a portion of fries?” JJ asks, looking at The Wreck’s menu. You were there for lunch.

You hum in thought. “Maybe. I want mac and cheese though.”

“We can get that, too. I mean, you’re paying, right?”

You prod him under the table with your foot. He gives a playful laugh, grinning childishly. He’d started calling you his sugar mommy since you had to pay for gas when his card got declined. It softened the sting of embarrassment that came with being broke, especially when compared to you. I mean, even now, he sits in a thrifted t-shirt, the decal on the chest nearly faded with how much it had been worn and washed, whilst you’re in your new threads. Dior threads, for that matter.

“Hiya. You guys ready to order?” the waitress asks.

JJ glances up from the menu and shit. Shit shit shit. The minute his eyes meet hers, recognition dawns upon her. It’s weird seeing this girl – Lily, he thinks her name is – from this angle. Last time they’d seen each other, she’d been laying underneath him…

You’re thankfully blissfully unaware, eyes trained on the menu.

“JJ. Long time no see.”

With that, your head darts up. Great.

“Hey…Lily. How are you?”

At least luck is partly on his side: he got her name right. She places a hand on his waist. “Fine, thanks. Been a while since I’ve seen you around.”

“I’ve been busy,” JJ says.

“I bet. Remember a time when you were busy with other things…”

Her tone speaks volumes, as do her eyes as she surveys his body, smiling flirtatiously.

Suddenly, your hand is extending across the table, towards Lily. JJ looks to you to find a sickly, sweet smile on your face.

“I don’t think we’ve met before,” you say, voice honied. She shakes your hand as you introduce yourself. “You know JJ?”

“We have a…history, of sorts,” Lily replies.

“Oh. Well, any friend of JJ’s is a friend of mine.”

Looking to JJ, there’s an emotion in your eyes that he’s never seen before. It’s terrifying and sexy as hell. Raising a hand, your fingers leisurely splay across the expanse of JJ’s shoulder, manicured nails digging-in only so. Not enough to cause damage but enough to make a point. Enough to mark your territory.

“Babe? Can you order for me?”

“Uh, course,” JJ says, clearing his throat.

Looking down at the menu, eyes not even fixating on any of the words, JJ reals of an order. Lily scribbles it down, takes the menus, and leaves without another word. The minute she’s out of sight, you drop the act, hand unlatching from his body. JJ raises his brows, holding back his laugh as he turns to you.

"What a bitch," you mutter. You wash away your words with a sip of your water.

“Didn’t take you as the jealous type.”

“Yeah, well, some girls need to learn when to shut their traps,” you lowly return. Sighing, you close your eyes and shake your head. “Sorry. That wasn’t very girls-girl of me.”

“Mm. If only your daddy could hear you now,” JJ adds, sighing disapprovingly.

You shoot him an unimpressed glare. JJ brings his glass to his lips, having a sip of his water.

“You sleep with her?”

JJ chokes and coughs. “Jesus. Straight shooter."

“Better not be talking about yourself there, Maybank.”

JJ laughs, putting his cup down. Looking to you, he shrugs. “Yeah. Like…three months ago, alright? It was before we met.”

“Mhm. You sleep with anyone since we met?” you wonder.

JJ can’t place your tone but something tells him that this question will make or break him. Thankfully, there isn’t even a need to lie. “No.”

“You swear?”

“Scout’s honour,” he says, lifting three fingers whilst simultaneously marking his heart with a cross.  “Shit, I don’t want you to claw my eyes out. Or any other girls, for that matter.”

You shove his shoulder gently, smile creeping back to your lips. “Shut up. Like I’d ever. The Bible frowns upon it.”

“What about ‘an eye for an eye’?”

“Ooh. Somebody went to Sunday School,” you tease.

“Yeah, just so I could gawk at you,” he smoothly returns, winking for good measure. With that, JJ knows he’s back in your good books.

When Lily brings the food over, she doesn’t try to strike up any conversation. Dare JJ say, she looks terrified to be within a foot of the table. JJ knew you had an edge but this is different. This possessiveness, this proprietorial energy that came over you…Fuck, he knows what’s the newest addition to his wank-bank.

The two of you eat, talking about what you should do tomorrow (because, of course, he’ll spend tomorrow with you) and then JJ desperately tries to give constructive feedback to your latest Pinterest board of hairstyle inspiration. He gets up to pay. It’ll probably cost half his wage but it’s worth it. I mean, this meal is pretty dismal compared to the feasts you’re used to, but you never complain. Saying that, it doesn’t go unnoticed that when it’s on your dime, you’re far more willing to get a lemonade and a dessert. When it’s JJ paying, you say you’re happy with tap water and splitting a side. It’s mildly mortifying.

Lily is stood at the counter. “Ready to pay?”

“Tell me the damage,” is JJ’s reply.

“Twenty dollars thirty,” she says, punching buttons on the register.

JJ’s stomach twists. Fuck, he hopes his card doesn’t decline. She holds out the machine for him and he swipes his card.

“How long has that been going on then?” Lily asks.

JJ follows her gaze to you. You’re sat at the table, reapplying Dior lip gloss with an Armani compact mirror. He’s half convinced that if anything bought from Target touched your skin you might implode.

“Bout a month,” he says.

“Hm. Never took her as one to venture out of Figure Eight.”

“Never took you as one to judge random people,” JJ counters, anger ticking with her unneeded commentary.

“I’m just saying. She’s a Kook, JJ.”

“Did it go through?” he asks, cutting the conversation short.

Lily sighs, looking down at the card machine. Nodding, she goes to get his receipt. But before she hands it over, she feels the need to add, “just…maybe ask yourself what she’s getting out of this? Girls like that…They’re sneaky. Just, watch your back.”

JJ takes the receipt hastily and walks off before he can’t bite his tongue any longer. As much as it pisses him off to hear someone who doesn’t even know you talk like that, there was a sincerity to Lily’s voice that speaks to JJ’s insecurities. Massages them. It certainly doesn’t help that the minute JJ arrives back at the table, you ask, “did you have enough?”

JJ hates how the rest of the day, that one interaction – that one moment – at the Wreck keeps him disconnected from you. Anytime you ask what’s wrong, it’s the same excuse: ‘I’m just tired, s’all.’ But whenever there’s a second for thought, Lily’s voice echoes around his head.

Ask yourself what she’s getting out of this.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

“How in the hell do you not get lost in this place?” JJ asks you as you wander through your house.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I grew up here.”

It’s laughable, the difference of JJ’s house to yours. He’s never taken you to his home; kept your dates and hangouts to the Chateau or the Twinkie, or anywhere but his house. He’s half-certain that you might just dip if you saw the state that he lives in. Plus, he can’t risk his dad showing up and meeting you. He’d hate you – the same way he hated most people – and again, you’d be gone in a second. In fact, as more time passes, JJ realises more and more that he’s got an eye on the door, waiting for you to walk through it without a second glance.

“You want some tea?” you ask. JJ shrugs his yes. He’s never tried it before but no time like the present, right?

You guide the two of you to the kitchen. As you pass by room after room, JJ nervously glances around. “So, uh…Your dad or mom home, or?”

“Relax, Maybank,” you grin. “They’re on a cruise. They don’t get back until Tuesday.”

“Oh, cool, cool. I mean, I ain't have been bothered if they were home.”

You bark out a laugh. Opening a kitchen cupboard, you talk as you retrieve two mugs. “Oh really? So you haven’t been avoiding my house like the plague because of my parents?”

JJ rolls his eyes. Busted. You go to heat up the water, grabbing two fruit tea bags and depositing them in each mug. JJ looks around the kitchen, searching for a certain dog. As if you can hear his thoughts, you say, “Ranger’s in the sunroom. If you call him, he’ll probably come.”

So, JJ does just that. Sure enough, Ranger trudges through the house and into the kitchen, tail wagging. He looks as if he’s just woken up from a nap. JJ grins, watching as his energy returns the moment he sets eyes on yourself and JJ, and the blonde-haired boy falls to his knees, arms outstretched. God, he missed this old fart of a dog.

“Why don’t you bring him along to the Chateau more?”

“Where would he ride? We always take your bike,” you laugh.

“Probably for the best, anyway. John B would definitely try and steal him,” JJ mumbles.

“Oh, and you wouldn’t?”

Insecurity picks at JJ like a scab. “What does that mean?”

You quirk a brow, unaware of the almost offence caused. “JJ, you would pick that dog over me in a heartbeat, if it came down to it.”

Of course. Of course you were talking about the dog, and not making some dig about his family reputation, or his sticky fingers. Shit, it’s like ever since that day at the Wreck, his insecurities had tripled in size and volume. Every time you looked at him, JJ wasn’t sure if you were passing judgement and he hated himself for it: for becoming so suspicious of you, when you’d done nothing to warrant it. But he couldn’t help it. It was like a reflex.

Once the tea is made and Ranger’s retired back in another sunny patch to sleep, the two of you head upstairs to your bedroom. JJ began to recount the story of the Grady White discovery and the Motel Room after the last hurricane’s end. He’s half certain that you don’t fully believe him.

“So, what did you find in the motel room?” you ask, pushing open your bedroom door.

“It was fucking crazy! Like a shit ton of money and this weird map. Oh, yeah, and…” JJ ditches his backpack by the foot of your bed and unzips it. Proud as a Superbowl jock, he presents the gun he stole. “This.”

Your mouth drops open. You place the two mugs of tea on your desk (on coasters, because of course) and reach out for it. JJ frowns and holds it out of your reach.

“Let me hold it.”

This reaction, out of all the reactions, was the one he expected the least. “No way.”

“Come on!”

“Nu-uh. You’ll shoot my dick off."

Rolling your eyes, you quip, “wouldn’t that be a gift for mankind? Come on!”

Sighing, he relents. Double checks the safety is on before passing the gun to you. You hold it like it’s a priceless artefact or a Louboutin heel (both as equal in value to yourself).

“It’s heavier than I thought,” you mumble, inspecting it.

Is it bad that JJ thinks you look unbelievably hot holding a gun right now? Probably. He can address that later in life when he eventually winds up in therapy.

“Yeah, these things are the shit,” JJ boasts, taking it back. He pretends to aim with it, gun pointed directly at one of your bears. At your scolding he puts it away again. “Anyway, now we got this dumb ass compass. JB thinks it’s got a clue in it, but I’m not so sure.”

JJ accepts the tea that you offer him as the two of you take perch on your bed, you at the foot and him at the head. You sit cross legged, nodding along to his tale, interested. JJ’s not entirely sure why he’s telling you this, especially when he was so adamant that the Pogues keep it on the down low, but something in him tells him that it’s okay for you to know. Useful, even, though he has no idea how. When he wraps up the story, he takes in your room. It’s just as he pictured it to be. Immaculately clean, psychopath level organised, decorated with brand after brand, China-white and pastel blue detailing every turn of the head. Looking back to you, he sniggers.

“You look like a witch right now.”

You take in the way you’re sitting and laugh, making a point to cradle your mug of tea between two hands. God, you’re adorable. The years of ballet have paid off: your back is straight as an arrow. The two of you sit in comfortable silence as you sip your tea. Outside, you can hear the sounds of nature pass by. There’s something understated and special about spending time with someone without feeling the need to fill the gaps. Just…existing. As JJ finishes his tea, you nod to his empty mug.

“Want me to read your tea leaves?” you ask.

JJ eyes you up, entertained. “No way you know how to do that.”

“Course I do. Here.”

You put your mug down on the windowsill and hold out a hand out for his. He passes you the empty mug and leans back against the cushioned headboard. Hell, if he had a bed like this, he’d never leave. You hum in deep contemplative thought as you look into the mug. Eyebrows knitting together, lips pursing, you study the scraps of tea leaves intently. JJ tries to stifle his laughs. It’s clearly a ploy. He can see right through the act.

“Ah, well…These are very good leaves,” you suddenly announce.

JJ plays along. “Oh, really?”

“Mhm. Yeah, yeah, I see a great fortune in your future,” you tell him. A glance up to his face, stupid grin on your lips, and then back to the mug. “Mhm. Yep, I see a…A boat.”

“Oh yeah? A Grady White by any chance?” JJ jests.

“Oh, no. This thing…It’s like the titanic. Big ship.”

“You have a way with words, princess.”

“And! A rainforest! And stones!”

“Alright, this tea’s gone to your head,” JJ laughs, reaching over for his mug.

You giggle as he takes it back, ditching it half-arsed on the bedside table so he can drag you to him by your forearms. Half tumbling forward, your hands ungainly catch yourself on his sturdy frame. You’re still laughing as he kisses you. JJ smiles against your mouth.

“I’m telling you,” you manage out through kisses and giggles. “You’re gonna be very fortunate in your future.”

“Mm, I’m fortunate now,” JJ replies, chasing your lips.

He uses a hand to hoist you further into his lap. You finally find purchase, a hand sliding along his neck, tantalisingly slow and smooth. As JJ’s lips creep along your jaw and inch down your neck, you lean your head, giving him more and more canvas to work with.

“I’m very lucky, you know,” you say, sounding short of breath.

JJ just hums. He continues his tapestry of love bites and kisses as you ramble on. He loves how soft it is with you; how there’s time for pause, for thought, for laughter. It’s the polar opposite to what he knows. Frenzied hands and sex in a timeframe. The patience of sex with you isn’t without heat, though. It isn’t like a married couple who can hardly remember what they liked about one another, chasing a high before drifting off to sleep. No, it’s like how people take time to pray. Like how musicians fawn over their music for hours, bit by bit, until perfection. So, JJ revels in your half-meaningful speech, slurred like you’re drunk despite being stone-cold sober, as he gently eases your cardigan off your shoulders.

“Every dance team I’ve been on, we’ve won…”

As JJ’s lips descend to your chest, you sigh. Fingers tightening just-so in his hair, spurring him on. One of his hands stays placed on your hip, a thumb rubbing circles on your exposed waist.

“Probably just ‘cause you’re a good dancer,” JJ mumbles against your skin.

“Not just that, though,” you muse. “I’m a good luck charm, I’m telling you. Nothing bad ever happens to the people around me. I’m lucky.”

Whatever you say, JJ thinks as he unhooks your bra. You help guide it off, sitting back against JJ’s thighs and lifting a perfectly manicured hand to his jaw. Your skin is soft like Mother of Pearl. Not a single cut or nick. Guiding his face up until his gaze meets yours, you lean down and press your lips to his. There’s no more laughter and no more silly stories. There’s no room in JJ’s brain to conjure anything other than thoughts of you. Your hair and your skin and your perfume and your nails and you. God, he wants to consume you. Breathe you in like vapour, soak you up like sunlight, feel you like the weather, all over him.

Nobody’s prettier than you.

Nobody prettier from this view, nestled between your thighs, almost suffocating as he swallows you up. More and more – insatiable. The distinct taste of you sits heavy on his tongue. It spurs him on like cocaine, energy unrelenting as he goes down on you. The sounds you make, the way you grab at him, grasp at the sheets, writhe and wriggle like it’s too much, like you can’t take it. But you can. Have before. Will again.

Your body bends to JJ’s will like water. You’re so trusting of him; have been ever since you met him. Let him take you how he wants, faithful in the pleasure he’ll give you. Usually JJ didn’t care much if girls thought him selfish in bed, but you? No, he needed you to give the mark of approval. He needed your praise, your validation, like his sex wouldn’t have meaning if you didn’t think it worthwhile. The way you fit around him; JJ swears to God it’s like you were made for him. He has you on your front, fucking you into the mountain of throw pillows that make up the head of your bed. He keeps your hips and ass angled upwards, holding you steady as he ruts into you over and over again. You’re a drooling, moaning mess underneath him. One of your hands is clenching and releasing the sheets much like your walls are to him. Having you like this – Christ, it makes JJ feel like a young God.

When you fall apart, it pushes JJ over the edge too, almost like a suicide pact. He’s not sure heroin could touch ecstasy quite like it. Drifting away on dopamine, JJ pulls out of you and flops onto his back, chest heaving. You shuffle atop of your sheets, curling up as you let the afterglow take over. JJ knows he should dote on you but he’s so tired and spent. After tying off and tossing the condom out in your bedroom trash, and tugging on his boxers, JJ lays back down on the bed beside you, flat on his back. One of your hands rests on his chest – damp with sweat. Just for a minute, JJ thinks. I’ll just close my eyes for one minute.

JJ tunes into the sensation of you stroking the bare skin of his back. It rouses him from sleep. Somehow, in his tiredness, he’d rolled over onto his front. Your sheets smell of fabric conditioner and safety. Goose feather pillows and Egyptian cotton sheets; a memory foam mattress that mimics what JJ might imagine falling asleep on a marshmallow to feel like.

“JJ?” You continue to run the side of your hand up and down his skin. "Are you awake?"

"No," he mumbles into the sheets.

“I want us to make this official.”

JJ groans sleepily. “Wha’dya mean?”

“I mean, I want us to put a label on this thing. I want to be your girlfriend, and I want you to be my boyfriend.”

It’s like the mattress has become a gaping wormhole and it’s sucking him in. That very thing that he was drawn to, entranced with, that very thing that he was learning and dreading to be true, every little insecurity and anxiety that had built and built since the second date…It’s all arriving at once, hitting him hard and fast like a meteor strike. 

JJ turns his head, looking up at you. You’re watching him patient, a giddy-type smile on your face, slightly disquieted with nerves.

“Well…How do you know that?”

Brows furrowing, your smile doesn’t move. Shrugging, you say, “I don’t know…I just know. I…I know it because I feel it.”

Those words do nothing to ease the panic that’s building up JJ’s body. He shuffles until he’s sat upright, staring you down like you’re something dangerous. For some reason, your innocent request feels like a trap to him. A con. A joke that he’ll be the unwilling punchline of if he agrees. And he realises what that impending feeling was, all this time. It was him waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Lucy’s point to come true and for the curtains to be pulled. To find out what the hell you wanted with him.

“You can’t just say things like that. That’s a really messed up thing to say to someone,” JJ mutters, moving away from you.

You’re frowning now, befuddled. “Why is it? It’s true, and it’s how I feel. I want to make us official. I want us to be together.”

“Well, you’re saying that now but what about if we do get together, and I meet your parents and your friends, and you realise how different we are but you feel like you’re stuck with me, and then all of it was for nothing.”

Face the picture of perplexed, your mouth contorts into something ugly. “Where is all of this coming from? What did you think we were doing? I mean, we’ve been fine this past month and I know that there’s something between us.”

“How do you?”

“Because I’m not stupid, JJ,” you sharply reply.

Good, JJ thinks. You’re getting angry. You’ll lose your temper and you’ll let something slip that you weren’t supposed to, and he can bolt without a muddied conscience. He moves away from the bed and starts grabbing his strewn-about clothes in a frenzy to bolt. 

“If there’s something between us, why haven’t I met any of your friends yet?”

You stare at him. He takes your hesitation as confirmation to his doubts. Pointing accusingly at you, he snarls, “because you’re embarrassed of me. You’re embarrassed to be seen with a Pogue-nobody from the Cut, in front of your Kook friends.”

“What is your obsession with me being a Kook!?” you exclaim. “Have you ever noticed how I never bring it up? How it’s always you, JJ, talking about it.”

“Well, I feel like I ought'a!”

“Why!?” you vociferate. 

“Because what the hell do you want with me anyway!? You’re going to mess around with me for the summer, and get your kicks, and rebel against dear-old daddy, and then ditch me for some Kook jackass, who you’ll marry and he’ll take you on ski trips and summer’s in the Hamptons, and send your snotty children to expensive summer camps, and then you’ll laugh with all your trust-fund friends about how you went slumming once too.”

With that narrative, you laugh in disbelief, mystified. “What kind of fucking story are you spinning?”

“One that’s based on nothing but the facts,” JJ shouts. He’s shaking and angry, but it’s just his panic in disguise. He saw a glimpse of happiness with you and instinctively wanted to smash it up, like a psychopath child and a harmless butterfly.  “I mean, you said it yourself - you wanted to do what you’re not supposed to do, for a change. Have a taste of rebellion and then go back to your rich-ass bubble wrap.”

JJ’s seen you possessive before. He’s seen you jealous, and scared, and snippy. But he’s never seen you angry. It’s horrifying. 

“Did it ever occur to you that all of that has nothing to do with you? Has nothing to do with you being a Pogue, or me being a Kook?” you yell. Hands flying up to your chest, holding on like your heart might fall out of your skeleton, your voice turns thick. “I was miserable JJ! I was never allowed to do anything; never allowed to go anywhere. I did what my parents told me to do. I went to bed by nine every night. I was wasting my time with all these fucking after-school extra-circulars which I don’t even care about! I hate ballet! I hate piano! Christ, I hate all of it! And my friends are fake as anything. They say one thing to my face, and come to my house for pool parties, and then bitch about me behind my back! They’re assholes, JJ! So, yeah, I didn’t want to waste my time introducing you to them because I don’t actually like them!”

His lips start to quiver uncomfortably as he watches you unravel. It’s like JJ was pulling and pulling on a spring, and now he has to stand and watch it snap.

Make-up free, hair still tousled from earlier, oversized t-shirt half hanging off your frame: there’s no Kook defining thing about you here. It’s just you - just as it always had been. 

JJ’s heart cracks as a tear falls down your cheek. With a shaky breath, in a quiet, defeated voice, you tell him, “I wanted to go out with you because I wanted to live. Because most of the time, I feel so useless and so alone that I wonder if I’m even here at all.” 

And hearing you say that finally allows the curtain to fall. Only, it revealed to JJ something entirely different to what he expected. To what he’d told himself time and time again. Seeing you cry on your bed because of him…JJ’s made some real big mistakes in his life, but this one surpasses them all. 

“So don’t put your shit on me because you’re the one that’s afraid,” you say, stealing yourself as you aggressively wipe your eyes. JJ’s narrow. It’s like poking a searing hot skewer into his most tender of wounds. 

“Afraid? What do I have to be afraid of?”

“You’re afraid of me! You’re afraid that I won’t love you back! You’re afraid of what all the shallow people in the County will think! You know what, JJ? I’m afraid too! But fuck it - I want to give a try!”

It feels as exposing as having you peel back his skin. JJ pulls on his t-shirt and shakes his head, turning for the bedroom door, mumbling something about ‘I’m not doing this right now.’ 

You dart from the bed and grab at his arm, stopping him. “No. No, you’re not leaving,” you blubber. 

JJ yanks out of your grip, turning around, lashing out like a stray animal approached all too quick. “What do you wanna know!” He yells. You recoil. “What? That I don’t have a great life? That I’m jealous of how you live compared to me! That I don’t want you to see how I really live because I’m ashamed shitless of it!”

You’re crying, hard, but JJ can’t find it in himself to stop. Why won’t he stop? The butterfly is dead, wings torn from the body, antenas shattered from the beating: but it’s like he doesn’t even want dust to remain. 

“That my dad beats the shit out of me, so I sleep at John B’s house!? That I’ll probably end up in a prison cell or an early grave!? You ain't wanna hear that shit! Don’t tell me you want to hear that shit!”

“I do want to hear that stuff! I do want to hear it!” you argue through your sobs. You lift your hands as if you might try and cup his face. “I just want to help you.”

He retracts from your almost-there hold. “Help me! What the fuck! What, do I got a fucking sign on my back that says Save Me?”

“No!”

“Do I look like I need that!?”

Reaching for him again, tears streaming, you wail, “no! God, I just want to be with you because I love you!” 

JJ grabs at your wrists, driving you away from him, driving you towards the door until your back presses against it, all the while yelling at you. Don’t bullshit me! Don’t fucking bullshit me! 

JJ’s never been lucky to have good things. He waits for his friends to get up and leave. Knows his dad will too, one day, just like his ma. He’ll end up alone, drunk, high, and not long after, dead. You? You’re just a glitch in his programming. A girl who saw a project - yeah, that’s it. A girl who saw a project, a thing to fix, and the moment you have will be the moment that you get bored, and leave him broken hearted and alone. JJ knows more than anyone: you’ve got to leave before you get left. 

But as you’re standing with your back against the wall, you don’t cower from him. Don’t wait for him to land a hit on you. Always so trusting. And seeing you, crying, sobbing, begging for him to listen to you, repeating that you love him over and over…JJ knows you’re not the malicious enemy he’s created in his mind. He knows you’re not. 

“I want you to tell me that you don’t love me." A shuddering breath, trying to calm your quivering voice. “Because, if you do, I won’t call you anymore. And I won’t be in your life…”

And JJ’s never been good at admitting when he’s wrong. Maybe he learnt it from his dad. Maybe it’s a defensive mechanism. Maybe it’s dumb, childish youth that he never outgrew. So, as you sob, waiting for him to say something - to say you love him - JJ feels his face turn to stone. Cold, emotionless stone.

“I don’t love you.”

He grabs the rest of his shit in one quick sweep and he leaves your bedroom before he has to see the long-lasting damage he once again inflicted on someone. Slams the door. Rushes down the stairs. Passes the barking Ranger, alarmed by all the yelling, and dresses as he stumbles to the front door. In the air of the driveway, he takes a gasping breath, cringing with melancholic agony. Panic rises in his chest like a fist is clenching around his heart, over and over. He raises a hand, rubbing at the uncomfortable pain. JJ knows this feeling well. Knows it from childhood and from adolescence. Knows it almost as much as he knows breathing. 

Heartbreak.  

~*~*~*~*~*~*

JJ distracted himself with drinking, smoking and treasure hunting. Indulged at night and diverted throughout the day to avoid any thoughts of you. He was lucky, in a way, that his friends were there to keep him busy. They only asked once why he wasn’t seeing you anymore, wondering why you were never around, and learnt their lesson never to ask again. He tried to hide behind the lie that he’d so easily told himself: that you were a spoilt-bitch Kook who would have ditched him soon anyway. But he remembers your voice and your face clear as day, begging for him to tell you that he loved you. He can picture all too easily your reaction the minute he stepped away from you, after telling the worst lie of his life. 

Throwing himself into work was a good distraction. It’s hard to think about you when he’s thinking about how heavy the motor is that he’s lugging, or how close he’s cutting it on time to deliver groceries with Pope. His hurt made him wreckless, like he deserved whatever bad thing might come. You were good karma for returning Ranger and his mistreatment was bound to be paid back to him by the universe. Maybe that was why he’d been so eager to exact revenge on Topper and Rafe. Their attack on Pope certainly made it easier for JJ to handle his hurt when he was reminded of how awful most Kooks are. It was almost possible to group you in with them, to help mitigate the sting of guilt that came whenever your name crossed his mind. Almost. 

But, like always, the consequences of his actions were bound to catch up to him. So, as JJ sits beside Pope and Kiara watching the outdoor movie play under the watchful gaze of Topper, Rafe and Kelce, he knows bad things are coming.

“JJ,” Pope says, nudging his leg. 

“What?”

“Gotta take a piss.”

JJ’s leg is quivering with building adrenaline. “Hold it.”

“I can’t hold it. I drank too much soda.”

“It’s too exposed, they’ll totally see us,” JJ argues. 

“I gotta go,” Pope insists. 

JJ purses his lips and glances back over his shoulder the same time Pope turns around. Their eyes land on the three pissed off Kooks, sat like mob bosses, biding their time. They might as well be smoking a pipe and stroking their one-eyed cat like some '50s Bond villain. 

“They’re blocking the bathrooms,” Pope observes. 

Yeah, no shit. JJ looks around, noticing the woodland behind the giant projection screen. “Alright, come here. I know where.” 

The two of them get to their feet, hunching over as they go to move. When Kiara asks where they’re going, JJ shrugs and tells her, ‘we gotta ring it out.’ With that, they venture to the screen and relieve themselves just behind it, out of view, into the shrubs. As they piss, Pope and JJ banter. JJ finishes first, zipping up his fly and turning around to keep watch. 

“You bring the peacemaker?” Pope asks, referring to JJ’s beloved gun. 

His stomach drops. “Oh, shit, I forgot it.”

“You forgot it?”

“Hurry up! Hurry up!”

“Dude, you had one job. That’s all I asked you to do, man,” Pope complains as he finishes up.  

“I know, let’s go,” JJ quickly replies. The moment he turns, JJ comes face to face with Rafe. Fuck. 

“What’s up Pogues?”

“What’s up, Rafe?” JJ casually replies, walking backwards with Pope as Rafe approaches steadfast. He won’t let on that he’s scared - learnt that from his dad. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

As Pope tries to make a run for it, Topper emerges, Kelce in tow. “Hey that was some nice work you did on my boat!”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Pope fumbles.

JJ assesses the situation. Three on two. Pope isn’t the strongest fighter. No gun. Yeah, the odds are not stacked in their favour. 

“Not so burly without a gun now, are you?” Rafe taunts. 

JJ’s jaw ticks, his anger rising with his annoyance. The adrenaline is pumping and working its usual magic. Bring it on, pussy. I can take a few licks - it’s my birth-right. 

“Take one more step and I’ll rip that prepubescent face off,” JJ warns through clenched teeth. He watches as Topper approaches Pope leisurely. 

“Hey Pope, do you feel good about yourself, stealing shit? Is your mom proud of you? Is your dad proud of you?”

Pope slams his head into Topper’s upper chest and pride swills through JJ. “Attaboy! Attaboy!” He grabs his friend’s shoulder, lifting his clenched fist. “Now with your fist, see?”

With that, Rafe claims him. They begin to get in a dust-up. JJ takes the first few punches; each one that lands on his cheek brings searing hot pain that quickly vanishes with shock. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug. He taps into the pit inside of him, deep and angry and bitter. His self-hatred, for all the shit he put you through, for all the shit his dad and mom pegged on him…Throws his own punches, then. Wrestles too. Blood begins to draw. Lips crack open. Eyebrows split. But then it’s two on one: Kelce grabbing at him, holding him steady so Rafe can just lay into him. JJ’s winded as Rafe’s fist meets his stomach. He collapses in Kelce’s hold as Rafe right hooks him. And every hit, JJ takes like it’s his earnt punishment. 

“Come on, Rafe,” JJ provokes through the agonising pain. “That all you got?”

“Let go of him Topper! You fascist asshole!” 

Kiara. She helps Pope first, hitting Topper with JJ’s backpack. At least, that’s what JJ sees through the double vision. The backpack. The gun. Topper grabs it off her and tosses it, and then JJ’s too busy getting the shit beaten out of him to see what follows. It’s all just noise. Blends almost cinematically with the sound of the old-timey movie playing. At some point, it even sounds like there’s a dog barking. Blood fills his mouth like he’s at some sadistic dentist surgery. Pain numbs his nerve endings and softens his muscles. Air becomes a rarity as he’s held in a headlock, half-strangled. 

“Let go of them right now!”

Everyone goes still. JJ only notices because he finally has a second to catch his breath, gasping as the arm around his throat loosens just slightly. He opens his eyes, desperate to get his vision steady, and…no fucking way. 

There you stand like some designer vigilante heroine. Hair perfect, as always, with not a strand out of place; jewellery to the nines; make-up enhancing your gorgeous features. In your hand, clasped between perfectly manicured nails, is JJ’s gun. It’s pointed directly at Rafe’s forehead. 

Rafe laughs. “What? That supposed to scare me or something?”

You grit your teeth, harden your stare, and remain stoic and strong in your stance. Rafe just quirks a brow, a sick smile twisting upwards. 

“Oh, what, you’re gonna be the hero here? Why don’t you just run back to your daddy and mind your own fucking business?”

“Let. Them. Go.”

JJ realises then that Ranger is standing by your side. He’s growling, looking feral like Cujo, salivating at the mouth, death-glare set on Kelce who still holds JJ in a headlock. Your command and Kelce might lose a leg. 

“What’s it to you?” Topper snaps. 

“They’re my friends.”

Okay, no, JJ must have fucking blacked out or something. In the brain damage caused by Rafe, he’s seeing things. You’re his own guardian angel that his dying brain has conjured - that is the only explanation. 

All of the Kooks laugh. “Your friends?”

“I won’t ask you again,” you darkly warn, not a spit of humour in your voice. 

Rafe whistles lowly. He mockingly raises his hands to his head in surrender. Shares a laugh with Topper and Kelce. It vanishes the minute you unclip the safety. 

“You wouldn’t,” Rafe tells you. 

Slowly, maleficently, the faintest shadow of a smirk forms on your lip-glossed mouth. “You really want to test that theory?”

And that, ladies and gentleman, is how JJ Maybank ended up in the most insane predicament of his life. Nobody knows what you’re going to do next: not JJ, and probably not even you. As JJ waits, his eyes dart down to Ranger. The very thing that started all of this. 

Rafe sniffs. He juts his head at Kelce. When Kelce finally lets JJ go, Topper does the same with Pope. Kiara helps Pope up. JJ leans over, hands on his knees, coughing and gasping in air. 

“You’re gonna regret this, you know that? Better keep a fucking eye out, princess,” Rafe warns you as he saunters away with his posse. If JJ wasn’t on the brink of passing out, he’d lay him out for even looking at you.

The minute the three Kooks round the screen, acting as if nothing even happened, you drop the gun on the backpack and race over to JJ. It’s hard not to flinch after his moments-before assault when you clutch his shoulders. He realises that you’re shaking. Hears in the quiver of your voice how shit-scared you are. 

“Oh my God! Are you okay? Can you breathe?”

No and no. 

“Do you need to sit down? What should I–”

No, definitely don’t sit down. 

“Come on - we need to go,” Kiara tells you. She has Pope’s weight on her.

You seem to copy, taking her guidance from her years of experience with hanging with the guys, and guide JJ away from the scene of the crime. You grab the backpack as you go, the gun shoved inside (safety now on). Ranger licks anxiously at JJ’s hand, whining in worry. 

“I’m alright, boy,” JJ lies to the dog in a slur.

swirling, becoming blacker and blacker with every step. His body is screaming for rest and reprieve. He vaguely overhears you tell Kie where you’re parked. Lets you half-drag him to your ride. The minute JJ’s helped into the backseat, safe in the smell of you, he blacks out. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*

The first thing JJ notices when he wakes up is how much his head hurts. There’s a headache above his brows, similar to that which you get when hungover. It feels like his brain was a ping pong ball, rattled around in there for hours on end. Sniffing, he groans as he tries to sit up. There’s a hand pushing him back down to the bed gently. 

“Just lie still, for now,” you say softly. “No sudden movements, okay?” 

JJ groans again, eyes pressed shut. At the sensation of a straw pressing against his lips, he drinks. 

“Open your mouth,” you say after he swallows. JJ does as he’s told, in too much pain to argue. You give him a few pills - presumably painkillers - and help him chase them with water. “I’ll be right back.”

JJ must fall back asleep. When he comes to for the second time, the pain in his head is significantly lessened, as are all the general aches and pains of his body. He dreads the idea of looking in a mirror: he’s probably black and blue. Saying that, it’s not like it’s an unfamiliar state to him. Opening his eyes, he immediately recognises your bedroom. As if on cue, you walk through the door, a mug of what must be steaming hot tea in hand. When your eyes meet his, a relieved smile comes to your face. 

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he rasps. 

Making your way over, tea deposited on the bedside table, you take the seat next to him. Shit, no wonder he was sleeping so well. Your bed is like sponge cake. 

“How you feeling?”

“Like shit,” JJ grunts. You stifle a laugh. Shifting to sit up, his brows furrow as last night comes back to him, piece by piece. “Did I…Was I hallucinating, or did you save our ass?”

“Mmm, I might have maybe just saved your ass,” you innocently reply. 

Shaking his head, JJ rubs tiredly at his face. 

“I’m not even going to ask what Rafe and his gang of fairies were angry about.”

“Yeah, that’s probably the best idea,” JJ cringes. 

He finally braves holding your gaze. There’s a distance there - a reluctance to be fully present - and JJ knows it’s because of him. 

“That was really ballsy, what you did,” he tells you. 

“It's nothing,” you quietly reply. 

“You’re probably going to lose your Kook card now.”

“Never liked it that much in the first place,” you say with a half-smile. 

JJ silently laughs, shaking his head, mesmerised. He was so wrong about you. About all of it. “I was, uh...kind of a dick to you.”

“Yeah…”

“And…you were right,” he mumbles. 

Brows lifting slightly, a small, amused smile teases your lips. “What was that sorry?”

“You were right,” he repeats, no louder. 

Leaning in, a finger to your ear, you say, “one more time, I didn't quite catch it.”

“Fuck off,” JJ groans, shoving you away with hardly any force.

You snort out a laugh. The moment the humour passes, you look back to him. He feels as though he can hear your thoughts. Your anger and annoyance and insecurity and pain. He hears it all in the emotion swimming through your eyes. So, he nods.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, JJ,” you whisper. 

One of his hairs falls into his face. Before he can react, you’re leaning forward, brushing it out the way. JJ captures your wrist quickly, keeping you near, almost panicked that if you move even a millimetre away, he’ll lose you forever. In that same frenzy, desperate to have you close, he forces out the three words he’s never let himself say to anyone. Ever. 

“I love you.”

Face an exact replica of the one you made that day on the beach, you blink at him. Once, then twice. JJ nods again. 

“I just…I can’t…It doesn’t…”

“I know,” you say, forehead bumping against his own as you lean down. Then, in a whisper, you add, “I know. It’s okay.”

JJ sniffs, suddenly overcome with emotion, and nods against you. As his eyes press shut, you kiss him. It’s slightly salty with tears but no less welcome. He winces as your hand cups his jaw. Kisses you through your mumbled apology against his lips.

And as the two of you kiss, JJ realises that this was all it ever had to be. It was never that complicated, never that layered, because all that mattered was you. Wonderfully, princess-perfect, Kook-turned-Pogue you. 

want more? read the sequel to risk here!

[wanderingxiao]

Creepy Roomie

Scaramouche x Reader *NSFW*

Warnings: Stalking, masturbation, stealing, scummy Scaramouche, obsessive behavior, DNI if this makes you uncomfortable!

A/N: updates have been late. This past year has been a whirlwind. I got married, moved, making plans for further education besides my bachelors, and working a full time job an hour away 10-12hr shifts. The life of an adult! Bleh. But I’ve had time (ahem-ahem-on my drives to work-ahem) to write as I get bored. I’m working in requests currently, but thought something short would suffice. Enjoy~

“Oh! That’s so nice of you, Scara. My knuckles have been so dry lately. Thank you!” Fuck. He was getting hard. His indigo eyes dropped down to the lotion bottle sitting in your hands, his mind racing with the idea of you applying it on your delicate hands. A months worth of jacking off and ejaculating into a tiny ass bottle was absolutely worth it to see you smear the combination of essential oils and his semen over your knuckles. “It smells nice and it’s so smooth. You’ll have to tell me where you got it, I may want more!”

He couldn’t handle it.

He quickly dismissed himself, brushing off your comment with a roll of his eyes before he retreated back to his room, slamming the door close and locking the door. His head spun, eyes darting down to the obvious tent now present in his loose basketball shorts. His fingers shook as he pulled his shirt up to bite the hem before sliding the front of his shorts down, blushing and groaning in embarrassment at the wet patch in his boxers from his leaky tip.

Scaramouche closed his eyes and slid his hard cock out of his boxers, sighing as his fingers traced along the engorged veins of his shaft up to the red tip, circling his thumb over the slit to smear his pre-cum around the tip. He sighed lewdly, starting to lightly stroke his cock, shuddering at the way he was teasing himself. He thought back to the way you so happily applied the lotion to your hands, commenting on its smell, how nice it felt. The smile on your face, the soft blush you had as you spread his semen on your hands.

“Fuck…!” He hunched over himself, his grip starting to tighten and slip his hand up and down his length faster. His tongue lolled out loosely, his thoughts rushing to find the memory of how your pussy tasted against his tongue. The multiple pairs of used panties he’d stolen from you had lost their initial flavor and aroma, but he still remembered the time he first snuck into your room to steal your panties, he couldn’t help but hump your pillow while he sucked the little wet patch of one and sniff a different pair.

Now, now, he’s no creep. He’s just… checking to make sure your juices taste right. All sweet and savory against his tongue. Make sure you didn’t have any odd smells, not that he would be able to tell, your scent always short circuited his brain into a horny mess. And cmon, we all know semen is actually a good moisturizer for the skin. At least that’s what he wants to believe. He read it somewhere! Honest! It’s not like he wanted to watch you smear his cum all over your body.

The hem of his shirt was getting wet with his saliva, his teeth gnawing the fabric trying to stay quiet so you wouldn’t hear his pathetic little virgin whimpers and moans. He looked up through hazy lust filled eyes, seeing a pair of your panties lying on his bed next to his pillow, a pair you masturbated in to be specific. Your noises were so cute, how could he not press his ear against the door and fist his cock until his balls were empty. His feet tumbled over each other as he reached out for them, his free hand clenching tightly to your panties as the pace along his cock never faltered.

Each pump formed a new pearl of pre-cum to leak from his tip, lubricating his hand and encouraging him to go faster. He was careful to wrap your panties around his cock, pushing the cute little stained patch against his tip to mix your juices together. The action was so lewd it had his stomach doing flips. A low and guttural moan slipped past his mouth, his chest rumbling with a deep growl as he felt his ball righten.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, (Y/N)… I’m gonna cum, haa~” Scaramouche murmured, his breath beginning to become heavy, shuddering as he looked down at his bed, his mind fantasizing you sitting there, your legs spread with your fingers parting your folds to let him gaze upon your pretty pussy. Before he knew it he was rutting into his hand, imagining he was fucking into your pussy, his eyes glued to your sinful expressions and the way your breasts bounced with each brutal thrust he gave you. Before he knew it, he was cumming.

“M-Mmngh! Oho… fuck…! Ahh!” Ribbons of his hot seed spurted over his bed sheets, staining the silk sheets with his lewd juices. His chest heaved, his teeth slowly dropping the hem of his soaked shirt. His body shook as he collapsed onto his bed, not caring that his own semen was smearing against his clothes. His lips curled in a loving and blissful smile as his eyes made contact with a picture of you both on his dresser, one where you had been so excited about moving in with your best friend as collage roomies.

Don’t worry, you’ll be his one day. He’ll gather the courage to confess. But in the meantime… hell take his time enjoying and learning all there is about your body and your heart.

Thanks for reading! See you in the next 💜

[suksatoru]

004. CARNATIONS

word count: 1828 words

"Oh my."

You squint at the paper in your hands and try to decipher the words Touya had written on them with a wince. The letters were jumbled up—some of them didn't even resemble anything in the alphabet. The majority of the words you were able to understand were spelt wrong, and the proportion from one letter to the next was horrific.

"We'll work on your writing skills later this week, alright? But I'm proud you could get this much down! " You say with a smile as Touya snorts

"There's only one word I know I spelt right." He smirks, proudly pointing a finger to a sentence you'd missed towards the bottom of the page

Y/n L/n is beyutiful.

You laugh quietly as his smirk quickly transforms into a scowl. His poor attempt at flirting didn't really seem to work if you were laughing at him.

"Are you talking about how you wrote my name correctly? Because its spelling is clearly displayed on my name tag, Touya."

You can only laugh more at his grimace, folding the written paper in half before tucking it into his file folder to go over later.

"And thank you I suppose. Oh, I just wanted to let you know I won't be able to go on our walk today, Touya. I have a meeting with my supervisor. Would you like me to find another doctor for you to—"

"No. And what's the meeting about?"

You shake your head softly at his defiance before smiling

"You. You are my only patient, after all."

He smiles a little bit at those words.

The conversation slowly drifted to Touya giving you small snippets of the skills he had to learn after waking up all those years ago. By the end of the conversation though, his mood had fallen quite a bit. He didn't like talking about his past. The words were bitter on his tongue, but he forced them out for you. He wanted you to understand him—he needed you to.

"I couldn't understand what happened to me. I had so much shit going for me... so much potential. Then I went and fucked it all up. You know, I blamed him for how I turned out, but I think I was messed up from the start. Can't blame that piece of shit if I was born like this. Defected. " He mutters, his eyes hard as his nails dig into his palm.

Defected. He swears under his breath when he sees the blood trickling down his arm from clenching his fist too tightly. His gaze moves towards you when he feels your fingers press a soft cloth to his hand to soak up the blood. You clear your throat before speaking

"You're no defect."

"No one is. You had these terrible expectations set for you when you were so young. You can't possibly blame yourself for what happened! So many young children struggle with their quirk, and you weren't fortunate enough to get the help you deserved. That is not your fault—"

"But I could've been better. If I worked hard enough. Fuck, it might have all been my fault from the start!" He laughs hoarsely, and his eyes have a crazed look in them as he actually considers the possibility with furrowed brows

"But—"

"Maybe if I had just—"

"Touya!"

Your voice is strained. You're trying so hard not to let him hear the tremble in your voice, but the way his shoulders slump lets you know he had caught it. He looks away, his lips set in a firm line as his eyes harden

"I don't want to talk about this." He mutters. Every muscle in his body was tense as a feeling of unease settled over him.

"I'm sorry. It's my fault. I'm being too pushy about this." You sigh, frowning as you lean back in your seat. You were his doctor, you can't be the one having an emotional crisis! You were meant to be his emotional support, and the guilt you feel gnaws at you like a parasite.

He lets out a long sigh, shifting on the bed uncomfortably as you take a deep breath

"Okay—alright, we can talk about something else. Is there anything besides this on your mind? Maybe we could—"

"Can I be alone for a bit? Can you, just, leave?"

The look on your face is like a slap to his face. He bites his tongue from saying anything he'd regret as your eyes fill with a mix of something between sadness and disappointment.

"Yes—yes of course. Uhm, would you still like to eat dinner together tonight?"

"I just need some time alone. My head hurts. It's my fault, it's never yours. Just... yeah, yeah you can come later." He mumbles, avoiding your gaze as his guilt finally settles in

"...Okay."

Your whisper is the last thing he hears before the door to his room clicks close, and when he lifts his head from his palms—he's alone.

Touya doesn't know if he'll ever be able to face his family again.

He thought he couldn't feel anything anymore. The pain he'd once felt was immeasurable, something uncontainable to the point where he'd grown numb and accustomed to it. But now he felt all sorts of things he didn't understand. You made him feel again. He wasn't sure if he should curse you out or thank you for it.

Your long awaited return came after almost two hours, his dinner tray in hand as you carefully placed the steaming rice bowl in front of him. You stand beside his bed with an awkward smile, your hands behind your back as you speak a quiet hi.

He tugs on your sleeve, pulling you down so you were seated on your chair. A quiet squeak leaves the back of your throat when he tucks a single hand under your thigh, dragging your chair closer to him easily with little effort. Your eyes are wide from the new proximity as he turns back to his food, acting like nothing had happened.

You're speechless for a moment, swallowing the lump in your throat as he begins his dinner. He points to your bowl with his chopsticks, gently nudging it towards you

"You hungry?"

He had broken the ice so easily—and you both fell back into your usual routine. An unspoken 'it's ok' was what he'd said as he handed you your bowl. You blow on the hot rice with a small smile as he begins questioning you about your meeting, asking whether or not you said good things about him.

You shouldn't like this so much.

Your chin is resting on your knees, you laugh as Touya tells you tales about the League. They were a unique group—but knowing Touya wasn't completely alone during his time as 'Dabi' makes your heart feel a little lighter.

He speaks about the League as if they were still here. Fondly.

Your eyes catch onto the clock on his bedside, the block letters on them reading 11:32 PM. Your time with him had passed faster than you wished—and he watches you stretch before you stand

"Time for you to turn in for the night, mister." You smile with a yawn. He frowns a bit as he glances at the clock, watching you reach over and grab the empty bowls from dinner.

"I'll take this down to the kitchen. You wash up while I'm gone, all right?" You smile, holding the tray in your hands as Touya nods slowly, not giving you a verbal response.

When the door closes, he gets off of the bed with a quiet sigh. Even after splashing his face with freezing water—his heart still hurts.

You were making him feel a little too much.

His mind keeps trailing back to your soft giggles and the way your professional face falls with the stupidly silly stories he tells you of the League.

He wonders if they'd be happy for him.

Touya hears your approaching footsteps as he's exiting the bathroom, and quickly opens the main room door for you.

You look surprised when the door opens before you can even get your keys out. You have to crane your head up a bit to meet his eyes—which are watching you intently.

Sometimes you forget how Touya's much taller than you are. He's usually at eye level with you when he's sitting in the hospital bed—but as he stands in front of the open door, your lips part a bit from the way he looms over you.

He silently moves over a bit to give you space to enter before closing the door behind you. You send him a small smile before tilting your head towards his bed

"I'll check your heart rate before I leave tonight. That's ok with you, right?"

Your eyes are pretty. Touya thinks if he ever has a staring competition with you, he'd win for sure. He likes staring at you especially when you're unaware. There's something about just knowing you exist that calms him. He likes seeing you smile, he likes hearing you talk—he especially loves that you seem to enjoy his company. He didn't think of himself as someone enjoyable to be around, but he feels wanted around you.

Touya's never felt wanted before. You were so refreshing to simply be around—he'd be perfectly content with living the rest of his life with only you. He didn't need or want anyone else.

"Yeah. That's fine with me."

Touya waits for you on the edge of his bed, his eyes trailing on you quietly as you wrap a stethoscope around your neck. The cold metal is pressed against his chest, and he realizes you've never been this close to him before.

"Touya, your heartbeat is a little faster than it should be." You frown, leaning in closer as he stays absolutely silent—he's been holding his breath since the moment you pressed the stethoscope to his skin

He's staring at you, and his heart only beats faster when you turn to meet his gaze.

No. Your eyes are beautiful.

He abruptly flicks off the lamp on his bedside table, which was the only source of light in the dark room before immediately laying himself down on the bed—his heart was pounding now.

"I'm fine."

He can already imagine your lips forming that adorable 'O' you make when you're startled, and he rests his forearm against his eyes before letting out a steadying breath.

"Oh! Well, are you sure Touya? Your vitals this morning were fine, so—"

"Y/n."

Your silence, for once, is a welcomed thing. Touya's face was burning—every fiber of his being was. He didn't think he'd be able to go another second listening to your wonderful voice utter another damned word.

You whisper a quiet goodnight before leaving.

He stares up at the ceiling, the glowing stars almost mocking him as he sighs

"Goodnight."

You've already left the room, but he whispers the word anyway.

CARNATIONS MASTERLIST.

a/n~ i was listening to taylor swift on repeat while writing this... safe to say she is my fuel when it comes to writing for carnations heh. AND WOWW SO MANY ON THE TAGLIST?! u guys are now my children i've chosen to adopt you all!!! it's getting a little hard to keep track of but i got this 🫡

@kelin-is-writing

@kawaiidemoneart @porusuniverse @starrmage @lilbeatlebear @bokukenmakuroo

@bbluefllame @summercreolefanfictioner @dija200 @phtmmsqrde @sunaraii

@c-lunette @gh0stgirl333 @skullkittens @gurl-pls-evn-the-sharks-fear-me

@hawkwithsocks @suresnips @sugurusmoon @matchablossomsss @moonlitmorganite

@redr0sewrites @muimuiwisteria @sukunaspillow @marsoverthestars @starsryi

@eidolonwriter @shugs1801 @imaginationmess @lasa27 @sophiathefrog

@etaerealboy @kooromin @sourbbyxo @hvnares @ephmeraloblivion

@lost-seraphiim @quokka-ina @jesuschrist2006 @jesuschrist2006

@dabislittlemouse (i got u B!!)

[tojisun]

WHY IS THIS SO BIMBO READER AND SIMON LIKE - I JUST WANNA REMIND YOU AGAIN ABOUT THE SIZE DIFFERENCE I SEE IN MY HEAD I JUST GAGSTHAHEHRHAAARRRRRR

OH MY GODDDDD THATS SO ADORABLE!! that is bimbo!reader n simon, actually!!

the size difference is making me screammm. and the way it’s not just big hand vs small hand, BUT THE WRIST SIZES!! THE FINGER LENGTHS!! it’s just so stark that simon goes a little crazy when he holds your hand because you’re so pocket-sized, it makes him have cute aggression hhhhhh

also also

just imagine :(( you made the beaded bracelets for yourself and you know simon usually likes silver but you wanted to give him flare! so you cut up a piece of leather from extra scraps that weren’t used for your project and made a leather cuff for him that kind of matched the amount of charms in your own bracelets!!

“oh?” simon hums when you give it to him. “and this is for me, sweets?”

“yeah!” you say before showing off your own jewelled wrist.

ah, simon thinks to himself, so that’s what’s making a jingling noise when you walked towards him.

simon takes the cuff with a smile before reaching to steady your hand and planting a kiss on the back of your palm. he peers up at you, letting his smile show at seeing the way you’re fucking beaming at him with pride.

“thank you, baby,” simon murmurs and kisses your hand again.

he tugs the cuff on and marvels at the careful design. it’s truly not his style, but simon sees the details that you’ve put that he knows reminded you of him and, well, how can he not adore this little thing?

“y’like it?” you ask, unconsciously swaying side-to-side in excitement.

simon chuckles. “yeah, baby. i really do.”

he laughs as you launch yourself to him, catching you just in time, and being careful not to puncture you with the studs. fuckin’ adorable, y’are.

(gonna gnaw on my fist rn)

[demonpiratehuntress]

baby (name)! (Mihawk, Buggy, Shanks, Brook, Chopper)

featuring - Dracule Mihawk x F!Reader, Buggy x F!Reader, Shanks x F!Reader, Brook x F!Reader, Chopper x F!Reader

summary - you somehow get turned into a baby and they have to spend 24 hours babysitting you

warnings - my first time writing for ALL of these characters, so i'm sorry if i get their characters wrong! im only 416 episodes into the anime. i tried my best!

a/n - this was requested by @faioula16, i hope you like it!

MIHAWK

This could honestly go either way. This guy is unpredictable and even you never know what his next move will be. But you're his faithful and loving girlfriend, so there are some exceptions when it comes to you. Like when some deranged devil fruit user turns you into a baby, and Mihawk could have had someone else take care of you, but he wanted to do it himself. He was curious, now that it was you who was an infant.

But that may also be because a witness to the scene had expressed fear for infant you, saying that Mihawk was too cold and ruthless to take care of a baby. He didn't need to prove otherwise, and he didn't want to, but something just gnawed at him. Protectiveness, maybe. You were in such a vulnerable state right now, only he could protect you and care for you.

It had absolutely nothing to do at all with the fact that you looked so adorable staring at him with your big (eye colour) eyes, reaching out to tap his because the strange colour fascinated you. No, it had nothing to do with how cute your excited squeal was every time he picked you up or looked at you. He was absolutely not entranced by your cute little smile or how you clung to him with little hands that could barely hold his one finger. Absolutely not.

Mihawk is actually a pretty good babysitter. But only for you. He will sit and read to you with you on his lap, trying not to smile when you giggle and smack the book, always catching you when you lunged forward excitedly and almost fell off his lap. He will never finish the story, but he reads to you anyway because you seem to like it...for a little while.

"(Name), no!"

He almost had a heart attack when he set you down for one second to put the book away, and you almost fell off the table because you were trying to crawl to him. Your eyes filled with tears when he yelled, even if he hadn't meant to sound angry. His gaze softened, and he picked up and cradled you against his chest, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

"It's alright, I won't hurt you. You're fine, little one."

And then you really are fine, your little body comforted by his actions and words. They lull you into sleep, and soon you rest on his shoulder and fall into a deep sleep, gripping his shirt collar tightly in your tiny fist.

"Sleep well, (Name)."

When you awake, in your usual adult form, you're too nervous to suggest it, but thankfully Mihawk is thinking the same thing.

"I think I'd like a little you or me to keep me company."

BUGGY

Buggy is horrible with children. I mean he's not great with people, but he is absolutely, terrifyingly not good with kids at all. So when you were somehow turned into a tiny human being who could barely stand on two legs, he was shocked. And slightly scared, though he would never admit it. You were the only person he genuinely liked, so he tried not to be too...rough, with your little form. Picking you up was as far as he got, but even then he held you out awkwardly like a football.

And then you squealed and happily reached for his nose, the bright red circular appendage attracting your attention instantly. Now, Buggy was sensitive about his nose, but he let you touch it. A testament to how much he liked you. And, if he were being honest, you were actually kind of cute squeezing his nose like that until he couldn't breath-

Exhale out the mouth.

When he remembered he could use his mouth to breathe, he smiled a little at how much you were enjoying yourself playing with his nose. You even touched his makeup and all his markings, out of curiosity. Your eyes were bright with confusion but also fascination, and it did something weird to Buggy. Made him feel...warm inside?

Then he decided to, experimentally, see what your reaction to his devil fruit would be in this tiny form. He set you down on the floor again, and then detached his hand. Your eyes went wide and you instantly covered your eyes with your small hands, your bottom lip trembling. He panicked, tripping over himself and falling into a tangled heap in front of you. You peeked between your fingers to see this, then burst out into cute laughter. Buggy almost glared at you, but then remembered you were just a baby and instead picked himself up and smiled - or rather tried his best not to smile like a maniac - at you.

Then you saw his floating hand, and grabbed it.

"No no, (Name), that's not-"

You stuck his fingers in your mouth, and he groaned. You just giggled innocently, and only then did he realise his devil fruit could be a source of entertainment for you. He detached multiple limbs and floated them around, watching as you squealed in glee and crawled around trying to catch them.

Were you actually having fun because of him?

When he finally put his body back together again, you pouted but crawled up to his leg and hugged it, gurgling happily as if to thank him. He was stunned. He slowly picked you up and you offered him a toothless smile, before yawning. Still unsure, he laid you on his shoulder and awkwardly patted your back, but that seemed to work because you slowly fell asleep.

When you woke up again, finally an adult, you grinned at him, "Shall we make you a father?"

SHANKS

It was his fault, really. He picked the fight, contrary to his usual behaviour. But that guy had said something about you, and he couldn't ignore it, so of course he acted. And now here you were, a tiny baby fisting his shirt in your tiny hand and looking up at him with big, curious (eye colour) eyes. He had experience with children, of course, having spent some time with Luffy. But you were so small, so delicate.

"Captain, what-"

He ignored the confused questions from his crew as he brought you back on board the ship, immediately taking you to his quarters. It shouldn't last long, he reminded himself, but he still felt guilty. Though that quickly disappeared when you giggled and crawled around his quarters, knocking things over and hiding with a loud giggle when he caught you.

"Oi, (Name)!" He tried to sound stern, he really did, but his laugh have his mood away. You stuck your head out from under his bed and stuck your tiny tongue out at him, and he burst out laughing. "Oh, you're cute, sweetheart."

He lifted you up again and you squealed excitedly and reached for his hair, the bright colour attracting your attention. He grinned and put you on his head, keeping his hands on your small waist, and soon felt you tug on his red strands. You were giggling and pulling and kicking your legs happily, so he endured the pain just for your sake. It was very cute how you thought his hair was a toy, and by the time you got tired of it, it was a mess. Strands were everywhere, out of place, sticking out...but it didn't matter to him.

Because now you were looking at him with your big, innocent eyes and suckling on your hand as he cradled you against his chest. He gently rubbed your back and pressed a soft kiss to your tiny tuft of (hair colour) hair.

"You're so pretty even as a baby, (Name)."

You rewarded him with a sloppy kiss on his cheek, making him laugh. He sat on his bed with you still in his arms, watching as you grew tired and offered him the cutest sight - the tiniest of yawns.

"Sleep, little one."

He gently rocked you to sleep, reassuringly and soothingly patting your small back as you drifted off on his shoulder. He felt warm inside, as if a small fire had been lit inside him. He knew what it was.

And when you woke up in adult form, he grinned at you, "Let me give you a baby, sweetheart."

BROOK

Brook has experience with babies. Maybe not human babies, but babies nonetheless. He knows a human baby is very different to a whale baby, but he figures that there can be similarities too. Such as entertainment, which is his area of expertise. So when he looks down at his feet to see baby you tugging on his pants, he is somewhat prepared. He has no idea how you were turned into a baby, of course, but he's not complaining because you are so, so adorable.

"What happened to (Name)?" Franky asked the skeleton, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing important!" Was Brook's gleeful reply, followed by a laugh when you somehow crawled on top of his afro and knocked his hat off so you could take its place.

"Nothing imp-" Franky sighed. "Do you even know how to look after a baby?" Franky's eyes worriedly drifted to where you sat upon the skeleton's head, tugging on his afro and squealing with delight. You wobbled precariously.

"No, but it can't be any different to a baby whale!"

Franky would have commented on that, if you hadn't slipped off Brook's head. The cyborg easily caught you, before holding you out to Brook, "Don't let her sit on your head."

"Noted."

For the rest of the day, Brook occupied you by sitting you down on his bed and playing music for you, telling you stories about Laboon and his crew, and about his experiences in the Grand Line before you guys found him. He sang all sorts of songs, played all sorts of melodies, while you giggled and clapped your hands excitedly, bouncing up and down. Brook smiled, the sight warming heart - oh, but he doesn't have a heart. He hardly ever got tired, but you prompted him to play for hours on end, until he really was exhausted. So he picked you up, settled on his bed, and lay you on his lap before humming a tune. You slowly drifted off to sleep, and Brook smiled.

He hoped he could play for one of the crew's babies one day.

CHOPPER

Another island, another mishap, another adventure. No trip is ever boring with the Straw Hats, and this was again proven when an unfortunate encounter with a devil fruit user who could change people's ages led to you being turned into an infant. And that's how you found yourself cradled in Sanji's arms, with Chopper trying to get a good look at you all throughout the walk back to the Sunny.

"Chopper, she's fine," the cook tried to assure the doctor, but Chopper was having none of it.

He was so worried, because no one was equipped to take care of a baby, and he cared about you so much that now you were a baby, he was becoming overprotective. As soon as Sanji set you down somewhere safe for Chopper to examine you, he was grabbing his bag and bringing out all his different tools. He checked all your vitals and made sure you were first and foremost healthy, before he could consider anything else.

Then you touched his blue nose and widened your eyes in fascination, gurgling softly, and Chopper blushed brightly. He smiled and poked your nose back, and you let out the cutest giggle that melted the reindeer's little heart. He shifted to his humanoid form and gently lifted you up into his arms, cradling you as he gazed down at you with the utmost love, adoration and fascination he could manage. You were so tiny, even more so than him, and so so cute. Then you sneezed, looking stunned for a moment before giggling loudly. And Chopper thought there was nothing more joy-inducing than holding and watching baby you.

"Chopper, where's-oh." Nami stopped when she saw Chopper standing there just holding you, one of his fingers in your tiny hand as he cooed at you and made you giggle. She smiled softly and left the room, deciding you were in safe hands.

"You're the cutest baby in the world, (Name)," Chopper told you. You just smiled brightly, exposing your gums cause you had no teeth, and waved your small arms around happily.

Chopper was really good with you. He monitored you throughout the 24 hours, making sure you ate properly, got enough sleep and were bathed properly. He is probably the best caretaker out of all the men on this list, not only because he's doctor but he's naturally caring and nurturing. It comes like second nature to him. Besides, you were such a calm and quiet baby - except for the giggling - that you made it easy for him. He was almost sad when you fell asleep, knowing you'd be grown up again when you woke up.

But maybe one day the crew would be able to fawn over a baby everyday. Maybe one day.

[talesof-old]

hi!! I'd love a James Potter x female! reader smut where reader finds James masturbating to a naked picture of her and then she rides him really, really hard to the point where he has the most AMAZING orgasm, tysm i hope you can write it!!

ahh i hope i did this justice!! this was supposed to be less than 1k words buuut… 🤭

a little longer | j.p.

pairing(s): james potter x fem!reader

warning(s): 18+, smut, piv, sub!james, riding, masturbation, masturbating to a photo of a friend, friends to lovers?, not proofread or edited

word count: 1.4k

masterlist

James’ bedroom door seemed to taunt you with each passing second.

You gnawed on the inside of your cheek. What would he say if you went in there? You’d sent an owl. He normally responded promptly, so you’d rationalized going to his house by telling yourself he could be hurt. His parents, after surviving a nasty bout of Dragonpox during his seventh year, had decided to spend more time traveling like when they were younger. Which meant James was home alone often. Sometimes he went with them, but with work, he had to stay in England the majority of the time.

You squared your shoulders and knocked on the door.

Unfortunately for the both of you, James’ door wasn’t actually closed. No, it had been cracked just the tiniest amount, which meant that as soon as your fist made contact with the wood, it swung open.

Your jaw dropped.

Sprawled out on his bed, fist wrapped around his red and throbbing cock, was James Potter. His head laid tilted back amongst his pillows, brow furrowed as he stroked up and down. Your lungs constricted. What the fuck were you supposed to do now?

James held something in his free hand, something small, that he brought up to his face and moaned. Your blood went hot, burning through your veins as you watched him struggle to orgasm. He bucked his hips, precum coating his trembling fingers. You sucked in a harsh breath. It was then that you decided to turn and leave, but the sound of the floor creaking had James looking over. And shooting upright.

“Merlin! What-“

James threw the sheets over his waist with his sticky hand. You grimaced. He’d caught you, what were you supposed to say? Sorry, but I do in fact want to keep watching. Please carry on! He looked stricken. Eyes wide and blinking furiously behind his glasses, you didn’t miss the tremble of his voice or the way he gripped the sheets.

“What are you doing?” Your mouth went dry as you struggled to form words.

“I just…” You averted your gaze, choosing instead to stare up at the ceiling and question everything that had led to this moment. “You didn’t respond to my owl?”

You winced as it came out more question than answer.

James huffed, running his clean hand over his wild hair. You pressed your lips together in a tight line.

“Do you… want help?” The words were out before you could stop them. The silence that followed threatened to deafen you. Everything seemed muffled by the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. James cleared his throat. “You want to?” You shrugged.

“I mean, why not? It’s just, we’re already so close it wouldn’t be weird, right?” Your nervous laughter didn’t match your words. James’ matching laugh was just as anxious. “Yeah, sure.”

You nodded slowly, bringing your gaze back to his. His lips twitched into a sheepish smile. Your heart started pounding all over again, your face burning with heat. He motioned you over and you followed, catching a glimpse of the photo he’d had in his hand. “Oh my god, is that me?” James shot forward before you could get a quick look, shoving the picture into his bedside table and slamming the drawer closed. “No, no, of course not.”

His ashen face and panicked eyes betrayed him.

“You were wanking off to a photo of me?” He rubbed the back of his neck, expression sheepish. You laughed. You’d both been tiptoeing around each other for ages, and this could be what finally gives you the courage to make him yours.

“You could’ve just asked me to come by.” James’ lips parted. “What?”

You moved the sheets aside, climbing onto the bed and straddling him. He just stared. You smiled, steeling your nerves, and grabbed his hands to place onto your body. His fingers pressed into your soft skin, unsure as you lowered yourself to grind on his bare lap. His nails dug crescents into your thighs. You placed your hands on his shoulders, leaning forward so your noses were almost touching. “Is this alright?”

He was almost frantic with his nodding, staring you dead in the eyes as you waited for him to move. He closed the gap, lips pressed hard against you. James deepened the kiss, moaning into your mouth like a virgin. “Is this real?”

You broke the kiss and giggled. “Do I feel real?” You slipped your hands between you and grabbed a hold of his dick. He gasped, nodding as his cock throbbed in your grip. He hissed when you swiped a finger over his slit. You pushed your underwear to the side and slowly eased him inside your cunt.

His head fell to your chest. Unintelligible murmuring reached your ears, James’ lips dragging across your skin. You let out a soft moan when he bottomed out inside of you. James nipped at the skin of your collarbone. “You feel so good f’me.”

James’ chest stuttered when you began to move, hips rolling. He fell back against the pillows once again. You places your palms on his chest, leaning into him as you rode him.

“Shit-“ James’ hips bucked up into you. You choked on a moan, practically mewling as he hit some spot deep inside of you. You clenched hard around him. James moaned; the sound was high pitched and breathy, more a whine than anything else. You smiled, finding a rhythm that was sure to have your legs unusable afterwards. James gripped your hips, fingers leaving behind marks. He thrusted up into you in time with your own gyrations. He was close, that much you could tell. His balls were drawn tight as they smacked against your body, and every movement had his cock throbbing inside of you. You squeezed your cunt around him.

James attempted to muffle his moan by turning his head into the pillow—it didn’t work. You laughed, leaning down and arching your back. The change in position left you breathless, eyes rolling back.

“Mhm-“ You focused in on his face.

“You feel better than I imagined you would.” James’ voice sounded strained as it reached your ears. You latched onto his left nipple, sucking hard on the skin before trailing down the planes of his abdomen. James moaned and writhed beneath you, babbling, hips faltering in their thrusts. You picked up your pace to compensate.

“I’m gonna-fuck I’m gonna cum-“ You slipped your hand between the two of you, fingers circling over your clit. A familiar knot tightened in your abdomen, your inner walls fluttering around James. The feeling sent him over the edge. Spurts of hot cum filled your cunt as you milked him through his orgasm, dragging your nails down his stomach. His back arched as you continued to roll your hips. Your clit ached as you switched to figure eights, frantic as you drew closer to the edge.

“It’s too much,” James thrusted up into you as he spoke. “I can’t-I can’t-“ You shushed him, urging him to sit up so you could kiss him. He complied, still whimpering as you pressed your lips against his. His glasses pressed harshly against your cheeks. His dick was still hard inside of you, enough that you knew you could bring him to climax again. You doubted it would take much.

“I know, Jamie, I know. M’gonna take good care of you, m’kay?” Your voice seemed disembodied, steady in a way that didn’t reflect the way you felt. You mewled as the knot inside of you pulled impossibly tight before snapping, sending you hurling off the edge. Your legs shook as your thrusting grew frenetic. James made some inhuman sound as his body threw him into another orgasm. You clenched down on him, tight enough that you could barely move, bodies pressed tight together.

You came down slowly, panting like a dog, limbs trembling. James looked broken in your arms: his eyes were so glassy that if you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought he’d either been crying or was drunk. You cooed at him, scratching the back of his head. He moaned weakly. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” You wrapped your arms around him, resting his face in the crook of your neck while your bodies shook. He did the same, arms snaking around your waist to ground him. You hummed.

“We should probably clean up.” Amusement laced your words as James huffed, tightening his grip on you instead. “Or we could just stay here instead.” You laughed, wincing as your cunt twitched from sensitivity. Fluids dripped down your thighs. You cringed, though James didn’t seem to mind. “Just let me hold you a little longer,” he murmured against your skin.

You couldn’t argue with that.

+++

[writingfics-passingtime]

Desperate Measures

Pairing: Loki x female reader

Word count: 5703

Content / warnings: swearing, a lot of sexual tension, steamy kissing, suggestive humour, tickle fic, implied sex

minors dni: this work does not contain smut, but does contain a romantic and intimate storyline between the reader and an adult-aged character. I am not comfortable with engagement from anyone under the age of 18. Thank you for your understanding and respect.

note: hello! I've come out of the woodwork to drop this random fic, thinking some of you may enjoy some wild sexual tension, teasing, and ruthless ler!loki I felt randomly compelled to write. I can't make any good-faith promises regarding future writing, so I'll just share this for now. All the love <3

The air in the gym was still and heavy, the only sound breaking the silence was the steady rhythm of your fists connecting with the punching bag. You were alone, intentionally so, using the late hour to work through a restless energy that had been gnawing at you for days.

Well, months, really.

There had been something about the Compound lately, something about him that made it hard to focus, hard to sleep.

The leather of the bag thudded under your punches, each strike sharp and measured as you practiced your form. But as effective as the session was at releasing some pent-up tension, you couldn’t ignore the nagging realisation that it wasn’t quite enough. And you didn't know what would be.

Then you heard him - felt him, really, before he spoke. Loki’s presence always announced itself in a subtle way. A shift in the air, a sense of something electric.

The low, velvety voice followed, as if materialising from the shadows. “This hardly seems like a fair fight.”

You froze for the briefest second, your fist still mid-air, before lowering your arm and turning to face him. There he stood, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed casually over his chest. He looked entirely too composed for someone who had just caught you off guard, but that was Loki’s way. His dark hair framed his sharp features, and his eyes sparkled with that familiar mischief. “Rather a waste of energy, fighting something that won’t hit back.” A pause, an assessment, a tilt of his head in challenge. "Wouldn't you agree?"

Your pulse quickens, though you’d never let it show. With Loki, you’d learned to keep your guard up. His constant presence, the lingering stares, the flirtatious banter - you still couldn't tell if it was all fun and games to him, or... if he actually...

“I’m practicing my form,” you replied, trying to keep your tone steady despite the warmth that was starting to spread up your neck.

He smirked, tilting his head as he regarded you with a dark glint in his eye. “If it’s form you’re after, perhaps a real opponent would better suit your needs. I’d be happy to assist.” The words hung in the air between you, their weight heavy with invitation.

You hesitated, your heart suddenly pounding for an entirely different reason. Sparring with Loki? Not smart. The man - the god - was unpredictable, dangerous. You weren’t an idiot; in the field, you’d leave threats like Loki to the bigger guns like Steve, or Thor. But here, in the controlled environment of the gym, with no weapons and only the hum of underlying tension between you two, it felt different.

Risky in a way that had nothing to do with physical harm.

Still, you felt a thrill shoot through you at the thought. Something about his attention always made you feel alive, a little reckless.

You wiped the sweat from your brow and tilted your head. “Not sure this is a smart idea, Loki. I usually leave the big threats to the super soldiers and gods.”

His smirk deepened, eyes gleaming with dark amusement. “You’ll do just fine.” His tone was smooth, almost coaxing, as if you’d already agreed.

You rolled your eyes, turning toward the mats, feeling his presence at your back as he followed you. You were trying your best to seem unaffected, but his proximity set your skin alight.

Every step toward the sunken sparring area in the centre of the gym felt like a countdown. When you stepped down the couple of stairs onto the mats, you turned to face him, only to find him much closer than you expected. His height, the way he loomed just slightly, was intoxicating. He was so unfairly beautiful. And he knew it.

You gave him a look, a mix of challenge and uncertainty, trying to hide how affected you were. But Loki noticed everything. His eyes flicked briefly to your lips before settling back on your gaze.

“So what now?” you asked, your voice coming out a bit more breathless than you intended.

“Now,” Loki began, circling you slowly, his movements graceful, predatory, “we see what you’re truly made of.”

You squared your shoulders, keeping your stance neutral, trying to maintain your focus. But the energy between you felt charged, almost too much to ignore. Loki was testing you, as he always did - pushing buttons, seeing how far he could go before your unaffected facade slipped. You weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of showing how much he got under your skin. But, deep down, you knew that you weren't fooling him.

After one revolution around your body, he stopped in front of you, that smirk still playing on his lips. You didn’t wait for him to make the first move. You lunged forward, aiming a strike toward his midsection, but he dodged it easily, too fast, too graceful. He didn’t retaliate. Not yet. He was baiting you, letting you come to him. Typical.

Your next punch was aimed higher, toward his chest, but he caught your wrist mid-air. His grip was firm, but not painful, his skin cool against yours. He raised an eyebrow, almost amused.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” he murmured.

You twisted out of his hold, stepping back to reassess. Your heart was racing, not just from the sparring, but from the feel of him, his hand, his eyes locked on yours like a predator toying with its prey. There was something dangerous in the way he moved, something inherently sensual in the way his body seemed to flow, effortless yet lethal.

You tried again, going low this time, aiming a sweeping kick toward his legs. He sidestepped, but not fast enough. You caught him just enough to throw him slightly off balance, and his smile widened. You could've sworn a gleam of admiration flickered in his eyes.

“Not bad,” he said, before moving on you.

Suddenly, he was in your pocket, faster than you anticipated, and before you could block, he had you pinned. One arm locked around your waist, pulling you flush against him, the other catching your wrist, holding it firmly above your head. He hooked one leg around yours and controlled the descent of your bodies. Your back hit the mats with a soft thud, him directly above you, and you gasped as the air was knocked from your lungs. Not fully from the impact, more from the overwhelming sensation of his body pressing against yours.

For a moment, everything stilled. You were trapped beneath him, and he was so close, his breath warm against your neck, his body hovering over yours, just a breath away from full contact. The weight of him, the way he held you so effortlessly, sent a rush of heat through you.

Loki’s eyes bored into yours, dark and intense, and there was no mistaking the shift in the air. The playfulness was still there, but underneath it was something deeper, something charged with heat and anticipation.

“Still think this was a bad idea?” His voice was a low purr, his lips dangerously close.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the words. His hand was still wrapped around your wrist, his thumb brushing the inside of it in lazy circles, a deliberate tease. You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your pulse jumped beneath his touch, trying not to wonder if he could hear it. Feel it.

He lowered his brow, “You clearly haven’t been trained by anyone outside of Midgard.”

His words pricked at your pride, and you glared up at him, breathless, as you tried to wrench your wrist free. “Of course not,” you retorted, a bit sharper than you’d intended. “Not all of us have had the privilege of an intergalactic education.”

His expression softened for just a heartbeat, a glimmer of something that might've almost be concern, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a look of pragmatism. “That won’t do,” he said simply, releasing you, pulling you to your feet with an ease of strength that made your heart stutter.

“There are… larger threats than you’ve known. You need to understand how they fight.” His voice dropped to a low rumble. "Or you won't stand a chance."

You swallowed thickly, the implication heavy between you, and found yourself unable to look away, captivated by the intensity in his eyes, the subtle promise that lingered just beneath his calm disposition.

In his own strange way, he was offering to train you.

In that moment, it felt like the tension, the unspoken attraction that had been building between you over the months, was ready to snap. The rational part of you is screaming that this was dangerous, that whatever this was, it was a risk you shouldn’t take; putting yourself in the situation to be in constant close quarters with someone who already set you on a steep edge could only end in a heart-wrenching longing.

But as you met Loki’s gaze, defiance and something far more potent flared within you, and you couldn't deny the pull.

“Show me, then,” you whispered, your voice steady, even as your heart pounded furiously in your chest.

He smirked, a dark satisfaction flickering across his face as he stepped closer still. “Very well,” he murmured, his voice barely more than a breath. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The gym was empty, as it usually was this time of night, save for the low hum of your breathing and the solid thud of your body against the mats, the result of another frustrating sparring session with Loki.

It had been weeks of this. A rhythm that’d somehow become normal, sparring sessions where you were pushed to your limits and left feeling exhausted but invigorated.

Loki’s method of training was relentless, unforgiving, and unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. The techniques he taught you - sharp, brutal movements, counters that defy human logic - had already sharpened your skills in ways you couldn’t have imagined.

He was maddening and insufferable, with his mocking commentary and easy confidence, but he had made you better.

You would flush to admit how much you looked forward to the few sessions each week. Because though you had trained with all kinds of opponents, none of them compared to the dark, infuriating figure currently pinning you to the ground.

He loomed above you, his body pressed just enough against yours to keep you in place, the thin sheen of sweat on your skin making the friction of his hold electric. You were breathless, chest rising and falling as you stared up at him, face inches from his as he flashed that knowing grin.

Unfortunately, this had become a very normal position to find yourself in. Loki never let you win, and never let you up without an admission of defeat, saying allowing such things would only breed complacence.

“Ready to surrender, darling?” His voice was dark silk, the smugness woven through every syllable. His eyes traveled over your face, taking in your flushed cheeks, your parted lips as you caught your breath. “Again? What are we, zero-and-thirty?”

The mix of arrogance and barely-contained amusement in his expression made your irritation bubble over.

"Go to hell."

"Charming," he replied, arching a brow. "By all means, keep on with your futile attempts to escape," he shrugged with indifference, further stoking your frustration. "I do so enjoy this part."

Your jaw ticked. You were tired, flustered, not any more used to his proximity even after weeks of this. You thought you'd be desensitised to his flirting, his touch... him, but, if anything, it was all pulling you closer to the edge of desperation.

And desperate times call for desperate measures.

At least, that's what you told yourself. In reality, you weren't thinking. You couldn't have been thinking, given that no one in your position would've considered such a foolish move.

In a final, desperate move, a slapdash attempt to get him off of you without having to surrender, your fingers darted to his sides, pressing into his ribs in a way that might, with any luck, give him a taste of his own teasing medicine.

But the instant your fingers touched him, and he merely flinched once, you knew you'd made a careless mistake, and a devastating one at that.

This was something you could never take back.

He stilled, a dark chuckle slipping from his lips. His gaze slowly shifted down to where your hands rested on his torso, and when he looked back up, the mischievous gleam in his eyes turned predatory.

“Oh?" His voice dropping to a dangerously low, delicious murmur, “You’ve just made an exceptionally poor choice.”

Your stomach dropped, and a tsunami of regret hitting you instantly. “Wait. Loki, I didn’t-”

“You want to play, hmm?” His smirk only widened as he leaned in, his grip tightening. “How delightful. Do carry on.”

“Please, I'm sorry,” you gasped, trying to push at his chest, already breathless. “I wasn't thinking- Loki, please!�� You could feel your cheeks growing warm, laughter bubbling up as he held you firm. "I'm sorry!"

“Shh,” he crooned, his smirk deepening. “No need to waste your precious breath.”

"Oh no, please, not this," you laughed despite your wincing, pushing harder at his shoulders. It did nothing.

“Begging already?” His fingers found your sides, pinning them as his thumbs pressed firmly into the sensitive skin above your hips. “You might regret that even more, darling.”

Before you could protest, his fingers began to move, an unrelenting, devastating rhythm that sent a jolt of sensation through your body. Your attempts to fight it crumbled instantly as laughter spilled from your lips, your hands still trying, and failing, to push his away.

“Loki! N-no-” you gasped between giggles, squirming beneath him as his fingers worked with merciless precision. He watched you with keen fascination, clearly enjoying the effects of his touch on you far too much. His thumbs traced slow, calculated circles against your ribs, each movement skilled and targeted, attuning his touch at a terrifying speed. Learning how to deliver a masterful torture, designed just for you.

“Oh, I think yes,” he replied, his voice a teasing purr. “And to think, all it takes to make you crumble is a little tickling. How... adorably human.” His words were as wicked as his touch, his fingers finding every sensitive spot along your ribs, raking over your skin with a tormenting ease.

Your laughter only grew, helpless and unbidden, your body writhing beneath him as you tried to twist away from his relentless fingers. But the press of his body against yours, the heat of his breath, and the smirk on his lips were driving you to the edge in more ways than one.

“You know,” he continued, one hand slipping higher along your ribs, while the other skated down your side in search of a new vulnerable spot, “you really should have thought this through.” He watched as you struggled to speak, your protests dissolving into helpless laughter as pinched the soft spot above your hip in a steady rhythm. “But I suppose thinking things through isn’t exactly your strong suit, is it?”

Another fit of giggles burst from you, the words “Shut up- Loki, I swear-” managing to slip through the laughter before his searching hand found an especially sensitive spot just above your knee. Your leg jerked, and you could barely contain the yelp that escaped you.

“Oh, now that's a good spot, isn't it?” he mused, his smirk widening as he kept his fingers there, watching with satisfaction as you writhed in his grip. His thumb and middle finger cratered into your skin, moving in small, unrelenting circles against the muscle, each pass drawing a louder, more desperate laugh from you.

Every time your laughter began to steady, Loki would adjust, finding fresh angles to torment that same spot, leaving you gasping and breathless, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. The sound of his satisfied chuckle only made the entire ordeal more maddening, his smirk widening with every helpless laugh he drew from you.

The muscles of your core ached, already weakened from the near hour of sparring you'd endured before this ordeal, and your desperation mounted as you realised just how completely you were at his mercy.

“Poor thing,” he murmured, his voice mockingly sympathetic. “All those threats you make, all those fighting words... yet-"

The door to the gym opened suddenly, and two figures stepped inside. Loki didn’t miss a beat, glancing up to find Steve and Bucky standing there, their faces caught between surprise and amusement at the scene before them. Loki merely grinned, unperturbed, as though they were expected guests.

“Ah, gentlemen, so kind of you to join us.” His fingers didn't stop, not even for a moment. Your breath hitched between laughs. “She’s been begging for mercy. Tell me, don’t you train your people to withstand a bit of torture?”

“Steve!” you gasped, trying and failing to sit up as Loki’s fingers dug into your ribs with a terrifying precision. The hand at your knee gave a quick pulse and you shrieked, giving a violent kick of your leg that somehow dislodged his hand. “Bucky- help!”

The two men exchanged a look, an unmistakable smirk crossing their faces as they watched you squirm beneath Loki’s touch, now at both of your sides.

Steve folded his arms, tilting his head as if considering your plea. “Seems like you've bitten off more than you can chew,” he said, lips quirking up in amusement.

“You're gonna have to get yourself out of this one,” Bucky added with smirk.

"Please!" You squeaked when Loki wrapped his hands around your hips once more, squeezing and pressing as you plead through helpless giggles. "I-I'll do anything- just- j-just help me, please!"

“Anything?” Loki murmurs, his voice low and smooth as he leans down, stilling his hands just long enough for you to catch your breath. “My, my, this sounds like quite the liability. Is this all it takes to break you?” His fingers latched onto both of your knees with renewed vigour, eliciting a shriek and then a fresh burst of laughter.

You were too far gone to respond, tears gathering in your eyes as you twisted under his touch, utterly powerless to escape. His words, his steady, relentless taunts, were maddening, each one sinking in deeper as his fingers found every vulnerable place that left you laughing helplessly beneath him.

Your cheeks burned as you tried to wriggle away from his fingers, laughter turning desperate as his hands traced the sensitive muscles along your thighs. “L-Loki, please—”

Loki casted a glance at Steve and Bucky, his voice dropping to a lower, more mocking tone. “Her training is sorely lacking. She's reckless, susceptible…" he looked back down to you with a sly grin, "and seems to lack any sense of risk analysis. Taking me on, indeed.”

You were incredulous - as much as you could be in your position - and you tried to protest, tried to tell them that it was Loki’s idea to spar in the first place, but the words won’t come. Loki’s hands had you too helpless, laughter spilling from your lips as he smirked down at you with an expression of pure satisfaction.

Bucky shrugged, grinning as he watched your futile struggle. “Maybe we need to work on conditioning that out of her.”

“Oh, no,” Loki interjected smoothly, slipping his hands to the juncture of your hips and thighs, sending you arching off the mat, squeals of laughter tearing from your throat. "I rather like her this way."

Desperation drove you to try to reach for Steve or Bucky, your arm outstretched in a silent plea for mercy.

You should have learned your lesson about desperate moves.

Loki saw the opportunity in your attempt, and with a smooth, precise move, he twisted you onto your stomach, pinning your outstretched wrist to the mat as he settled over you, his other hand slipping to your lower ribs to press into a spot he'd already memorised, one that made you shriek.

“Really, darling,” he whispered darkly, his voice rich with satisfaction, “your judgment is appallingly poor, isn’t it?” His fingers glided higher, hitting a spot on your upper ribs that made your laughter turn silent, breath hitching as you struggled under him.

“You handed me this opening,” he tutted, his taunting words making you burn hotter. “What happens next is your fault.” His fingers found the sensitive spot beneath your arm, drawing out a fresh wave of laughter as your body arched, your feet scrabbling for traction as you slapped your free hand against the mat.

Hard laughter barrelled out of you, your head falling to the mat as you squeezed your eyes shut, succumbing to the sensations he was pulling from your nerves.

Surrender washed over you, cool and easy, as you felt your muscles go limp beneath him, nothing in your mind but the feeling of his body, his hands, the force of your laughter, and the pure, unadulterated fun he was having with you. And it was fun, you realised. In a way that people like you usually didn't indulge in.

Bucky tapped Steve on the arm and jerked his chin towards the door behind them. "Seem like you have this under control," he smirked at you. You looked up to glare but only caught their knowing glance, the one of friends and not of Avengers. The one that said, we know exactly what's going on here.

It made you flush almost as much as the unrelenting torture.

Almost as soon as they left you, Loki's tickling hand pulled away. You gulped greedy breaths in as he turned your sagging body with ease, settling you on your back as he hovered over you, eyes roaming the product of his work.

"I trust you've learned your lesson." His voice was a low rumble that sent heat pooling to your belly. All you could do was nod. "Next time you dare to pull a stunt like that," he started, leaning in so close you could feel his breath fanning your lips, "I won't be so gentle."

Heat bloomed over your cheeks, to the tips of your ears, the space between you charged, crackling with an intensity that sends a thrill through you.

You couldn't look away, your breath catching as his gaze lingered on your lips.

His own parted, as though he was on the verge of closing the distance...

He flinched.

Pulled back. Pulled away.

Your brow lowered in concern, but before you could ask what was wrong, he stood.

"Until next time."

He looked down at you, his eyes lingering with a promise that made your pulse pound, before he turned and strode out of the gym, leaving you sprawled on the mat, breathless, wanting, and hopelessly, maddeningly confused.

It was late that same night when you finally worked up the nerve to confront him.

You moved through the silent halls of the Compound, each step echoing in the darkened corridors as you slipped past the shadows pooling in doorways. Uncertainty crept up your spine, and you almost turned back more than once, only to grit your teeth and push forward. There were too many things left unsaid, too much tension thickening the air between you and Loki, and it gnawed at you now, refusing to let you retreat.

Before you could decide on a way to begin, his door opened. He stood there, almost as if he’d sensed you coming, his expression a mix of curiosity and that ever-present amusement.

“It's rather late for a visit,” he said, his tone low, his words quiet and full of question.

You met his gaze. “Couldn't sleep,” you replied, massaging the back of your neck with one hand.

His lips twitched with something darker, though his tone remained light. “And you thought I could help?”

Silence stretched between you, and for a moment, you wondered if this was a mistake.

"I thought you might be able to, considering it's your fault."

His face softened at the strain in your tone, and he stepped aside in a silent invitation for you to enter.

Swallowing hard, you stepped forward, pressing past him and into his room. He shut the door behind you, and the world seemed to fall away, the dimness settling around you, cocooning you both in a place of shadow and warmth.

"Go on then," Loki urged as you two stood near the lounge set in his room. A couple of armchairs and a matching couch, cast in the soft glow of several lamps and a dying fire in the hearth.

You drew a deep breath, forcing yourself to speak. “I know what you are, Loki,” you began, feeling your voice tremble with both fear and resolve. “Mischief is part of your very nature, and I don't mind fun and games like- like earlier," you flushed thinking about it, catching the smirk forming on his features as he watched you fumble.

You gathered your courage and stared him straight-on. "But not with my feelings. All this- this flirting, and touching, and closeness... it's not a game to me. So if it doesn't mean anything to you, I'd rather it stop."

Loki’s eyes narrowed slightly, the smugness vanishing, replaced by something harder, sharper. He let the words hang between you, a silence stretching before he repeated them in a voice almost too soft to hear. “If it doesn't mean anything to me,” he murmured, a subtle, dangerous edge to his tone. "You think this- that you are simply a game? Another amusement of no consequence?"

You swallowed, willing yourself to continue. “Today…” Your voice broke slightly, and you pushed the words out. “In the gym, we were so close. I thought...” Heat flooded your cheeks, but you forced yourself on, the confession slipping free. “For the dozenth time, I thought you were finally going to kiss me. But I just left wondering if I'm a fool with some silly schoolgirl crush, way in over my head." The admission left you raw and breathless, your heart pounding.

He exhaled, the smallest hint of a rueful smile ghosting over his lips. "You were trapped beneath me. Pinned, helpless,” he said, as though it explained everything. “I could never take that liberty with you while you were at my mercy.” His gaze grew darker still, something haunted flickering in his eyes. “I’d never forgive myself if I gave in to such an impulse. I'd never stop wondering if you had truly wanted it."

"But I did want-"

"And what if you hadn't?"

His words were a balm and a brand, his unwavering gaze rooting you to the spot.

"I had to know it was real. Not something forced or coerced, something... taken from you when you were too breathless to say no. I had to know for sure that it was what you desired."

For a moment, you struggled to find your voice, the weight of his reverence filling the space between you.

“It is,” you managed, each word trembling with the strength of your resolve. “I want this. I want you. I can’t stop thinking about you, no matter how hard I try. I don’t want to ignore it anymore.” You swallowed, breathless.

A beat passed, and something changed in his face - a tension releasing, his expression softening in a way you hadn’t expected.

Slowly, he extended his hand, his fingers unfurling in a silent invitation.

You slipped you palm into his, letting him pull you toward him, his touch both a promise and a tether.

He guided you closer, his hands sliding down your arms, tracing the lines of your shoulders, until they rested firmly on your waist. Then, with a gentle insistence, he drew you toward an armchair, lowering himself into it and coaxing you down to settle over his lap, your knees bracketing his thighs.

His hand rose, tilting your chin so that you were forced to look into his eyes. They held an intensity that bordered on unrelenting, darkened by desire and the hint of something raw, something that took your breath away. He watched you intently, his expression filled with something just shy of reverence. His thumb brushed along the curve of your jaw, tilting your face toward him as his fingers trailed along your neck, igniting every nerve.

You shivered as he leaned in, so close that his breath fanned across your lips. His touch was calm and certain, his gaze flicking over you as if committing every part of you to memory.

“I’ve waited for this,” he whispered, voice low and heated. “For you.”

The weight of his words pressed against the heavy silence between you, and before you could answer, he leaned in, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was slow and consuming.

He guided you with a gentle but undeniable command, his mouth pressing deeper, each kiss drawn out, languid, until it felt like he was unraveling you with every deliberate stroke of his lips against yours.

The world blurred, and you melted into him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he lured a soft gasp from your lips. His hand slid to the back of your neck, steadying you, keeping you close as he took his time, tasting you, his lips teasing yours until you forgot to breathe.

When you moved to meet his kiss more eagerly, he slowed you, a faint smirk in the curve of his lips as he deepened the kiss with a patience that made your stomach twist. He was savouring this, savouring you, and the way he kissed you - deliberate, knowing - made your entire body ache with need.

His thumb brushed along your cheek, lingering as his other hand settled firmly at your waist, pulling you closer as though he couldn’t bear the thought of you slipping away.

Your fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, tangling in his hair as he angled your face, holding you exactly where he wanted. When his tongue brushed lightly over your lower lip, you let out a soft, involuntary sound, and his hand tightened against your waist, holding you to him.

Loki’s mouth moved over yours with a control that made you shiver, each kiss deliberate, and the quiet dominance in his touch sent warmth pooling through you. With every gentle press of his lips, every slow, teasing stroke, he seduced you, guided you, igniting something deep and undeniable that had simmered for too long. Your heart beat heavily against your ribs, and as you gasped softly, his mouth trailed along your jaw, his lips barely brushing over your skin.

When he finally pulled back, his gaze was dark, his expression full of barely-contained intensity.

A slight smirk tugged at his lips as he ran his thumb along your lower lip, the teasing glint returning to his gaze. “Well, look at you,” he soothed, voice rich with quiet amusement. “I half-expected you to come tearing through that door, seeking vengeance for how thoroughly I put you in your place earlier.”

Heat pooled in your face, and you fought to keep your composure, though it was a losing battle. “I’d have been fine if you hadn’t-”

“-handled you so effectively?” he interrupted with an infuriating grin, each syllable soft and mocking. “Don’t worry. I rather enjoyed it myself.”

His thumb still lingered on your flushed lips, his eyes glinting with that familiar mischief but something darker, something that felt like an invitation. “Stay with me tonight,” he murmured, his voice low and heated, and the words sent a thrill down your spine.

The invitation hung between you, heavy and dark, the desire in his gaze nearly tangible. Your breath hitched, your heart racing at the thought of losing yourself completely in him, of surrendering to this quiet storm between you.

“That depends,” you managed, barely able to steady your voice. “Are you planning to repeat what happened earlier?”

He chuckled, his fingers tightening on your waist as his eyes glittered with amusement. “Only if you ask very, very nicely.”

A thrill shot through you as he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours with a dark, velvet whisper. “That certainly won't be the last time we play like that. Tonight, however... I have other ideas for what to do with you." His fingers trailed up your spine, making you shiver.

Gods help you. He was going to be your undoing.

"I thought I'd take my time, learning you. Slowly. Thoroughly. Every little detail, every sweet noise you can make." His lips skated across the pulse point in your neck. "Would you like that, darling?"

"Yes." You had barely whispered your reply before his lips were on yours again, his mouth moving over yours with a slow, consuming fervour that left no room for questions, no room for anything except the feeling of him, his warmth, his presence, the gentle yet undeniable control in every touch. His fingers threaded through your hair, his hand steadying you as he deepened the kiss, guiding you with a restraint that made you shiver.

You melted into him, your breaths mingling as his hands drifted, his touch both firm and soft, and when he finally pulled back, his gaze held yours with an intensity that left you breathless.

“This is not a game,” he whispered, a promise in his tone, his thumb tracing light patterns along your neck. His expression was sincere, edged with both longing and restraint. “You say the word, and we’ll stop.”

The words were a quiet echo, a reassurance that grounded you both. A chill of reverence passed between you, something thrilling, something impossibly tender. You met his gaze, nodding as your fingers traced the line of his jaw. “You too. No pressure, no expectations,” you whispered back, meaning it, and he smiled, a soft, endearing smile that made your heart ache.

And then he guided you back into his arms, every movement slow and deliberate as he kissed you once more, drawing you into a dance that would last until dawn.

[l4ndon0rris]

No Talking Zone LN4

bff!Lando x you :: just a bunch of bff fluff after a certain frustrating race weekend 750ish words masterlist

Lando had officially gone off grid for the night; no texts read, no missed phone calls returned. You weren't taking it personally, you were more than familiar with how Lando dealt with losses over the years but this one undoubtedly stung a little differently. You couldn't rest knowing how his internal monologue would be reeling negatively against himself and you had one tactic that would get him to talk.

A tentative knock on his door didn't appear to stir any movement from the other side, a second firmer knock on the hardwood earned some padding of footsteps from inside the room but still no acknowledgement. With an exasperated sigh to yourself at his blatant ignorance you decided to call out his name this time as you banged on the door with a balled up fist.

"I don't want any visitors," Lando weakly replied to the door. You were grateful he couldn't see your face scrunch up frustratedly in response to him.

"Let me in you idiot." This exact scene had been played between the two of you many times before and you were certain Lando knew you weren't going anywhere until he'd let you in. Raising your fist to the door- the door swung open before you had a chance to knock, a pouty faced Lando stood in the open door way.

"I'm not in the mood to talk," he mumbled barely opening his mouth. His eyes had lost their usual sparkle under heavy eyelids, many would succumb to his current innocent and vulnerable demeanour and lather him with pity and praise but your friendship with Lando was much more genuine and raw than that and you both appreciated it being so.

"Good. I don't want to talk," you challenged with a raised eyebrow. You motioned to the laptop that was placed under your arm, his eyes glanced at it before he defeatedly padded back through his room to the bed. You rolled your eyes at his continued stubborn silence, closing the door behind you and heading to the oversized bed jumping in place beside him setting the laptop down between you for the time being.

"This is a no talking zone," Lando declared monotone. Secretly you were glad he understood exactly why you were here, happy to let him think it was his idea. He lay directly on his back staring at the ceiling, hands on his torso, motionless. You could see and feel the tension and frustration coursing through him. You on the other hand were relaxed, scrolling through your phone. There was no such thing as awkward silence between you both, you knew all too well that sometimes all that is needed is company and that was always the purpose of the 'no talking zone'.

Lando stewed in place on the bed; gnawing at the inside of his lips, tapping his fingers against his knuckles, feet knocking the end of the bed. Restless. Agitated. Disrespected. Confused. Second-best. Second-place.

"You know I've done everything for that team," surprising himself as his internal monologue left his mouth. You briefly acknowledged his statement, glancing at him slightly, knowing it was best to stay quiet and let him talk his way out of his state. He still hadn't moved from his rigid position on the bed.

"Everything. My whole career, all the scut work when I started. I've dragged tractors around that track. I've declined numerous offers. All because I wanted to win with McLaren."

You slowly lowered your phone as Lando continued talking, "I know you have," quietly agreeing.

"You're probably one of few who do actually know. Clearly the team has forgotten. Did you see how big my gap was? Fucking-" Lando turned on his side to face you, a gentle smile on lips in support of your friend. Lando raked a hand through his dishevelled curls, "sorry, I just-"

You hushed him for apologising. "I saw the whole thing, Lan. Everyone did. It was shit, what they said to you on the radio for everyone to hear? Shit." Lando's heavy eyes looked at you, grateful.

"Thanks for coming and not talking with me," he muttered with a weak smile that almost reached his eyes. Fully aware that once again the no talking zone had worked exactly how you planned it to. Lando took the opportunity to open the laptop and find a film as you buried yourself under the duvet cover, him following and wrapping himself like a burrito.

"You always talk best in the no talking zone." You smirked, adding to the mental tally of how many times you had both been in the no talking zone. Some had taken place in a tent on a camping trip, others under separate blankets when there wasn't one big enough for two, self-made carboard dens and under the table at a restaurant was a more bizarre environment when you were much younger.

Places and reasons may change, but you and Lando would never truly outgrow the "no talking zone".

ask box

[cece693]

Can you do jasper hale x top male reader

Bratty (Jasper Hale x Top M! Reader)

Thanks for the request. Since it didn't have anything other than a top male reader, I took creative liberties and made Jasper a bratty king :) I didn't feel like writing smut, so apologies in advance, but some elements show reader being the dominant of the relationship :)

tags: bratty jasper, no smut but mentions of it, reader is pissed off

It had otherwise been a normal day—well, at least by vampire standards. You were outside, feeding on some wildlife, a young buck that had the misfortune of crossing your path while Jasper was inside the school. He’d been distant lately, opting to spend time away from you. Normally, this would’ve been fine; you weren’t exactly the clingy type. But lately, he’d been acting strange. Concerning, even. Jasper was usually stoic, his cold demeanor softening only when he was with you. Yet, these last few days, he’d been unusually…smiley.

Even the humans had noticed his sudden change in attitude, daring to encroach on what was rightfully yours. And worst of all? He let them. Hell, he smiled at them. It was as if he were inviting their attention, practically basking in it. He even started letting Alice pick out his clothes, something he never cared about before. It was like overnight, Jasper had turned into someone you barely recognized.

You had tried to brush it off, to ignore the gnawing feeling of jealousy and worry that clawed at you. But today, it got too much. Seeing him flash that grin at some brainless mortal girl in the hall had sent you over the edge. In a fit of rage, you stormed out of school, needing to get as far away as possible before you did something regrettable.

This brings you to the present moment: draining the blood of the unfortunate buck, trying to drown out your frustration with the taste of copper on your tongue. You didn’t expect Jasper to appear behind you, casually leaning against a tree, his lips curled into that smug smile that drove you mad.

"You stormed out in quite a hurry," he drawled, arms crossed as if he hadn’t just ignored you for days. "Jealous, are we?"

You wiped the blood from your mouth, narrowing your eyes at him. "What do you think?" you snapped, not in the mood for his playful tone.

Jasper shrugged, unbothered. "I think you’ve been overreacting. Alice said the same thing."

"Oh, Alice said that? Well, that just makes everything better," you shot back, sarcasm thick. "You’ve been acting like I don’t even exist, Jasper. Smiling at humans? Letting them flirt with you? Do you enjoy watching me lose my mind?"

He smirked, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement. "It’s kind of cute, actually."

You glared at him, fists clenching. "Cute? You think this is a game?"

His grin only widened, and he stepped closer. "Maybe. Or maybe I just like seeing how far I can push you before you snap."

For a moment, all you could do was stare at him, your emotions a chaotic mess of anger, jealousy, and possessiveness. Jasper had always been difficult, but this was new. You weren’t sure if you wanted to strangle him or kiss him senselessly.

"Fine," you said, your voice dangerously calm. "If you want to parade yourself around, don’t let me stop you."

Jasper’s smirk wavered, just for a moment, a flicker of something like surprise crossing his face. But it quickly vanished, and the smirk returned in full force. He nodded, his eyes gleaming with a self-assured smile. "Good. I knew you’d see it my way."

Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked away, not bothering to look back. You could feel Jasper’s eyes on you, but you didn’t slow down. Back at school, you entered the cafeteria and deliberately avoided the table where your family sat, heading straight for Bella and her friends instead. "Hello." You greeted politely, "mind if I sit here?"

"No!" Rebecca quickly exclaimed, pulling out the chair beside her. It was entertaining watching her try to impress you—Rebecca was beautiful in an obvious way, blonde with striking green eyes, and her slight resemblance to Jasper made it almost too easy to flirt. Bella was confused by your sudden appearance, but looking behind her explained everything. The Cullens were still, but their shoulders shook in silent laughter, as Jasper evidently fumed in his seat. Eyes narrowed and lips drawn in a tight line as he watched you and Rebecca flirt.

"You know, I’ve always thought you had the most beautiful eyes." you said, flashing her a charming smile. The compliment made her blush, and she laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Your smile widened, hearing the obvious sound of wood breaking. You spent the remainder of lunch interacting with Rebecca, acting oblivious to the eyes burning a hole in your back. Wanting to push your beloved further (because he ignored you for days) when the bell rang, you offered Rebecca to walk her to class. An action that you solely reserved for Jasper. Well did.

By the time the school day ended, Jasper was furious. During the ride home, he made it a point of giving you the silent treatment, not even answering questions concerning you from your siblings. He didn't look at you, and you were sure he was also thinking badly of you, judging by Edward's soft chuckles.

Once you got home, you headed straight to your bedroom. Jasper followed, closing the door behind him with a little too much force. "What’s wrong, babe?"

Jasper’s eyes narrowed at your mocking tone, his arms defiantly crossed over his chest as he leaned back against the door. He looked at you like you’d just asked the stupidest question in the world, his lips curling into an irritated pout. "What’s wrong, babe?" he mimicked, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he threw your words back at you.

"Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fact that you spent lunch flirting with Rebecca like it was your new favorite pastime, calling her eyes beautiful and letting her practically crawl into your lap. Seriously? You looked like you were one second away from asking her to the prom."

"I'm pretty sure she's already going with Jason—"

“Not the point,” Jasper hissed, his frustration evident. “I never allowed them to touch me. I didn’t encourage them to twirl their goddamn hair and giggle every minute. And I sure as hell didn’t walk them to class.”

“What’s your problem, Jasper?” you shot back, your anger bubbling to the surface. “It’s not like this came out of nowhere! You were the one who started paying attention to those humans, letting them flirt with you even when I was right next to you. And don’t get me started on how you’ve ignored me these past days, opting to spend time with Alice or Emmett, of all people!”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault?! Me wanting to get my husband’s attention is a crime?!”

"That's the reason for your bratty attitude?!" you exclaimed, disbelief thick in your voice. “You thought acting like a complete jerk would somehow get me to notice you?”

Jasper shrugged, a pout forming on his lips. “What else was I supposed to do? You’ve been so distant! We haven’t had sex since last week! Do you know how long that is for me? I thought maybe if I made a scene, you’d realize you actually want me.”

You stared at him, your mouth slightly agape. “You could have just talked to me about it!”

“Talking hasn’t exactly worked out for me,” he snapped. “Every time I try to bring it up, you act like I’m being dramatic. Well, guess what? I am dramatic! I’m a vampire, and I have needs!”

Despite your irritation, you felt the heat of your anger cooling, replaced by that familiar, annoying fondness you had for his childish antics. It was hard to stay mad when the root of his pettiness was so disarmingly sweet. “Admit it, Jasper. You were just being petty because you missed me.”

Jasper opened his mouth to retort, but before he could say another word, you grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into a fierce, searing kiss. His initial surprise melted into fervent eagerness, and he clung to you like you were the very blood he needed to survive. The tension between you dissipated—your fingers tangled in his golden hair as you deepened the kiss.

When you finally pulled away, you smiled down at Jasper—his eyes wide, pout replaced with an adoring smile that sent a rush of satisfaction through you. “If you want my attention,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing, “ask for it nicely, like a good boy.”

Jasper bit his lip, his cocky bravado entirely undone as he nodded, eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and submission. “Yes, sir. I’ll be good.” With that, you knew he’d be on his best behavior...for now.

[taurasiluvr]

how you can help palestine

★ thinking about diana taurasi putting you in your place... kinda inspired by sen's strap headcanons @taurasiluv

 ⠀ ── ⠀warnings ;; nsfw under the cut, mdni. brat taming (my fav!!!), slapping, degradation, mommy kink (it's a dee smut, what do you expect?)

 ⠀ ── ⠀word count ;; 1.1k

 ⠀ ── ⠀rylin's notes ;; requests are open for those who want to send them in :p

"didn't i tell you to cut the fucking attitude?" diana's voice rang out the kitchen, causing you to let out an irritated sigh. you paused, gripping the edge of the counter as you tried to steady your nerves.

"dee, 'm not a kid. you can't talk to me like that," you shot back, trying to keep your voice even. diana walked into the living room, her tall frame filling the doorway. she was still in her practice gear, her face glistening with sweat.

"yeah, i know you're not. you're acting a brat, and i don't like it." she replied, her tone assertive. she opened a water bottle, chugging it slowly. you took the moment to take in your girlfriend; all of her.

you rolled your eyes and turned around, going back to cutting up some fruit. "maybe i wouldn't act like a brat if you actually paid attention to me," you muttered under your breath, knowing full well she'd hear.

diana raised an eyebrow, setting the water bottle down. "what was that, baby?" she crossed her arms, watching you intently.

"nothing," you grumbled, deciding to really test her patience right now.

"no, you wanna act all big and and tough, let's hear it," diana said, stepping closer.

"i told you, nothing,"

you ignored the calls of your name as you walked toward your shared bedroom, letting the annoyance take over. diana walked in the bedroom behind you, her expression now pissed.

"don't walk away from me when we're talking," she said, her voice low and controlled, but you could feel the anger simmering beneath.

you spun around to face her, your own frustration boiling over. "what's there to talk about, dee? you're never here! i'm tired of feeling like an afterthought."

diana's eyes narrowed. "so that's what this is is about? and this is how you deal with it? by throwing a tantrum like a child?"

"well i-"

"no, i'm still talking." she repeated as your face contorted into irritation. "first of all, fix your fuckin' face. and this whole thing is because you're needy? cause you haven't had a good fuck in a while?"

you clenched your fists, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. diana's blunt words cut deep, but there was a part of you that couldn't deny the truth in them. you needed her, and the lack of attention had been gnawing at you.

"fine," she sighed as she slammed the door shut. "get on the bed, sweetheart."

you looked stunned as diana just kept glaring at you. "you wanna act all shy now, baby?"

you let out a breathe before obeying her, sitting on the bed as diana walked over toward you. she grabbed your face tightly, forcing you to look upward. her eyes bore into yours, a mix of anger and desire flickering in them at you being so submissive.

"you're not gonna pull that bratty attitude with me anymore, got it?" she said, her voice low and commanding.

you nodded, unable to find your voice. the intensity of her gaze, the way her fingers dug into your cheeks, sent a shiver down your spine. she let go of your face before landing a swift slap to your cheek, a moan coming out of your lips at the sting.

"i asked you something," she demanded, her hand finding your face again, her grip tightening slightly. "do you understand?"

"yes," you managed to whisper, your voice trembling.

"yes, what?" she prompted, leaning closer so her breath fanned across your lips.

"yes, mommy," you replied, your voice barely audible.

"good," she said, releasing your face and stepping back slightly. "now strip. wanna see you naked."

your heart pounded in your chest as you complied, your hands shaking slightly as you undressed. diana watched you intently, her eyes dark with desire. she turned around as well, rummaging through your drawer before finding her strap. she slipped it on quickly before she turned to face you once again.

once you were completely bare, you stood there, feeling vulnerable under her intense gaze. she stepped closer again, her hand trailing down your arm, sending goosebumps in its wake.

without another word, her hand gripped your head before she gestured to her strap. her eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catchm as you nodded slowly, opening your mouth, you leaned forward, taking her in.

diana's other hand tangled in your hair, holding you steady as you began to move, your lips and tongue working to please her. she let out a low groan, the sound sending a thrill through you. you looked up at her, meeting her gaze, her expression a mix of dominance and desire.

"that's it, baby," she murmured, her voice rough with arousal. "just like that."

you continued, your movements becoming more confident as you found a rhythm. diana's grip on your hair tightened slightly, guiding you as you took more of her in. the taste and feel of the strap filled your senses, and you felt a rush of heat between your legs, your own arousal building.

after a few moments, diana pulled you back, her eyes dark with need. "on the bed," she commanded, her voice leaving no room for hesitation.

you obeyed, crawling onto the bed and positioning yourself on your hands and knees, your body trembling with anticipation. diana moved behind you, her hands running over your back and down to your hips, her touch somehow both possessive and gentle.

"you're going to take everything i give you," she said, her voice low and commanding. "understand?"

"yes, mommy," you replied, your voice breathless with need.

she positioned herself at your entrance, teasing you for a moment before pushing in slowly, filling you completely. you moaned, your body arching as you adjusted to the sensation. diana held your hips firmly, setting a steady pace that quickly had you gasping for breath.

she landed a couple slaps to your ass, causing a string of curses and moans to leave your mouth.

"fucking brat," she growled, her movements becoming more intense. "say it, say you're mine."

"'m yours," you managed to gasp, your body responding eagerly to her every thrust. "'m yours, dee."

the pleasure built quickly, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. diana's grip on your hips tightened, her own breathing becoming ragged as she drove you toward release.

when you finally came, it was with a cry of pure ecstasy, your body shuddering with the force of your orgasm. she pulled out gently, collapsing beside you on the bed and pulling you into her arms. you lay there together, both of you catching your breath, the intensity of the moment slowly giving way to a feeling of deep contentment.

"did i fuck all that attitude outta you now, baby?" diana managed to say as you let out a breathless laugh.

"mhm, yeah. you did," you replied.

if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!

with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚