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s-brant · 3 years ago

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Twin Flame (6/8)

(gif: @wodohwan) (PART FIVE) (PART SEVEN) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: Y/N has to face her punishment for the fight and finds herself stuck in in-school-suspension for the rest of the day, but, little does she know, JJ has other plans for her.

Word Count: 16.5k

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), implied parent/child abuse, and fluff.

A/N: Welcome back to Tokens! Sorry for the wait and thank you for your patience. As you can see with the length of this, there’s a reason this chapter took a little longer to write, so I hope the wait was worth it. Thank you for all of your love and support on this fic, and if you enjoyed this, I’d be happy to hear your thoughts. Have fun!

JJ (Affectionate) u still got ur phone in there?

Knowing him, she probably should've expected him to not give up without a fight, but what she hadn't expected, after thirty short minutes of sitting idle in the ISS room, was to get this text.

A minute passes of him sitting in the stairwell to the science wing before he sends his next text. Though she managed to sneak her phone in down the front of her pants while the security guard/prison warden wasn't looking, the opportunities to check the phone are slim to none, so she feels it buzz incessantly against the lower half of her abdomen beneath her jeans and ignores it.

JJ (Affectionate) if u read this, send back something random

The silence of the room is what drives her out of her mind. The truth is, it isn't silence at all. It's a staticky, anxious silence that grows louder with the passing minutes marked by the ticking of the hand on the wall clock she's one more tick away from smashing with a hammer. Between the ticking, the security guard violently chewing on his sandwich enough to make her grimace, and the overall hum of the remaining quiet, she is officially losing it.

They don't let her do anything. No music, no school work, no books, and certainly no phones. The only thing she's allowed to do is sit at the desk, stare at the wall, and think herself into a rabbit hole of thoughts about how much she'd rather be in class or in out of school suspension instead. Though her principal acted like ISS was a merciful choice compared to the stain of a full-on suspension on her permanent record, it's a lot less enjoyable. Compared to this, out of school suspension sounds like a dream.

It's when the man turns his back to throw away the Subway wrapper across the room and look for the hand sanitizer in the back closet that she scrambles to pull her phone out of her pants to read the messages.

Kief Princess Something random

He rolls his eyes, then types his quick reply with his head leaned against the side railing of the stairway.

JJ (Affectionate) i'm gonna jump right into it cuz we don't have time but just know i thought that was corny as hell and u didn't get away w it

She glances back and forth between the three dots on the corner of her phone screen to the open closet door where Alec—he introduced himself—riffles through the contents of the shelves. With the fates on her side, it happens to be that Alec is a brand new hire for Kildare County High's shoddy campus security, and this is his first time in the ISS room, so his search for the sanitizer is painfully drawn-out.

Whatever it was JJ is up to, he has luck on his side in terms of who was chosen to watch over her punishment today. The poor son of a bitch has no clue what's coming. JJ is by far not the worst troublemaker in this school, and his degree of misbehaving is often exaggerated on Janice's part whenever they see each other, but he isn't necessarily the angel Y/N thinks he is either. Most of the security team is familiar enough with him.

JJ (Affectionate) all i need u to do is leave a window open

JJ (Affectionate) ur gonna hear a commotion in the hallway (don't ask) and ask ur guy what it is. when he walks out, leave the rest up to me, k?

Kief Princess This is literally so stupid

JJ (Affectionate) too late. already on my way

Well, she guesses that's that. There's not much anyone can do to change his mind once he's decided he's going to do something, and now that he set his sights on busting her out of their school's jail equivalent, she knows there's no turning back.

Her head pops up from looking at her phone to see Alec reaching for the sanitizer stuffed behind value packs of Post-It notes, and she shoves her the device back down the front of her jeans to resume looking at the wall like nothing happened. The room's oddly loud silence returns to her once he walks back to the desk, humming in her ears along with her thundering heartbeat from the adrenaline of anticipating JJ's antics.

She offers the balding man a tight-lipped smile that doesn't reach the eyes.

What the hell is gonna happen? What kind of "commotion" did he have planned to draw him out of the room? Millions more questions are flooded into the free space of her mind, making her leg bounce beneath the desk before she catches herself and wills it to remain still. If she doesn't want the security guard to suspect anything, she needs to act natural and sell her naive, unassuming goody two shoes act like she's DiCaprio fiending for a golden statue.

It begins within the next thirty seconds with her propping her elbows up on the surface of the desk and waving her hands in her face to mimic the effect of a fan. It doesn't make him look up at first, but that doesn't matter. What matters is that he sees it in his peripheral vision and it establishes a foothold in his subconscious before she revs it up into overdrive.

She used a bathroom break five minutes into this due to the bottle of water she downed in her first class, so, unable to stray from her desk without permission for the foreseeable future since nobody realistically pisses that much without a UTI, she needs him to open the window on her behalf. And after watching her friends con people into believing anything they wanted during their pursuit of the gold over summer break, she's prepared to take a page from their rule book.

It starts with sighs.

Frustrated, whiny sighs that she drags up from the worst memories of discomfort and annoyance she has, some including her visit to this cursed room, escape her with ease. Those, paired with the hands waving with increased vigor at her face, catch his attention after two full minutes of pretending not to hear them.

His voice rumbles from a place deep within his chest, low enough in pitch to startle her after the reign of silence, "What is it?"

Already annoyed. Good, that'll make it easier. The more frustrated he is with her, the quicker he'll be to snap and comply to her simple request in an effort to get her to shut up and be done with it. She sighs, slumping down in her seat and fanning herself harder.

"I'm, like, really hot right now, but I know it's against the rules for me to get up for anything but the bathroom, so can you open a window?"

Before he can think about responding with the big fat "no" like she thinks he will, she pulls out the trick she had saved in case she saw him look as against it as he does now.

"You have no idea how bad today was. My boyfriend's ex got into a fight with me, so I defended myself and look where it led me? So much for the justice system, am I right? Then, I just got my period when I came down here"—the mischievous side of her feels somewhat proud at the male disgust she conjures on his reddened face at that—"The cramps would be bad enough, but, my goodness, the hot flashes. You wouldn't even believe—"

For the next minute or so, she rambles. She spews sentence after sentence of exasperating, irksome ranting about her contrived problems since, fortunately for her, the only thing truthful about what she said is the fight with Kacey. The borderline grotesque detail she dives into with it pushes him to believe her, however, and she can see her tactics working their magic the longer she's given to work on him.

She continues until he can't stand it any longer.

"...If you've ever had food poisoning, it's like that if I don't do anything to help it fast enough. Just full body sweat dripping out of every pore with the stomach cramps and nasty dia—"

Alec stands up in a huff that cuts off her overly detailed retelling of a nonexistent food poisoning tale and how it compares to her fake menstrual symptoms.

He sends the chair slamming into the wall behind the desk with the swiftness he uses to push himself in the direction of the nearest window to him. The sound of his steps reverberate her victory back to her in the pattern of a thumping step sequence that leads him to unlock and swing the window open into the direction of the parking lot.

Through the smudgy glass, likely neglected for weeks at a time by the understaffed janitorial team, she can make out the blue and red coloring of JJ's bike sitting in the spot closest to the window. There's a stretch of grass fifty or so feet long that separates the windows from the bike itself, but she feels herself fighting a smile at the thought of him rolling his bike from the other side of the lot in preparation for the last-minute plan.

Her attention comes back to what's happening inside the school quickly though, following his stompy feet on his path back the desk as he mutters something about her finally shutting up under his breath.

The rolling chair squeaks beneath him when he sinks down into it for the second time, and that is when they both pick up on the sound coming from the hallway. Right on time, though she never expected otherwise from him, is the "commotion" JJ promised outside of the classroom door.

Alec's face scrunches up in curiosity.

"Do you hear that?" he asks.

Faintly, from the far end of the hallway where they both know no other classes reside due to the auditorium taking up the entire other side, the sound of what seems like a body behind thrown up against the lockers reaches them. It happens once, twice, again, again, and again until it suddenly stops short with a boy's groans of pain growing louder.

Their eyes meet, and she forces a concerned look into her face.

The thought of JJ running full speed into the lockers to mimic the sound of someone being thrown into them in a fight, much like the one she partook in earlier, comes to mind and makes her chest shake with the urge to laugh. It probably isn't what he's doing. In fact, it isn't, he's banging his textbook into different lockers on his way down the hallway with all of his strength and pretending to groan in agony, but it amuses her all the same.

"It sounds like someone's getting beat up!" she muses, then gestures to the door as he sits there for another second in contemplation, "Aren't you gonna help them?"

He stares back at her, unconvinced.

"Jesus, dude, you're useless! I'll do it myself," she mutters with genuine annoyance now that she's seen how ineffective he'd be in the event of a real emergency.

That, along with seeing her jump into action in pursuit of the half-open door, manages to finally get his lazy ass out of the rolling chair after a full twenty seconds of hearing a helpless student struggle in a fight he's clearly losing in. No wonder it took an eternity for a staff member to come to break up her and Kacey's fight. If this is how they train them, it doesn't surprise her that Kildare has so many each week.

The room passes in her peripheral vision in a blur on her rushed sprint from her desk at the front of the room out into the empty hallway before Alec can get his grubby little paws on her. His shouting is close behind as she rounds the corner out of the room and runs straight into the solid force of a familiar body, prompting him to drop alongside his backpack to the floor and clutch his head in pretend pain.

A gasp is drawn from her involuntarily, not from any sophisticated acting skills of her own but because JJ's bleeding from the edge of his hairline down into his face, and it takes her more time than it should to remember it's fake. Asking for Pope's extra ketchup and mixing it with the syrup he got for his sorry excuse for waffles proved to be quite effective in making it look like he's bleeding. Though, his already bruised and beat up face from his dad lashing out on him helps too.

Ultimately, it's the glimpse of blood from around where she kneels in front of his crumpled form that stops Alec from demanding she returns to the classroom. It turns his face as white as paper, and she thinks for a second that the poor guy might faint from it. Thank God this school isn't too dangerous. Trusting the care of the students into this wimp’s hands would not set her at ease in the slightest.

She holds JJ's face in her hands and turns his head in each direction to "examine" the wound atop his head, and she spins around to yell at the security guard, "What's wrong with you? Go get the other guy, I just saw him run into the auditorium! You can't just let him leave!"

And, of course, JJ just has to add onto it, groaning with the act of a disoriented person that hit their head one too many times.

"He—" he says, then cuts himself off with a wince in response to her careful prodding, "He jumped me and stole my wallet out of my bag. That's all the money I have, you have to get it back..."

After what felt like eons to her, his weak, strangled words send Alec running as fast as his legs can take him to the side entrance of the auditorium at the end of the hallway, and they watch until he disappears between the double doors.

In the high of their accomplishment, she wonders how the hell she managed to pull that off. She typically can't lie for shit. It's always weighed too heavily on her heart for her to bother with it, but when faced with JJ springing this on her last minute, she had to either step up to the plate or ruin the entire thing. Not to mention, she's already beat up Kacey, gone to ISS, and now conned the new security guard into letting her out, so there's not much left to lose today.

At the echo of the double doors shutting, the grimace washes away from his features to reveal a smile she knows too well, and he reaches up to take the hand she extends to him. It doesn't take much additional force to help him up. Her brain is still half-convinced, despite her assuring herself it's fake, that he's actually hurt and needing her help, pulling on the hand connected to his with the bulk of her strength. It has him standing to his feet in seconds with his backpack swinging onto one shoulder, and she can't help but smile back.

He doesn't drop her hand now that he's standing steadily on two feet. Actually, his grip tightens on it as she's pulled back through the doorway to the classroom in pursuit of the window Alec so graciously unlocked and opened for them, though it's not like she gave him much of a choice in the matter.

She blurts out to break her silence by the time she's guided all the way to the window, "What the hell is this?"

It doesn't take explaining to understand her intention behind the question when it was asked so incredulously, she couldn't have been referring to anything other than his batshit crazy plot to break her out of ISS for no reason other than he felt like it. That was part of being with him that she still has yet to adjust to: the impulsivity that has plunged so many of his and their friends' situations into chaos. It goes against everything she is as a person, but would it be crazy if she said she liked it?

Where she falters, he continues, and where she thinks things through before continuing, he doesn't, so it only makes sense in her brain that they gravitated toward each other.

Before today, the peak of her impulsivity consisted of choosing whether she wanted toast or off-brand Cheerios for breakfast. Today is a rarity in her book of craziest things she's done, and, usually, they add balance to each other's lives. She's the one who can get through to him when no one else can and force him to think for a second before acting, and he's the one to take her by the hand and drag her headfirst into the thrilling things she'd never be brave enough to do on her own.

He tosses their backpacks through the window, then hops through the wide opening himself, landing the bottom of his boots firmly onto the overgrown grass on the other side. His hands are outstretched to beckon her through, and when she takes them into hers and jumps out of the classroom window onto the ground in front of him, he finally answers her.

"Operation liberation, baby," JJ says as if it were the most obvious conclusion, and he leans down to plant a lingering kiss to her lips before pulling away a second or two later to ask, "You really thought I'd let them take you alive?"

Her laughter fills the brief space between them as their bodies part, and she shakes her head at his explanation for it.

"You're insane, like actually crazy. Have you gotten yourself checked out for that? It's ISS, not maximum security prison. I would've been fine."

The sun shines down on him from behind to halo him in the light, amplifying the tones of his golden hair around the edges to coincide with her habit of calling him an angel. In this moment, she's never felt so alive. It's due to a mixture of different things, but it's mostly the adrenaline of what they did and the sheer happiness of knowing that he wants her back. It was never defined, and he never said anything specific, but it was enough for to know he wanted it to be a date too. For now, that's the closest he can come to saying what he feels.

His arms are twined around her waist to keep her pulled into him the whole time, and she forgets entirely about everything else with the feeling of him touching her in the forefront of her mind. It doesn't occur to her that they're on a time sensitive mission, or that Alec is due to put two and two together after storming into an empty auditorium on behalf of them. In a moment of willing tunnel vision, all she can think of is him.

"Yeah but how would we go on our date then?"

Her brows raise, a smile creeping onto her face against her will.

"Since when do we have a date tonight?" she asks.

His fingertips drum at her lower back absentmindedly, the same repetitive, mindless motions he often makes to keep himself from bursting out of his skin with unexpended energy. It almost distracts her attention from looking up at his face, but it can't possibly succeed. He's too captivating to look away from.

"Since now. I'm broke, so it ain't anything special, but it's—"

She watches in real time as the lighthearted expression painting his features melts away into a wide-eyed look of panic at whatever it is he sees through the windows behind her turned back. It has her smile dropping simultaneously, and she's about to turn around again to see what wiped the excited look off of his face when he dips down to scoop up their backpacks. He hands hers off to her quickly, the bag of heavy books and binders hitting the center of her chest as he scrambles to slip his onto his body.

"We gotta go right now," he says, as she gets her bearings with the backpack, and rushes her along. "Like right now. Your bald security dude just saw us and he was not happy about it."

The sound of the outside door at the end of the auditorium's hallway opening and closing reaches them from the end of the small grassy field, and he's already pulling her away by her arm once she catches a glimpse of Alec coming straight toward them. He's yelling at them from far away, approaching rapidly enough to set her feet into motion behind JJ in the direction of his bike.

His hand is clasped around her wrist hard enough to bruise but she pays it no mind. She's too busy glancing back over her shoulder and shouting, "Go, go, go!" at him whenever she sees how quickly Alec is advancing on them.

His backpack is slung on the front of his body, not the back, and she realizes it was on purpose once they make it halfway to the bike. Since she'll be riding on the back of it, he needed room for her to wrap her arms around his back without the bag in between them.

She nearly trips over her feet a couple of times from how much faster he is than her with their hands connected between them, but she manages to keep herself upright the rest of the way to the bike. And though what they're doing promises a full-blown, out of school suspension for them, she doesn't care. For the first time in two months, she isn't overthinking herself into a void of negativity and grief, she's having fun.

He gets to the parked bike quicker than she can, and he drops her wrist in favor of fishing his keys out of his back pocket in a frantic effort to get the engine turned over before their escape plans get thwarted by the new security guard.

The feeling of her jumping onto the back of the bike behind him as he turns the key in the ignition reminds him of the countless other times she's ridden on the back of it, but this time is different. This time, she isn't just his friend. She isn't his secret hookup or John B's little sister either.

Her arms slip around his waist to intertwine her hands at the front of him and keep herself locked onto him. The blend of adrenaline and excitement has her holding onto him tighter than usual, and he welcomes it.

The bike's rumbling engine kicks on right when they need it most. The roaring noise of it is offensive to her ears at such a close proximity, but she isn't compelled to care with bigger matters at hand—like the man running across the grass to them right now. There's no point in worrying about him anymore, though. He's twenty or so feet behind them, meanwhile JJ's hand is already wrapped around the throttle.

Before he's able to twist it toward them to send the vehicle forward, she lifts one hand in the air to wave goodbye to the man sprinting his way to where they sit atop the bike.

"It was nice meeting you!"

Her arm shoots back out to grab onto JJ's waist again as they're sent jolting forward with just enough time to spare under the sharp pull of the throttle. She thinks she feels his chest move with laughter beneath where she squeezes him half to death to prevent herself from flying off the back seat.

Only Y/N would go along with one of his stupid plans like this, and he lives for it. He loves the sound of the delighted little shriek coming from the girl sitting behind him at the speed they take the first turn at, thighs pressing into both sides of his hips with a snug pressure that keeps her as close to him as physically possible. He loves the polite parting words she had for Alec, ever the good girl he grew up alongside even when indulging in his troublesome hijinks. He loves everything about her. Always has, always will.

The wind blows her hair around her head and whips it around in every foreseeable direction. And it hurts to be hit with the floating strands being blown into her face, but the wind itself against her skin feels like heaven after being trapped in the dank ISS room for half an hour. Her head tilts up to the sky for a short second of appreciation, and the bandana, returned to its rightful place around her neck, tickles her skin where it flutters against it in the powerful wind.

Gradually, her circulation-cutting hold on his body eases up until her hands rest softly against the firm muscles of his abdomen with no more pressure than what's necessary to keep her safely planted on the back of the bike. Her heart pounds with the thrill of what they did providing her a rush better than any drugs she's done, and she laughs wildly with him as they rip through Kildare from street to street.

Y/N sits with her knees pulled up onto the seat of the chair she's on and watches JJ poke the tip of an ink-dipped sewing needle into his skin in a methodical formation that follows his mental image of the tattoo he wants.

Their date, though technically still happening, was exactly what she needed after the past few days being packed to the brim with chaos and drama. Like he said, it wasn't anything extravagant considering that they can hardly afford to keep the Chateau's kitchen stocked for the two of them, but it was everything she wanted not because of what they did, but because he called it a date.

It has her smiling to herself thinking about it, looking away from where he furrows his brows in concentration to tattoo the ink beneath his skin to the blanket laid out on the floor of her bedroom for the mini-picnic they had. He intended on it happening outdoors, then rain began to pour down from the cloud-covered sky and they resigned themselves to a date inside the house.

It was essentially what they always do together, and that's why she loved it so much. The special part was him breaking out a six pack he stole from the convenience store a few days ago in honor of their first real date, and, "...some White Claw, 'cause you're a pussy that can't drink real alcohol." The sly remark got him a death glare and half of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich stolen from him, but he just smiled the whole time, incapable of helping himself.

In the least weird way, sometimes if she says something a certain way or makes a distinct facial expression, she reminds him of John B to a level that verges on eerie.

If he said it, she'd probably think it's weird because of the obvious fact of them being together and him being attracted to her, but it's not like that. It's a fleeting snapshot of a feeling he finds himself caught up in every once in a while. She'll laugh and snort at the end of it once in a while, and his heart will drop at the thought of his best friend doing the same thing. Or, her reaction to him teasing her like he did over the White Claw will make him think he's still here sometimes.

But then she'll do something like herself, something distinctly Y/N that contributed to his hopeless attraction to her in the first place, and the feeling will disappear into thin air.

She continues watching him from where she's perched on an old stool they dragged in from the porch. He's too concentrated on the finishing touches of the stick-and-poke tattoo he dots into the calf of his leg to notice her staring, or so she thinks, so she does it as shamelessly as she wants.

Throughout the drama of the past three or so days, she hasn't allowed herself to want him the way she always does. Thinking he had a secret girlfriend and being too upset with the bandana situation, she was too pissed off to admit she still liked him this way most of the time. But she has no qualms admitting it now.

JJ chews on his split bottom lip in focus, and her eyes trail over him from top to bottom with nothing but unrestrained, dreamy-eyed desire swirling around in them.

First, she finishes studying his face after the interruption she faced this morning. She memorizes the little things, the imperfections and minute details, before moving onto the rest of him. His hair is half-damp from the downpour of rainwater that soaked them halfway through the ride back to the Chateau, and they had to change out of their wet clothes from the day. So, as if for the sole purpose of teasing her, the only clothing he wears aside from underwear is a pair of tan overalls.

She doesn't miss things like how his bicep flexes slightly when he reaches up to dip the makeshift tattoo needle, a sewing needle tied to the tip of a pencil with thread wrapping them together, into the India ink he found in the box labeled "Arts and Crafts (JJ and John B stay out!!)" underneath her bed.

However, what makes her falter is the sight of a bruise on the side of his waist leading down past where the edge of the overalls cover him.

Part of her wants to ask him about it, about his dad going to jail for the restitution and how he feels about it, but she also doesn't want to ruin the mood of this for him. He's been happy, truly happy, since they left school today and bringing up his dad is the number one way of ruining his decent mood.

Instead, she asks, "Doesn't that hurt?"

His head lifts to catch his first glimpse of her in over thirty minutes.

The sight of her sitting there could genuinely strike him down right where he sits. For how much she eye-fucks him when he isn't looking, he does the same.

Her hair is pulled half-up, half-down by a hair tie she found in her bedside table after they changed out of their wet clothes, and the raw cutoff of the white tank top she snipped into a cropped shirt with the kitchen scissors over the summer exposes a plane of naked skin to him that is only interrupted by her panties. Originally, she'd been wearing a pair of shorts, but it got too hot in here thanks to the broken air conditioner to keep them on.

To say that she's a temptation to him would be a gross understatement, but she asked him a question, so he tries his best to clear his lust-muddled mind to answer it.

He shrugs.

"I guess it does. It ain't that bad though, I'm sure it hurts less than getting that did."

At the end of his sentence, he gestures to the discoloration splotched on her cheek in a fresh bruise from one of the few hits Kacey landed on her. It's a mark that makes him want to frown, but it also makes pride flare up inside of him for her. He's already accepted that he did John B dirty by breaking her out of ISS today, so he has no problem admitting he's proud of her for what she did.

It's what sparked the idea around his tattoo in the first place. What she did was some real deal Holyfield Pogue behavior, and he thought it best to honor their eventful day this way. With the letters "P4L" inked crookedly into his skin to the best of his limited ability in tattoo artistry, JJ sets the needle down onto the towel laid out on her desk.

Perking up at the realization him being finished, she pushes herself off of the wooden stool and pads over to him. Her chin rests itself on his shoulder as she peeks down at the DIY tattoo with an air of fascination surrounding her about it, but he never would've anticipated what comes next from her.

"Can you give me one too?"

He can't hide his surprised but intrigued reaction from her.

"I know I asked already, but, seriously, what's gotten into you lately?" he asks.

It began with the public displays of affection, to put it delicately, in the back of the Drive-In and continued into her showdown with Kacey a few hours ago. She's gone fully crazy this week, and while he can't deny finding it hot as fuck, he also can't deny worrying about it to himself.

She sighs.

"I know what you're thinking, and I know this seems kinda not like me, but I'm not gonna wake up tomorrow and regret it, like any of it. It was worth it to beat her up, and it'll be worth it to get suspended for ditching today. I'm just sick of letting people treat me like trash." She shrugs. "I'm over it."

JJ contemplates it for a second, head turned to meet her gaze from where her face hovers inches away from his.

He seems to come to a conclusion within himself, and he reaches up to grab her face in one hand, forcing her to keep eye contact with him in such a casually dominant action, she doesn't know what to do with the feeling it stirs to life inside of her. It isn't aggressive, it never is when it comes to him, but the gentle touch is as commanding as it needs to be.

"This isn't a mental breakdown decision?"

Her response is immediate, a playful smile tugging at her pretty features, "Oh, it's absolutely a mental breakdown decision, but I won't regret it."

Their faces could brush with how close they are, and he watches her take her lip between her teeth with no small amount of longing in his watchful gaze. It's been a while since he's gotten a chance to bite her lip for her. The last time they got to be together in that context was at the Cherry Bowl. That was five days ago, the longest five days of his life as far as he's concerned.

"You promise?"

Her hand raises between them, bruised pinky finger sticking out expectantly.

"Pinky promise, angel."

The pet name softens the seriousness of his expression, and he leans in to kiss her as he hooks his pinky around hers to seal the promise.

To put it as simply as possible, they can't get enough of each other. The phrase "honeymoon phase" comes to mind, but, then again, they've already migrated through hardships and arguments that aren't supposed to happen during the famed honeymoon phase of a relationship. With the messy breakup that almost occurred outside of the office today, neither of them would say they're in a phase of blind infatuation, they just adore one another.

That's it, isn't it?

As their mouths move together in a slow, hot kiss that makes him want to scoop her up and toss her down onto the bed not five feet from where they sit, he decides that adoration is the perfect word to capture his feelings for her. He adores the taste of her on his lips, as well as the hand cupping his cheek and the feeling of her pinky wrapped around his resting against the center his chest.

It lasts longer than either of them anticipated, lingering an extra few seconds in which he chases after her departed kiss with his chin nudging out in anticipation of her return, and she can practically see him refraining from acting on every urge floating around in that head of his when his eyes open to see her standing up straight.

"Alright," he says, shaking his head to himself to dissolve the tempting train of thought, and reaches out to unravel the thread from around the pencil to replace his used sewing needle with a fresh one, "where do you want it?"

The question sends her head down to survey the body parts left uncovered by her clothes, or lack thereof, in search of a place deserving of a matching tattoo with him. It's more of a difficult decision than she thought it'd be. It has to be an aesthetically ideal placement, but it must be able to be concealed beneath her clothes. It has to be easy for him to reach, but also easy for her to hold the position for at least a half hour.

He watches her eyes flicker from her arms to her hands, then down to her legs and back up to her abdomen. It catches his attention that she stops there, staring down at herself with narrowing eyes as if she can visualize the sight of the small "P4L" tattoo already etched into her untouched skin.

"I want it..." she trails off into a hum of consideration. She rolls the elastic band of her panties down a smidge to reveal the stretch of skin in direct line with her hips, thumb pointing to a spot to the left of her hipbone where it would poke out under the edge of her panties. "...there."

The taunting look in her eyes tells him she knows exactly what she's doing to him with the idea. For your eyes only, the stare says to him in reference to the tattoo placement, and if he weren't head over heels for her already, that would've hammered the nail into his coffin. He hopes she knows his motivation to get her out of her clothes will be tripled with the knowledge of the tattoo sitting in such an audacious place.

He pauses for a second as if to give her the chance to tell him she's fucking with him, then asks, "Are you trying to seduce me? 'Cause it's totally working."

She scoffs.

"Me? Never."

They're sent back into comfortable silence for the next five minutes, her watching him prepare the supplies to tattoo her with while he lays it out on the clean side of the towel.

It makes nerves spike in the pit of her stomach in anticipation of what's to come, and he can see it in how her leg bounces compulsively from where she sits on the stool across from him. The flick of his lighter opening to hold a flame under the new needle and sterilize it, the sound of him humming along to the song playing through his phone, and her foot tapping in the hardwood keeps her grounded to reality.

She tries not to psych herself out of it.

Her nerves getting the better of her isn't an underlying symptom of secretly not wanting it, but she tends to work herself up over stuff like this, so it takes most of her time and attention to keep herself from freaking out over it. Anxiety tends to be self-sabotaging in her experience. Even when it's something she wants, like JJ, she'll find an excuse to tear it apart in her mind until she finds a reason to fear it.

As of late, she's been trying to overcome that aspect of herself, hence the decision to go public with their relationship. It scares her shitless to subject the sacred thing they have together to the opinions of their friends and the rest of the small, judgmental island, but losing him scares her more.

So, taking the example she set for herself this morning, she doesn't back out of this when he asks her if she's ready. She simply nods, lays on the bed for him to pull his chair up next to, and takes a deep puff of the joint he gave her to steady herself in anticipation of the first puncture of the needle into her skin.

He notices her chest rising and falling at a pace that's quicker than usual and, without giving it much more thought, decides to distract her. On a multitude of occasions, he's had to be the one to force her mind off of a spiraling track into the void of anxiety in the back of her mind, so he has no problem doing it again. The trick is to bring something up that she's been dying to talk about but hasn't had the chance to yet, and he only knows of one thing that fits the description as of this moment.

"You should talk things out with Kie tomorrow."

What he says pulls her attention away from where she was looking down at the needle hovered over her skin up to where he looks down at the area with a careful concentration. Before she can open her mouth to speak a response to the random comment, the tip of the ink-dipped sewing needle pierces under the surface of her skin in the first, surprisingly tolerable poke.

Unknowingly roped right into his trap to calm her nerves, she relaxes her shoulders in the comfort of knowing that the rest of the tattoo will be painful, but not the "clutching the pillows and crying" kind of painful that her mind convinced her it'd be.

He keeps an eye on her in his peripheral vision the entire time. While keeping most of his focus on not fucking up a simple three letter/number long tattoo that'll be on her body forever, he watches her reactions intently for any sign of her nerves getting worse. And after the initial few pokes of the needle are through to start the first letter, he sees her breathing instantly begin to even out and smiles to himself.

Works every time, he thinks, and it hadn't occurred to him until now how well he knows her. From how to cure her anxious thoughts to something as stupid as knowing she only likes the Tangerine and Black Cherry flavors of her drinks, he knows her from the inside out.

"You're probably right," she says, officially distracted, "but I don't feel like opening that can of worms yet. It'll ruin everything, you know? All she ever cares about is Pope. I never thought she'd be that girl that gets a boyfriend and makes her entire world revolve around him but she is, and I hate it."

He hums his agreement, but his answer is different than she expected.

"Yeah, I get that, but you still haven't apologized for blowing up at her this morning."

The sharp pain of the needle keeps her mind present to the current moment, never slipping away to the recesses of her mind to think for too long before she says anything, and it makes everything she says ten times as honest as it would've been. It's not that she ever tries to lie to him, but most people try to filter their words before they're said, both for clarity purposes and the sake of being sensitive to other people’s feelings, and with the pain keeping her occupied, she isn't doing that.

He works relatively fast. Each puncture of the skin is quick enough to make it feel more like a pinch than what it really is. If he went slower, it'd only be more drawn-out and painful, so he works as quickly as he can without sacrificing the neatness of it. She knows what she's getting after viewing his finished tattoo, which was imperfect and crooked in places, but he does try to make it the best he can for her. He cares a lot more about how it looks on her than himself.

Her face morphs into an expression that borders between surprise and offense.

"Why should I apologize? She's the one who keeps ditching me all the time. I was just calling her on her shit since nobody else wants to."

The betrayal of her skipping out on plans multiple times and putting her new boyfriend above everything else in her life, including Y/N, is a fresh wound that has yet to heal in any capacity, so talking about it is a careful dance with the devil from his perspective. Before today, it was all buried miles beneath the surface to the point where she didn't engage much when he tried to ask her about it, but now those feelings have exploded to the surface and there's no forcing them back down.

He says, "I know, and I agree, but you were a little mean about it. Like I said, I'm not one to judge, but you need to talk shit out calmly. What happened this morning won't help things get better with y'all."

He's right.

He isn't one to judge, because for how annoyingly accurate his advice is, he's likely the worst communicator to grace the earth when it comes to having hard conversations like the one she needs to have with Kie and admitting his feelings. Getting him to admit he wanted to go on a date with her was like pulling teeth, so she doesn't understand where his sudden wisdom on having calm, rational conversations sprung from.

Nevertheless, she doesn't call him on it. It'd be a cheap shot. She knows he isn't a good communicator, but neither is she. She had every chance in the world to take the first step to sort out their messy communicative issues this week, but she didn't.

A gentle huff escapes her mouth, and she murmurs in a reluctant acceptance of defeat, "I hate that you're right."

Part of what makes his advice hit her with such pinpoint accuracy is the fact that they're a lot more similar than they give themselves credit for. They appear outwardly as the poster couple for the popular phase "opposites attract" but deep down they have never been total opposites. They share many of the same demons and insecurities, and it makes for a mutual sense of unspoken understanding between them that they've never experienced with other people before.

When she looks at him, she sees someone wildly different to her in so many ways, yet at the same time, she feels like she's looking into a mirror too. He reflects things about her back to herself that she hadn't even realized existed—some of them bad, some of them good—and she knows she does the same for him.

A twin flame.

She once thought the most similar person to her in the world was John B, but it wasn't. It was JJ.

The whole time, underneath the facade of their platonic relationship and the countless girls he went through to force his intense attraction to her away, it was him. He was, and has always been, her person. He's the person that she can go to no matter what. Even when they're pissed at each other and on completely different pages, they can meet under the magnolia tree with one common thread tying them together.

And, just like magic, the sound of him chuckling down where he leans over her midsection erases the festering infection of her anger for Kie. How is he able to do that?

"You're gonna have to get used to it 'cause I'm right like"—he pretends to stop to think about it—"ninety-nine percent of the time."

"Oh that's not true, I can think of a million things you've been wrong about!" she exclaims, and he stops tattooing her as her body moves with her laughter.

After another second, her laughter dissolves into a smile and allows him to resume the repetitive, precise movements of his wrist turning to bring the needle down to her. This time, she winces from the unintentionally harsh depth of the poke, and he murmurs a soft, "Sorry, baby," before continuing at his previous depth and pace. It has her lifting the joint back to her lips for a second hit in the hopes that it'll dull the painful pinching.

"Like what? I was definitely right about breaking you out of ISS. If I didn't, you'd still be hanging with that security guard right now," he says, then adds as a taunting afterthought, "You're welcome, by the way"

She doesn't miss a beat.

"Well, you were wrong about who's the better surfer"—he rolls his eyes instantly at the playful remark—"you were wrong about which cookie is flavor better, and you were dead wrong about Kacey."

The last comment makes him peek up at her face for the first time since he began working on the first letter of the tattoo. Their eyes meet through the cloud of smoke she blows into the space between them, and she has a feeling he sees right through her without having to try.

"What does Kacey have to do with it?"

The memory of her argument with her, an unfortunate foreshadowing to what happened between them outside of the gym this morning, comes to mind as soon as he asks the question.

"But I didn't have to beg JJ to fuck me, did I?" rings through her head on repeat, playing over and over until she wishes she could hit her head against the wall to rid herself of the nasally voice responsible for it. It took the patience of a saint to not fight her then and there, and she's honestly proud of herself for refraining from punching the girl as long as she did after that.

She shakes her head and feigns aloofness at his curious question.

"Nothing. I just meant that your initial judgment of her when you guys hooked up must've been wrong since she turned out to be such a bitch."

His reaction makes her want to throw her head back on the bed and groan in frustration, 'cause he definitely sees right through her. Her voice raised in pitch when she said it, giving it away so clearly that her calm attitude about it wasn't true.

There’s a pause after she says it, then his stony features breaks into a grin that makes her regret opening her mouth in the first place.

"You're jealous?"

Of course she's jealous. Her first and only partner has an ex that's determined to remind her of the fact that she used to fuck him any chance she gets, who wouldn't be jealous?

Maybe it makes her a little too possessive, but she can't stand the thought of any other person, whether it be in the past or years from now, getting to do that with him except for her. Considering that he's the first person she slept with, this isn't something JJ has to worry about, but she knows he'd act this way, if not ten times worse, over one of her ex flings doing the same things that Kacey does.

"No! No, I'm not jealous, I'm just saying you were wrong—"

He shakes his head, wholly unconvinced by her lies.

"You're totally jealous, bro."

JJ returns to carefully stabbing her with the needle again in between the short time it takes her to conjure a response, but he doesn't hesitate to break his concentration on the tattoo to look up at her when she speaks again. She crosses her arms over herself and lays her head back on the mattress to stare at the ceiling in defiance, joint still poised between her fingers.

"I'm never speaking to you again," she says in a huff, only partly joking.

They both know it isn't true, not one bit, but he pretends to be scandalized by the statement anyway.

His melodramatic act of gasping and holding his hand over his heart in offense makes her face ache with the urge to break her forced deadpan expression, and she can't help herself in the end. He has to lift the needle away from her again to avoid putting a random dot of black ink into her skin as she erupts into a fit of giggles that warms his heart more than she'll ever realize.

For the next twenty minutes after their laughter recedes into a silence that makes room for the playlist playing across the room on his phone, they don't exchange any words. He works on the next part of the tattoo with his head hunched over to stare closely at it, and she tries not to think about how his other hand keeps her underwear rolled halfway down her hips to allow him enough room to tattoo her. The touch, alongside her jealousy, makes her want to burst out of her skin with the need to touch him back and stake her claim on him.

She’s laid back, propped on her elbows, and looks down at him with a need flaring so brightly inside of her, she could tremble with the strength it takes to resist it.

She's never felt this way before. Before him, she didn't want anything to do with boys or relationships in general, but maybe that was because she already had him. Maybe it was because he unknowingly filled that void in her life, and once they reached the age where things turned romantic, they started gravitating toward each other for it. And now that she's had him, she can't walk away. The candle she's always had burning for him will never flicker out.

They settle into a routine together for the rest of the time he takes to finish the tattoo. He'll continue on in steady motions to finish up the last letter to perfection, and every once in a while, he'll lift his head up for her to slot the joint between his lips for him to take a drag. Then, she'll take it back and keep watching him, wanting him more than she's wanted anything in her life.

It's such a distracting desire, she doesn't notice he's finished until he tells her to take a look.

"Looks wayyy better than mine does," he murmurs as they eye it up together, his left hand still holding her panties down an inch to keep them low enough to appreciate his hard work as she hums her agreement.

It does look better, but she has a feeling that wasn't a mistake on his part. He appeared to focus more on the precision of where he placed the needle with hers since it took an extra fifteen minutes longer than his did, and the lines forming the acronym are straighter. While still glaringly amateur at its core, the tattoo looks much better than either of them expected it to.

In the hand that was previously holding the needle he already disposed off in the trash when she was trapped in her daze, a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol is clutched between his ink-stained fingers, and he uses it to wipe away the excess ink blooming over the edges of the open skin. It reveals surprisingly cleaner lines composing the "P4L" to match his, and the thought of having something so permanent binding them together makes her bite her lip to contain her smile.

While he wipes the residual ink off of his fingertips with the alcohol-soaked cotton ball, he watches her admire it with a soft smile on her face and can't help but smile a little too. Rather than interrupt, he lets her stay this way for a minute so he can stare unashamedly.

It's when he leans down to place the bandaid he had on standby over the small tattoo that she looks up to see his face. She's about to thank him for it when he speaks again, cutting her off before she can bother to say anything.

"I thought it was hot, by the way," he says.

The sentence offers no context whatsoever, but he says it as if it’s obvious to her, as if it’s knowledge as common as the sky being blue and grass being green. Though it's in reference to the conversation they had over twenty minutes ago, she doesn't get it, and she looks after him in confusion as he stands to throw the bandaid wrapper into the trash can under her desk and put the joint out in the ashtray.

"You thought what was hot? The tattoo?"

He's back across the room to her before she knows it, and the bed creaks beneath the weight of him sitting down onto the mattress next to where she sits.

Her legs are folded up underneath her, leaving her to sit flat on her knees with her ass seated against the backs of her calves, and his hand reaches out to settle on the top of her thigh. So casual, so normal for them that she typically never has to think about it. Except she does now. She feels his hand there and can't stand that they aren't all over the rest of her body yet.

"The jealousy," JJ clarifies, yet again saying it as if it’s so obvious that he doesn't need to explain himself further. "I liked seeing you get all possessive. It was kinda hot, not gonna lie...but the tattoo's hot as fuck too."

Everything about her is hot, he decides. From how she handled the fight with Kacey, to her jealousy, to the matching tattoo inked into a place just for him to see when they're alone together, she doesn't realize what she does to him.

The word overwhelming doesn't begin to encapsulate it. He could go on and on and on, but it's truly starting to become a problem at this point. She's taking up every accessible space in his mind, living inside of his head at every waking moment until he falls asleep at night and dreams of her some more, and he doesn't know how to process it. It's the same as it was before today, but also different. The overall dynamic between them has not changed, but the feelings motivating what he does have intensified beyond his control.

She lets out a soft chuckle at his explanation.

"Well, I'm glad you find my jealous streak entertaining, but she really got in my head." A sigh falls from her, her chest dipping down with the heavy exhale. "I don't like the idea of you with any other girls, I guess, and I've never felt that way before. It's really new to me. Whenever I think about you and her, I can't stand it."

It's somewhat surprising to him to hear her speak her mind so blatantly regarding their relationship/the complications tied into it since they've never done well with communicating, but he takes it in stride. If anything, it encourages him to speak his mind too. It's a step in the right direction after an eventful few days where they went in the wrong direction at every chance they got.

Suddenly, the playful look on his face is giving way seriousness, and it makes her heart race for reasons she can't place. It's a familiar look he's given her before, usually in the moments leading up to their sexual encounters, but it's underscored by something else this time. She can't figure out what, but there's something new ebbing and flowing beneath the surface as he looks at her.

The hand clasped over her thigh comes up to brush a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and she reaches up to twine their fingers together, head turning enough to press a tender kiss to the inside of his calloused palm. Their faces are closer than she remembered them being a moment ago, and his nose brushes with hers once, twice, and again before he rests his forehead against hers.

Time feels slower inside of this moment, frozen with her face pressed closely to his and her chest expanding to breathe his exhaled air. The proximity to him has those urges to touch him that she resisted earlier coming back in full force. Her heart and body both beg her to lessen the distance between them for good this time, to bring him into her and never let him leave.

A mere five seconds has passed since she last spoke, but it feels like an eternity now that he swallows back the lump in his throat and says to her, "You don't need to worry about other girls."

As if a switch is flipped by his words, they are brought together through the inch-wide gap between them to collide in a kiss.

As always, it begins softly.

He starts out every kiss they share so restrained and unsure of himself before the comfort of having her here melts his protective walls away for what he truly feels to rush in and take the situation by storm. It makes the soft, sensuous movement of her mouth slotting against his turn into something hungrier and needier, chasing a feeling that's been absent for his entire life until right now.

It's a distinct feeling he can't shake, like a bitter taste in your mouth that you can't wash out. He doesn't know what it is or why he feels it, but all he knows is that it becomes stronger the closer he gets to her, and he can't stop himself from wanting more.

It makes him reach out to grab at her a lot sooner than he normally would, wanting to get his hands on her in any way he can to satisfy the screaming urge inside of him. His hands find purchase on her waist at first, but they wander down to her hips, then finally to her thighs to slip beneath them and pull her onto his lap.

Y/N gasps sharply into his mouth mid-kiss at the sudden jolt of being tugged onto him far quicker than she anticipated, but she doesn't mind it. Seeing him set aflame with the same desire she's felt since they arrived home implores her to let down her inhibitions and do what she pleases. She indulges in every wish, every voice in the back of her head telling her to get closer and claim him as her own amid her jealousy.

Her mouth parts to let him to deepen the kiss, complying with the question of his tongue swiping against her bottom with just as much passion and enthusiasm as he gives her.

His hands slide up along her legs and settle at the swell of her hips where she sits with her legs on either side of his thigh. His trajectory in pulling her onto his lap was off, but neither of them corrects it. Instead, he feels her start to rock her hips back and forth to grind her clothed center against his thigh, drawing out a muted moan from her that makes his dick stiffen beneath the claustrophobic denim of his overalls.

She didn't mean to do it at first, but then she felt his thigh pressing up between her legs and couldn't help herself. The hard muscle of his contracted thigh brushes against her clit with a pressure that makes her lips part further to take in a shaky breath as he kisses her, tongue delving into her mouth without a second thought. He touches her with such confidence in himself, it's like he knows. It's like he knows he possesses her, body and soul, and he can't get enough of it.

Ring-clad fingers dig into her hips to guide her movements so she grinds down on him at a steady pace that is both satisfying and teasing to her at the same time. It sends sparks shooting through her but doesn't give her everything she wants, and he doesn't let her go any faster. The hands gripping her body hold tightly enough to hurt, giving her no control over the pleasure he gives as he drags her against him in slow strokes.

Her arms are stretched out over his shoulders with her hands interlocked behind him, and she uses the placement of her arms as leverage to fight against the pace he sets. She tries to grind her hips into him faster, but he doesn't let up. Their mouths come apart with a whine of disappointment from her as she reaches to pull him back to her, but he doesn't let her. Every time she tries to go against his rules, he stops her.

One of his hands squeezes her hip in a warning to knock it off that's soon followed by the sound of his voice murmuring, "Quit being a brat," to her before he dips his face down into the curve of her neck.

Her reaction to the stern tone he took with her has his lips curling into a smirk against the delicate curve of her neck—the sudden halt of her trying to move against the guidance of his hands, her head nodding to submit to his commands, and her hand coming back to cradle the back of his head into her neck. It doesn't matter how daring and uncharacteristically wild she turned today, when it comes to this, one simple reprimand from him has her yielding to him instantly. After all, she's still herself.

"Please," she whines, head tilting back and hips faltering in response to the mark he sucks into her skin, "I want you inside me..."

Above any possible neckline of a shirt, in plain view for anyone to see, and the thought of other people seeing it thrills him to a degree he wishes it didn't.

Having to see guys hit on her in front of their friends without being able to say or do anything about it killed him inside, but now...The vulnerability that springs from subjecting the safety of their secret relationship to everyone they know comes with an upside. Neither of them has to pretend anymore. For every time he refrained from touching her, or kissing her, or telling some guy coming up to flirt with her in the hallway to fuck off, he can make up for it from now on.

His thoughts rapidly drift away from it, though, in favor of acknowledging what she said to him.

Voice so breathy and hot, he could sense her desperation secondhand through the words themselves. She said it with the sole purpose of trying to get him to snap and give her what she wants already. He knows her too well at this point, both emotionally and sexually, to not see that she's baiting him. That's not to say it wasn't a true statement—trust her, it really, really was—but she knew what she was doing and he won’t give her the satisfaction.

Instead, he lets his hands brace behind him on the mattress, sinking into the plushy material of her pile of blankets, and pulls his face away from the new mark on her neck to press a kiss to her mouth. He doesn't even acknowledge the request, he just kisses her once and retreats to look up at her as she rides his thigh.

To her, he's the closest human being can come to perfection. She watches him carefully in anticipation of whatever it is he's sure to do next, captivated, and his eyes simply glance down between her face and his lap.

JJ says, "You know what to do."

Fuck.

She's not gonna survive the rest of the night if he keeps hitting her with stuff like that. Give me a warning, she wants to say to him, a girl can only handle so much, for fuck’s sake. And he can tell what it does to her by how her pussy throbs against the top of his thigh at his suggestion, pulsating to the beat of her heart. Even with the thin layer of her panties separating them, he can feel it.

Her stare meets his in the middle, widened slightly as it to ask if he's serious as his seems to say back, Earn it.

The way he looks at her is flooded with such heady lust from thinking of the things they have yet to do, she must refrain from wanting to hide her flushed face into the blankets. Seeing him leaned back on his hands expectantly with his eyes raking over her without a drop of shame pushes her into action.

How could she not oblige him, anyway? When he looks at her like that, she can't physically help herself from spinning the universe around his every whim. It prompts her hands to reach up and unclasp the hooks holding his overalls together in one piece to allow the straps to fall and sway against his sides.

Is it odd that she wants it as badly as him?

Though it gives her no actual pleasure physically, getting to be the one to do this to him is high like no other. Maybe it has something to do with the jealousy she's felt for days, but she falls to her knees and relishes the ache of them hitting the hardwood floor for the sake of doing this. Her mouth waters with the excitement of it, and she bites her lip hard enough to draw blood as they pull his clothes down his body together.

Too eager to wait, they let the overalls and underwear sit low on his hips enough for her to pull him out of them, but not all the way off. And as soon as she leans forward to let a string of spit dribble onto his dick for her to start stroking him, he's gone. All of that demanding dominance melts away when he's at the mercy of her touch, and she becomes drunk on the power.

To watch him through her lashes as she teases his tip with fleeting kitten licks and messy kisses that smear drops of precome on that pretty mouth of hers is a luxury she indulges in for as long as he lets her. She savors every second of it; his chest expanding with shallow, swift breaths, those pale eyes opening to catch a glimpse of her on her knees for him, and the salty taste dissolving on her tastebuds.

"Y/N..." he says, voice trembling.

She knows the word is a warning for her to stop teasing him, but she wants to get one last dig in at him before things get too intense for her to bother. It's too good of an opportunity to pass up.

Her hand works in lazy pumps along his thick cock the whole time. Her thumb caresses over his tip on the upstroke just to watch his hips jerk forward a little into the sensation, knowing how sensitive he is there. The sight of her tongue poking out to lick the evidence of his arousal from her lips nearly strikes him down right where he sits, and she bats her lashes at him once or twice to truly drive it home.

"Doesn't feel good to be teased, does it, JJ?"

Before she can return to toying with him some more, the hand he has wrapped up in her hair to keep it from falling into her eyes tugs sharply to pull her face up to meet his, and he sees her swallow thickly at the action. Where her knees are digging into the wooden floor, likely blooming fresh bruises into the skin there that he'll tease her over, she has to press her thighs together to relieve the ache between them.

His voice isn't harsh or commanding when he next speaks, it's calm, and for some reason that compels her to obey him more than it would if it weren't. There's something inherently hot to her about it when he manhandles her like this without the added effect of a stern tone. She knows it's because he knows he doesn't need it to have control over her. He has control over her no matter how he attempts to exercise it, and she gives it away to him so willingly.

"I thought I told you to stop," he says softly, as if he were whispering sweet nothings in her ear, and it sends shivers skittering down her spine.

In place of an answer, she winks up at him and finally takes him into her mouth.

The first time they did this, it was a learning experience for her that ended with her wanting to hide her face in a pillow with how awkward it felt to essentially have him teaching her how to blow him, but it got better each time. Despite the pesky annoyance of having a sore jaw the following day, she began to enjoy herself when she did it, and that’s what he finds so gratifying about it.

He never thought in his wildest fantasies that she'd be like this, even when he dreamt up scenarios of them together before any of this happened to get himself off, but he welcomes it wholeheartedly. The feeling of her mouth around him, wet and warm in a way that makes him eager for what'll happen after this, is enough to make him grip the fistful of her hair in his hand tighter and let out a soft groan, but it has nothing on how it feels to watch.

Her lips glisten with the slick mixture of spit and precome from where they're wrapped closely around him, cheeks hollowing with the gentle bobbing of her head that makes the hand bracing against the mattress grip the blankets into a closed fist. It's unfair how easy it is for her to get under his skin. He's been with countless girls, had countless blowjobs, and yet he's never felt his heart flutter the way it does when she does it.

The vibration of her moaning with him in her mouth as she pushes herself down as far as she can take it, still pumping what she can't reach with her hand, makes it harder than ever to keep his hips from jerking forward. He may find the idea of fucking her mouth incredibly hot, but it's not the kind of thing you spring on a person mid-blowjob, so he keeps himself as still as possible amid the natural urge to thrust deeper.

"Shit," he curses under his breath, and he feels as though he's been struck by a train when her eyes flutter open to make contact with his at the low sound of it.

She has him in the palms of her hands. At this point, he's incapable of denying it, but he doesn't want to.

It's a feeling so unlike him, he isn't sure what to do with it except take it for what it is—it's all he really can do. The last time he remembers having any control over himself was earlier today in the hallway outside of the office. He tried to push her away on instinct as he's done multiple times, but then she kissed him, and he couldn't keep himself at bay anymore.

And she knows it.

Based on the devilish way she looks up at him and how she loses herself in the act of sucking him off as if it's the purpose of life, she knows the affect she has on him and uses it to her advantage. Between the day she teased him at the beach to this, she likes to pretend she's so innocent and unassuming, but he brings to life a side of her she never knew existed.

Her tongue is flat against him when she pulls up, and he already feels himself fighting the urge to come. It's a little pathetic to him, but he can't help it when she's making it this good. She rubs the sensitive spot connecting the underside of his cock to the red, throbbing tip of it that shines with her saliva, knowing damn well how quickly it pushes him to the edge of his orgasm if he's already as worked up as he is.

She licks up the length of him as she does it, never breaking that knee-weakening eye contact, and he knows he won't last if he lets her continue on for much longer. He can sense the muscles leading down past his lower abdomen contracting with the need for release that'll surely follow if he doesn't stop her from pushing things past the point of no return, and, with that in mind, he pulls her away from him without a warning.

Lost in the focus of what she was doing a second ago, Y/N looks up at him with furrowed brows when he pulls her off of him, and her voice is raspy when she says as her only protest, "I was having fun."

JJ doesn't say anything at first, he simply reaches down to sweep her up in his arms until she's no longer knelt on the floor and turns to toss her down onto the bed exactly how he imagined doing. The arms wrapped around her slip away as he lets her fall the short distance onto her back against the mess of blankets and sheets beneath them.

Right when she turns her gaze up to him for guidance, he's crawling onto her and coaxing her bruised knees apart for him to settle between. He doesn't offer any explanation for the sudden lack of patience outside of him saying into the closing distance between them, "I wanna fuck you," and kissing her with enough force for it to ache.

Before her legs have the chance wrap around his hips on an instinct to bring him closer, he's reaching between them to hook his fingers into her panties and bring them down her hips in a frenzy.

Something about the way she was looking at him made him snap, and now he's the one who's two seconds away from begging, not her. He's never been so eager to fuck someone before. In all of his flings and hookups, the girls were the ones who wanted it most, but he thinks that isn't true with her. He wants her so badly, he can't possibly imagine she returns the sentiment in full, but the wetness soaking through her underwear proves otherwise.

His thumb brushes over the woven fabric of the bandaid he placed on her on its way by in acknowledgment of the tattoo session that started this in the first place, nearly ripping the panties with how roughly he guides them off of her legs.

The impatience of his actions excites her, realizing that she's getting what she wanted. There's something about him that drives her wild, and though she doesn't have anyone else to compare him to, she can't help but think it's something about him in general, not the physical act of what they do.

Somehow, they both retain the self control to undress him the rest of the way too rather than go straight for it, and the ten seconds it takes to shove his overalls and underwear off of his ankles to the floor is the longest ten seconds of their lives. She was ready for him before they began touching each other in the first place, back when he was tattooing himself and her mind wandered to less than wholesome places, so to say that she's needy would be an understatement.

With a hand reached between their bodies to guide him into her, he's the one that stops her, contrary to the last time they did this in the back of the Twinkie, and she whines when he starts to get up to dig through the drawer for a condom.

Her hands pull him back from where he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, and he looks back at her with wide eyes.

"Just pull out," she says in a hushed, rushed way that sends his brows up his forehead, and clarifies a second later, "I know you're clean and you know I've never been with anyone else, so..." His nostrils flare with the deep breath he takes as soon as he hears her say it, and his eyes are boring into hers with a fervor that makes her cheeks flush. "I trust you."

He's hard to read at first, but, once he looks past his initial fear of somehow fucking up and not pulling out soon enough, the proposition is fuel to the fire.

For their entire relationship, he's been the experienced one. In every aspect, in every situation, he's the one who's done it first. It never bugged either of them, but now that he's presented with a chance to experience a first with her, he realizes how much he was craving it. Being with many different people, he wasn't stupid enough to go raw no matter how drunk and turned on he got. If either of them forgot one, that was it, the party was over, and it wasn't happening, but now he's tempted.

Since she isn't a random girl who could possibly have an STD, and she isn't psycho enough to baby trap him, he doesn't see why they shouldn't. Not to mention, the idea of it alone makes him harder than he thought possible. It's already pleasurable enough with a condom, but without the added layer separating them, he imagines how different it'll feel compared to anything he's done so far.

"You sure about this?" he asks.

Giving her a chance to back out and rethink it, he doesn't want to say yes as enthusiastically as he thinks it without double checking with her first. She doesn't take the escape route, though, and her hands come up to cup his face as she leans her head off of the bed to kiss him. Her lips are wet with saliva from when she went down on him, melding with his in a slow kiss that'd be too personal to be comfortable if it were anyone but her.

She says again in a break between kisses, "I trust you," then she whispers into his ear, grinding herself up against him impatiently, "Let me feel you."

With that as her answer, how could he not oblige?

As if the levee was broken by the sentence she whispered, breathy and desperate, into his ear, JJ pulls her face out from where it's tucked into his neck and surges forward to kiss her like he's starved for it.

The building intensity of the feelings they've experienced over the past few days leads into a explosive outpouring of desire that pushes them further into each other's arms. All of the sadness, anger, adoration, and lust is poured into their actions as she lets her hand drift down once more between them to guide him, reveling in the shaky breath he takes at rubbing against her without an added barrier, and slip the head of his cock inside of her.

That shaky breath transforms into a gasp they both take, parted mouths brushing as he eases into her without a moment for adjustment or doubts. The end of her gasp shifts into a soft, surprised little moan that encourages him to push further and further until he's met with the resistance of her tightening up around him and the soft backs of her thighs pressing into his hips.

Buried into her to the hilt, he's incapable of saying or doing anything except forcing himself not to fuck her as deeply and forcefully as he wants to. He can tell how overwhelming it is for her because he shares the same feeling, and while she's wet and aroused enough for it not to hurt, the pressure of him stretching her open necessitates a second or two of deep breaths for her mind to catch up with the rest of her body.

But as soon as she catches her breath, she lets her eyes open to meet his, nose brushing the tip of his with the subtle jutting of her chin to bring their faces closer, and wriggles her hips back and forth into the mattress to send a clear message his way: Please, give me something, anything.

In response, he lets himself pull out and sink in again, and again, and they both hold onto each other a tighter at the heightened sensation of it as he starts to fuck her the way they wanted since finishing her tattoo. He presses into her at a slow and deep pace that sends her hands flying out to grab onto his arms for support. Her fingernails dig into his biceps and leave behind crescent-shaped indents in the contracting muscles that he wishes he could keep there forever as a token of this.

She'll burn the memory of this into her mind forever too if she has to. It's the closest thing she's felt to heaven in the physical personification. The taste of his kiss is tinged with the flavor of Pabst Blue Ribbon that she usually finds disgusting, but she can find anything about him disgusting right now, not even that.

"Fuck, Y/N, it's so"—he mutters the words between his panting breaths as he snaps his hips forward in a feverish thrust that makes her whimper with pleasure—"you feel so fucking good..."

The sensation of having her around him without the familiar latex barrier is downright indescribable for them both. For him, it's the feeling of her tight, velvety soft walls squeezing him on each stroke that was subdued without them realizing it every time before this. For her, it's the body heat that she had yet to feel to it's full extent until now spreading as a warmth inside of her, and she can't ignore the added effect of actually feeling him throbbing inside of her.

It's so close and sensual, so intimate that she moans from how overwhelming it is. Their faces are so close, they brush with their movements, and their bodies are flush. He moves to her with a fluidity he never has elsewhere, hips rolling with the motion of the perfectly paced strokes that have her back arching off the bed to press their chests together. It's only when he feels the cotton of her tank top on his sweat-slick skin that he realizes he forgot to take it off in the hastiness to be inside of her, and he won't let it continue like this.

"Arms up."

Without hesitation, her arms lift away from where they clung to him and fall back onto the space above her fanned out hair, and his returning thrusts are a little faster at the sight of her blind obedience. It's the trust she has for him that strikes right where he's weak. It sneaks past his defenses and takes hold of his heart before he realizes it, leaving him permanently vulnerable to her.

Short of the times they trusted each other and their friends with their lives over the summer, what they're doing right now takes more trust than either of them have willingly given to people other than themselves, but she does so without thinking first. She knows, despite everything that happened this week, that he'd never lead her astray, and he returns it to her tenfold. He allows her into parts of him that nobody else sees, happily giving her his heart to cradle in her hands or crush between furious fists—whatever she wants.

He slips the tank over her breasts and up her raised arms as quickly as he can, not wanting to stop fucking her for any longer than he must. And once the cropped shirt is tossed away to the edge of the bed, he reaches down to hoist her legs up around his waist. He starts to build a satisfying rhythm with the new angle that makes her tilt her head back in a moan, and he can't contain his own sounds as he watches her breasts bounce gently with the force of him pounding into her soaked, sensitive pussy.

"JJ," she breathes out, but is interrupted when he finds a sweet spot inside of her that never fails to heighten the feeling swirling in her belly like a spring readying itself to pop, "Just like that, fuck, don't stop—"

The sound of her saying those things to him makes it harder and harder for him to control himself, so he doesn't. He lets some of his body weight go to pin her down on the mattress and use all of his energy to keep fucking her exactly the way he needs to hit that spot over and over again.

From where she lays beneath him with her legs pulled around his waist and her arms draped over his built shoulders, he's a sight she never wants to forget.

Sweaty and exhausted from a day of nonstop mayhem, he has lost himself in the mindless action of burying himself inside of her, and she watches in awe of him. The shark tooth necklace dangles in her face and jolts when he snaps his hips forward into her, leaving her to follow the path of the jewelry up to the rest of his body. She watches muscles work beneath bronzed skin with the relentless physical strain, and it has her writhing beneath him as much as she can to meet his thrusts.

The part that gets her most isn't even how gorgeous he looks this way, or the orgasm threatening to boil over the edge inside of her, it's the emotions he gives her.

This isn't, by any means, the way it has felt between them before. It's usually a fast, pedal to the metal experience chock-full of dirty talk, hair pulling, and ass slapping that leaves the mark of his handprint on her for hours after they're finished, but this is different. Neither of them feels the need to say anything to occupy the gaps of silence between the cacophony of moans, gasps, and skin hitting skin that fills the room, they're comfortable existing with each other in the moment without distracting themselves from their feelings.

She's never felt closer to him than she does now, and if she were to ask him if he felt the same, he couldn't deny it.

Most of the time, his hookups with other girls were while they were drunk at parties, and he doesn't remember some of them, let alone remember the last time sex was as intrinsically intimate as this. That's because it's never been this way. It verges on feeling invasive, it's so much closer and more personal than his other times, even with her. The closest they ever came to this degree of intimacy was their first time, but the added aspect of the awkwardness of it being her first time too got in the way.

Already so worked up from her going down on him and the added pleasure of not having anything separating them, JJ can feel himself starting to slip through the cracks, so he lets his hand trail down her body to find her clit.

The high she felt gradually rising inside of her spikes dramatically at the contact of his fingertips rubbing her clit, and she cries out at the combined sensations. He watches her mouth drop open in a gape and brows scrunch up with the impending high that only picks up in strength with every time he fucks into her.

Feeling and watching her reach her climax makes it difficult for him to stave his off for longer, but he does. He has to shut his eyes, almost in pain from resisting it, and try not to give in to the rush of bliss he gets from her squeezing and spasming around his cock through the start of her orgasm.

Tipped over the edge by the fingertips circling her clit, Y/N melts in his arms at the sudden wave after wave of white-hot euphoria that courses through her and wipes her mind clean of any thoughts except those of him. It has her legs shaking around his waist, her fingernails digging in between his shoulder blades and dragging down until there's a set of angry red lines raised from his skin, and her hips raising off of the bed with the inescapable feeling.

He keeps himself in control for as long as physically possible, whining with his forehead pressed to hers through her seemingly endless orgasm, but it's only another few seconds before he's cutting it too close to be safe and has to pull out before it's too late.

JJ could cry with relief when he withdraws from her, stroking himself a few times, and releases with a groan onto her trembling stomach.

Her mind-numbing climax has receded enough for her to watch him with a semi-clear mind as he's in the midst of his, and she bites down on her lip at the throbbing continuing between her legs at the picture of him coming undone above her. Come shoots out onto her stomach in hot spurts that stick to her sweaty skin, prompting her to crane her neck down to watch him jerk himself off to ride out the rest of his orgasm.

Their chests collide in the middle with their heaving inhales, and he sighs in exhaustion, letting himself fall forward onto her as much as he can without crushing her to connect their mouths. For a second, she isn't thinking about how gross she feels with the sweat and come on her skin, she's thinking about the happiness she feels with him. It's such a sloppy, languid kiss with virtually no conscious effort put into it from either of them, but, to her, it's the best kiss they've had.

Though nothing has technically changed between them, though she isn't his girlfriend despite the label he attached to their afternoon together, it seems as though a wall between them comes down with the final kiss they share in the come down from their orgasms. They can both feel it, even if they don't say anything as they pull apart, and it's a terrifying but welcomed change.

His reddened lips are tilted into a sated smile in the time it takes him to reach up above her to grab the towel to wipe his release off of her stomach. They're both too tired and out of breath to exchange any words yet, but once he's cleaning her up and sees the bandaid covering her tattoo ruined with a streak of the sticky, white substance, he laughs.

"Bet you're real glad I put that bandaid on now," he says with a quick glance up to where she lays with her arms thrown above her head, and she opens her eyes to meet his gaze, "That would've been an infection waiting to happen."

His blunt thumbnail scratches at the edge of the bandage to lift it from her skin, careful not to let anything drip off of it onto the open wound of her tattoo, and wrap it up in the towel he tosses to the floor to pick up later. With her cleaned up to the best of his ability before either of them can summon the energy to carry themselves out of the room and into the bathroom to shower, he collapses next to her with a heavy exhale.

She watches his chest rising and falling rapidly, a stray droplet of sweat running down his sternum until it halts at his bellybutton and stays there. Absentmindedly, she reaches out with one hand to trace its path down his abdomen and drags her fingertip over the pattern of the muscles there. He's a work of art, isn’t he?

The casual touch makes him look over at her from where he was staring up at the ceiling. Her eyes are drooping with the urge to fall under the alluring veil of sleep, and he can see her actively resist it in favor of staying conscious with him. She's soaking in the moment to the fullest, trying to hold onto him for as long as she can.

She takes a deep breath, then says softly, "All drama aside, I had a really great day because of you...and I'm sorry for not asking you about what Kie said before freaking out like that. It's just hard for me to talk about how I feel most of the time, but that isn't an excuse. I'm trying to be better about it."

The apology flatters him, it honestly does, but he doesn't need it at this point. He knew she was sorry long before the actual words left her mouth.

However, the last part of it makes him take a second to himself to think. Things between them have felt ten times better since they tried to be more open about their feelings this afternoon, and he never wants to lose this peace with her, so maybe they should strive for this every day they spend together. It would sound simple to anyone else, but they've always had issues in communication, especially since their relationship isn't completely official. It takes more for them to put their thoughts into words than it does for most people.

For him, it's hard to say what he feels about her without a barrage of intrusive thoughts shooting him down before he can open his mouth, but seeing her take the first step helped. Seeing her face her own fears makes him feel safer in doing the same.

In his form of accepting the apology, JJ raises his hand up between them to stick out his pinky for her.

"From now on, let's actually say the shit we're feeling before it gets out of control and one of us ends up going off the rails, okay?"

She smiles and reaches up to hook her pinky around his in another promise she intends to keep.

"Deal."

Tag List: @gabiatthedisco, @fangirlvoice, @black-syren, @apparrio, @particularcth, @planetdemon, and @idk-ijustworkhere.

P.S. Also, there is no pregnancy plot in this, so don’t worry abt the unprotected sex, no babies here unless I say so lmao.

#jj maybank #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #obx #fanfiction #matching P4L tatts bc they’re stupid but also ride or die ❤️

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todaysdocument · 3 years ago

Photo

Philip Cowen went on an undercover mission to the Pale of Settlement in Russia to discover the cause of increased Jewish immigration from Russia to the U.S. His findings revealed appalling and unremitting persecution. Report (p. 1, 7 of 193), 12/31/1906.

Series: Subject and Policy Files, 1906 - 1957

Record Group 85: Records of the Immigration and Naturalization Service, 1787 - 2004

Transcription:

New York, December 31st, 1906.

SUBJECT:

Immigration from Russia.

[in pen #50,274]

Hon. Frank P. Sargent,

Commissioner General of Immigration,

Washington, D. C.

Sir:-

I was directed by you to proceed to Europe to study the

subject of immigration to the United States, the special terri-

tory assigned to me being Russia. I did this in light

of instructions contained xxxxxxx Department Letter No. 50,724

July 18th, 1906, and the personal instructions you conveyed to

me.

I sailed from the United States on the steamship Kaiserin

Auguste Victoria on August 17th 1906, stopping over at Ply-

mouth to get some information in London. While there I went

to Southhampton and Liverpool, then proceeded to Paris and, via

Cherbourg, to Hamburg on the Steamship Pennsylvania. I visited

Bremen, Berlin and Konigsberg, proceeding thence to Russia via

Eydtkuhnen, after going to Bayoren, Memel, Tilsit and Insterburg.

Excepting St. Petersburg, Libau and Riga, my travels in Russia

were limited to what is known as the Pale of Jewish Settlement,

and even there I was unable, for lack of time, to go further

east than 31 degrees longitude, which would be a line run

from St. Petersburg, through Kief to Odessa. This includes

about one-half of the territory in the fifteen (15) governments

comprising the Pale of Jewish Settlement, aside of Poland.

I had planned, besides stopping in each of the governments

of the Pale, to visit the Jewish agriculturalists of Kherson and

Ekaterinaslaw, and the German agriculturalists of Saratov, whence

many are now coming to the United States, and also those sections

of Russia outside of the Pale of Settlement, as the Moscow,

Smolensk, and the Pskov governments, where many Jews have been

permitted to locate. But as soon as I got into Russia I

found I would have to modify my plans considerably. For one

thing, the deliberation that marks the life of the people in that

country, in decided contrast to the rush and bustle of the German

and English speaking peoples stood as a bar to rapid work. To-

1 [handwritten]

[page 2]

I. The exceptional laws against the Jews.

II. The efforts of the Government to Russianize

Russia.

III. The pogroms, or uprisings against the Jews

and the Intelligenzia of Russia.

IV. The political, Social and Economic condition

arising from the foregoing causes, as well

as from the effort to change the present

form of government.

V. The expulsion of Russian Jews from Germany.

VI. The opening of direct passenger traffic be-

tween Russia and New York.

VII. The prosperity of the United States.

VIII. The presence in America of a large Russo-

Jewish population.

IX. Various other causes: The limitation of

employment open to the Jews; their relig-

ious observances; the attitude of the Pol-

ish workmen to their Jewish associates;

the entry of the Poles into Business; the

Effect of Pogroms on Business; the Introduc-

tion of machinery.

1. THE EXCEPTIONAL LAWS AGAINST THE JEWS

These, known as the May Laws, were promulgated

May 3rd, 1882. The two vital paragraphs read as follows:

(1) As a temporary measure and until a general revi-

sion has been made in a proper manner of the

laws concerning the Jews, to forbid the Jews

henceforth to settle outside the town and town-

lets, the only exceptions admitted being in those

Jewish colonies that have existed before, and

whose inhabitants are agriculturalists.

�� 7 [handwritten]

#archivesgov #December 31 #1906 #1900s #immigration #Russia #Jewish history #diaspora #pogroms #May Laws

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sakusas-personal-hole · 4 years ago

Note

okay so i didn’t see anything on your blog ab request rules so I hope this is okay BUT all I’ve been thinking ab is stoner suna... so I was thinking that you could write ab suna x female reader(could be his gf or crush idk) hotboxing his car at 2am and then he rails her in the back seat✨ that’s all I’m asking for, you can add whatever you like. Oh but if weed isn’t something you feel comfortable writing ab then just car sex ???? Again it’s all up to you :) gracias!

Omg finally a Stoner!Suna request, I been WAITIN for this one😈 I hope I did your request justice 🥺

Wc: 1k

Warnings: Weed (duh)

The streetlights that littered the empty parking lot illuminated Suna’s car, just enough for you to see his bored expression as he packed the bowl of his pipe. You two were good friends, and you smoked in groups quite frequently, but never alone. You were the only one awake at 2 am, so you were the lucky one who got to share his full bowl of kief. Normally this would be enough to get a full group high, so you didn’t know what to expect when he said you two would smoke it all. You watched intently as he brought the sleek glass pipe to his lips, the flame of his torch lighter irradiated his face, putting his striking green eyes on display. He was definitely attractive, but you knew his interests only included smoking weed and volleyball, so you never tried anything with him. He inhaled, released his thumb from the carb and passed the piece to you. You quickly began to inhale to keep the bowl cherried, feeling a slight burn in the back of your throat as you passed it back to Suna. You kept it in for a few moments before exhaling slowly, allowing more thick smoke to occupy the car. Very few words were shared until Suna suddenly spoke out.

“Wanna try to shotgun?” he asked with a small smirk.

You giggled at the thought, quite obviously high from smoking almost half the bowl. You had seen your friends do it but you had never experienced it, so you nodded your head. Suna took a long hit and you leaned in. His mouth was brought to yours and you took in the smoke he had exhaled into you. He pulled away, still sporting his smirk. You blew the smoke into his face, still laughing at what you two had just done. After finally finishing the bowl, you turned to face him. You felt heavy and dizzy, much more than you ever had been. The world felt like it was spinning around, and Suna was the only thing stable. You reached out and grabbed his hand, feeling the need to hold something. He gave you a small smile.

“Feels good huh? You okay?”

You nodded and smiled back, feeling warm when he held your hand back. He stroked his fingers across the back of your hand, which sent tingles all over your body. Your senses felt heightened with all that was in your system. Suna noticed you squirming in the passenger seat, something you yourself didn’t notice you were doing. He squeezed your hand, causing you to look up at him. He didn’t say anything at first, he just studied your face for a moment. You were about to look back down before he grabbed your chin.

“You’re pretty. You thirsty?”

You nodded, suddenly being aware of your cottonmouth. You expected Suna to bring out a water bottle, but he just told you to open your mouth. Not thinking of it, you opened your mouth, only to be met by him spitting into it. Your eyes were wide with confusion, but you still swallowed. You looked at Suna who was just as surprised as you were, almost like he wasn’t sure that was going to work. He motioned his head to the backseat, and you instantly complied, squeezing between the two front seats to get there. Suna quickly followed, and instantly attacked your mouth with his once he was seated. He brought you up onto his lap and you immediately grinded into it, desperately trying to feel for his length under his loose shorts. You gasped when you felt it, and Suna took this opportunity to sneak his tongue into your mouth. He tasted like weed and smoke, a flavor you could get used to. His hands made their way up your shirt, cupping your breasts through your bra. He brought his hands to your back, expertly undoing your bra in one quick motion. You helped him by removing it completely, your mouth still connected to his in a heated kiss. He immediately moved his hands back to your front, massaging and pinching both nipples ever so slightly, making you moan into his mouth. You pressed yourself into his lap even more, the friction sending shocks throughout your body. Your pleasure was immeasurable, and this was just from dry sex.

You couldn’t remember how you ended up in that position, but all you knew was you never wanted it to end. Suna was plowing into you from behind, pulling at your hair and spanking you. The backseat was cramped, sure, but you could care less with how good it felt to have Suna stretching you out with every quick thrust. He roughed slammed into you, causing you to arch your back deeper.

“Good girl, being such a good slut for me,” Suna panted out, getting dizzy with pleasure as he relentlessly fucked you. His dirty words went straight to your core, causing you to clamp down onto him. He spanked you again, causing the same reaction. You felt the familiar knot start to form in your stomach as Suna angled himself to hit your special spot with every thrust.

“R-rin, ‘m getting close,” you choked out, tears welling in your eyes as you felt the orgasm getting closer to you. Suna continued what he was doing, ready to make you cum. He reached his hand around to rub at your clit, causing you to clench around him tightly. The stimulation became too much as you creamed around his cock, your orgasm making you feel heavy as it washed over you. Suna pulled out and turned you around, putting your leg onto his shoulder. He looked down at you, his pupils blown out and lustrous.

“We should do this more often,” was all he said before sliding himself back into your overly sensitive cunt.

BONUS:

After that night, your usual smoke group wondered why you and Suna got so close all of a sudden, and why you two always smoked without them. Atsumu decided to investigate and check up on you all, and he scarred himself. When he confronted Suna about it, Suna just told him he shouldn’t have stuck his nose in yall’s business LOL

#suna x y/n #suna rintarou #suna rintarō #suna rintaro x y/n #suna smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #suna x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fanfiction #stoner suna #suna rintaro imagine #suna rintaro x you #suna rintaro x reader #melwrites.😈

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g0ldengubler · 4 years ago

Text

chapter 8 ~ the party...

A/N: im sorry for the chapter seeming very rushed and quick. i was mad at myself for taking forever of chapter 2 of positions but get ready for chapter after chapter coming up as a holiday gift :) also thank you guys so so so much for 400 followers and im sorry i’m saying my thanks now. it really means a lot to me :’) i hope u guys are still here and thank u for reading :)

Category: fluff

CW: cannabis use; consumption of alcohol; mentions of sex

Word Count: 2360

before you read | next chapter

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spencer's POV~

We had the whole weekend planned: go fishing, read by the lake, walk through the forest and appreciate nature in all its beauty. But in a bittersweet turn of events, it ended up raining the whole time. So we ended up spending our time inside, reading to y/n in the afternoon while she sipped on her coffee, going out to the balcony at night and look at the stars because that was when the clouds would pull apart until the day came where we woke up to the peaceful sound of rain hitting the windows and the roof. I rambled on and on with what I knew about space and constellations as she let the sensations of the blunt or joint she rolled up take over her body, relaxing her.

As the weekend went on, after the first night, I didn't know what I felt about her. She was the most beautiful girl I've ever seen. The way she spoke was like poetry to my ears. When we smoked and just lay out on the couch, the way she would explain her thoughts gave me butterflies. This was all really new to me, falling for a girl and having some kind of a chance that it could happen. Was there a chance there? I'm a profiler and I can read people by their micro expressions, especially when someone's in love. But with her, I couldn't even read her micro expressions. It bugged the hell out of me, but I would let it out through cuddles that happened naturally and little kisses that'd happen out of nowhere.

On the last night, it was pouring down rain, harder than it would the last couple of nights where it would only sprinkle. We had made some popcorn and y/n thought of the idea to listen to old time radio ghost stories that were then put out on the internet as podcasts. While it was playing, she grabbed her grinder and looked inside. We had pretty much finished the last of our stash this morning for what she called a "wake'n'bake", which was definitely a great way to start the day. She quickly grabbed the bong from the kitchen counter and started packing it with what I thought was nothing.

"What are you doing, silly?" I asked.

"Just packing a kief bowl." She said, very nonchalant.

I gave a confused look, then she rolled her eyes and explained, bringing the grinder closer to me. "See all this? This has all the different strains we smoked. With all of this mixed together, we'll be really really gone."

She continued to pack the bowl as I sat there ready. She grabbed the lighter when she was done and explained how she'll smoke half and I'll take the other. I watched as she put the top around her mouth. A huge cloud exhaled out of her as she moved her head up to the ceiling, which then after started coughing up a storm. I offered her water but she pushed it away, trying to say she was fine.

We continued to smoke bowl after bowl a few more times until there was nothing left in grinder. Y/n nuzzled her head onto my chest as we lay on the couch, letting those tingles intensify our senses and our minds wonder. She was right, this was probably the most high I've felt before. Every movement we made was slowed down and I could see that my arm was as if it was split in two, but was transparent like a ghost. I could barely even move as the sensations were too overwhelming in the best way possible, let alone try to figure out if this was what being this high was like or really how the brain can do this, but I also wasn't really trying either and let the waves relax me.

As I played with her hair, I couldn't pay attention to the episode because all of my thoughts were of her. I wanted this all the time, the stillness and calmness that brought peace and happiness to the atmosphere-that she brought to our atmosphere. I wanted her to feel safe in my arms and never let go. Getting to know her like this on a deeper level ever since we first met made me fall in love with her everyday we were together bit by bit. I never want to let go of her.

"Do you ever have the fear of giving your heart to someone?"

Her question shocked me, breaking the process in my head. I didn't know what to say but, "What do you mean?"

"Have you ever given your heart to someone, doesn't even have to be romantically, giving them you're all and love and care, to then suddenly watch them break it bit by bit as if they're breaking down the wall that you had built for yourself, instead of you taking each brick off piece by piece and handing it to them?"

There was silence. No words that I could think of could answer a question like that.

"I've given my heart away to so many people, and I don't know why they break it every time." She moved to where she used her elbow for support in between me and the couch. "Spence, I wish we could stay like this forever. I have these feelings for you that I never really, or truly, felt for another person before. Even though we've only known each other for a short time, I think I'm in love with you. There's just something about you that makes me feel safe. For the first time, it's like all my walls fall when we're together, I have this feeling of giving you my all, my care and support, my love. All of it. I want you, Spencer. And, this feeling I have about all of my protection crumbling down, I'm only just a little bit scared of letting it break."

I pulled her in and kissed her. I let my lips do all the talking, telling her how much I loved her, too and now nothing was going to break her down. We pulled away and she gave me a look of confusion and happiness, as if she was scared to let the happiness show through.

"I feel the same way. Exactly, the same way," I said, "I'm in love with you, too, and it's all new to me also. You're like a beautifully written poem, y/n. I could listen to you day and night and never get tired of it. You have a beautiful mind that I want to explore each and every day. I never want to let you go. Will you stay...with me?"

This time she pulled me in after a moment of pause. Our lips crashed like fireworks, yet moved together in perfect tempo. Without breaking, she moved on top of me slowly. I let my hands wonder all over her body as she cupped my face. We were passionate. We were needy. We were in love. Everything was perfect, and everything felt right.

—

Y/n's POV~

You two had left pretty early in the morning for your adventure back to D.C. Somehow, both of you couldn't sleep at all, even though you were pretty well gone to the point of passing out, so you decided you’ll leave at 5am so then hopefully you’d get back in the afternoon. The whole ride, Spencer held your hand, no matter who was driving. I'm in love. You couldn't wrap your brain around it, but for the first time, it felt like your heart knew better than your head. Nothing about this felt wrong. You had found the one that you had been looking for my whole life. Nothing was going to pull you away from him, and you were not going to allow that in the slightest.

On your way back, Rossi called about meeting up tonight at the bar for drinks, which kind of ruined your plans to stay in and cuddle, but you both figured it'd be nice to see them again. You told him we'd be there and hung up. The rest of the ride was just you listening to Spencer ramble about books he's read in last month. You forgot this man can finish books in half an hour, so the fact that he read more books in a month than the average person was astonishing. He talked about Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Oscar Wilde and their beautiful works of literature, and you never drifted off to sleep once, your mind didn't even wonder as his soothing voice was in the background. It's quite beautiful hearing someone talk about something they're passionate about.

When you got back to the city, you went to your place so you can grab my things. You told Seth that you’d be back officially tomorrow, gave goodbye kisses to your children, and went back to Spencer's, where you both freshened up and got ready for night. You had an adorable shower that turned just a bit quite naughty. You talked about how you both wanted to tell the others, and while you said you were fine if you told them now, Spencer's response was very well said. "They're very nosy, so I always thought I'd just keep it secret until I felt ready. But this is different. We're on vacation, so Hotch isn't going to have 'the talk' with us until we're back at work. It feels right, everything feels right with you."

Once you were done getting ready, you headed to the bar, where you were told specifically where to park (Garcia had texted saying that she's friends with the owner and that she'd make sure they were safe. She also mentioned that an uber was going to pick them up at around 1am to go back to her place to pass out. She was, for sure, the mom of the group. More than Jj was at that). Right away, you saw the gang sitting in a corner booth, and once they saw Spencer was holding your hand, they all either were speechless with their jaws sitting on the table or ran up to you and gave hugs and congrats. Morgan had to pull Garcia away from you so you could sit down, which thankfully for her, you ended up sitting right in between her and Spencer, so her arms went right back around you.

"How much has she had already?" You asked laughing.

"Well, she started with jager." said Morgan

"Jager?!" You was shocked. "Did she drink the whole bottle?"

"You'd think," said Rossi from the other side of the table. He sat in between Hotch and Emily, drinking his bourbon before continuing to speak, "she's only had two glasses."

"You guys definitely seem to be where the party's at then, huh?"

"You can never go wrong on us for a party." said Emily.

Spencer ordered you two some beers and a couple of vodka shots each. The music wasn't so loud to where you had to yell over one another, but the sound of classic rock filled the building top to bottom. You clanked your shot glasses together and took the shots before taking a sip of your beer as a chaser.

"Look at you, kiddo," Rossi said to Spencer, "where's the Spencer that would get an ice tea or a shirley temple instead of...a beer and shots?"

"Yeah, you can't tell me that all this of this started happening that night at Garcia's?" asked Jj.

The two of you made eye contact and were silent for a moment before bursting out laughing. "So it DID start at my place," said Garcia, "I knew it! I'm such a good cupid." She danced happily in her spot which made everyone giggle.

"You are magic, baby girl." said Morgan.

"So, how did it happen?" asked Hotch, "Don't worry, I'm not your boss tonight but we will have to discuss this once our vacation is over."

"Right," You said nervously, "Well, we hung out after that night after we woke up at Garcia's, and then the next day we went up to my family cabin in Michigan for the weekend, and...that's where we confessed."

"And the rest is history!" said Spencer, sounding like a little kid as he tried to hide the amount of excitement he had.

"Well, we're happy for the both of you," said Morgan as he got up from the table, "I think that calls for a round of celebratory shots, since pretty boy over here has proven in the past week that he can handle them."

When he came back with the shots, you all grabbed them from the tray that the bartender let him use and raised them high. "To having an uninterrupted vacation, and to y/n and Spencer!"

"Cheers!" You all said in unison before clanking them together and letting it go down the hatch. As the night went on, you drank and drank until you were all pretty drunk, even Rossi and Hotch, who you didn't think the whole team has ever seen them like before. When Garcia found out it was karaoke night, she grabbed a few of you, yourself and Spencer included, up to the stage where you sang-or slurred, really-changes by david bowie. Emily and Jj had their arms around each other to hold each other up, and Morgan and Garcia were hogging the mic from everyone, but the whole bar could still hear every one of you. You noticed Hotch in the crowd standing next to Rossi, his phone recording the moment so we wouldn't forget.

The last thing you remember was getting into the uber and Spencer being very touchy on the ride back, making sure that Emily, who sat in the passenger seat, didn't notice that anything was going on in the back. His fingers were ghosting your thighs as he whispered, 'The things I wish we could do right now' before his lips connected to neck.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #dr. spencer reid #dr.spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #criminal minds #cm #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid fluff

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penisenvymushrooms · 4 years ago

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jacksonroseroth · 5 years ago

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Waste Love Chapter 1

A/N: This is my first MGK/Colson Baker fic. I’m not too immersed in the fandom, so some of my scenes might be wrong/off character. Let me know. Correct me. This is only my first one. :) Hope you like it.

Warnings: Swearing, Weed Usage

Words: 4,747

Moodboard by @badwolf-in-the-impala, none of the pictures are ours

Jersey lounged on the couch in the bus, earbuds in as she listened to music while editing. Propped up by the armrest of the couch, with her knees up, she rested her laptop on her thighs, editing the pictures she took from last night’s show. Being Rook’s visiting cousin had its advantages. Not only did Colson hook her up with a pretty sweet bunk; Big enough that she could comfortably sit up a little more while on her computer. He also began to let her take pictures at a few shows, field testing her as the band’s photographer.

Her own photography business was slow goings to get it completely up and running--At the moment it was stumbling downhill--And she was desperate to get out of, not only New Jersey, but the States in general. She had other freelance jobs and had traveled all over the country, but never outside. When she called up her cousin, Rook, needing a good laugh and a change of pace, Rook invited her to one of their last shows in the U.S., at EST Fest, before they headed off to the European leg of the Hotel Diablo tour.

Armed with the knowledge that she was going to be backstage at a Machine Gun Kelly concert, she remembered to bring her camera this time, every other visit was so last minute it was the last thing on her mind. She brought it, not only to capture backstage shenanigans but to finally get the pictures she wanted of Rook in his element. After showing them around the next day, Colson got a good look at them and asked her to come on tour with them to do a few shows.

Jersey decided to skip every other show, not only to give her a break from the madness, not fully realizing what she had gotten herself into, but she often found herself needing the 3 uninterrupted hours to edit the thousands of pictures she ended up taking. As she finished the last few pictures from the show in Tokyo, she felt the vibrations of music fade away. Pulling out an earbud, she heard Colson’s final goodbye to the crowd and smirked. When she heard they were going to be at the Leeds and Reading Festivals, Jersey was determined to only work during the Leeds show, while Colson performed, then join everyone afterward. She took a few minutes to put everything away; Her camera and cords, along with her laptop, stowing them in her bunk, before grabbing an old looking book and opened it. It was a false book and was filled with all possible manner of marijuana; Edibles, cartridges, joints, flower, and rolling papers. She grabbed a small baggie of gummies, two joints, and a lighter before flipping the book shut and putting it back.

She hurried out of the bus, jumping down the steps and waving to their bus driver, who sat out in the sun while she worked. She pulled her VIP badge out from her back pocket and put the lanyard around her neck as she approached the security gate. Though she had been there earlier in the day and the guards all knew who she was with, she still flashed them the badge as she strolled through, tossing them a sweet smile. Jersey weaved through the tents until she heard a sudden and wild Rook scream. Her head whipped around just as her cousin came tumbling into view, closely followed by Colson, laughing. Rolling her emerald eyes and tossing her dark hair over her shoulder, Jersey turned and headed for the group as they made their way through the crowd toward her.

“Oi! You fuckers better not be having fun without me.” She called, once they were in earshot. Rook turned, quickly, and smiled, chasing down his cousin to scoop her up in a hug.

“There you are! It’s about time.” Rook said, setting her down and kissing her cheek.

“Hey, the guy doesn’t pay me to not work,” Jersey said, breaking away from Rook to give Colson a quick hug before moving onto the others. Colson shrugged, looking at Rook and said, “It’s true.” He laughed and hooked an arm around Rook’s neck once he got close, rubbing his knuckles on the top of his head.

“Get off, fucker!” Rook yelled, shoving his friend away while he laughed.

“Hey, Picture Girl. About time you joined us.” Slim said, putting an arm around her to give her a side hug. “I thought you were gonna stay on the bus.”

“Nah, just until I finished the pictures,” Jersey said. Slim chuckled and nodded as he said, “Aight. How they look?”

“Not to toot my own horn, but... Guys? They’re kind of fucking amazing, okay? I’ve got a gift.” Jersey said in a fake Valley Girl voice. The guys laughed and continued along to their tent. Jersey sat next to Rook, leaning against him, and handed him one of the joints she brought, along with the lighter. Rook took it without question and lit it. As she tucked her feet under her, she opened the baggie of gummies and popped one in her mouth before passing it to Colson as he walked past. He looked through it before passing it down to Baze, who immediately popped two into his mouth, and Colson took the joint from Rook, taking a toke.

“Fuck yeah, man. Whose joint is this?” Colson asked, looking around at his group. Jersey smirked at him. Colson smirked and pointed at her, briefly. “Hell yeah, Sav. Come through. James send you some stuff from California?”

“Of course. But this is the stuff I got from Rosie out in Nevada, last time she visited her family.” Jersey said. Colson made a funny face and laughed as he took one more puff before passing it to the next person.

The next 7 hours went by like a blur of smoke, laughing, music, and food. Within the last half hour or so Jersey sobered up enough to lead her drunken herd back to the bus so they could make their way down to Reading for the next show. Once they cleared the gate and the rest of Colson’s crew, that wasn’t intoxicated, had them, Jersey skipped over to the bus and hopped on. She only had a few minutes before chaos boarded the bus again, as she knew the guys would take a while, sobering a little too much for their liking and needing a minute.

She hurried to her bunk and grabbed her stash, then went to the table, setting herself up, to roll a few extra joints with the kief she had left. By this point in the tour, Jersey had their routine down pat: By the time they all clamored onto the bus, Jersey had a joint or two lit, ready to be passed around. She had, by now, become more than just their photographer, supplying them with their first round of whatever drink each man asked for just so they could settle into relaxing a little quicker. Just as Jersey rolled the last blunt, she lit it as the doors opened and the drunk buzz of conversation climbed onto the bus. She smiled as Rook came to sit with her, going through her stash.

“Yes, Rook. Go ahead and take what you want.” Jersey teased, blowing smoke in his face. Rook snickered as he popped two gummies into his mouth with a wink.

“Thanks, cuz.” Rook said, quickly leaving the booth. Jersey shook her head as Colson entered the bus. He made a beeline for Jersey and the outstretched hand that offered the joint.

“Fuck, we need you here full time,” Colson smirked, taking a toke before passing it on.

“You think that now. We’re only 5 shows deep, babe.” Jersey laughed as she packed up the box, leaving two joints up for grabs. Colson chuckled and sat on the couch as Jersey stowed her stash back in her bunk before coming out and asking for drink requests.

Ever the hostess, even when she was a guest on the tour, she was a grateful one. Jersey made use of the one semester of bartending classes and slung drinks across the bus. Once each man had a drink in their hand, she went to sit next to Colson, who just got passed the joint. She waited until he took a hit, then plucked it from between his fingers and took a toke herself.

“Hey, so how was the show?” Jersey asked the room, it only just having occurred to her she never asked earlier. As she tried to decipher the loud, excited, and numerous answers, she shook her head and curled into Colson’s side, passing him the joint. “So, how was the show?”

This time, she directed the question to Colson, who put an arm around her with a chuckle, inhaling deeply before passing the joint.

“It was good. Dom was there. He came out for ‘I Think I’m Okay’. You just missed him when we found you. You should have come to this show, Savie.” Colson said. Jersey tried to hide the blush at the use of the childhood nickname he adopted from Rook. It was one that Papa Cap, Rook’s father, Johnny, gave her- ‘Savage’. Shifting in her spot, Jersey shrugged and said, “He’ll be in Reading on Sunday, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true. Hope it’s the same energy, though.” Colson said with a chuckle, smirking down at her. Jersey gave him a look.

“They always have energy, Kells.” She teased, making Colson smirk.

“Baze, man, move your fuckin’ feet, you fuckin’ ogre!” Rook said, kicking at the feet that were propping Baze up between both couches. Baze smirked and said, “Man, go sit somewhere else.”

“I want to sit next to my cousin, bitch! Move!” Rook shouted with a smirk. Jersey practically crawled into Colson’s lap, sensing the impending fight between Baze and Rook.

“So, fuckin’ kick Kells off the couch, punk-ass bitch.” Baze shot back with a smirk. Rook swiped at him and Baze lazily dodged the playful punch.

“Don’t bring me into this, Baze,” Colson warned, his lips twisting up.

“Stay the fuck out of it, Colson! Punk.” Rook shot as he snickered. Colson smirked and threw his empty Solo cup at him. “Don’t fuck with me, Baker!”

“Come at me, bro. Nah, fuckin’ come at me, Rook. I dare you.” Colson said. Colson had Jersey’s legs draped over his lap and she was tucked under his arm, as her new high began to set in.

“Dooooon’t…” Jersey whined, softly. Colson tightened his arm around her as he grabbed the pillow next to him and started swinging at him. Jersey kept protesting, though her voice was drowned out by Rook and Colson yelling over each other.

Finally, getting a little too rowdy, not to mention the fact that Rook took four straight shots of vodka before the bus even took off after taking the two gummies, he stumbled while trying to rip the pillow from Colson. Jersey shrieked as Rook’s too topped off drink tipped a little too far. The contents of his cup spilled all over her, drenching her hair completely.

A brief hush fell on the bus, then Colson scooped her up as he stood, setting her on her feet. “Shit. Jersey, are you okay?” Colson asked. Jersey pushed his hands away and tossed her alcohol-soaked locks over her shoulder and grabbed at Rook, punching his shoulder.

“Fuck, Rook! What the fuck?!” She cried. Baze quickly stood and shuffled to the side as she shoved Rook aside, hauling ass through the divider to their bunks and into the bathroom. Back in the front of the bus, AJ and Slim had begun to mop up the mess as Rook stumbled to the booth and sat down.

“Fuck.” He muttered, softly. Colson sighed and patted his shoulder as he made his way to check on Jersey. Closing the divider behind him to give them a little more privacy, he leaned next to the bathroom door and folded his arms. He waited a while longer before he knocked softly.

“Fuck off, Rook!” Jersey spat. Colson snickered and said, “Do you think he’s dumb enough to come back here? Fuck; You think he’s brave enough?”

Colson heard a soft sigh, then the sound of the locks unlatching and the door opened, slightly. The glare from her burning green eyes all he saw, she said, “What?” The word came out a little harsher than Jersey intended. Colson leaned over a little more to look at her, raising an eyebrow at her. Jersey sighed and opened the door fully, tightening the towel around her chest as she gave him a look as well.

Colson bit his lip, trying not to snicker. In a fit, Jersey rubbed a towel over her face to get the drink off her face, and in her haste to get away from everyone, she momentarily forgot she was wearing makeup. Her eyes were rubbed black and her cheeks were red and stained with makeup streaked tears and droplets of the spilled drink.

“Want me to wait for you?” He offered. Jersey shook her head and said, “Just bring me shorts and a tank top.”

“Ooh-hoo. No panties? Naughty girl.” Colson teased. Jersey shot him a look and said, “Is this the time for jokes?”

“Sorry,” Colson said softly with a snicker, turning to go to her bunk and pull out her bag to rummage through it. Finding what she requested, he put the bag back and sauntered back over to Jersey, handing her the clothes. Jersey took them and gave him a soft ‘Thanks’, then gave him a once over before she finally broke a smile and said, “Did you really think I was going to let you rummage through my panties?”

Colson laughed, softly, as she shut the door. He sighed and waited until he heard the shower start to run, before going back to her bunk, letting his legs hang over the side and laid back on the mattress, pulling out his phone. Half an hour later, the shower turned off and Colson watched the door, listening to the rustling as Jersey dried off and changed. Just as Colson went back to his phone, the door opened and she finally emerged, dragging a comb through her hair.

“Really? Why my bunk?” She asked, hitting his knee with her comb. Colson chuckled and sat up, making room for her to climb in next to him. Turning to her, both Colson and Jersey ended up facing each other, sitting crisscross. Jersey broke again and let out a soft giggle and shook her head. She glanced away from him, looking out the window, and finished combing her hair.

Colson leaned his head back against the wall and watched Jersey as she massaged a dollop of Biosilk into her damp hair. He kicked out a foot to nudge her and said, “Hey. You okay?”

Jersey looked at him and gave a shrug, grabbing one of her pillows and wrapping her arms around it. “I’ll beat his ass later...I mean...I’ll be fine.” She said with a light smile. The corners of Colson’s mouth lifted up a little higher, glad she was able to joke about it.

“Hey. Come here.” Shifting over and closing the small sliding door of her bunk to lean against it, Colson held out a hand to her. Jersey smiled and propped up her pillows to make them both comfortable as she shifted to lean against him. Jersey pushed open the curtains to watch the Leeds skyline pass by and Colson shifted to prop up his right leg, resting his arm on his knee. His other arm was wrapped around Jersey’s waist, comfortably resting his hand on her right thigh. As Jersey rested her head on his chest, her hands covered his and she felt a soft kiss on her temple. With a bigger smile, still watching the lights pass by, Jersey said, “Thanks, Colson. You always find a way to make me feel better.”

After kissing her temple, Colson pressed his lips against her hair, lightly. When she thanked him, Colson smiled and said, “I try.”

Jersey giggled softly before a hush fell on them, if only for a brief moment. For the next 3 hours, as they drove from Leeds to Reading, Jersey and Colson talked quietly to one another about every random thing they could think of. Just before the got to the hotel, once they finally pulled into Reading, Colson and Jersey both emerged to the front.

All conversation quieted as everyone kept an eye on Jersey and Rook, Rook’s smile slowly fading as he looked up at his cousin. It was an awkward silence until Colson yelled, “Skrrt! Make yourself scarce!”

Jersey rolled her eyes as the boys all scrambled over each other and back to their bunks to give them some time alone to talk. Jersey chuckled as she made her way over to the booth and sat across from him. Reaching for the last untouched joint, Rook handed her a lighter. Jersey lit it and took a hit, then sat back, watching her cousin.

Cracking a smile, she said, “You do that shit again, John Paul, and I swear to God, I will beat you with your own drumsticks.”

Rook smirked and said, “I love you too, Savie.” Jersey smirked and watched him as he stood, standing when he came to her. The pair hugged and Rook kissed her cheek, saying, “I’m sorry, Jersey.”

“Aww!!” Jersey grabbed a pillow from the couch and turned to the boys, but Colson rushed her, catching her waist and scooping her up to carry her to the couch as the others bum-rushed Rook. Jersey cried out as Colson kept her pinned down, hollering at his boys to get Rook. Jersey shoved Colson off and shouted, “Get fucking bent!”

Rook managed to wiggle his way out of the huddle and over to the couches. Colson punched Rook’s shoulder as he passed him. The cousins settled as everyone else fell back into their usual last-minute shenanigans for the last half hour of the drive.

Once they pulled up to the hotel, they all clamored out of the bus, dying for some real beds and comfort. Checking into their suite, they all claimed beds, AJ and Rook fighting for the last window spot. Once the bed situation was solved, they bust out one last bottle of alcohol and had a little more fun.

Music played as they got into their usual shenanigans. Jersey sat with Baze and AJ as they talked amongst themselves, trying to ignore Colson and Rook as they tore around the place. Around 4 in the morning, Jersey tapped out and went to the other room, pulling the blinds shut and snuggling into the blankets, scrolling through her phone for a while longer. The door opened as she set her phone down, ready to go to sleep. She looked over as AJ walked in and over to his bags that sat on the bed he would share with Rook.

“Going to bed?” She teased, snuggling to get comfortable with a smirk.

“Nah. The Energizer Bunny twins out there are still going.” AJ chuckled, rummaging through his bag. He glanced at Jersey then to the door and said, “Hey. So, what’s going on with you and Colson, anyway?”

Jersey turned over and sat up a little more and said, “Going on? What are you talking about?”

AJ stopped and raised an eyebrow with a chuckle. “Well, after tonight...I mean, dude was gone for 3 hours. Y’all were in the bunks when he could have been out with us partying.” AJ said. Jersey pursed her lips slightly and said, “I mean, he was comforting me…”

AJ chuckled and sat on the end of her bed. “Nah, Sav, nah. I get that. We all do. Shit, Rook felt so bad he stopped drinking and smoking, till you came back out.” AJ said. Jersey added her own, “Not that he didn’t have enough shit in his system.”

AJ snickered and nodded his head a little, then said, “True. But I mean, when have you known Colson to voluntarily skip partying on the bus?”

Rook and Jersey had always been close, so when he joined up as Machine Gun Kelly’s drummer, she started hanging out with them when they were home in Ohio the same time she was or if they came through New Jersey. Because of this, she had gotten to know the guys a lot over the years. Thinking back, AJ was right. Unless it was an important reason or an emergency, Colson never missed a chance to party. With a shrug Jersey replied, as she laid back down, “Maybe he just felt really bad? I dunno. You’d have to ask him.”

AJ chuckled and patted her leg as he stood. “Aight, Save. Whatever you say, baby. Get some rest. We want you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at the show.” He teased. Jersey waved at him, getting comfortable again, and offered a soft, ‘Night. Have fun.’ Followed by a louder, “Don’t let those idiots kill themselves...Or each other!”

AJ tossed his head back and laughed as he closed the door. Jersey giggled and closed her eyes, drifting to sleep. If only for a few hours. When Colson, AJ, and Rook finally stumbled in, 2 hours later, Jersey let out a soft whimper at the disturbance and shifted under the blankets. Colson shifted Rook’s arm on his shoulder, trying to stand him up.

“You got him?” Colson whispered, taking Rook’s arm from around his neck as AJ took the weight in response and veered toward their bed, dragging the drunken drummer along with him. Rook suddenly started babbling, incoherent and loud. AJ swore under his breath and clamped a hand over his mouth and shushed him. Colson chuckled and shook his head as he tugged his shirt off and wiggled out of his pants.

“Shut the fuck up, Rook,” Jersey muttered, sleepily. Rook giggled and retorted back, “Why don’t you fuck the up shut...Wait...No, shut-”

“Goodnight, John Paul,” Jersey said, a little louder. Rook giggled as he slumped back on the bed. AJ took off his shoes and lifted his legs onto the bed. As Rook continued babbling in his drunk state and AJ quietly asked him to please shut the fuck up and go to sleep, Colson got in bed, slipping in next to Jersey.

“Y’all are fucking annoying. I get my own room next time.” She muttered, turning away from Rook and moving toward the sudden warmth with a shiver.

“You can stay in my room on the bus? Oof!” Colson offered, half teasing, but still earning a slap to his bare chest once Jersey reached him. She snuggled into his side and almost immediately fell back asleep. Colson chuckled and eased an arm around her and shifting to get comfortable, then drifted off to sleep.

The sudden, loud sound of the curtains being torn open woke Jersey and Colson with a start. Colson groaned and crossed his hands in front of his face, glancing down when he felt pressure and movement when he moved. He curled an arm around Jersey as she whimpered and pushed her face into Colson’s neck, trying to hide from the brightness.

Rook turned at the groans and smirked, “Well, good morning. Aren’t we cozy?”

“Fuck. Off. Rook.” Jersey said, her words muffled by Colson’s neck. Colson chuckled and glanced at her again, resting a hand on her arm as he gave her a quick squeeze before getting up. Jersey whined softly and slowly picked her way out of the sheets, yawning.

“Fuck, what time is it?” Colson asked, stretching with a yawn.

“Noon. We want to hit the pool. You guys down?” Slim said from the doorway, sipping his coffee. Colson shrugged as he scratched his head with a tired smile and said, “Shit. Sure. Why not?”

“Fuck. 12 O’clock? How long have you guys been up?” Jersey asked, reaching for her phone to scroll through her notifications, answering a few texts.

“Not long. We all slept the fuck in.” Slim said, laughing, along with Colson and Rook. Jersey locked her phone and looked up at Slim, taking a minute for the conversation to register before she giggled and smirked.

“Well, thank God for that.” She teased. Slim chuckled and caught Colson’s attention to start a conversation, allowing Rook to take his moment and slunk up to his cousin. “Cuddling up to Colson, I see?” He teased, lowering his voice as he sauntered up to her. Jersey gave him a look. He snickered and scooped up his bag to dig around for his swim trunks.

“Shut up, JP. Have you been talking to AJ? I’m gonna fuck him up if he’s-” Rook shushed her, gently, as he took a step closer and said, “Hey. Jers, what are you talking about?”

Jersey sighed and shook her head, moving his hands away. “Nothing. Nevermind. Don’t-Don’t say anything, Rookie, okay?” Jersey said, making her way to her bag. Rook shook his head and chuckled as he went to the bathroom to change. Jersey rummaged around in her bag before she gave a soft groan.

“What’s wrong?” Slim asked, still hanging out in the doorway. Jersey sighed and said, “I think I left my suits in my other bag on the bus. Fuuuck, I don’t want to deal with that…”

She pulled out a pair of leggings and a tank top, concealing a pretty pink and blue lace bra and panties. “You wanna hit the store?” Colson asked, with a laugh. When both Slim and Jersey looked at him, Jersey giving him a look, Colson said, “I fucking lost my trunks, bro. I must have left them in fucking Indonesia.”

Colson and Slim laughed as Jersey shook her head and smirked. “How do you lose those, Colson? They’re swim trunks.” She teased. Colson flipped her off as he grabbed a change of clothes.

“So, do you want to go get a new suit?” Colson asked as she passed by, spying Rook as he walked out of the bathroom. Stopping in the doorway, she skewed her lips in thought. Finally, she looked at him, cracking a small smile and said, “Yeah. Sure. Why not? Maybe I’ll find something cute.”

Colson shot her a thumbs up and a smirk as Jersey giggled and closed the bathroom door. Slim waited until Rook walked out, before stepping more into the room and giving a chuckle as he said, “Kells. Could you want her more? God damn, bro.”

Colson gave him a look. “The fuck are you talking about, bro? Want her? It’s Savage.” He said, pulling on his jeans. Slim gave him an unamused look.

“Man, are you for real?” Slim scoffed. Colson rolled his eyes as he pulled on his shirt and grabbed his deodorant and slipping it under his shirt to apply it. “Y’all are always cuddling and shit. Acting like y’all are in a relationship You like her, man.” Slim added another chuckle as he took another sip of coffee.

“Dude. She’s not my type.” Colson retorted.

“What? Hot?” Slim shot.

“A friend?” Colson shot back. “And she’s Rook’s cousin. It would be weird.”

“Bruh, he jokes about it as much as we do, Kells!” Slim laughed, shaking his head.

“Slim, if I actually started dating her, Rook would lose his shit. He jokes, but, like, if it happened? You’re telling me he wouldn’t be mad?” Colson asked, giving him a look.

“Who would get mad? About what?” Jersey asked, walking out of the bathroom and to her bag. The men exchanged glances as Jersey grabbed a hair tie and stuffed her wild hair into a messy bun. She looked between them, waiting for an answer, to which both men mumbled and looked away. Colson sat on the bed, tugging on his socks, and Slim shoved his coffee cup in his face and he turned and left the room.

Jersey shook her head and chuckled, dropping her sandals on the floor and slipped her feet into them. Grabbing her phone and wallet, slipping them both into the pocket on her thigh, she chirped, “Ready?”

Colson glanced at her and smirked. “Yeah. Let’s go.” He said, also grabbing his phone and wallet, the both of them heading for the door.

Next Chapter

Hope you guys liked it. If you want to be added to my taglist for this and/or future MGK/Colson stories, let me know! If you have any comments, feel free!

@badwolf-in-the-impala @lovemythsworld @kellsfanficalltogether @mgkobsessed

#Machine Gun Kelly #MGK #Colson Baker #Rook #Rook Cappelletty #JP 'Rook' Cappelletty #MGK Fanfic #Machine Gun Kelly Fan Fic #Colson Baker Fic #Colson Baker FanFic

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slutiisms-a · 6 years ago

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drugs 101 : marijuana

below the readmore is compiled information about marijuana. while i don’t consider it a drug, some people do and it is incorrectly portrayed a lot on roleplay. so, below is some information about the prices, variations, how it feels, and more. this is explained from personal experience; while some people may have slightly different experiences, it is generally all about the same. this took a lot of time to type out so please give this a like if you found it remotely helpful or i'll assume no one wants any others posted for other drugs.

! PSA ! this post is in no way saying to do the above listed drug.

pricing.

the price varies depending on your location. some places overcharge because the supply is lower, while some places or legal places are more mandated. the key difference in some pricing is the quality of marijuana. while you could get ‘mid’, it’s not the best strains and to me is not worth it; my friend gets hers for $30 for 8 grams. however, good weed ( the kind i’d hope you’d rp your characters with ), it’s usually $10/gram. if you’re in a bad location with low supply, you could pay up to $25-30/gram. below i will explain how much a gram stretches for each way you can get high from marijuana.

strains & effects.

what is important to know is that there are different strains of marijuana. each strain has slightly different effects ( both positive and negative ). while you don’t need to know specific strains to write it, you could if you wanted to and a good website for strains knowledge is leafly. the key to know is the three basic categories of strains and what they tend to make you feel.

indica — couch potato. this is the one people typically think of when they think of marijuana. you tend to get the munchies heavily and you just want to relax and be chill. sativa — energy. these strains typically put you in a social mood, you’re more likely to dance around and laugh. most of these strains don’t really give you the munchies. hybrid — as expected, it is a combination of an indica and sativa. most have a dominance, so they will be more sativa than indica or vice versa.

while each strain gives you slightly different effects, i’d explain the high simply by saying:

your head feels a bit lighter in the sense that you tend to not focus on anything for too long; this keeps you from getting into low points mentally. your body feels tingly; some strains makes you feel like it’s tingling on the outside while some strains make you feel like the inside of your body is tingling. no matter the strain, you typically laugh more than usual. personally, i rarely want to watch serious things while i’m high because it’s hard to focus on all the details, so most stoners end up watching things that don’t need full attention; like rick & morty, southpark, youtube videos, etc.

please stop saying your character is hallucinating on marijuana; they aren’t. each method of getting high on marijuana gives different levels of high, usually, but even with a dab, you are not hallucinating.

side note of importance; marijuana is a drug that the high heavily depends on the environment you’re in. different environments can give you different experiences even if it’s the same strain and method of getting high. you can have a depressed high, an angry high, a paranoid high, etc. while different strains give different negative side effects, if you’re around a mean/paranoid/etc someone or simply a bad environment, the high can have more negatives than positives.

before i dive-in, i want to discuss how some people attempt to hide/conceal the smell of marijuana when they are smoking. there are some little containers that you blow the smoke into that it says it cleans it to rid the smell, but i have never tried those to know for sure. most people i know will get a toilet paper roll, have a drier sheet tied to cover one end of the roll, and then they will blow into the roll. another way, if you live alone like i do, if you know people are going to come around and you can’t have the smell, you can put a tsp-tbsp of vanilla extract in a small oven-safe bowl. put this into the oven or toaster oven; turn it on a low level for a while. your entire house will smell like a bakery.

ways to get high off marijuana:

smoking through a homemade pipe/bong.

yes, you read correctly. while in a bind, people often will resort to a homemade pipe or bong. i find this is most commonly used by young teenagers, so i won’t go too deep into details about how to make the pipes. if you want to know the specifics because your character is making one, you can google it. however, some things that people turn into pipes are apples, pens, toilet paper rolls, paper towel rolls, water bottles, tic tac containers, soda cans, etc. if you can imagine it, someone has already tried to turn it into a pipe or bong.

smoking through a store-bought pipe.

store-bought pipes can be found in smoke shops, some gas stations and online ( smoke shop websites, amazon, etsy, etc ). the prices vary depending on the size and the place you buy it. smoke shops tend to be pricier, as well as etsy.

the size of a pipe changes how much weed it takes to pack a bowl. my favorite pipe has a decently deep bowl; i usually pack in 0.4 grams per bowl, though you could pack up to 0.6 grams into the bowl i have. typically, most pipes tend to hold between 0.2 grams to 1 gram in the bowl; though that’s not always the case.

for example, one-hitters are a thing. just as it sounds, it’s good for 1-2 hits from it before it needs to be emptied and repacked. if you’re wondering the point of a one-hitter, i’ll answer that right now for you. one-hitters are different shapes and styles, but my favorites are the ones that look like cigarettes. this would allow you to walk around in uncrowded streets smoking from it, or smoking it in the car without anyone noticing ( i’m not saying you should smoke while driving but if you did, or if you were just a passenger ).

process of packing a bowl :

1. ensure that the bowl of the pipe is emptied and clean. ( how often you clean your pipe is up to you. you can use pipe cleaners to do this, but i find the best way is to let the empty pipe sit in rubbing alcohol for an hour or so before shaking it around in the bag and then rinsing it out with water ). 2. take out the weed you want for the bowl. 3. break it into pieces that will fit in the top section of your grinder. 4. twist the top of the grinder back and forth until all of the weed is grinded into the middle chamber. 5. twist off the first and section chamber to reveal the grinded weed being held within the grinder. 6. pick it up and push it down into the bowl. you don’t need to pack it too tightly but you don’t want it not properly pressed either. *bonus* if you wanted to add kief to the top of the bowl, you can open the last chamber of the grinder and sprinkle some of the fine powder onto the top. ( kief, keef or keif ) is a fine powder made from dried resin glands that are found on the leaves of the cannabis plant. it contains a high concentration of the psychoactive chemical or thc that causes euphoric feelings or opium-like high that can last for hours.

process of smoking from a bowl :

1. press your finger over the carb; which is the small hole on the side of the pipe. 2. light the top of the weed within the pipe and suck in. 3. stop the lighter and continue to suck in as you lift your finger off and back on the carb. 4. try to hold the smoke in for a few seconds at least before blowing the smoke out. simple enough! 5. once the top is a gray color on top, use something to mix around the marijuana; you can use a bobby pin or something so that you’re not seeing ash on top before smoking more of it.

you typically begin to feel the high after a couple of hits from the pipe. i don’t usually smoke a bowl at once; i smoke on it throughout time, so i couldn’t tell you exactly how long the high lasts for me but it varies per person. on a normal work day, i get home from work and start smoking around 6pm and go to sleep around 11pm; within this time, i’ll have 1-2 bowls to myself. however, some people smoke much more than that, and some people don’t even smoke daily.

rolling & smoking a joint.

! PSA ! a joint and blunt are NOT the same thing!!!!!!!!

a joint is with the thin white rolling papers. you can typically buy packs of these for very cheap; a couple of bucks. if you hit up the daily smoke club, you could get a pack of papers for like a buck. however, you can also get different kinds of papers. you can buy colored ones, or ones with designs, even paper made from gold; some smoke shops have them, different online stores; and i know amazon sells them.

joints are typically up to the person with how large they are. i’m really not a fan of them, so i never roll them or ask to smoke them ( unless offered ). from everyone i know, typically you’d put anywhere between 0.5 grams to 1.5 grams in a joint; could be bigger but i don’t find that people usually do joints with less than half a gram.

process of rolling a joint without a dollar bill :

1. lay the paper down. 2. grind the weed and sprinkle it down the center of the paper, length wise. 3. begin to roll the paper around the weed in the center. 4. lick the trim on one side and press it down. be careful not to use too much spit or the entire joint will be ruined and the paper will rip. 5. ensure that the ends have some empty space and twist them closed. you can leave one end open if you’re going to smoke it immediately.

process of rolling a joint with a dollar bill :

1. grab your dollar bill and fold it hamburger style. 2. grind the weed and sprinkle it down the center of the crease you just made. 3. begin to rub the ends of the bill together up and down, the weed should begin to roll together. 4. press the paper into the bill, the edge on the side of the weed. 5. continue to slowly roll the ends of the bill together until it begins to wrap around the weed properly. 6. continue to roll until it’s completely rolled. then, use your tongue to run it across the edge of the paper to seal it down. 7. ensure that the ends have some empty space and twist them closed. you can leave one end open if you’re going to smoke it immediately.

normal joint papers and cones are not the same. you can roll a cone or buy pre-rolled papers. unless you want to learn how to roll cones, i just buy packs of them pre-rolled online and all you have to do is push the weed down into the papers. as it sounds, they are shaped like a cone.

process of smoking from a joint :

1. put your lips on the filter. 2. light the end of the joint. 3. every few hits, you’ll have to tap the end against something to get the ash to fall ( ashing it ).

you typically begin to feel the high after a couple of hits from the joint. whenever smoking a joint, they burn quickly so it’s hard to not smoke it all at once. the high typically is stronger than from a pipe and it’ll last a couple of hours before it’s down enough to want more.

rolling & smoking a blunt.

! PSA ! a joint and blunt are NOT the same thing!!!!!!!!

a blunt is weed wrapped in a tobacco leaf. the most common way of doing this is to buy a cigarillo, empty it out and then fill it with weed before sealing it. you can buy tobacco leafs that are empty, but people typically just go buy the cigarillos and empty them. they are $1/pack of two cigarillos. there is multiple brands and flavors to pick from. the two brands i use the most are game and swishers. games are harder to roll/seal but burn slower and smoother. swishers are much easier to roll/seal but burn a little faster. i typically go for swisher sweets green.

blunts take up more weed than joints and pipes. it’s the only reason i don’t smoke blunts every day. blunts are usually at least 0.8 grams to 2 grams; some people go much bigger than this, but i don’t really see people doing under 0.8 grams unless they are making the blunt very slim or cutting it to be shorter.

process of rolling a blunt :

1. drag your tongue across length wise on part of the cigarillo where you’re going to cut ( talented people can use their fingers to find the seal and break it, but i don’t find it that easy to do ). 2. cut length wise down the gar. you can use whatever you want for this. most commonly is a pocket knife. not even going to lie, i use eyebrow scissors a lot to make the line straighter. 3. empty out all of the tobacco. 4. drag your tongue over the inside of the gar. when i say this, i mean you literally have to lick all over the inside of the gar to make it easier to roll. 5. grind up your weed or break it up with your fingers. it’s easier to roll when it’s grinded but it burns slower if it’s broken up with your fingers. 6. slowly begin to roll your fingers back and forth to mold the weed into a roll. 7. to seal it, drag your tongue along the inside of the edge and over the top of it as well. add some pressure to the seal to let it try to hold before officially sealing.

process of smoking a blunt :

1. put your lips on the end you aren’t going to light. 2. light the end of the blunt. 3. every few hits, you’ll have to ash it or it will fall on you.

you typically begin to feel the high after a couple of hits from a blunt; sometimes even just one if you get a big enough hit. whenever smoking a blunt, you can dab it out and restart it later. most of the time, i’ll smoke about half and then smoke the other half later. the high is more than a joint or pipe and half a blunt will last a couple of hours. overall, smoking wise, blunts are my favorite and give the best high, in my opinion.

smoking from a bong.

bongs are the one smoking method i know the least about. i only typically use a bong with friends. however, it’s a good high and it’s very quick to get to that point. people use anywhere between 0.3 gram to 1 gram in the bong’s bowl; however, most commonly people use 0.5 gram to 1 gram.

process of packing a bong :

1. grind up the weed, or some people will just put the nug into the bowl. 2. cover the seal of the top of the bong with your lips. 3. light the marijuana in the bowl and suck in. 4. after a few moments, stop lighting it and lift the bowl out of the bong. 5. suck in as much of the smoke that you can. 6. hold it in for as long as possible for blowing the smoke out.

bong highs are strong; typically only needing one or two hits to be high. i don’t have a lot of experience with these in particular to tell you how long it lasts. whenever i use them, we will take a few bong hits each and then go inside and relax for an hour or so.

eating an edible.

truly, there could be an entire post just dedicated to edibles. there is so many different kind you can have and make. in a way to condense it, the explanation for making them will only be for brownies and i will explain it very vaguely. you don’t need to know all the very specifics to make them on roleplay. if you want to actually make them, you can look into recipes and things yourself.

there is so many forms of edibles. if it’s edible, it can likely be made into an edible. the most common ones that i know of and have personal experience with are brownies, cookies, gummies and lollipops/hard candy.

the biggest thing to know is the difference in how it’s presented to you if it’s homemade vs dispensary bought. homemade is going to be given to in with dosing in grams. dispensary bought is going to be given to in with dosing in mgs. it is very easy to be confused when it comes to mgs because not everyone has experience with mgs to know what any of that means.

mg breakdown

1 - 2.5 mg — microdosing, some first time users. 2.5 - 15 mg — still a small dose, helps to feel more social; restless sleepers. 15 - 30 mg — more seasoned consumers; experienced users looking to help insomnia. 30 - 50 mg — season consumers, higher tolerance to thc. 50 - 100 mg — experienced thc consumers only; medically for cancer or inflammatory disorders.

as personal reference, most edibles i’ve experienced are between 50 - 100 mg. i’ve had gummies that were 10 mg per gummy; i had three of those and it only really made me relax and not really feel high. for homemade edibles, they are usually around 0.5 gram to 2 grams per edible.

edible high is unlike smoking marijuana. it’s much stronger, usually. you get the normal effects of weed, but at heightened levels. it usually takes anywhere between 30 minutes to 2 hours to kick in. from personal experience, edibles are my favorite way to get high with marijuana, but i find it isn’t good for a daily basis. the end of edible highs make you want to sleep for a long time. sometimes you may feel like you’re melting into something you’re sitting on or floating; but it’s still never a crazy enough high where you feel out of control of your body.

my favorite time on an edible is when i went to an aquarium while high on it. i don’t remember almost anything about the aquarium, but i hated aquariums prior to this visit. while there, everything seemed so beautiful to me and it was the most exciting thing i’ve ever done while on an edible to this day. the colors seemed so much brighter and i just remember laughing a lot.

making brownie edibles :

1. collect the ingredients which are basically just normal brownie ingredients and then you need canna oil. 2. to make canna oil, you just need to take an ounce of ground weed and bake it for around 30 minutes. then, combine the bud with your favorite oil ( olive, coconut, etc ) on the stove on low heat for 6 or more hours. 3. then, you just add the oil into the normal brownie recipe and bake your edibles. 4. cut them into pieces. you want the pieces to be smaller than normal sized brownies, unless you are experienced and you know how much is in that cut of the brownie. it is better to underdose than overdose yourself with edibles.

having too much of an edible :

you will think you are dying. i don’t mean that in a fun way. everyone has a slightly different experience with this, but i will give you my personal experience. tw: vomit mention.

the edible was 300 mg and it said to have 1/4 of it for experienced users ( 75 mg ). i had never had mg edibles before so i didn’t really understand and i didn’t read the directions; MISTAKE. — always read your directions on the edible packages if it’s from a dispensary. i ate a little over half of the edible. at first, it was fun. the high kicked in and i felt great. soon, it became too much. lifting my head made me feel lightheaded; my entire body felt tingly and heavy. i felt like i was spinning while i was laying down on my bed. i don’t remember much other than telling my friend i had too much and i thought i was going to die. that’s when the vomiting began. i proceeded to vomit everything out of my system; into my trashcan by my bed because i could not get up from my bed. this continued until the consistency made me think i might actually choke on it because i couldn’t breathe. after vomit everything out, i continued to dry heave for 40 minutes. then, i passed out. i busted multiple blood vessels in my eyes; the whites of my eyes were a deep red and they did not fully go away for a little over a month. however, all the side effects did not go away until almost march; this happened december 8th. the side effects i had were dizzy spells, nausea ( i was taking a nausea medicine around the clock ), some memory lapses and generally feeling exhausted.

even with this awful experience, i still smoke and i still do edibles. but please ! if you are going to have an edible, be careful with dosing. and if you say your character had a bunch of edibles, know that there is a big negative if you over-do it with edibles.

as for how long edibles last, it depends on the edible mg and how your body breaks down your foods. it can last usually between 4 hours and 12 hours. most i have tried last over 4 hours, for sure.

bonus : taking a dab.

dabs are practically another language to a lot of people. dab, wax, honey oil and shatter are all the same thing. dabs are a solid, waxy substance of concentrated butane hash oil; most commonly created by a high quality strain is blasted with butane, that is then extracted, these cannabis concentrates approach 70 to 90 percent thc. if none of that made sense, it’s basically a highly concentrated oil/wax that has very high percentages of thc. for reference, some of the best strains out there only have around 25 percent thc.

it comes usually in a wax form, so that is how i will talk about it mostly. firstly, i will discuss the oil. a lot of people are using the oil in vapes so that they can smoke them in public. they do not smell or taste like weed; they taste like whatever flavor you get. i find that the high isn’t as good, however, and that you end up spending more to do that than if you were simply dabbing.

how to take a dab :

1. get a small ‘dab’ of the wax onto the end of a thin glass rod, then set to the side. 2. use a torch to heat the metal piece at the end of the glass pipe until it’s glowing red. 3. set the torch down, pick up the glass rod and touch the wax to the hot nail. 4. circle the rod around inside of the metal piece until all of the wax has been vaporized while sucking in. 5. once all the smoke is gone from the pipe, or until you can’t take it any longer before pulling away. 6. hold it in for as long as possible before blowing the smoke out.

no matter how experienced you are, i’ve found very few people that can take a dab without coughing afterward. i have never coughed harder than i have with a dab. it’s very strong, so you don’t need to have a lot on the rod. however, the size of the dab is up to whoever is doing it.

for shits and giggles, here is some hilarious reactions from taking a dab that i have seen when smoking with people: coughing until vomiting, falling back onto the couch with arms across chest and eyes closed for a few minutes, falling onto the ground coughing until drooling onto the ground, and my favorite experience to witness — she started coughing and began to run around the house coughing until going to the sink, leaning her head under it and letting the faucet run water into her mouth.

as for the feeling, it’s similar to an edible. there is no down-time after, unlike edibles. however, edibles last much longer than a dab. dabs are great for taking one of them and being high off of your ass, but i’m usually taking another one before an hour is up.

i hope any of this has been helpful to anyone. i plan to do this with other drugs like cocaine, ecstacy, acid, shrooms, xanax, oxy and more. please let me know if this is something you’d be interested in or if this was helpful to you!

#for those who requested!#indie rp #indie smut rp #rph #drugs 101

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shyujikl · 2 years ago

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The Best Cannabis Grinders: A Professional Buyer's Guide

A cannabis grinder is a tool used to grind marijuana into a powdery substance or “kief”. Cannabis grinders are typically made from metal or plastic and come in many different shapes and sizes. Cannabis grinders have many functions, but the most common one is to help make smoking marijuana more enjoyable. When marijuana is smoked, it needs to be ground up first so that it can burn evenly and smoothly. Grinding up your weed before you smoke it helps to give you a better high by making sure that all of the ingredients have been evenly combined. It uses two different parts, one on each side. The bottom half has razor sharp teeth that grind your herb up into small pieces, while the top half has grooves which collect all the kief in one place so that you can easily scrape it off when it's time to smoke! There are many types of grinders including manual, electric and portable ones. The most common type: hand crank pocket style grinders, have been around for a very long time! They are simple but effective tools that work well for most people. Some people prefer electric grinders because they're fast, but they're also more expensive than manual models. Electric Cannabis GrindersAn Electric Grinder will have a motor that rotates at a high speed, which can make it easier for you to get the results you want. This type is more expensive than handheld grinders but they can produce finer particles, which means they can produce better quality smoke. They also have larger sized chambers that allow users to store more weed at once without having to refill often. Manual Cannabis Grinders Manual wood grinders are also known as hand grinders because they require manual labor from their users. This type of grinder does not have any motor or electronic components; instead, it uses sharp blades that chop up your herbs into pieces so that they can be smoked or vaporized more easily. The best thing about using a manual grinder is that it doesn't cost much since these devices are inexpensive compared to electric ones. Handheld Grinder Handheld Grinder: This type is small and portable. It’s ideal for personal use and you can easily carry it with you wherever you go. This type of grinder is more affordable than other types but may not be as durable as other grinders. Each of these types of cannabis grinders has its own characteristics. You can choose your cannabis grinders according to your own needs, but due to its particularity, many British and American guys don’t know where to buy cannabis grinders. Below I will Share the best places to buy cannabis grinders Smoke Street Market in London The best place for this is probably a head shop in London. The one I recommend is called Smoke Street Market on Old Street Road. They have everything you could possibly want from rolling papers to grinders and pipes, and the staff are pretty helpful too. If you're not in London, then a good alternative would be a head shop online like Grasscity or Zamnesia. If you don't have access to these places, then there are still some options open to you: There are many websites offering great deals and discounts. You can also find a lot of information on how to use these things, how to roll a joint, etc. For example, you can visit a website like MUXIANG SHOP and buy your weed grinder there. This site has a wide selection of grinders available at discounted prices. You can choose from different styles and sizes so that you get exactly what you need for your needs .If you really can't access or find these URLs, you can also consider making your own Cannabis Grinders, Making your own Cannabis Grinders goods doesn't require much skill or equipment, but it does require some patience If you are looking to make your own herb grinder, then you have come to the right place. There are many different ways of making a herb grinder, but we will be going over the most common way. The first thing that you need is a metal can and some scissors. You will want to cut off the top of the can so that it is flat on both sides. Then take a piece of sandpaper and sand down the edges so they are smooth. Next, take your scissors and cut out a circle in the middle of the can. This will be where your herb goes when you grind it up! Now take your grinder and put it together by putting the lid on top of the can and screwing it on tight. If you want an extra tight fit for your grinder, leave about 1/4" gap between the two pieces when screwing them together so that air can escape from between them as they rotate together during use (this will help prevent loss of pollen from your grinds). After making the cannabis grinder, you need to test whether your cannabis grinder can work normally Read the full article

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doomednarrative · 4 years ago

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Think its important I say this stuff again since I’m now into HLVRAI as well:

I do enjoy the Half Life series on its own, and I Do ship both Freemance and Freehoun. If you want to get on me about shipping Freemance when there’s legitimately no issue with the ship, then feel free to just block me outright. I’m not here for discourse these days.

#me talking #kief rambles about half life #kief rambles about hlvrai #i am just here to make my art and reblog other peoples posts and enjoy things #i do not want to be involved in discourse #leave me out of it #if you just dont Like freemance for whatever reason then thats fine and i respect that #i tag all my freemance posts so you can blacklist as needed #same with other ships too #just dont be hostile to me thats all i ask

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dhbfgchf · 2 years ago

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The Best Cannabis Grinders: A Professional Buyer's Guide

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s-brant · 3 years ago

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Cherry Bowl (3/8)

(gif: @kiekiecarrera) (PART TWO) (PART FOUR) (SERIES MASTERLIST)

Summary: When Kie cancels their plans together, Y/N asks JJ on a date to the Cherry Bowl Drive-In. Unsure of how to navigate his first ever date, JJ seeks out advice. Unfortunately, the night doesn’t go as planned, and both parties are left shaken by miscommunication.

Word Count: 10.6k

Warnings: Smut, public sex/exhibitionism, sexual choking, angst, depictions of mental illness, post-traumatic stress disorder, and implied/referenced abuse.

A/N: Welcome back to Tokens! Slight trouble in paradise is brewing for these two lovers, so buckle up and read because it’s gonna be a rollercoster for a little while after what happens in this chapter. I hope you all like it, and if you did, feedback is very appreciated. Have fun!

"I'm just saying that oatmeal raisin is superior to chocolate chip, why is that such an egregious crime, Kie?"

The lunch room is filled to the brim with students going to town on questionably cooked frozen foods, soggy tater tots, and sugary drinks from the vending machines despite the Obama-era posters on the walls advocating for healthier school lunches that never seemed to make their way to Kildare County High. The extent of their healthy lunches extended to a serving of overcooked canned green beans served with the worst slice of doughy pizza known to human kind, so it was sort of contradictory.

Y/N sits across the table from Pope and JJ, the latter of which being the one who launched into a full-fledged debate with Kiara about which type of cookie was better.

The clear cling wrap sits, unfolded, on the table with one of her stickers neatly placed on the back of it. As consolation for his epic loss yesterday at the beach, she paid an extra .75 cents to get him it when she arrived first to their shared lunch period—one of only two class periods they have together, the other being gym. He was still in line when she peeled a surfboard sticker off of her sheet and placed it at the center of the wrapped up cookie as if to remind him of her triumph over him in the waves.

"Thanks, hot stuff," he said, voice somewhat quieter despite the fact that hardly anyone was in the cafeteria with them. Then his smile dropped into an deadpan expression as soon as he saw her choice of sticker and looked back up at her. "You're never gonna let me live that one down, are you?"

"Never in a million years. I'll be gloating about it until I'm elderly."

"That's my girl."

The sound of the constant chatter surrounding them from at least two hundred other people drowns out the memories of yesterday that threaten to haunt her when she watches him debate with Kie. The mere recollection of their night in the back of the van has her reaching to pull the collar of her cropped tee up to assure that the hickeys remain hidden on instinct, and he catches the action out of the corner of his eye. It has him fighting a smile.

Kie quips, "Maybe on another planet, but, here, I think we can all agree chocolate chip is better, right Y/N?"

Y/N's eyes widen around a forkful of mushy "green beans" at the sound of her name being said bringing her from the depths of her memories.

Usually, she's quick to jump in and give her two cents on whatever stupid back and forth they're all having, but her mind was elsewhere. Unbeknownst to Kie and Pope, she was mentally reliving every second of getting fucked in the van last night, so her attention to detail when it comes to the Chocolate Chip vs Oatmeal Raisin case isn't all too sharp.

"Uhhh," she stops for a second, looking at the half eaten chocolate chip cookie in Kie's hand, "If I say chocolate chip is better, can I get a piece of it?"

Kie's face lights up at her words, and she's already pulling off a generous chunk of the baked good to hand off to her. The sound of a certain someone whose lap Y/N's legs are outstretched onto from beneath the table scoffing distracts her from the first bite.

"I know you prefer oatmeal raisin, you traitor," JJ says.

Their brunette friend's brows scrunch.

"Why is she a traitor?"

They try to keep from making any faces or giving anything away, but Y/N has to stifle the sound of her choking on her mouthful of cookie at the question. You'd think one of them came out and asked if they were dating or something with how she reacts, and she feels JJ squeeze her ankle in a non-verbal way of telling her to hold it together. It was her idea in the first place, yet he's a lot smoother with keeping it under the radar.

Under it all, the aspect of keeping it a secret does unnerve him to a degree. He doesn't think he'd be brave enough to communicate it, especially not when their relationship remains undefined, but the darker side of his mind wonders...

He shrugs, saying, "Cause we were friends first. Duh. Other than John B, I've known her the longest."

None of them stop to acknowledge the identical aches in their hearts at the mentioning of his name. They skip right over it like it never happened. After the funeral a few days ago, they've filled their quota on mushy-gushy sad talk for the next week and a half.

The real reason is something far more complicated than him having a claim staked on her loyalty through having the longest friendship. It's something tied up in days of slowly getting pulled into one another's worlds like the tug of gravity itself, in how he has to refrain from slipping his arm around her waist in the hallway or kissing her goodbye after a sleepover at the Chateau. But until she gives him the go-ahead, he won't let it slip to anyone.

Pope speaks up from beside him, "You literally met her twenty minutes before we did."

"Still counts. Technically, I did meet her first, so her betraying Team Oatmeal Raisin is enough to be tried for treason in Pogue Court."

"Pogue Court isn't a thing."

He crosses his arms after he pops the rest of the cookie into his mouth.

"It is now. You can be tried for treason for breaking the rules. Rule number one is that all Pogues have to admit oatmeal raisin is superior."

He's about to ball up the cling wrap to throw away later when the surfboard sticker catches his attention again. It's the same color as his board, which he'd like to think is a result of her being an evil mastermind that went out to get this sticker sheet for the sole purpose of teasing him, but he's the one who got her the sheet as a gift for her birthday, so he knows it was pure coincidence.

Last second, he peels the sticker away from the cling wrap and looks down to place it over the top of her yellow converse that were once a vibrant, paler color when Big John got them for her, but have since turned into an ugly mustard/dirt-dusted color they heckle her over.

"What are the other rules?" Y/N asks.

One of the hands holding onto where her feet are casually planted in his lap, something that they've done long enough that their friends won't see it as anything odd, slides down to caress the stretch of skin beneath the frayed hem of her dark jeans. Something she didn't know about him before whatever it is they have together started was that he constantly needs to be touching her. She can't say she doesn't love it though.

Pope answers, "The oatmeal raisin rule is not official"—a pointed glance at JJ—"But I'd assume the rest of the rules of Pogue Court would be no lying and no macking."

"So, basically you two break almost every rule except the oatmeal raisin one, and I lie," JJ says and turns to look at her, "How does it feel to be better than everyone, Y/N?"

"Pretty good, not gonna lie."

He keeps caressing little circles and tracing up and down her skin beneath the flared out pant leg of her jeans while he swipes his phone off of the table top without attracting the attention of their friends, who continue on to a new topic. She isn't too focused on what it is. She only picks up that it has something to do with a class they're in that's more advanced that hers, so she promptly checks out of the conversation.

Ever since John B died, she hasn't been performing too well in school. She tries, truly tries, but her mind outright refuses to absorb any of the information. When she reads her assigned reading, she hovers over the same paragraphs over and over until she shuts the book in a huff and hides it in her backpack again. Losing someone you love has a surprising amount of side effects.

Her phone buzzing in her hand brings her away from the impending cloud of doom that often accompanies any thoughts of John B, and when she taps in her passcode, her brother's birthday, a message bubble appears with a banner displaying JJ's contact name.

JJ (Derogatory) ur a good liar. prob could've fooled me if i weren't the one macking on u

Their eyes meet for a second across the table, then he watches her thumbs move to type a response.

Kief Princess Little do they know I break every rule now that I've switched sides on the cookie debate. Kinda impressive ngl.

JJ (Derogatory) triple threat, baby

JJ (Derogatory) thanks for the cookie btw

She smiles to herself, so wrapped up in their own world that she doesn't notice everyone in the room starting to pack up their stuff in anticipation of the bell that is due to ring any second now.

Kief Princess Had to repay you for last night somehow ;)

When she glances up to see his reaction, she watches his chest rise with a particularly large inhale, and he chews on the inside of his lip in thought.

JJ (Derogatory) strategically bringing up last night so i'm turned on in physics? ur an evil mastermind

Kief Princess I try.

Kief Princess Apparently whooping your sorry ass at surfing isn't the only thing I'm good at.

She hears him scoff.

JJ (Derogatory) first of all, ouch. second, u barely beat me

Kief Princess I'm happy to challenge you to a rematch. I have plans with Kie tonight, so I can't till this weekend. All it'll prove is that I am the rightful winner, but we knew that already.

JJ (Derogatory) what r the stakes this time

Kief Princess No sexual favors. If you beat me (fat chance) I'll formally rejoin team oatmeal raisin.

JJ (Derogatory) :( sex makes it more fun but i still accept those conditions

JJ (Derogatory) team oatmeal raisin needs u, even if ur a traitor

Kief Princess Why bet sexual favors if you're just gonna fuck me after anyway?

JJ (Derogatory) good point

The sound of the bell ringing echoes through the cafeteria, and they both pop their heads up from their phone screens to see everyone, including Pope and Kie, already packed up and raising from their seats to scurry off in the direction of their next classes. Meanwhile, their stuff is all bestrewn across the table, particularly JJ's belongings.

The sight of Kie walking away makes Y/N ask after her, "We're still on for tonight, right?

She stops with Pope's hand interwoven in hers. The look on her face when she turns would make you think she got caught doing something she wasn't meant to. Something like forgetting about the plans they made last week to watch Fear Street together. The Cherry Bowl Drive-In is premiering the first two movies as a double feature for the horror movie buffs of Kildare, so they decided to get tickets. Kiara shares a fondness of horror movies with her. Since gory movies make the boys squirm, though JJ pretends they don't, it's their own thing.

"Actually, Pope and I were gonna go to the beach. I'm sorry."

JJ knows she's more upset about it than she lets on, but Y/N simply gives the pair a smile that doesn't reach the eyes.

The sound of JJ behind her makes them laugh on their way out, diffusing the minor tension lingering in the air from the awkward encounter, "Use protection!"

After their friends offer them a goodbye, they gather their stuff quite leisurely, not really caring about being late.

It's something they've talked about before here or there: her feelings surrounding Kiara and Pope's sudden relationship. It's not as if she harbors any ill feelings for them, she doesn't, but the ripple effects of their pairing on the group, and more importantly the girls' own friendship, couldn't be clearer from her perspective. Between the missed hangouts, forgotten plans, and the convenient way she never seems to have time to hang out with her and JJ unless Pope is there too, it's been building up for a month now.

What makes it sting the most is how close her and Kie used to be. They didn't hit it off immediately the way she and JJ did as children until her thirteenth birthday when no one she invited showed up to the party Big John helped her set up in the yard of the Chateau.

She was the one who rallied the boys together to walk to ask their school friends from the year above to come hang out for an hour or two, promising a slice of the wonky-looking but delicious strawberry cake her and John B spent the morning crafting together. She can remember the sound of their high-pitched laughs and the cloud of flour that hung in the kitchen when they high-fived over the finished product like it was yesterday. In her heart, it was yesterday.

That night was when she fell in love with her friends, and that was when she first knew Kiara was her best friend. They wove friendship bracelets on each other that night and wore them for years until they withered away. No one had ever done something like that for her before. Not even JJ.

"You okay?"

Feeling his hand on her arm, slipping down to take her hand for a moment in the seclusion of the empty cafeteria, makes her glance up at him with a distinct sorrow washed over her features.

You know what? Screw this. Why should she be torn up over Kie and let it ruin her excitement for the double feature tonight? There's no way in hell she's letting her best friend ditching her for her boyfriend get in the way of her plans.

"Do you wanna go on a date tonight?" she asks him abruptly, then adds, "To the Cherry Bowl with me instead of Kie?"

The question sparks a pause in his mind, a halt of hesitation in which he worries about her avoiding having to answer what he asked, but he attempts to play it cool and not fuss over her outwardly. There have been times where being treated like that has made her feel suffocated, so he doesn't want to risk it. When she's ready, she'll talk about it, and if she takes too long and buries her feelings, then he'll intervene. For now, he tries to keep his face neutral despite the frown tempting his lips at her disappointment.

JJ looks around once more before throwing his arm around her shoulder to walk her out.

"You bet your ass I do."

What is a person supposed to act like on their first date that's not actually a date cause everything between them is the same, but kinda is a date because they called it one? If you ever find out, please find JJ and tell him because he has no clue.

Pope wasn't too much help in the Instagram group chat he made for it seeing as his and Kie's relationship is too fresh, John B isn't even alive, so he's out of service for advice unless there's Ouija Board he can borrow, and, thankfully, Kiara was his savior.

Their phones began blowing up as soon as he reached his class after lunch period ended. He couldn't under any circumstances let it be known that this mystery girl he had a date with was their friend, but thankfully Y/N already had the alibi of going to the Drive-In alone. All he had to do was make up a fake date scenario and get basic advice.

danknugstickiestickies added kiara-c and popeheyward to the groupchat

danknugstickiestickies named the group HELP ME

danknugstickiestickies i have a date with this chick i met on the beach when i was out with y/n last week. i need ur advice

His phone screen lit up with the notification that both of his friends were typing, signified with the three dot symbol bouncing in the bottom left corner as he thought it through. They couldn't possibly figure it out, right? They'd been careful, he'd been respectful of her wishes, and they'd been too busy together to notice anything new with them. He figured it would work. It was a risk, sure, but it was worth it to him. He didn't want to fuck this up with her.

Knowing her, she probably wouldn’t even treat it differently than any of their other hang outs. It's not like they haven't been romantic or sexual with each other. They've done everything but go out on an actual date, so why was he nervous?

kiara-c ummmm

popeheyward Yeah, I'm gonna need you to ELABORATE!!

kiara-c did hell freeze over? since when does jj maybank go out on dates??

danknugstickiestickies renamed the group hell froze over

kiara-c very funny, I'm laughing so hard 😐

popeheyward Do we know her?

danknugstickiestickies don't think u do. she moved here last week and hasn't enrolled in school yet. her name's steph

popeheyward What about Y/N though?

kiara-c ^^

JJ's chest muscles tightened with the question prompting a rush of anxiety that made his breathing feel slightly harder. He glanced up at his Physics teacher, who was essentially dozing off behind his desk with his hand in a bag of chips and an educational video on the projector as an excuse to not teach, and looked back down at his phone without the added stress of possibly getting his phone confiscated.

Pope's message might as well have been a sucker punch. Forget butterflies, he set a wasp’s nest loose inside of his stomach to tie it into knots and flip it every which way. His neglected textbook served as a prop for his phone to lean on as he set it down to think.

Did they know? As far as he was aware, they were getting away with it. No evidence, concrete or circumstantial, was there to prove it. At least the stress of the situation killed any chance of him being turned on by her reminder of last night in their messages. This shit was boner repellant of the highest degree.

He played stupid. Better to let them volunteer whatever information they had before he went in saying anything incriminating that they didn't already know. If anything would sour the experience of their first date, it would be him accidentally making their strange in-between relationship public behind her back.

danknugstickiestickies ?? what do u mean

Three dots bounced in the bottom left corner of his slightly cracked phone screen.

popeheyward ...

kiara-c I mean, you don't see it?

danknugstickiestickies see what

popeheyward I guess we were wrong, but all of us always thought you two had some feelings going on.

"You don't say?" JJ murmured sarcastically to himself under his breath. "Never crossed my mind, Pope."

danknugstickiestickies bro that's jb's little sister

kiara-c so?

danknugstickiestickies forbidden fruit? making john b roll over in his grave? do those ring a bell or am i speaking in tongues

He was already a proficient liar in real life, but, fuck, it was easy in text messages. There's no chance at deciphering facial expression or tone, just a plain message with no room to budge. Thank God he didn't do this in person with them. He could've survived, but it wouldn't have been as quick and painless as the group chat was.

kiara-c jeez, sorry

Pope didn't voice it, but he noticed something.

He looked up from his phone and stared off at the wall in thought in his AP European History class. It piqued his interest that JJ simply said she was off limits, forbidden fruit as he put it, but did not outright deny having feelings for her. In fact, he didn't even address the question. He made excuses for why he shouldn't have feelings for her, but he never said he didn't have feelings for her.

Kie did not notice. Not because she wasn't smart enough to either, but because she was too busy hiding her phone behind her backpack to think too deeply about it. Her teacher was one of those teachers that would flip shit if they saw a cell phone turned off and faced down on the desk, let alone being used by a student during a lesson.

In his classroom across the hallway, JJ bounced his leg up and down beneath his desk in an absentminded urge to release the built up energy the anxiety produced in an over abundance.

popeheyward Our bad then. Even John B thought y'all were sus lmao.

Since when was that a known fact? Could he tell? Did he talk to Pope about him and Y/N before he died? Either way, it wasn't the time to pry about it.

kiara-c yeah you guys honestly could've fooled me if you wanted to

danknugstickiestickies well thank u, glad ur invested in our friendship but

danknugstickiestickies please help, i have no fucking clue how to act on a date and this girl is too cool for me to screw this up

That was when they finally dropped the interrogation session and started offering up tips. The best ones came from Kie, which made sense to him since women are more likely to know what other women like than two dudes who share one collective brain cell and never had real relationships.

Rule One: Be ready to pick her up five minutes early.

He wasn't ready to pick her up five minutes early. His bike broke down by the time he made it halfway down his street, so he had to push it back up the road and into the yard before setting off on foot to reach the Chateau quickly enough. And by quickly enough, it means he got there five minutes late, not early.

Rule Two: Compliment her after you get in the car.

She tossed him the keys to the Twinkie from across the hood, not giving him the chance to open the door for her, and it wasn't until they were setting off down the road that he remembered the next piece of advice he was given.

Side-eyeing her in his peripheral vision, he tried to find something to compliment her on specifically rather than the general compliments about her being pretty that she never fully believes when he says them. He was intending to say something about the skirt she had on, but when he chanced a glance over at her, she caught him and asked—

"What is it?"

Sent into panic mode, JJ blurted out instead, "I like your shoes."

He could've bashed his face against the steering wheel twenty times right then and there at the utter absence of reaction on her part for the next few uncomfortable seconds. It wasn't that it was a bad compliment. She appreciates any compliments at all...but her shoes were hidden from his view. Not to mention, they were the dirty, mustard yellow converse that the Pogues bash on a daily basis.

She laughed, lifting her leg to expose the sneaker on her right foot, and asked, "These? Dude, you roast me for these all the time. You and John B said they look like Big Bird shit on them."

The skin on the apples of his cheeks scorched hot with embarrassment, and he was never so glad that the overhead lights in the van were burnt out until that moment. He would've died on the spot if she saw him blush like that, face flushed pinker than sunburn. All he could do to save himself was murmur something about the color growing on him and keep driving in the direction of the theater with his hands white-knuckling the steering wheel he fantasized about banging his face into.

Rule Three: Insist on picking up the check.

In this case, it meant insist on buying the popcorn and drinks, and he miraculously managed to drop his wallet somewhere along the way when he ran over to the Chateau, so when he stepped up to the makeshift concession stand with her standing at his side, he felt around for his wallet in his jeans to no avail.

His thoughts echoed back to him, You gotta be fucking kidding me. Seriously? Is this actually happening right now?

"JJ, it's honestly fine," she said softly as he leaned over to search back of the Twinkie for the wallet. "We can look for it on your street right now if you want. It has your ID and stuff, you don't want a stranger to have that. We don't need to stay—"

It took all of his control to not shout it in reaction when he said, "No way. You've been waiting for this, and Kie ditched you, so I ain't ditching you too. We're staying."

His wallet could go kick rocks.

He came too far to be dragged down by the old leathery piece of shit anyway. Would he go out and search for it tirelessly the second the date ended? Hell yeah, that fucker had twenty dollars and his debit card in it, but he couldn't bear the thought of abandoning her or ruining her anticipated movie night by taking her out to search the streets with their phone flashlights for a wallet they might not find. He'd wait till the movies ended, take her home, then haul ass around the Cut searching for it after.

Thankfully, he found a couple bucks crumbled up in his front pocket while she scavenged for coins in the glove compartment, and they came up with enough to buy a water bottle and small popcorn to share together.

Rule Four: Don't have sex on the first date.

And it may sound easy enough to not act like a complete Neanderthal for the length of two movies, but the girl makes it pretty damn difficult if he's to say so himself.

That's what led him here, laying in the back of the sideways-parked Twinkie in the farthest corner of the outdoor theater with her practically on top of him. In any other instance, he wouldn't be opposed in the slightest, but with the cursed fourth rule in mind, he isn't too thrilled with the feeling of her hand rubbing up and down his thigh.

It isn't even meant to be sexual. They're constantly touching one another this way. She'll even slip her hands up under his shirt just to feel the warmth of his skin or when he asks her if she can get an itch on a part of his back he can't reach, but for some reason his brain is short circuiting right now.

The thing is, when Kie and Pope said he shouldn't do it on the first date, they meant it for his and Steph's made up circumstances, not his and Y/N's full-blown relationship without labels. When you've had sex with someone as many times as they have with each other, the hesitancy on the "first date" is nonexistent. It doesn't matter. But JJ, trying to follow the advice given to him to the letter for the sake of being the date she deserves, doesn't think about it that way.

It shouldn't be this nerve-wracking. They've been best friends since they were children, they've been flirting since they found out what basic attraction was in the first place, and they've been forming this relationship ever since John B died. Why can't he relax? Why is this so different compared to how easy it felt between them yesterday on the beach or today at lunch?

Rule Five: Be yourself.

It takes him another few moments of laying here with her before he realizes quite abruptly what went wrong in a quick flash of a thought that brings the fifth rule back to him. The problem wasn't the bike, or the weird compliment about her Big Bird sneakers, or the lost wallet.

The problem is him. The problem is that he's trying way too hard to make this something it isn't. The part about them that he adores so dearly is how they never have to try when they're together. With any other girl or guy, they'd have to fake something or act a certain way, yet when they're together, they can simply exist and everything is runs smoothly. That's not to say they don't disagree or bump heads, they do, but short of those outlier moments, it's easier than anything else they do in life.

His eyes flicker away from the screen for the first time since the movie began, which, by the way, is gruesome enough at times that he had to divert his eyes to prevent himself from seeing it happen. They land on where she lays, completely content with the night in spite of its mishaps, with her head propped up on the pillows they brought from the Chateau.

He wonders if she can tell he's acting differently. Surely she must notice. She's the type of person that typically never misses a thing, perfect for the gold hunt they went on in the summer with picking up the clues and helping her brother unravel the mystery, so maybe she noticed how flustered this date has him. Does it bother her? Does he bother her?

With a confirming glance back up at the movie to see nothing important happening, he can't fight the urge to speak anymore.

"Can I tell you something?"

His voice appearing through the darkness of the shut off van after spending the past half hour in complete silence makes her jolt at first before realizing who it was. Though she loves horror movies, she can't claim to not be affected by them. The night she falls asleep after watching one, she often finds herself compelled to turn a light on and keep her feet from dangling off the edge of the bed. It's worth the fear, though.

When she turns to look at JJ, there's a warm smile on her face. She's cuddled into his side with a hand placed casually atop his thigh, caressing with no purpose or intent, and her movement halts when the light from the movie on the projector allows her to see the expression on his face.

Anxiety has become an increasingly significant presence in his life with the recent events in mind; John B and Sarah, the four-hundred million dollars they lost out on, and dodging his father whenever he sneaks home to switch out the backpack of clothes and personal belongings he keeps at the Routledge house.

It manifests itself in jittery nerves, stomach pains, shortness of breath, and, at worst, panic attacks striking either at random or in response to a specific trigger. It's one of the few things he still tries to hide from her, and she tries not to push him too hard with opening up about it.

She abandons the movie for the time being and rolls onto her side to face him, upper body propped up on her elbow as she examines his face with downturned features.

"Of course," she says.

The words left unsaid are, "You can tell me anything. Whenever you need someone to listen, or to talk to about shit, you can tell me." He's heard her say it enough that he doesn't need to hear it now to know it's true.

There's a pause, then—

"I feel like I fucked this entire date up," he starts to ramble and cuts her off before she can think about saying what she wants to, "and I know it's okay to you. You have way too high of a tolerance for my bullshit, and I've been trying so hard to make this perfect, but all that did was screw it up."

She's left quiet for a second, taking it all in.

Maybe if he hadn't been so anxious about it, he would've realized what was wrong with his bike when he rode it home from school, or he would've noticed his wallet fall out of his pocket. The point is, he wishes he hadn't let the label attached to this freak him out so much. He isn't sure why it does, but it does.

But she doesn't do what he expects. She isn't drowning him in reassurances and, "It's okay's" because she knows he doesn't care for them much. When he, the most stubborn person she knows, apologizes for something he did, he doesn't want it to turn into the person accepting the apology coddling him.

Y/N sighs.

"Is that why you've been acting so different all night? I scared you with the whole ‘date’ thing, didn't I? It doesn't have to be a date if you don't want it to be."

What she doesn't know is that he wants it to be a date. He wants it to be a date so badly, he risked Pope and Kie finding them out for the sake of getting some proper advice on it, and now he's caught up in the same game of tug and war in his mind that always occurs when he wants to tell her the truth about his feelings for her.

Part of him doesn't understand why he doesn't outright say it. With every other girl he once showed interest in, he had no issues in letting them know he wanted them, but this is different. This isn't simply wanting someone, he thinks he's fallen for her. But whenever he says he's gonna grow a pair and tell her after all this time, he chokes. Involuntarily, he's reminded of his parents. Other than his friends saying it platonically, the only people to tell him they loved him were them, and with how they treated him, he sure as hell doesn't think that is love.

From his dad's brutal physical abuse to his mom's abandonment, he's too timid to tell her he loves her because of what could happen if she loves him back. Everyone else that has said that to him has either hurt him, died like John B did, or abandoned him.

He won't let that happen with him and Y/N. What they have, albeit undefined and codependent, is safe. It's the only thing he has left. Maybe it isn't right, and maybe he should open up about it to communicate the correct way, but somewhere in the misshapen logic of his mind, he correlates love to abandonment. And he doesn't want that to happen with her.

There are two sides of him at battle inside his mind. One side, the side that wants to do right by their relationship and actually communicate his feelings for once in his life, wants him to tell her everything. The other side, the side that responds based on the history of his past, wants him to hide it all.

"Will you be mad at me if we don't call it a date?" he asks.

She shakes her head.

The heavy sensation inside of JJ's chest nears a point of vitriolic violence against him as he starts to realize what he's doing to her, clearly letting her down, but he can't stop himself. Like a passive witness watching himself from outside of his body, the instantaneous trauma response to the sudden confrontation of his true feelings for her guides his actions without his permission. It shuts down any protest he has.

The sound of the movie fills the gap of silence between them the entire time. It’s a variety of bloodcurdling screams and disgusting sounds that would've made him gag if he weren't as distracted.

They can make out each other's faces through the darkness, but barely. It takes a flash of bright color from the film or a nearby car's lights turning on for them to fully see one another. Without the other knowing, they both put masks of calm and collected coolness on their faces despite the feelings raging beneath the surface—more so on his part than hers.

"Maybe," he says, pausing, "we should just keep things the way they've been."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, a soul-crushing amount of disappointment weighs her down. She said it was fine if he doesn't want it to be a date—and it is, she would never hold it against him—but that doesn't mean it can't hurt her. Things have been going so well, she almost thought...If tonight went well, she was thinking about no longer keeping it a secret, but if he said he wants things to stay the same, then maybe he isn't as ready for it as she is?

Meanwhile, JJ is on another page entirely.

She's embarrassed of being with you, a familiar voice in the back of his head croons. She's gonna leave just like everyone else does. If she doesn't even wanna tell your friends, why should you pretend you're dating?

The internal comments are the type that cause him to physically grimace when he's alone. Intrusive thoughts are just that: intrusive.

Sneaking into the guarded sanctuary of a person's mind, they set out to convince them the opposite of their reality. The only thing is, where most people's minds are guarded sanctuaries with walls of impregnable defense, his mind is the equivalent of a fortress blown to smithereens. The castle walls lay in rubble, the guards no where to be seen, and the path for these thoughts to slip past and straight to the vulnerability of his mind is left wide open.

In the privacy of his room, these thoughts attack him the most at night when he tries to fall asleep—when things get too quiet. With nobody around, when they get this bad there's nothing he can do except break down. It builds from the mere anxiety of attempting to force the thoughts away to full-blown panic attack mode. The more he resists them, the more aggressive they become. He'll gasp for air with tears streaming down his face, hitting his head with the heel of his hand as if that'd do something to stop his relentless mind.

But he can't afford to react in front of her, so the extent of his reaction is a subtle twitch of his face that she cannot see in the momentary darkness before the movie switches to another scene a second later. In a way, it does make the thoughts go away to have her here preventing him from spiraling alone. Having to focus on her keeps his mind away for moments at a time until the thoughts ease their grip on him.

When she hasn't answered for a while, he asks, terrified that he did something bad, "Are we good?"

The question seems to wake her up, snapping her out of the lonely direction her thoughts went into when he "rejected" her. It takes every bit of common sense she has left to force herself to understand that this doesn't mean he doesn't want her. He does, and not calling this a date doesn't mean they won't be together in the way they have been since John B's death, but she isn't perfect. She gets as unsure and insecure as he does.

As if the cloud of doom was lifted off of her, she makes her face lighten where she lays on her side next to him. Seeing this expression makes his chest feel less heavy, and he could let out a sigh of relief at the realization that he didn't break her heart and stomp on it. He should've known. Y/N is the sweetest person he knows, so she never would've flipped shit over him not wanting to label this as a date. That's not how she is.

And he's partly right. It isn't how she is. She would never hold it against him if he didn't want something further with her since she got herself into this position by pursuing him with his reputation with girls in mind, but she can't ignore it. Whether she wants it to or not, it had its affect on her as soon as he said it.

She leans in to kiss him, their lips meeting in the middle with the faint taste of popcorn salt mingling at the soft peck.

When she pulls away, she brushes the hair back from his face and says, "Don't worry. Nothing can change how I feel about you."

She has no clue what it feels like to hear that from her.

Despite the turmoil they unknowingly share beneath the surface due to this conversation, he could cry hearing her say it. It doesn't feel real to him that she feels the same way he does about her, because nothing could change how he feels about her either. That’s why he manages to work up the courage to repeat it back to her, and, for now, this is the closest he's physically capable of coming to telling her the truth.

"Ditto," he says.

It isn't what she wanted, but it's close enough, and if she dwells on this any longer, she might start getting too emotional and let the urge to tear up become too strong. Why does she have to be this sensitive? It's no secret that it's remarkably easy to make her cry, but this is insane to her. When all of this began with him, she didn't give a shit about him not wanting a label. She understood him, and she understood that he doesn't do this kind of thing, so why has it changed? Why doesn't she want to keep it a secret anymore? Why does she want this to be a date when she knows he doesn't want it to be?

Pulled by an invisible string back to him to silence her mind, she leans in to kiss him again with a hand cupping the back of his neck to guide him the rest of the way to her.

It shouldn't be laced with any sexual intention. She should be kissing him simply because she wants to, and, in a way, she is. Their kisses and touches are never lacking the motivation that is their underlying connection and mutual feelings for one another, but this is not the same. As he kisses her back with as much confidence and passion as always, she is reeling from the conversation that reminded her too much of a breakup.

It takes another minute of this for the kiss to heat up, their breathing becoming shallower in the moments they part to inhale, and she is undeniably the one instigating when she officially crosses the line between casual and sexual by crawling onto his lap. It's not hard for him to pick up on when their innocent moments take a turn. She's easy to read in that regard, and this has happened a multitude of times with them, so the shift of a mini make out session turning into something more is nothing out of the ordinary for them.

If he knew how shaken she is on the inside, he'd never want this. And the same would go for her if she knew what he was thinking before this. Neither of them wants to admit what they're feeling.

With her legs seated on either side of his hips, she kisses him like it's the last time she'll ever get the opportunity to. Her hands wander wherever they can, pulling at his shirt and feeling him up as his hands guide her hips to move against his in a steady grinding that she has no issue partaking in. It's an eagerness he hasn't seen from her in weeks. She's never un-excited when it comes to being physical with him either, but this is another level. The last time a girl was all over him like this, it was desperate touron at a party a few months ago.

In the span of time it takes her to glance over her shoulder to see if anyone could see them and reach to pull her skirt up until it bunches around her hips—no one can see them, by the way, since they got here late and were forced to cram the van into the back corner of the lot with no street lights illuminating the path—his brows raise at her presumptuous behavior. Not that he's one to complain, however, seeing as he's typically the one doing what she is.

Their next kiss clashes their teeth hard enough to make them wince, but he loves it. It makes him smirk into her parted mouth, alive with both the feeling her reassurance provided and the fuzzy-headed high that often finds him when they're together in this way. Incomparable to past flings or the high related to any drugs, she is the peak of everything to him. It's no contest.

His chest stutters against hers with a bout of amused laughter, asking within a brief pause in what feels like the most JJ thing he's said this awkward night, "Two for two in the Twinkie. What's gotten into you?"

Y/N's hand dips between where their bodies move together to unclasp the closed buckle of his belt in one smooth motion that has it falling apart with a clinking noise.

Her features are set with a look that tells him she means business. Whatever it is that sparked this, he wonders how the fuck to make it happen again another time. She's begged for it before, but never taken control so dominantly, and he can't deny what the role reversal does to him. The evidence is obvious in the distinct hardness she feels pressing up against the hand undoing his jeans.

"I was hoping it'd be you," she says, voice breathless and airy from the constant contact in a way that makes it ten times hotter for him.

If there were any chance of him not being in the mood prior to this, which wasn't the case anyway, it's gone now. He never wants to hear her say she doesn't deliberately try to tease him ever again.

He doesn't need to be told twice.

JJ surges forward to capture her mouth with his, this time with no intention of pulling away to breathe or speak again. No, he'll let himself get lightheaded and dizzy if it means he can stay with her for as long as possible.

With the circumstances of it all, them being visible to someone if they happened to pass by the open door of the van, they move at a pace quicker than usual. She's immediately helping him shimmy his jeans and underwear far enough down his hips to free his dick from the confines of his clothes, making him sigh out a breath of relief when her hand brushes against him in the process.

There's no opportunity to slow down, it has exploded into a full-throttle speed race that neither of them can halt.

His hand blindly flies out beside him to grope the floor of the van for the set of keys he tossed carelessly to the side once the movie started, eyes shut in the midst of the hot, messy kiss they share. His fingers find the fabric of one of the blankets they brought in case they got cold, then drifts again and lands on her Big Bird sneakers until he feels the sharp metal of her keys meet his calloused palm.

After the events of last summer, she bought a switch blade to keep on her key ring alongside the keys to the van, HMS Pogue, and Chateau. She may not like violence or weapons, seeing as she was a skeptic of JJ keeping the gun alongside her friends, but she saw it necessary. Between Rafe, Topper, and Kelce, how could she leave the safety of her and her friends up to chance knowing what some of the kooks did to them not long ago? What happened to Pope on the golf course alone was enough to make her skin crawl.

Right now, though, the knife flips out from the pressure of his thumb pushing the button to release it. He holds it out away from her at first to assure it doesn't nick her in the process, then uses his other hand to tug the side of her panties that hugs her hip far out enough to press the sharp side of the blade onto the inside of it.

She can hardly believe what she's watching as JJ cuts the delicate maroon underthings from her body as if he were doing something so normal, like it's something he's done before. Her forehead is pressed against his, her mouth parted both in shock and in a need to pant for oxygen, and she watches the knife ruin her favorite panties. The stitches come apart with a satisfying ripping noise that can hardly be heard over the sound of people reacting to the movie in the background.

Other customers of the Cherry Bowl Drive-In are too glued to the screen as a beloved character is chased down, reacting in shouts when she's seized by the killer and shoved onto the table of an industrial bread slicer, so they remain wholly unnoticed.

The lace, now ripped in half, dangles on the tip of the knife when he lifts it away from her, tosses it aside, and presses the button once more to retract the blade. It clatters to the floor, but is in no way forgotten with them resuming in a desperation to keep going until they both satisfy the need clawing at them from the inside. But her sense of need is different from his, and even with the fresh memory of him with the switch blade in mind, she's still somewhere else the whole time.

Her mind is faraway, muted through layers of sadness, anger, and disappointment as he reaches between them to line himself up to her entrance. The sensation of him running his cock, hard and messy with a few drops of precome, through her dripping pussy to coat it in her slick arousal is enough to make her moan pathetically. Yet when he's about to guide himself inside of her, she stops him.

"Wait, wait, wait," she breathes out rapidly, heart pounding so hard she can feel herself pulsating between her thighs, "Condom."

They were so antsy to get to it, they almost forgot.

"Fuck," he curses under his breath, and his eyes flicker from where they were trained between their bodies to glance back and forth around the van before it hits him. "I lost my wallet..."

But right when he thinks their public rendezvous in the back of the Drive-In is over due to his unfortunate mistake, she shakes her head and slips away from her perch astride his lap to crawl over to her bag.

She fumbles with the old tote bag and plunges her arm in to sift through the hodge podge of things that are purely Y/N in nature—stickers, glitter pens, a half-eaten bag of candy, etc—for the square foil package she decided to toss in before she left just in case. She usually doesn't keep them on her because he never fails to have one, but, thankfully, she had the random instinct to bring it tonight.

The only thing to bring her out of her cloudy, malevolent storm of feelings when she settles back onto his lap with the condom wrapper ripped open for him is him saying, "So you planned this, huh?" with his mouth tipped in a familiar self-satisfied grin.

She didn't plan it. In fact, she threw herself at him the second she sensed him withdrawing from her and can't stop herself despite the fact that she constantly feels two seconds away from letting a tear slip down her cheek. If that counts as "planning it", then sure.

"Maybe so," she answers, cool, calm, and collected—the antithesis of the truth.

They usually don't lie to each other.

They're thrown right back into it without any other hiccups once he rolls the condom on, and he takes in a shaky breath at her hand wrapping around him to align their bodies up. Before she can do anything, though, he takes chance to swipe the blanket he found a moment ago and wrap it around her back to keep her covered in case they get caught.

Y/N sinks down onto his cock with her lip caught between her teeth to stifle the sound that threatens to escape. JJ, on the other hand, doesn't bother concealing the sound of the groan he makes at the sensation of having her wrapped around him like this. The tension in her entire body from the anticipation and the looming threat of being seen by someone has her squeezing him so tightly, he can't help but be a little louder than he should.

Her soft palm slaps over his mouth with enough pressure to force his groan to quiet itself, and she watches his pretty blue eyes widen in reaction to the dominant action. Who is this girl and what has she done with his sweet, submissive Y/N? Don't get him wrong, he is very turned on by it, but it's unlike her to take the lead this way. He can't figure it out.

"What's wrong, angel?" she asks in a whisper into his ear, her hand over his mouth and her hips starting to slowly rock against him, "Watch the movie."

Once the words leave her mouth, she drops her hand, just in case he wants to stop and can't say anything because she had his mouth covered, and JJ is pretty sure he's died and gone to heaven.

He doesn't watch the movie, not at all, because he's too busy watching her. For someone losing their mind internally, she does not let it show, nor does she let it distract her from what's happening. If anything, the distraction in this situation is the sex, not what's going on inside of her head.

There's a moment of adjustment and going as slowly and gently as possible while waiting for the dull pressure of feeling him inside of her to fade away, but, for the most part, she doesn't waste any time. As soon as she feels comfortable enough with the ache between her thighs giving way to a spark of pleasure when she grinds her clit down on his pubic bone, she starts to ride him at a better pace than the initial slow movements of her hips.

She raises herself up and takes him again inch by inch, enjoying the sense of fullness she gets from having to fit him in spite of the slight discomfort at first, and she could swear that he'll leave bruises in the shape of his handprints with how tightly he clutches her hips. It's all he can do to prevent himself from moaning or saying something, ever the vocal lover she's come to know.

Unless his mouth is preoccupied like it was on the beach yesterday afternoon, JJ is usually impossible to shut up, especially in this context. With him always whispering dirty things to her, whether it be praises, pet names, or plans on what he wants to do to her, she has come to find it breathtakingly hot. He could likely get away with saying something if he wanted to, but he isn't sure he wants to risk it. If he opens his mouth to spew something filthy to her, he won't trust himself not to make a louder, different kind of noise that won't fit in the with background audio the other moviegoers are listening to.

The wet sound of their bodies colliding that fills the space of the van is drowned out by the loud and violent sequence occurring on the screen far ahead of them, and hearing it makes her bounce herself on him a little harder. She's fueled on by it all, and, strangely, what happened before she practically pounced on him is the main contributor.

Similarly to the nature of his intrusive thoughts, the harder she resists the memory of how it felt when he told her he didn't want this to be a date, the more forceful it is in its return. Her eyes trail down to watch where they connect with her forehead pressed to his, then she's thrown back into the feeling of helpless disappointment and insecurity. His head tips back against the window with his bottom lip dropped open and his brows furrowed just enough to create a crease on his forehead, and she's bombarded with the look of relief on his face when he realized he didn't have to be tied down to her with a label.

It makes her want to get rougher, harder, and she doesn't even care if it'll make her sore later on. She presses herself down so far every time she slides down on his cock, her teeth draw blood on her lip with how hard she must bite it to remain quiet. The pain of her hipbones rubbing against his doesn't even matter to either of them at this point. They're both too lost in the pleasure that has begun to take control of them to care about something as minuscule as that, or the burn in her thighs from the repetitive physical strain.

She grabs his wrist and brings his hand between them, flattening hers overtop of it and pressing down on the base of her abdomen in the midst of the increasingly feverish thrusts.

"Feel you here," she murmurs to him through a quiet moan, hoping he can hear it over the movie, and pushes down on his hand for emphasis. And if the way he reacts by cursing under his breath tells her anything, it's that he picked up on it. "JJ..."

He reaches out to grab her by the throat with his free hand and tug her forward to kiss him, as if something inside of him snapped in response to her doing that. The motions of her jolting up and down throws the already messy and uncoordinated kiss off-kilter, but they don't mind. It has them separating every time she lifts up, producing this heady little head rush from from them breathing in each other's air without actually letting their mouths meet in the middle.

Though they're trying their hardest not to alert anyone outside of what's happening, it didn't occur to him until now, when his eyes catch John B's old bandana swinging back and forth where it's secured around the rear view mirror.

They're worried about moaning while the entire fucking Twinkie is rocking with their movements. Well, at least it makes good use of the corny sticker he gifted John B last year as a gag gift. He tried to peel it off after JJ snuck it onto the side window to no avail. So, now Y/N is stuck with a sticker on her car reading, "If the van's a-rockin', come on in, we like orgies," rather than the more common phrase.

It almost makes him start laughing, and he prays no one takes that shit seriously, 'cause he is never intent on sharing this breathtaking girl. Ever.

Y/N isn't anywhere near laughing like he is, in fact, she's finding it difficult to keep herself together. She feels her eyes sting with the promise of tears, and she's never felt so pathetic before. Is she seriously about to cry during sex? Is she really that girl that is so ill-equipped to handle rejection, she can't get through it without tears?

She won't cry. Perhaps if he sees how glossy her eyes have become in a rare moment of good lighting, she can blame it on the hand around her throat putting pressure on the sides of her neck.

The worst part about her being near to crying is the timing of it.

The emotion of what she feels mentally mixes with the swirling, building sensation she feels in the pit of her stomach that tells her she's close to going over the edge, and it's so overwhelming. Was she imagining that their friendship had changed? More importantly, is this all she'll ever be to him? Sex is the only thing she's sure of with him, it's the only thing that doesn't require deeper emotions, and when the ground beneath their fragile relationship felt shaky...

He can feel her starting to unravel, and he knows that he'll come before she does if he doesn't do anything now, so he decides to take control.

JJ pulls the hand he had resting on her abdomen away as though he were burned by it, wrapping his arm around her waist to steady her body against his and using the hand around her neck for leverage to thrust up into her, effectively reducing her to a teary-eyed, moaning mess atop him. They both stopped caring about making noise the second he began to fuck her like this.

She cries out in ecstasy at the sudden change in pace and depth that has him hitting all the right places. Every time he thrusts up into her, just as rough as she wished for, the tip of his cock nudges into that perfect spot inside of her that makes her incapable of silencing her moans. This time, it's JJ that puts his hand over her mouth, letting the one he had around her neck move away to keep her from alerting everyone around them of what's happening.

There's nothing she can do to stop her climax as it barrels through her in its initial sweeping wave of bliss to contrast the venomous doubts in her mind. She's never felt such conflicting, yet powerful feelings before—the intensity of the physical pleasure that makes her whine into the palm of his hand, then the part of her mind replaying every word he said in their conversation before this.

Her body is rigid and tense through it all, squeezing down around his cock with the involuntary spasms of her orgasm, and he can't help himself anymore. All it takes are a few more frantic thrusts for him to bury himself inside of her one last time and spill into the condom, uncovering her mouth so he can drown out his own groans into a kiss.

Their skin sticks to their clothes on the inside with sweat from the exertion of their actions, and he can feel her stomach tremble where it presses up against his with each undulation of her hips that meet his as he rides it out.

But even with the added distraction of the sex, she can't rid herself of the feeling that started plaguing her as soon as things went awry. That was why he was acting weird all night. He must have been so worried about her thinking this was anything more than their typical hangouts that he couldn't bring himself to act normally.

She forces herself to look happy when they pull away from the kiss, panting, and JJ, unaware of what she's been thinking, doesn't notice the small deception.

Tag list: @gabiatthedisco

#jj maybank #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #obx #fanfiction #obx s2 #uh oh trouble in paradise #anyway that smut #kinda wanna get railed by JJ in the back of the van #don’t we all?

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