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proxima-writes · 7 months

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𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐬

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit

word count: 4.1k

summary: joel agrees to go out to tommy’s favorite bar, where he watches you ride a mechanical bull and wishes you would ride him.

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, dual POV, no defined reader age or physical appearance besides outfits, alcohol use, joel getting slapped, tommy is a little shit, first date anxiety, oral (m receiving), dirty talk, praise, pet names, girl on top, couch sex, unprotected p in v, teasing, deep throating, more men whimpering and begging 2k23. let me know if any warnings are missing!

author’s note: look, i know i’m in the middle of my spooky specials but i saw two very specific tik toks that left me with the need to write this 😵‍💫 also this post layout is inspired by @bits-and-babs, whose works and aesthetic are chef’s kiss.

“Why did you pick this place?” Joel grumbles, hand wrapped around a sweating bottle of beer. People keep jostling him as they squeeze past, forcing him to keep his elbow tight to his side to avoid having his beer be collateral damage.

“You’ll see,” Tommy says with a cryptic wink. Joel rolls his eyes.

Tommy has dragged him out to a saloon style bar, complete with swinging wooden doors and longhorn skulls decorating the walls. Everything is shiny dark wood and western motif, down to the saddle style barstools. Most of the patrons have leaned into the theme, too — tassels, leather, cowboys hats, and ostentatious belt buckles.

“Alright, ladies and gentlemen!” A man’s voice calls out over the speakers. “The show is about to begin!”

“Show?” Joel asks dubiously. Tommy only grins at him, dragging him by the arm towards the back of the bar.

He weaves through the crowd until they’re only behind a few rows of people that have gathered around a mechanical bull riding ring, of all things. The floor of the ring is inflatable and in the middle sits the brown bull figure. Joel catches his first glimpse of you, a gorgeous woman in denim cut offs standing beside the bull. Your black leather halter top plunges low to expose your cleavage and stops short of the waist of your shorts, a tantalizing strip of your stomach on display. The black leather of the top matches your black leather boots and the cuffs snapped around your wrists.

“One of Salty Saloon’s very own has stepped up to take the bull by the horns tonight!”

You lift a hand to wave, bright smile on your face as you take in the crowd. Your eyes land on Joel and for a brief moment he swears he stops breathing. He can’t hear anything the emcee is saying, all the noise around him just a dull buzz as he watches you swing yourself up onto the back of the bull.

“Alright, alright, alright! Our rider’s goal is to stay on for one minute using only one hand! If she falls before the buzzer, y’all get nothin’. But if she makes it, shots are half off for the rest of the night!”

A cacophony of cheers erupts around Joel and you straighten your spine, holding your hand out with a thumbs up. The music starts, some pop song he’s heard on the radio in the morning when he’s taking Sarah to school, and the mechanical bull turns in a slow circle. You have one hand twisted in a leather strap, the other raised above your head as the bull bucks and swings, your hips moving smoothly with the machine.

“Goddamn,” someone says from behind Joel. “I ain’t ever wanted to be a bull so bad in my life.”

Me, too, he thinks.

Your thighs press tight against the sides of the bull as it swings around, turning you to face the section of crowd Joel stands in. You release the hand grip, both hands in the air now as you rely solely on your legs and core to keep you up on the machine. When the machine turns again, you manage to lift your body and swing your legs around to reverse your position, now seated facing the back of the bull.

“Alright, ten more seconds!” The emcee calls out. The crowd starts to cheer your name and Joel can’t help but join in, eyes glued to you as you continue to swing and sway like all the movements are nothing but second nature to you.

“Three! Two! One!”

A cowbell goes off, signaling the end of your ride. The bull slows to a stop and you sit there for a moment to catch your breath, waving at the crowd. The bar owner, Johnny, comes out onto the crash pad with a huge grin on his face.

“Great job up there, kid. Now go sell some half priced shots,” he says with a good natured pat on your shoulder.

You return to the bar, where the other two bartenders scheduled tonight field the after-show rush, lining up shot glasses and filling them in quick succession with the requested liquor. When you get behind the bar, a familiar head of curly hair catches your eye.

“Tommy!” You call, excited to see one of you favorite regulars. He shouts your name as you stop in front of him.

“This is my brother, Joel!” He says, slapping the back of the man beside him. You’d seen him in the crowd, a handsome guy with broad shoulders stretching a dark blue t-shirt, warm tan skin, and messy curls that speak to the family resemblance between him and Tommy. You reach a hand across the bar, Joel’s calloused fingers dragging against your palm as you greet the man.

“It’s nice to meet you, Joel. Can I get y’all anything?” You ask. Tommy grins.

“Let me get this man a slap shot!” He yells.

You glance at Joel. “That okay with you?” You ask.

His eyes are comically wide as he nods. You step back to ring the bell behind the bar, your fellow bartenders whooping and cheering, a chant of “SLAP SHOT! SLAP SHOT!” echoing around you.

Haley sets a glass of water on the bar for you and you grab a pint glass, filling it with ice and two ounces of Jim Beam and amaretto. You smack the steel shaker on top, grabbing both glasses and shaking them vigorously over your shoulder.

You strain the contents of the shaker into a shot glass, amber liquid flowing to the brim. When you’ve got everything ready, you leave the back of the bar and squeeze your way through the crowd until you’re in front of the two brothers and can hoist yourself up onto the bar.

“Alright, Joel, are you ready?” You shout. He looks a little confused, brows pinched tight over kind brown eyes, but he nods anyway, holding his hand out for the shot glass. Tommy watches with a shit eating grin. “Three! Two! One!”

Joel takes the shot and you follow it with a glass of water to his face and a slap across his jaw in quick succession. Tommy is howling with laughter and Joel’s face is one of pure shock, red blooming across the skin of his cheek. He turns to his brother.

“Tommy, what the fuck!” Joel shouts. His hand wraps into the neck of Tommy’s shirt. “You little fuckin’ shit!”

You have the sinking realization that Joel wasn’t prepared for what a slap shot entails. You had just assumed this was something Tommy had told him about, having been to the bar so much the last few months.

Joel looks mad as hell, his shoulders tense and you worry he may actually throw a punch at Tommy. You hop from the bar and get between the two men, pressing a hand to their chests and pushing them apart.

"You, come with me," you say, pointing to Joel. "And you," -- you jab a finger into Tommy's chest -- "are on my shit list."

You take Joel by the hand and guide him to the back office, shutting the door and muffling the noises of the bar beyond it. His face is still dripping wet and the water dripping from his chin has gathered into a sizeable spot on the collar of his shirt.

"I am so, so sorry," you start, rifling through the storage cabinet for a bar towel. You hold it out to him, avoiding his gaze. "Tommy comes here so much that I just thought he'd told you about what a slap shot was. I should have told you, oh my god."

"Hey, it's okay. I ain't mad at you," Joel says, running the towel over his damp face. "Tommy, though. I'm gonna kick his fuckin' ass later."

"Still," you mumble, twisting your hands together nervously. "I'm sorry. Is your cheek okay?"

He rubs the towel over his head to dry his hair a bit, the action leaving him adorable mussed, curly strands sticking up in every direction. You're staring at him, maybe a little too much, but who can blame you? The man is hot.

"Yeah, trust me. I've had worse," Joel replies with a laugh.

"You get slapped by women often?" You tease.

"The number of times ain't just one."

"Oh, a bad boy. Mama warned me about guys like you."

He laughs again, long and low, running a hand through his hair. "Well, thank you for the towel."

"Right. And your next drink is on me. As an apology," you tell him.

"I'd rather get your number," he says. "You know, as an apology."

You raise your eyebrows at him before turning to the manager's desk, grabbing a marker and tugging the cap off with your teeth. You slide a hand down his arm, lifting his forearm up so that you can write down your number across the smooth, tan skin.

"I'm off next weekend," you comment when you've recapped the marker.

"I'll keep that in mind," Joel replies with a grin.

Joel's nervous as he waits outside of your apartment building in his truck, fingers tapping a nameless tune against the steering wheel. It's Saturday night and he's here to pick you up for dinner at a restaurant in downtown Austin, one that required he dig out the old black button down he keeps shoved in the back of his closet for parent-teacher conferences and funerals.

The front door to your building opens and you emerge, dressed in a pretty red wrap dress and black heels. Joel gets out of the truck and jogs around to the passenger side to open the door for you and he's surprised when you lean up and kiss him on the cheek.

"Hey," you say in greeting, climbing into the truck and settling into the passenger seat, your purse on your lap. Joel can't help the dopey grin that's surely stretched across his face.

“Hey, yourself. You look nice,” he replies. He shuts the door and jogs around the the driver’s side.

“You don’t look so bad either,” you tell him as he starts the truck up. He can feel his cheeks get warm and he hopes that you can’t see him the proof of his nerves in the dark cab.

At the restaurant, the host leads you both to a small table towards the back of the restaurant, pristine white tablecloth topped with a small vase of flowers and a flickering votive candle. A waiter in a white button down comes by to take your drink orders before disappearing the the kitchen, leaving the two of you regarding each other in silence.

“Look, I gotta be honest about somethin’,” Joel says, leg bouncing beneath the table. “I’ve got a kid. Sarah, she’s thirteen. Light of my life, you know?” He takes a deep breath before finishing with, “And I don’t think I’ve even been on a date since she’s been born, so this is just…a little new to me.”

“You have a kid?” You ask. For a moment Joel worries that he may have ended this before it could even get a chance to begin, but then your face lights up with a sweet smile and you ask, “Will you tell me about her?”

Joel does. In between ordering and eating your delicious meals, you and Joel discuss anything and everything. He tells you about Sarah and his contracting work, while you tell him about your full time job as a pharmacy technician, the gig at the bar a part time thing on some weekends. He nearly makes you snort your water out of your nose with a story about rescuing Tommy from the bathroom of the girl he’d been seeing when her long distance boyfriend, who Tommy didn’t know existed, showed up at her apartment.

“Oh my god,” you exclaim breathlessly. “And he just jumped out of the bathroom window?”

“To be fair, she had a first floor unit,” Joel confirms. “His royal pain in the ass still made me take him to urgent care because he thought he broke his ankle.”

“You’re a good brother,” you say with a smile. Joel feels the warmth of it in his veins.

After dinner, the ride back to your place is quiet, the comfortable silence filled with the low music from the radio. In a moment of bravery, Joel reaches over and lays a hand on your low thigh, just above your knee as he drives. He refuses to look over at you, but from the corner of his eye he sees you look down at his hand before looking back out the window.

He counts that as a win.

He pulls up the curb outside your apartment and kills the engine. You speak before he has a chance to agonize over what to say.

“Will you walk me to my door?” You ask.

He feels relief and anxiety in one fell swoop. He agonizes internally over whether to kiss you goodnight as he follows you up the stairs to your apartment, the buzzing in his brain momentarily silenced while he watches your hips sway as you climb the steps.

You stop on the second floor, guiding him down a long hallway to a door marked with a black metal number three. You turn to face him, looking up at him through your lashes.

“This is me,” you murmur. Joel swallows nervously.

“Right. I, uh…I had a really great time tonight,” he says.

“Would you…want to come inside?”

Joel’s brain short circuits. “Would I—? Yeah.”

You turn to unlock the door, pushing into your apartment and Joel follows you inside. The apartment is dark but you quickly turn on the lights as you move further inside, illuminating an open living room with a dining nook. There’s a door off to the right that he assumes is your bedroom and an open kitchen to the left. It’s small, but it’s cozy, bursting with colors and fabrics and mismatched furniture.

“Well, this is home,” you say with a shrug. You set your purse down on the small circular dining table. “Can I get you anything to drink? I’ve got beer, some liquor on the bar cart over there if you want to have a look.”

“Beer is fine,” Joel says, taking a seat on the comfy looking couch. You return with a bottle of beer, passing it to him before settling in beside him, kicking off your heels and drawing your legs up beneath you.

He takes a sip, fortifying his nerves. He wasn’t lying when he said it’s been a long time since he’s been on a date, but even sex has been a distant thought for the last year or so. He doesn’t want to mess this up.

“So,” you start, your elbow pressed into the back couch cushion while you lean your face into the palm of your hand. “You wanna know what I think?”

“��Bout what?” Joel asks.

“You.”

“You got a report card ready for me already?”

“I think” — you take the beer bottle from his hand, setting it on the coffee table — “you’ve spent a long time being a caretaker. Right? You’ve got Tommy, who was already a handful. Your daughter, who’s obviously priority number one. You’ve got a business to worry about, workers to care for.” You shuffle closer on your knees, swinging a leg over his and settling yourself onto his lap. “This okay?” You ask.

“Yeah,” he replies, probably a bit too enthusiastically. His fingers curl into the couch cushions and he wants to reach up to wrap his hands around your waist but he’s not sure if he should.

You play with the collar of his shirt. “What do you think about having someone take care of you for a change?”

Joel’s stomach flips, cock jumping in interest as the blood in his brain rushes south and leaves him only capable of responding with a mumbled, “Oh?”

“I just think you deserve someone treating you real nice,” you say with a shrug. Deft fingers work at undoing the buttons of his shirt. “Especially when I was so mean when we met, slapping you across the face like I did.”

“Told you not to worry ‘bout that,” he replies, head dropping against the back cushions. “S’not like I didn’t like it.”

“You like to be roughed up a little, Mr. Miller?”

“Maybe.”

Your grin is wicked as you drag your nails down the now exposed skin of his chest. He hisses at the sting of it.

“Interesting,” you murmur. You lean close, chest pressed against his, hands coming up to frame his face. Your nails scratch through his beard now and he groans his appreciation.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks. “Please?”

You respond by pressing your lips to his, chaste as first. Your mouths move together slowly, feeling each other out. It’s you that takes it deeper, tracing your tongue over his bottom lip and dipping it inside to tangle with his. He wraps his arms around your low back, holding you tightly in his lap as he consumes you, drunk on the feeling of your breath in his lungs.

You drags yours lips away from his with a slick sound, trailing them along his jaw and towards his ear. You nip at his earlobe, teeth gentle and breath hot before whispering, “Can I suck your cock, Joel?”

A whimper claws it’s way up Joel’s throat as he nods, already unable to form words. He’s no stranger to turning into a puddle for a pretty woman but he’s certain this must be a new record.

You slip from his lap and kneel on the floor, pushing his legs apart so that you can settle in between them. Your hands reach for his belt, tugging on the buckle and pulling it loose so that you can pop the button of his jeans and tug the zipper down, the metallic sound loud in the quiet room.

Your fingers curl into the waist of his jeans and Joel lifts his hips a bit to aid you in tugging them halfway down his thighs. His cock tents his boxers in an obscene way, a wet spot already staining the fabric. You run your palms up his thighs before bracketing his member between your hands, lightly running your thumbs up his length.

“Christ,” Joel says, teeth digging into his lip.

“That feel good?” You ask.

“Uh huh.”

You smile beatifically before leaning forward, warm breath on his covered cock as you press gentle kisses through the fabric. Joel’s hips twitch and he lets out a deep groan.

You tug the elastic of his boxers over his length, tucking it beneath his balls. He’s practically vibrating with need but you continue to take your sweet time, pressing more kisses along his shaft, tracing the tip of your tongue over the prominent vein.

“You have a pretty cock, Joel,” you say, wrapping your hand around the base of him to hold him steady. It’s a struggle to keep his eyes open but he doesn’t want to miss the sight of your tongue lapping at the bead of precum gathered on his flushed tip, or the way your own eyes flutter shut as you let out a little moan of appreciation.

You wrap your lips around his cock, taking him inch by agonizing inch into your warm mouth and Joel feels any semblance of sanity disappear from his lust clouded brain. Your eyes stay fixed on him as take him in as far as you can, throat fluttering around the sensitive head when you swallow before pulling up, twirling your tongue around the tip, and plunging back down.

“Christ,” Joel groans, reaching out to cup your cheek. “You look so goddamn good like that.”

You lift off his cock and take it in your hand, moving it across your lips as you ask, “Like what?”

“Chokin’ on my cock, sweetheart,” he growls.

“That was nothing.”

Joel’s about to ask what you mean when you lower your mouth over his length once more. He can feel you flatten your tongue, your throat and jaw relaxing enough to take him to the very base, your nose tickling the wiry curls on his pelvis. He moans as you swallow around him, breathing through your nose and holding yourself there for a moment before coming up with a gasp, tears gathered in the corners of your eyes and spit making your chin shiny in the low light.

“So…I could keep doing this,” you tell him, “or…”

“Or?” He asks.

“Or…you could let me make us both feel good.”

You stand up, your hands untying the knot that holds your dress together so you can push it off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a heap. You push your panties down your legs and unhook your bra, leaving you gloriously naked in front him, every inch of you like a piece of art meant to be admired. Joel’s hands, greedy and unfulfilled up until now, reach up to grip your hips and pull you onto his lap, your pussy hot and wet against his cock. He lets his hands wander over every inch of exposed skin, relishing the way your ass fits in his palms and the way you hiss when his thumb caresses a tight nipple.

“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he moans, his lips against your rapid pulse, teeth ghosting the thin skin of your neck. “Need you so bad, baby.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” you whisper, reaching between your bodies to hold his throbbing cock steady, notching it at your soaked entrance and beginning a slow slide down.

Joel is panting against your sweat slick chest, mumbling desperate words into your skin as you take him inside of you as slowly as you can, thighs burning with the effort. When you’ve finally seated yourself on his lap, his head drops back to the cushion, eyes squeezed shut tightly and fingers nearly bruising on your thighs.

“Don’t move, don’t move, don’t move,” he begs. “Oh, fuck, feels so good.”

Where he’s desperate for you to stay still, you’re already desperate to move. His cock is perfect, thick and long with a slight upward curve, pressing up against your g-spot with stunning accuracy. You’re certain this won’t last long for either of you.

You rock slowly, forward and back, little movements of your hips. Joel lifts his head, looking down at where your bodies are connected with dark eyes. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, tangling your fingers in his hair and giving it a sharp tug that has him hissing your name.

You start to move more quickly, rolling your body in smooth waves over his. He’s panting as he looks up at you, sweat gathering at his temple, and his hands grip your ass and follow your movement reverently.

“So fuckin’ good,” he moans, “you’re gonna make me come, baby, goddamn.”

You speed up, bouncing on his lap now. Your couch creaks the slightest bit, protesting your movements, but you don’t care — all you care about is the man beneath you and the desperate little noises spilling from his lips as you make good on your promise to take care of him.

“Touch me,” you command. “I’m so close, Joel, please.”

He’s a good listener, your Joel, his thumb immediately finding your clit and circling it with messy movements that drive you wild, that tension in your muscles coiling tighter. Joel’s hips flex into yours with each drop down his length, the room echoing with the lewd sounds of skin against skin and the chorus of whimpers that spill from both of you.

“Joel, Joel, Joel,” you chant. He wraps his arms around you, really thrusting into you now as your own movements falter and you collapse forward, head buried against his neck as you come, trembling with the strength of it.

It’s not long after that he goes still, cock pulsing inside of you as the aftershocks of your orgasm wash over you. You stay slumped against each other, catching your breaths and waiting for your racing hearts to come back down to earth.

“That was…,” Joel says with a breathless laugh that shakes his chest. His fingers play up and down your back, soothing and gentle. “Goddamn, that was amazin’.”

“Yeah?” You ask, lifting your head. You smooth his messy hair back from his forehead. “You weren’t so bad either.”

He nips at your neck in retaliation, making you laugh and squirm away from him.

“Do you have to get going?” You ask.

“No,” he replies. “Tommy’s watchin’ Sarah for me tonight. He owes me one. Besides, I’m ain’t done with you yet.”

“No?”

“Not even close, darlin’.”

Joel Miller masterlist

All masterlists

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #no use of y/n #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel fic #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel miller the last of us #pedro pascal character

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yanderestarangel · 1 month

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HEADCANONS JKK | DILF!NANAMI KENTO

A/N: It was very strange writing this to the sound of "snowy", sometimes I question my musical choices for inspiration ╰⁠(⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠´⁠꒳⁠`⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠⸝⁠)⁠╯

TW: afab anatomy, ftm reader, fluff, soft!dom nanami, hard!dom nanami, gentle sex, rough sex, v!sex, fingering, praise, body worship, age gap, vulnerable!kink, degradation, daddykink, eat out, mild bdsm.

♡ SFW :

He is a man so tired of the life of working and being a wizard at the same time that he just needs a release. You are his younger partner, a few years younger than the forty-year-old man. He was afraid at the beginning of the relationship because he didn't think he was as attractive as men his age, but as time went by he saw how much you loved that he was older than you, there was a charm in every dark circle cold expression on his frown that was too sexy in your eyes.

You'll also have to keep him updated on things that happen in your social circle ── he doesn't really mind but seeing you smile and talk so excitedly about a certain topic also makes him happy and much more relaxed from the daily routine. He doesn't understand half of the slang you and Gojo say when you get together, but he doesn't mind at all (just don't call him 'boomer' Satoru already does that a lot and it gets on the blonde's nerves.)

He likes to be greeted by you when he gets home. It may be a simple gesture but it fills your chest with a warm and fulfilling feeling as he kisses you on the top of your head, smelling you while an almost invisible smile appears on his tired face. "Did you behave while I was gone baby?" Nanami spoke with a hoarse and low voice, listening attentively to you about your day while smiling when he saw that at least his daily effort was worth it because it could give you a more tolerable and comfortable life. Even though he was tired, he would help you with dinner, lightly rambling about how tiring his day was and what you could do at the weekend.

If you mention that you saw something you liked in a store, Nanami will immediately write down the address and go buy what you want ── even if he works extra hours to pay all the installments, your smile is more important to him. "All for my boy right?" He would speak in a calming voice to your nerves, while his fingers tilted on your shoulder as a gesture of tender affection coming from the older man.

♡ NSFW :

The first few times you two fuck he will be a gentleman to you ── calling you "my sweet", "pretty little thing", "darling", "prince", "pretty boy"; talking about how your moans are the most beautiful thing he has heard. "Keep moaning boy... I want to hear everything from you." "What a beautiful voice you have, moan my name darling and let me hear more, say my name when you cum ok?" These would be some of the several phrases that Nanami would say while inserting two thick fingers into your swollen and wet pussy from the exaggerated stimulation he would do to your body.

He likes to eat out you, seeing you tremble and suffocate him between your soft thighs makes the blonde's cock practically cum without even entering you. He sucks your clit running his tongue in circles while his calloused hands keep your legs wide open for his warm ministrations ── Kento will whisper praises against your pussy making you shiver with each vibration welcome to your sensitive flesh. The blonde finds it cute the way you rub your hips desperately against his lips, making him place kisses on your abdomen and connect your lips, separating the kiss seconds later and looking directly into your eyes, watery with pleasure.

"Looks like you're in a hurry boy... Come on, come and ride my face, don't worry about your weight I can really handle it." Nanami moaned as he watched you obey his request and sat gently on his face ── your sweet smell and wet juices, the sound of your voice begging him 'not to stop' was like heaven to him. Nanami just wanted to make you ready for his cock.

When you reach your second orgasm of the night ─ crying and turning into a beautiful, stimulated mess for him, Nanami will finally shove his cock in your little pussy, moaning hoarsely and privately in your ear. "You can handle this, can't you little boy? You're going to cum on my dick again." Kento would groan, hands resting on the sides of your head on the mattress as he looked directly at every reaction you gave him ── from your breasts bouncing with each thrust of his hips, to the sight of your open mouth salivating and smearing your sheets, until your wet hole sucking his cock back into your throbbing heat. "Desperate to get fucked but too shy to do anything about it... my pretty little angel can't do anything but blush. Do you love my cock in you so much?" He smiled, as he accelerated his movements, intertwining your hand with his, feeling his balls hit your ass, making a slow, lazy wet noise.

However, if you want him to be rude and take out all the anger and stress on your body, Kento will do it with all the strength he has suppressed for years. Tying you with his tie and gagging your mouth with your own underwear ── you are not allowed to speak or ask for anything, at that moment you are his personal toy.

You saw Nanami's veins stand out from his forehead, neck and arms as he approached the edge of the bed, roughly opening your thighs ── your once gentle and sweet boyfriend gave way to a sadistic and cold dominator. He couldn't help but laugh when he saw your little fucked face just looking at him ── dazed and shaking, your pussy milking the air as he slapped your thigh hard, going to squeeze your breasts as you moaned against the fabric and tasted it of your own humidity. "That's what you get for being such a good boy." His voice was serious, as you watched him take the panties out of your mouth and take his cock out of his pants.

Kento would also have vulnerable!kink, meaning you will be totally naked while he will be clothed yet just taking his member out of his clothes and fucking you ── completely trapped by the weight of his body, gripping the sheets and whimpering as he pounds into your cunt, treating you like a personal cum dump. He would be rude and say the most vulgar things you had ever heard from anyone, the gentleman in him was gone with every thrust he made on your body. "You're nothing more than a pathetic cum dumpster," he hissed, his voice filled with biting contempt. "Do you like being degraded, my obedient whore?" he taunted, a sadistic gleam in his eyes.

He would fuck you to the point where you couldn't feel your legs anymore. With final painful strokes he breeds your pussy as he watches you cry his name. "shh... I got you boy, you were a good boy for daddy ok?" He spoke, returning to normal, holding your trembling body. After the rough treatment, you will be looked after like a prince by him ─ he will clean your body by giving you hot kisses on your face and offering you water. Kento would take you to the bathroom and clean up the traces of sex, while stroking your hair. "Sleep now, honey, I'll be here when you wake up." You knew he would be there like he promised.

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il-miele-che-scrive · 2 months

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the one where Y/n and Lando used to hookup and then fell out... or did they?

lowkey inspired by the interview where Oscar talks about spending time with his gf and Lando goes "awww" cus it got my brain making up scenarios

yourusername Maybe I was too much but you could've been more and we both know it

view all comments

yourfriend1 Situationship survivor 💔

username1 Ah, she's posting half naked pics means they're done

yourfriend2 Girl I didn't cry that much over a 3 years long relationship

↳yourusername I'm not crying lmao

yourfriend2 We need to go on a girls trip

yourfriend1 I second this!!

username2 Lando's loss tbh

username3 Not Carlos nonchalantly in the likes 👀

↳username4 I can't believe he would take Lando's leftovers

username5 You two can chill, Y/n and Carlos have been friends, they're not gonna end it because of a failed situationship

username3 Exactly! Maybe they'll become something more...

username5 Carlos is Lando's best friend, he wouldn't do it to him

username3 I mean it's not like Y/n was his gf or anything, they were just hooking up

username5 Yeah maybe also say it was her fault she caught feelings after he did all the things mentioned on the 2nd pic

username6 How could he not wanna make it official with HER?

↳username4 He's rich and famous, he can have 10 girls like her if he wanted to

username7 It makes me feel better about being in a situationship myself knowing Y/n also went through it

↳yourusername Girl it's a sign to leave him, don't waste your time

username7 It's just for the plot 🤭

yourusername NOT worth it

username8 Stay strong, I promise it gets better and one day you'll find someone who'll truly care about you

↳yourusername Already did ❤️ @/yourfriend1 @/yourfriend2

username9 Well, I guess a relationship was a bit too much for little Lando Norris

landonorris Catching little feelings, thought we had arrangements

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username1 HOW DARE HE????

↳username2 I guess men just have the audacity 🥲

yourfriend1 When you act like you're in a relationship with her so she thinks you wanna be in a relationship with her 🙄

↳username3 That's Y/n's best friend right there 😭

maxfewtrell Drunk Lando is the worst Lando I've ever had to deal with

↳landonorris we both know that's a lie cmon

angryginge13 I forgot how fun it is to go out with you

↳maxfewtrell I swear something got into him lately, like sure he always loved to party but have you seen how drunk he was?

angryginge13 tbh I barely remember that night lol

username4 AHA so Lando is also going through it

username5 as 👏 he 👏 should 👏

username6 What's wrong with men these days? All I see are situationships, fwbs, ons, what happened to feelings? What happened to love?

↳username7 I guess dating apps messed up our perception of relationships

username6 This is sad.

username8 Well, at least Y/n isn't out getting drunk

↳username9 We can't be sure, we know all she wants us to know, her life can be totally different than what she shows on social media

username10 They had arrangements as he said, it's her fault she fell in love

↳yourfriend1 Oh will you all just shut up?

username10 Someone's mad lol

username11 So many people idolizing Lando just because he can drive a fast car in circles but in reality he's just your average brit in his 20s with commitment issues

↳username12 He's still young, he doesn't have to get in a serious relationship if he doesn't want to

username11 But it was wrong of him to lead Y/n on

username12 Just as someone said already - not his fault that she caught feelings. These typa things aren't for everyone. Or maybe she was hoping he'll fall in love or something

username11 Yeah? How is it that men these days want the benefits of a relationship without the responsibilities?

username12 Did he force her into it? Nope. She could've said no it's not my thing bye. But she didn't. She stayed with him

username11 If you wanna have sex without commitment just pay for it, it's still a thing. You can't have stuff like this for free, at the cost of another person's feelings

A month later

yourusername Kisses to my exes who don't give a shit about me

view all comments

yourfriend1 I'm glad you feel better now ❤️

↳yourusername I feel so much more alive now

username1 They all slaaaaay

yourfriend2 Remind me, why haven't we done this kinda trips before?

↳yourusername Cuz we're stupid 🫶

yourfriend1 We're not stupid, we're sillymates

yourusername Fuck soulmates when you can have sillymates

yourfriend2 Stupid choices were made tho

yourusername Neither of you stopped me lmao

carlossainz55 Wasn't it a little too cold to sit on the balcony like this?

↳yourusername The wine warmed us up!!

carlossainz55 Text me if you're ever curious about other ways to warm yourself up *this comment has been deleted*

carlossainz55 Good to know you're having fun!🍷

username3 Carlos, everyone saw that comment you deleted...

username2 Where's the person who said Carlos wouldn't do that to Lando? WHERE?!

username4 Y/n should post to the song enough for you, particularly this part "cause someday I'll be everything to somebody else"

↳username5 Ngl I feel like most Olivia's songs would fit her situation right now

maxfewtrell That looks familiar...

↳username5 Nah boy, get the hell out of this comment section

username6 Wait, let him speak, maybe he has new information

username7 I need to know what stupid choices is Y/n talking about and what Max means 😭

↳username8 They're feeding us breadcrumbs and they know what they're doing

landonorris ice spice ❄

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charles_leclerc Ice ice baby 😂❄️

maxfewtrell The gossip pages gonna love this one

↳username1 So that's what Max meant when he said it looked familiar

username2 I'll wait for further explanation 😶

username3 I refuse to believe Y/n went through all the heartbreak just to hook up with him again in Finland

↳username4 Well, she liked this post so...

username3 She got the Stockholm syndrome or what? 😭

username5 At this point she deserves this

username6 @/yourusername I am very disappointed in your actions

↳username3 Bro casually tagging Y/n like she's gonna answer

↳username3 Btw it's not confirmed that they hooked up again

username7 Pls don't break her heart again

username8 I get a little heart attack every time Lando posts

username9 Guys it doesn't make sense, Y/n wouldn't go to Finland with Lando AND with her girls

↳username2 What if they went there separately and just happened to run into each other?

username9 Yeah, because there's no other places to go skiing. Someone had to arrange it or something, it cannot be a coincidence

username2 Look, the universe works in weird ways, do you know the invisible string theory?

username9 Oh no you're one of these people? 🤡

username2 All I'm saying is to me they seem like 'right people, wrong time' and maybe finally the timing is right for them

username7 No no no Y/n deserves way better, Lando is too toxic for her

username2 Do you know him? Maybe he was going thru something and it just wasn't the time for him to be in a relationship

username9 A delusional yapper is what you are

yourusername Back home with a new passion

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yourfriend1 You gotta stop feeding me these 😭

↳yourusername What, you don't like them? 🥹

yourfriend1 I love them, that's the issue!!

username1 And Lando isn't with her

↳username2 Why would he be?

username1 I think everyone thought they're together again after Finland

username2 They were NEVER together

yourfriend2 Can you get your asses out of here?

landonorris Looks delicious (the food too)

↳username3 DON'T GIVE ME HOPE

username4 Don't worry, it's just an average text from a situationship you'd get after weeks of no contact

username5 Usually followed up by "you busy tonight?"

↳username6 Ariana what are you doing here

↳username7 Man saw that comment Carlos deleted and decided to gatekeep

username5 Bet that's not the only thing he did when he saw that

username7 wdym 😭

username5 There's no way they didn't fuck

↳username8 fr a way to mark his territory

↳yourfriend1 She said she blocked you after Finland

landonorris She didn't😁

yourfriend1 I'll make sure she does now

landonorris She won't😌

username7 We need to know what happened in Finland 😭

username1 I wish he would share the secret

username2 Yeah, Oscar, don't be shy, share it with the class

username3 My bet is Y/n let Lando manipulate her again

↳username4 They're both adults like Y/n sweetie just say no it's that easy

username5 I'm gonna manifest Y/n and Lando announcing a relationship soon 🕯

username6 I mean have y'all seen Lando? I'm NOT surprised Y/n keeps coming back even if he's doing just the bare minimum

↳username7 He's average. The fact that he's famous and has money makes him more attractive

username6 Do you think he pays Y/n for... you know?

username7 🤷‍♀️

username8 Words cannot express how much this man gets on my nerves

↳username9 Same like man stop being blind and see that Y/n is gf material, not some hookup to be used and left

username10 I wish Oscar would've spoken😭

username11 Get your shit together Lando

↳username12 Well maybe Y/n doesn't mind

username11 It didn't seem like it

username12 People change 🤷‍♀️

username11 I wish Lando would've been the one to change 🙏

username13 Lando has NO RIGHT to speak on other people's relationships being a walking definition of commitment issues himself

↳username14 chill yo tits, I think he truly thought what Oscar said was cute

yourusername We turned out to like each other way more than we originally planned

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yourfriend1 I'm tired of you both already

maxfewtrell It's gonna be one of those "they still together?" kinda relationships

↳yourusername We plan on being an insufferable pain in the ass together just for you 🫶

maxfewtrell I see Lando is already changing you for the worse

landonorris the process began way earlier

maxfewtrell But you didn't have the balls to commit

↳yourfriend2 She deserves so much better

yourfriend1 Yeah @/yourusername deserves so much better, I wish she would've read the comments

carlossainz55 Congrats, you finally tamed him👏

yourusername I hate you both ❤️

↳landonorris wow, I love supportive friends

yourfriend2 Who said we're your friends?

yourfriend1 We have to tolerate your ass but it doesn't mean we're suddenly friends

↳landonorris You've been waiting to see this happen

carlossainz55 Of course, I've been telling you to get a girlfriend for so long now

↳username1 ekhm...

↳username2 We will never forget

username3 HOW DOES IT FEEL TO LIVE MY DREAM?

username4 Miss girl needs to share her manifestation techniques with us

oscarpiastri Don't have to thank me

↳landonorris Yup, you did nothing

↳yourusername Thank you Oscahhh

username5 I MANIFESTED IT 🕯

yourusername For our 6 months anniversary we forced our friends to go camping with us 🏕

view all comments

yourfriend1 It wasn't as bad as I thought

↳angryginge13 Worse?

yourfriend1 Oh definitely

landonorris I'm really surprised they got along

↳maxfewtrell What other choice we had?

↳yourfriend2 Anything for Y/n tbh

↳yourfriend1 Still doesn't mean we don't hate you

yourfriend2 Yeah, good friends will always say 'but she deserves better' (she really does)

maxfewtrell I didn't expect you to last that long

↳yourusername Excuse me? 🤨

maxfewtrell You know, it's Lando

yourusername I guess you're right lmao

landonorris Now what is that supposed to mean?

yourusername Nothing, don't be mad❤️

↳landonorris That's what she said

yourusername NO IT'S NOT WTF 😭

oscarpiastri What if I tag along the next time?

↳yourusername I'd be happy 🫶 if you bring Lily as well it would be perfect

username1 WAR IS OVER

username2 I love how winter break is always pure chaos and summer break is just fun and chill

danielricciardo When can I join you though?

↳landonorris I promise next time I visit you in Australia it'll be with Y/n

yourusername You didn't even ask me...

landonorris Well, do you wanna go?

yourusername DUH

↳username3 No cuz these pics have strong Danny Ricc energy, I'm surprised he wasn't there

username4 The friend groups were forced to unite, I'm afraid they're together for life (I'm manifesting🤞)

↳username5 I hope they are, I feel like Lando really matured with Y/n by his side

username4 He went from "I don't wanna mature, I'm happy where I am" to this 😭

username6 I wish all situationships would turn out like this

↳username7 World would be a better place

username8 Right people right time❤️

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #F1 smau #formula 1 smau #formula 1 social media au #f1 social media au #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris smau #lando norris social media au

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fangswbenefits · 10 months

Text

Tracking

𓂅 𓄹 Summary: You find out Miguel has been tracking something that concerns you… and him.

𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Breeding kink. Period talk. Miguel going all scientific and keeping track of fertility windows for maximum efficacy. Dry humping. Inspired by this ask.

Miguel was in a bad mood that afternoon. You could see it coming a mile off, because having spent that much time around him over the past years had revealed many warning signs.

The circular platform was lowered all the way down to the floor by the time you walked past the door.

Miguel not turning to acknowledge your presence was warning sign number one.

You strode up to it warily, as if expecting him to explode at any given moment. Trying to lighten the mood, you tip toed to place a sweet kiss to his cheek.

He grumbled in response.

Warning sign number two.

His eyes were fixed on the multiple of screen sprawled in a half-moon in front of him, occasionally tapping and moving them around when needed.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” you teased.

“I’m nearly done here.”

“Hello to you, too, grumpy,” you nudged his arm with a smile.

Miguel merely nodded.

Warning sign number three.

At this point, you figured something was definitely going on.

“What’s up?”

“Hmm?”

You sighed. “You look and sound off.”

He tapped on a screen to his left. “You’re on your period.”

“What?”

Usually, that sort of remark would earn any man a slap at worst or a ‘fuck you’ at best. There was no shortage of men who would use women’s hormones as an easy way to deflect their feelings.

But there was something in Miguel’s tone that resembled… disappointment?

He scowled deeply, turning to face you. “You’re not pregnant.”

You stared at him for a long time, before bursting into laughter. “Is that why you’re all grumpy?”

“Oh, you think this is funny?” Miguel’s eyes narrowed, his scowl deepening.

You stopped at once. “Wait… how would you know that?”

He returned his attention to the hovering screens in front of him. “Know what?”

“That I’m on my period?” you asked, suspicion rising inside you. “And I still haven’t gotten it, by the way.”

And just like that, Miguel’s crimson eyes were on you expectantly. “Why didn’t you tell me right away?”

You folded your arms while tapping your foot lightly. “No. You answer me first.”

Miguel knew better than to antagonise you, especially now that you had information that interested him.

Dragging his index finger across the panel, you saw a file pop up with your name. That didn’t seem odd at all. Every spider in Nueva York was required to have one that displayed several strategic details as well as bio data that was fed by the dimensional travel watch. Your heart rate was at a steady 67 beats per minute.

“What about it?”

He tapped on a second tab that read ‘Fertility’.

Nothing could have prepared you for the influx of information you were about to be bombarded with.

And what it concerned.

July 4th

Cycle day 1 - low chance of pregnancy

Fertility window - 12 to 18

Ovulation day - 17 (high chances of pregnancy)

“You’re tracking my period?!” you snapped in utter disbelief.

“I’m tracking your fertility window.”

You glared at him. “How is that any different?”

“It’s not. Just nomenclature,” he shrugged casually as if talking about the change of weather outside.

You shot Miguel a death glare, before shoving him to the side, gaining full access to the flickering orange screen. The data collected went back as far as three months ago.

Miguel had been tracking your fertility window for months now.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He shifted to stand behind you, easily towering with his impressive height. “It’s my responsibility to get you pregnant.”

Your eyes widened partially in disbelief, but mostly at the realisation that this shouldn’t be a shocking revelation.

Miguel had to be in control at all times. It was embedded in his genetic code. A few months ago you had casually joked that you wouldn’t mind having a child soon.

It seemed that it was all the motivation he needed to begin his quest.

Now it made perfect sense why he had been so insistent on always cumming inside you. You just didn’t think he would be this dedicated.

Joke’s on you.

“But it seems the data is wrong,” he said lowly, arms circling around you to have his hands atop yours on the keyboard. “You can edit it,” he whispered, pressing himself fully against you.

The added pressure pushed your lower half gently against the control table, his thumb caressing the back of your hand.

“Are you trying to seduce me, so I ignore all of this?” you whispered, enjoying how the proximity was having a noticeable effect on his cock.

He rolled against you slowly. “Me? Of course not.”

His fingers intertwined with yours, and you watched your heart rate on the screen soar to 78 beats per minutes.

You fought back a whimper, as he was nipping at your neck, fangs lightly poking at sensitive skin. You could feel the hard print of his cock pressed against the curve of your ass, and as you bucked your hips instinctively, you felt his own meet you halfway, setting a slow rhythm.

90 beats per minute.

“Let me get a blood sample so I can test out,” he said, his erection pressed against your ass.

“Someone really wants to be a dad,” you said with a teasing smile.

99 beats per minute.

His other hand came to grip your jaw, tilting your head until you met his eyes. “I need you to get pregnant.”

Your breath was coming out in shallow pants as he kept humping you at a steady and torturous pace.

“You mean… you need to breed me, right?”

109 beats per minute.

His eyeds widened lightly and he thrusted harshly into you, causing a jolt of pleasure to travel all the way down to your clit. “That’s the same thing, cariño.”

You gave him a knowing smile. “Nomenclature and all that.”

Masterlist

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n

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tojipie · 6 months

Text

content: gentleman! shiu x fem reader, asshole! toji x fem reader :((, smut, blowjobs, semi-public, soft n loving !, creampie, cunnilingus, vvv minimal degradation

1.1k words !

format was loosely inspired by this lovely jaw breaking scrumptious post written by the extra talented satocidal

the two men in your life were dual sides to a deliciously sinful scale, bringing two vastly different creeds to the bedroom. keep just one, and the scale shifts, leaving you unfulfilled. keep both, and watch as they balance in perfect equilibrium.

˚ ✧ ───────────

shiu likes pretty things. soft, warm bodies he can bring home and toy with on his nights off. likes using his charm to break you in first, getting you all pliant for him before he fucks you.

he always starts with his mouth, always. soft kisses melding into deep, sinful strokes over your tongue with his own, overloading every single one of your senses with something else that is so uniquely him.

shiu is a sensual man, experienced well beyond words. the type to wine and dine. he takes pleasure out of pleasing you, growing hard in his dress pants as his tongue sends bolts of electricity down your spine and to your aching core.

he likes to surprise you sometimes, licking a stripe from just above your mound to below your navel, blowing over the wetness to watch you squirm at the temporary coldness before letting you settle down on your knees, a pillow wedged under your legs.

he’s gentle as he guides his length into your mouth, whispering soft praises while his thumb strokes over the swell of your cheek, obstructed by the shape of his cock slipping in and out of your throat.

he wipes the tears from your eyes every time, pressing a kiss to each eyelid with mumbles of “aww can’t take it?” and “we’ll train that out of you, don’t worry.”

it doesn’t matter that you’re already drenched, leaking onto the pillow separating your body from the floor. he’ll make time to eat you out, every. single. time.

thick, wide strokes of his tongue over your heat gradually melt into soft, gentle sucks on your clit. you can't quite remember when he laced his hand with yours, the warm weight keeping you grounded while you paint the lower half of his face in slick.

“don’t cum yet,” he whispers, flicking his tongue back and forth over your hole. you nod despite the stars clouding your vision, hand squeezing his like a vice. you hike your knees up to your chest as he shucks his pants down the rest of the way, keening at the praise you get for catching on so quickly.

don’t cum, not because he doesn’t want to see it happen, but because he wants you to do it on his cock.

he’s a tease through and through, slapping the weight of his dick on your opening before he pushes in, basking in the way your face screws up with desire.

shiu’s kind, attentive, always knowing what you need before you can say it. long, sensual strokes push you towards your edge, two hands locked iron-tight around your waist to pull you down onto his cock.

you don’t need to warn him before you cum when he already knows, licking his thumb and rubbing quick circles into the swollen bud of your clit. sucking dark marks into the delicate skin of your neck as you convulse around him.

shiu was pure sensuality. the type to make your head spin.

˚ ✧ ───────────

toji, to put it bluntly, simply liked getting his dick wet.

what can he say? the man loves sluts. hard, fast, and filthy sex, that was his specialty. and you were no exception to his bruteness.

whenever, wherever. that was his motto.

and so it was no surprise that you’d found yourself shut away in the corner of the mall’s single-stall bathroom 10 minutes after closing time, hand cupped around your mouth to mask your sounds of pleasure.

“no one takes cock like you do angel,” he whispers, a large hand rubbing circles into your tummy.

the gesture is oddly comforting, though that doesn’t last long as soon as soon as his thrusts pick up, trapping you between his hulking form and the cool wood of the bathroom door.

you needed this, needed him to treat you the way he did to feel something, that rush of electricity that starts in the out of your stomach and makes your ears ring. you couldn’t only live off of princess treatment from your other beau, not when toji was here, in the flesh.

the sound of shuffling outside makes your blood run cold, a harsh knock rattling the hinges of the door.

“is someone in there?” a husky voice asks, jiggling the handle with a sigh.

“janitor,” you whisper, struggling to speak as he continues to pound into you, not faltering even once.

“so?” he sighs, hiking your leg up to get a deeper angle.

the spot he hits inside of you is blinding, the head of his cock nudging against pure ecstasy with every movement.

“alright i’m coming in,” the voice warns, the sound of keys forcing you into action.

your hands jut out to hold the door shut, wobbling on one leg with the other still in toji’s grip.

“nono i’m—mmhh—busy!” you call, face burning at the accidental slip.

“busy using the bathroom!” you add, as if it’ll sound more convincing. toji laughs into the crook of your neck, still using your body like a cocksleeve.

“slut,” he mutters. the sound of his palm coming down on your ass likely doesn't go unheard by the stranger.

the keys recede, and so does your grip on the door handle.

“you better be out in 5 minutes, you hear me?”

“th—fuck, toji— thank you!”

you feel yourself being flipped around, both legs now in the air with your upper half supported against the door. the sound is anything but cautious, earning a raspy groan from the man holding you up.

“gonna fucking cum,” he whispers, face tucked into the curve of your neck. you reach down to rub your clit at his admission.

a few more thrusts are all you get before hot seed floods your inner walls, warmth spreading up your spine. you reach your high soon after, feeling him shudder while your cunt milks him for all he’s got.

“fuck,” he groans, pulling out of you after your high fades. firm hands reach to steady you as you quickly pull your panties up, smithing your dress back over your wobbly legs.

“gotta get out of here,” you mumble, watching him tuck himself back into his jeans. the two of you slip out into the empty corridor, searching for an exit hand-in-hand

“you’re such a good girl, you know that?” toji mumbles into your neck, leading you down the stairs to the parking garage. you wobble into the passenger seat of his car, watching him settle into the driver’s side.

there he goes again, that little sprinkle of affection in a sea of obscenity.

“ugh, my legs are sore,” you mutter, kicking your feet up on the dash to text shiu and ask when you were meeting up next. you guess when it came down to it, you’d always need balance.

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oncomingnight · 7 months

Text

Yandere! Horror Film Director x Fem Reader ˖ ࣪⭑

❝Nothing can get a look in on my baby.❞

Javier has always had a lingering interest in the subject of film but especially the progress of their creation. His parents and him would always have movie nights that consisted of stories of romantic comedies and doomed lovers. Though he enjoyed this particular activity he got to partake in with his parents, another movie genre truly caught his eye.

The major role that film played in his childhood assisted him in settling what he was truly meant to do.

Javier is incredibly well known for the anxiety inducing cinematography that's carefully placed into his movies, his character representing color coding, high brow dialogue that leaves audiences conversing in whispers as they leave the theater. But you can never forget the most important component of a film made by one of the most influential directors. The nightmare producing death scenes and how his characters with motives to kill always have chilling patterns in which they choose their victims, pushing viewers to deadbolt their doors and windows at night.

Though, no one could be stupid enough to believe he just pulls inspiration for those characters out of nowhere, right?

When Javier first saw you, he knew he needed you to be beside him forever, eternity. He disregarded everything and everyone that he saw as below you, to him, his attention was meant to be directed onto you and nothing else. He's the farthest thing from being shy and that is incredibly relevant when it comes to the way he shows his love to you.

He is an incredibly confident man and it's not a surprise to anyone considering the way he presents himself and the extremely public career path he chose. When he entered a room, his cologne spreading the smell of dark leather and amber, everyone stood up, smiling, to shake his hand. He was wanted by everybody he crossed paths with, men and woman, his past lovers having to live with a permanent hole in their soul due to his absence in their life.

But, who could blame them? Javier was a magnetic force of a man that could pull that ache for his touch out of anyone, it was almost dreadful.

Though, he was also unapologetic. He never regretted leaving any of them as he was now tethered to you, his other half that he'd been searching for, oh, so long.

When you're with him, you never have to worry about anything else that is happening in your life. He makes you feel as though you're the only two people on earth and you were placed here to simply love each other.

As he's able to, you better expect him to use his money to benefit you in every way he can. Javier takes any opportunity he can to take you on a trip to a completely different country, spoon feeding you Mediterranean cuisine, taking you to several seaside boutiques, driving through cobblestone alleyways, purchasing antique trinkets for you to place in your shared room.

Javier also enjoys assisting you in getting ready for a day/night out, he deems this time you spend together as precious and calming. He'll clasp a gold necklace with a delicate charm around your neck, carefully buttoning your dress as he brushes his fingers against your silky skin, softly wetting & brushing your hair, applying skin creams onto your skin with his own fingers, sometimes even drawing the shape of a heart onto your cheek with the product.

He has a knack for drawing you in live time and at times referencing a candid photo he took of you, which he cherishes deeply. The sketch is filled with swirls of meshed colors, your hair being drawn with patterns of slightly different shades. When he finally finishes his drawing, he'll purchase a frame for it and place it in a special area of your shared home.

On a much more serious yet realistic note:

If you were to ever catch Javier in the middle of getting rid of someone that has caused you stress or any sort of problem, he'd immediately resort to comforting and reassuring you.

He knows you'd never leave him but he just couldn't imagine how scared his precious baby was after witnessing such an incident.

"Lo sé, mami, sé que tienes miedo. Lo siento, cariño, no necesitabas a ver eso. Pero dime, ya sabes que nunca te haría daño, ¿verdad?"

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redeyerhaenyra · 8 months

Text

Sleeping Beauty

Summary: After having sex with Jake, you both fall asleep in your flat. Only, it's not Jake that wakes up, it's Steven.

Warnings: Hidden relationship, reader is mentioned having sex with Jake, jealousy on Steven's part, vaginal fingering, a sprinkling of dry humping, cunnilingus, Steven cums in his pants, fem reader, one use of (Y/N)

Notes: Debuting Steven onto my blog :) this fix was heavily inspired by @blue-beeeeeeery 's post

Wc: 1.9k

You’d been dating Jake for a while, having met him as your cab driver after a night out with your friends. In the time you’d been together, he’d opened up to you about his DID, and his alters; Marc and Steven. You hadn’t met them yet, and it seemed to be a little bit of a touchy subject for him, so you didn’t push it. Besides, you adored Jake, even if there were two other men living in his head, you were sure you could come to love them, too.

Despite not pushing it, you had asked why it was Jake wouldn’t introduce you to his alters, and he had told you that they were both… skittish, in a way. That you would meet them, that he wanted you to, but he worried to spring it on too soon. And who could blame him? Hearing that your alter had a partner you didn’t know about would understandably be perplexing at the very least. Though, it made you smile- Jake may have acted like a big, scary, cigarette smoking tough guy, but he really cared, especially about Steven. You’d gathered he was the “innocent little brother” of the group, the one to be looked after. He seemed so sweet, even when Jake would complain about him. And you knew one day you’d see him for yourself. Jake was naturally protective, over you and over his alters. It warmed your heart to know he was waiting for them to be ready to hear that they technically had a girlfriend they didn’t know about.

Besides, the reason he hadn’t told them when you had first met, is because they didn’t know he existed apparently. You had called him shy, and he had grumbled that he wasn’t, he was just fulfilling his role in the system. The protector, doing the dirty work for Khonshu when Marc couldn’t, and then slipping back into the shadows when it was done. It sounded lonely, you told him. It was, he replied, until he met you. Jake could be so romantic when he wanted to.

And so here you were, laying cuddled up to who you thought was Jake, the darkness outside told you it was still the early hours of the morning. You were only half awake anyway- fucking Jake always took something out of you. It was exhausting, in the best way.

You decided to stay like this, for a while. Jake normally woke up hours before you, kissing you goodbye and sending you a text later that hoped you “Had a good sleep, hermosa,” and so you relished the little extra time you had with him. It felt a little demeaning, for him at least, having to sneak in and out like he was a teenager, but you pushed through it, for Jake and his alters. Your eyes blinked back closed, willing yourself to not sleep too deeply, so that you might give him a proper goodbye when he left your flat.

The air was quiet, still. Peaceful. The only sounds were yours and his breathing. The warmth of him behind you, his arm curled just under your breasts lulled you to sleep once again. And meanwhile, as you fell back into sleep, someone else was rising from it. Though, it wasn’t Jake.

Steven blearily opened his eyes, and groaned. Despite having just woken up, his body felt tired… but in a good way. And he was spooning something soft.. and warm. His vision cleared- and he nearly jumped back in shock. There was a woman…. in his bed, but it wasn’t his bed, and this wasn’t his flat. He whimpered in shock as she moved against him, moaning as you stretched your arms above your head.

“You up already, papí?”

Papí… definitely Jake. Steven gulped. He knew his other alters were more experienced with women than he was, but this was just silly. His eyes raked over you, your form cuddled beneath the blankets, your hair sprawled about the pillow like a halo. Gosh.. you were pretty. He found himself thinking that Jake had good taste. He shook his head free of the thought- he needed to leave as fast as he could. As much as Jake cared about his alters, so did Steven. And thought he’d been wishing for a girlfriend for forever, but he wouldn’t go as far as to turn off one of Jake’s “scores” with his awkwardness. Steven had no idea how adorable he was.

When he didn’t answer, you turned over, squinting at him, blinking the sleep from your eyes; “Jake?”

Steven froze. God, you were gorgeous. Ohhhh it wasn’t fair. Why did Jake have to be the best with women….

“Jake? Are you alright?” Your hands came to cup his face, as you examined him for any sign of sickness, or anything else that might make him freeze so suddenly.

“ ‘M fine-!” Steven’s voice broke a little as he choked out a reply. Oh, good one Steven. You were wise to his sudden change in accent, sounding more like he was from London now. Your hands quickly retracted, and you gasped.

“…Not Jake?” “No-“ Steven gulped, you shifted away from him, Steven was sure it was to make him more comfortable, but he found himself internally begging you to shift closer. “Steven..?” You breathed out; “…Y-yeah, uh.. who’re you? W-where am I?”

You sighed, knowing that this conversation was going to happen one way or another. You put your hands up in a show of mercy; “My name is (Y/N)… this is my flat.. I’m uh… I’m Jake’s girlfriend.”

Steven’s eyes widened. “Oh.” “Yeah..” “….Well why didn’t I know he had a bloody girlfriend.”You giggled. At least he wasn't freaking out too much. "He didn't want to shock you, I.. I've known him since before he started to show himself to you and Marc." Steven nodded along. "Well I have to say, waking up in a strange woman's bed is pretty shocking..." You giggled again. "-Yes, sorry, he usually wakes up hours before me to go back to your place." "Oh right.." Steven sniffed.

"Um.. d-did you, uh... I mean, have you.." He motioned to your neck- Jake liked to leave hickeys. You caressed the marks, only just now realising they were there.

"Oh- um, do you mean..?" "Uh.. yeah- sorry it's just.. we share a body, y'know.." "No no I get it-! Um, yes, yes we did." He was, of course, not so subtly asking if you and Jake had had sex last night.

"Oh, right- I mean, it's fine! Obviously, you're like, together, and that's like, normal- sorry I'm making this so weird." The smile you gave him was sympathetic. "No, it's alright," you had told him, but your words had fallen into a buzz around him. Steven was deep in his thoughts- sure, it was Jake you'd had sex with, but they shared a body. What had he done with you? You'd had sex, but how? What did you like? As his mind spiralled, he felt his cock twitch a little beneath his boxers. Only a few hours ago, probably, his body had been inside you. His hands had probably made you cum a dozen times- Steven knew that's at least what he'd want to do with you...

"-Steven?" His thoughts cleared, "God, sorry love, head's all over the place today.." You hummed.

"You're really pretty." Steven's comment made the both of you blush, and you could've said the same of him. You hadn't noticed until now that you had subconsciously been shuffling closer to one another in the bed. Your noses were close to touching now, and you decided to take the plunge.

Steven whimpered as your lips met his, and while he was eager, it was strange that he be so inexperienced, considering, again, that he shared a body with Jake. His hands were greedy, but anxious. The trembling in his fingers gave presence to his mounting desire to touch you, and gently you guided his hands to your hips. That was all the encouragement he needed, his grip became suddenly a lot more confident, clutching your hips tightly before travelling down to squeeze your bum. He moaned with you, grinding your hips into the hot pressure of his cock against your tummy, his touch against you hungry, like an excitable dog.

You whined at the sudden loss of his mouth, biting your lip as he kissed his way down your neck.

"Bloody Jake, 's not fair, he always gets the girls, 's not fair, I'll show him-" Your thoughts were getting a little hazy, and the throbbing in your core became more and more apparent.

"Steven.." You breathed, if nothing else, he was eager to prove himself, fingers deftly ripping your panties down off of you.

"I can do it just as well as he can, you watch-" Steven didn't waste any time licking his way up to your clit, and sucking on it like a man starved. You cried out, hands falling to grip his soft curls. He was moaning and whimpering into you, just as you were above him. The seam of his boxers caught so deliciously on the head of his cock, and he all but cried into your cunt and he rocked his hips against the mattress.

Your hand came up to cover your moans, but Steven was having none of it, he halted his assault on your pussy, switching his tongue out for his fingers, deftly sliding inside of you, as you keened.

"No, no, none of that love, wanna hear ya, yeah?" Tears welled up in your eyes, and your toes curled as his fingers finally, finally found the spot. You writhed in pleasure, tugging harder on his hair. His mouth came back to suckle your clit, pistoning his fingers inside you with all the expertise that you would not have expected from him.

This hot mess contiuned for a while, until you were throwing your head back, pleasure soaring through your every nerve as you came all over Steven’s face, and he gladly drank your essence straight from the source. He didn't stop, though, he just kept going, the wet pad of his tongue doing wonders at overstimulating you- and from his canting hips and repeated whimpers, you could tell he was close too. It became too much however, and roughly you tugged his head up off of you, seemingly giving him the boost of masochistic pleasure he needed to tip himself over the edge, spilling himself into his boxers, moaning and drooling where he lay his head on your thigh.

You stayed like that for a moment, marvelling at Steven's beauty. He had his juices all over his face, messy boy. And had some of it gotten in his hair? He was a needy baby, too. He soon decided that he just wasn't close enough to you, and crawled up your body to snuggle himself between your breasts, sighing. His voice was muffled a little; "Was it good?" And you almost audibly "awed" at how cute he was being. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, and you kissed his head;

"It was amazing Steven." He hummed, still a little jealous it seemed, "Bet Jake doesn't do that." You swatted his head lightly. "Don't be mean." "Just teasing love.."

It was still dark outside. Pussy-eating was a tiring activity, it seemed, as you felt Steven cuddle his way back to sleep in your arms. You kissed his head again, unconsciousness soon taking you as well. Steven was more resilient to new information than Jake thought, it seemed.

#jake lockley #jake lockley moonknight #smut #jake lockely x reader #steven grant #steven grant x reader #Steven grant smit #moon knight #Moon knight x reader #Moon knight smut

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nuninho2000 · 2 years

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When Harry and Ron had a dangerous auror mission

Harry : "Ron , I need you to be my eyes and ears."

Ron: "Okay, but you have to be my liver and prostate."

#harry potter #ron weasley #incorrect hp quotes #auror #mission #funny harry potter #funny quotes #dynamic duo #inspiration by two and a half men #charlie harper #alan harper

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flemingsfreckles · 1 month

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Better Boyfriend than Him pt.2 (18+)

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Read Part 1

Preview: You can’t stop thinking about Jessie after she proves she’s better in bed than your current boyfriend. You decide to tell her. (Inspired by the song Boyfriend by Dove Cameron)

Warnings: SMUT (18+) frat boy Jessie vibes, oral sex (r receiving), strap on sex (r receiving), masturbation, tit sucking, hickeys, swearing, very small mention to sex with men, the whole 9 yards folks.

WC: 6.0k

A/N: my plan was to end this series here but if there’s enough requests I can try and continue it, I just might need some suggestions/guidance on where to take it.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Jessie. Specifically you couldn’t stop thinking about how good she had been able to make you feel, how good it had felt to have her fingers deep inside of you, how her tongue felt on your nipples and on your clit, how it felt being under her gaze. She had been so attentive to you, paying attention to every movement and noise you made. How she had been able to make you come undone so easily with just her touch. The sights and sounds of your night together wouldn’t leave your mind.

She was in your mind all day every day, even when you were sleeping. You had woken up more days than not the past week with your core throbbing and a wet spot forming on your underwear. In an attempt to push her from your mind you’d either take a cold shower or throw on your shoes and gone for a run, punishing yourself for the thoughts.

Today was different, you were so tired of the cold showers and the running, but once again you had woken up after vividly dreaming of Jessie holding your legs open as she worked her tongue against you.

It’s not like she’d know, you thought, she’d have no idea, there’s no harm to it. You reached down, pushing your shorts and underwear off, you could feel the way the fabric clung to you for a second, your wetness holding it every so slightly. Abandoning your lower half temporarily you moved both hands up to your chest, letting your fingers gently graze over your nipples. Trying your best to copy what Jessie had done to you, you gently drew circles, feeling them harden under your touch, it felt good but not as good as when she did it. You placed your thumb in your mouth, wetting it before returning it to your nipple, a better sensation as your spit allowed your thumb to glide closer to the movements of Jessie’s tongue.

You closed your eyes, picturing Jessie straddling your waist, her weight holding your hips down as her rough fingertips played with you. You continued to play with your chest, a mixture of pinching, rolling, teasing, until you had had enough and you could feel the arousal between your legs begin to seep onto the bed sheet below you.

You let your right hand slide down your stomach, moving two fingers to collect your wetness, dragging it up toward your clit. Your fingers stayed against your clit and you began circling it, only applying the slightest bit of pressure. You were trying your best to mimic Jessie’s tongue, her tongue was warm, wet, and had mastered the art of pleasure, your fingers had not.

You had done this before, you knew you could eventually get yourself off just rubbing your clit, but that felt so boring after your night with Jessie. You were desperately missing the suction her lips had provided alongside her tongue, something you couldn’t replicate on your own.

You missed her fingers too. You moved your other hand down from your chest, your ring and middle finger finding the opening of your pussy and sliding them in. You felt yourself clench around your fingers in the same way you had Jessie’s. You continue pushing them in until you’re completely inside. Attempting to mimic Jessie movements you just start with curling your fingers, leaving them buried inside of you. It feels good, a small pressure building inside your stomach. You looked down at your hands, wishing you were looking back at Jessie’s brown eyes, her messy hair, her hands gripping onto your thighs. Just picturing her has your walls clenching tighter on your fingers. You let out a moan at the thought of her.

The previous shame you felt about fantasizing about your best friend while you touched yourself was long gone, you kept your eyes closed, imagining your hands were hers, trying to remember the feeling of her body weight on yours. Imagination running wild you couldn’t stop yourself from imagining her, now naked in your fantasy, being the one thrusting her fingers into you. You pictured the small sheen of sweat covering her face and chest, the feeling of her toned body under your hands, the way she’d look down at you, holding herself above your body as she pleased you. Picturing your name falling from her lips in a moan as she fucked you was all you needed to push yourself over the edge.

You felt your orgasm come over you, a small whimper coming from your mouth as you bit down hard on your bottom lip. You pull your fingers off of your clit before you become too sensitive. You gently remove your fingers, feeling a wet trail connecting your fingers to your pussy, you wipe your fingers off on the inside of your thigh, deciding you’ll shower anyway before starting the day. Your orgasm was good, but nowhere near as satisfying as the one Jessie had been able to pull from you. You desperately wanted to feel that again.

You stay laying down in bed, catching your breath only to be brought completely out of your fantasy as your phone begins to ring on the nightstand next to you. Rolling your eyes at the irony, it’s Jessie’s face and name staring back at you.

“What’s up?” You answer overthinking how you usually would answer the phone when she called.

“Are you alright?” She questions you.

“Yeah why?”

“You sound out of breath, what are you doing?”

“Um,” you think for a second, it’s not like you could tell her you had just finished masturbating to the thought of her, “ I’m working out.”

“In your apartment?” You cursed yourself for giving her your location.

“Yeah.” The line goes quiet for a second.

“Oh gross, did you just finish having sex with him?! Is that why you’re out of breath? I thought you ended it.” Jessie whispers into the phone, thinking your ex-boyfriend was potentially laying next to you within earshot.

“I am, I did. I did end it.”

“Are you already fucking someone else?” You note a twinge of jealousy in her voice.

“Oh my god Jessie, no there’s no one else here.”

“Oh a little solo action then?” You can practically hear the teasing look on her face, how both of her eyebrows would be raised, her lips in a small smirk. When you don’t respond immediately she lets out a small laugh and in a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance floods your body. You hate that she figured it out, you also hated that she had laughed. You impulsively press the red button, hanging up on her before tossing your phone to the side and letting out a frustrated groan.

You realize that maybe you should’ve kept lying, hanging up just gave Jessie the confirmation that she had called you while you were touching yourself.

Looking down you’re still naked, your fingers and thigh still slightly covered in your own slick. The embarrassment and slight shame came creeping back in and you quickly grabbed the sheet covering yourself up. You feel the phone vibrate reaching over to look at what she had sent.

Jessie 🦖: When you’re done thinking of how good I fucked you, wash your hands and then call me back.

You: You wish I was thinking of you.

You do as she says and pull yourself from the bed and go into the bathroom to wipe off the remaining arousal between your legs and wash your hands. You throw on a clean pair of panties and grab a pair of sweatpants from your closet. Picking up your phone you click her contact to redial her.

“That was quick.”

“I was already done when you called me.”

“Then why’d you hang up?”

“I don’t know, I just did.” You knew why you hung up, you just weren’t interested in admitting it to her.

“What are you doing right now, besides dreaming of me?”

“Holy shit if I knew you and your ego were going to be insufferable afterwards, I would’ve kept my legs shut.” Her ego had always been big around her talents in bed, it was just more annoying now that you knew they were as good as she had claimed and that she could directly tease you about it.

“Okay but seriously what are you doing? Can we go get coffee before class?” You both had a chemistry class at 11, you would always walk together and frequently would stop at a coffee shop before. Jessie claimed it was the only thing that kept her awake during the lecture.

“Yeah, I can meet you in like 30 minutes. I need to shower.”

“Okay well I’m already on my way to yours I’ll be there in five.”

“Alright see you then.” You hopped back out of bed, moving back into your bathroom, stripping and turning on the shower.

Turning off the water you reached for your towel wrapping it around yourself and then headed back into your bedroom. Even though you knew she was coming over it startled you to see Jessie sitting on your bed on her phone. She’s wearing a tight white t-shirt, the sleeves of the shirt sitting tightly against her bicep, her legs covered by a pair of gray wash jeans. She raises her head toward you hearing the bathroom door open. You didn’t miss how her eyes moved up and down your body as if she was checking you out.

“Hi.”

“Hey, just give me like 15 minutes and then we can head out.” You tell her, expecting her to get up and move to the living room to let you finish getting ready. Except she doesn’t move, she remains in place on your bed.

“Get out so I can get ready.” Realizing she wasn’t taking the hint you decide to be blunt with her.

“Oh come on, nothing I haven’t seen, or touched, before” She rolls her eyes at you but respecting your wishes she pushes herself off the bed, giving you one last look up and down before she walks out.

Trying your best to ignore the fact that she seemed to be checking you out, you drop your towel and throw on a pair of jeans and a black crewneck. Not wanting to bother with your hair you leave it as is and walk out to the living room. Jessie stands up moving toward the door to put on her shoes, you follow doing the same, grabbing your backpack and keys before you both head out the door.

The trip to the coffee shop felt normal, you were almost able to forget that the girl sitting across from you had made your legs shake around her head. You sat and complained to each other about school, discussed plans for the weekend, what you planned to cook for dinner that week, pointless conversations, but it was easy. It was like it had always been and that felt like a relief to you for once. Jessie did her typical attempt to try and get you to miss class, asking a ton of questions right before you had to leave the coffee shop in hopes of distracting you enough you’d forget you both had to go, and as always it failed as you looked at your watch and stood up to leave.

Lecture was boring today, it usually was on the more mundane side but today your professor had put on a documentary. He said he wanted to give everyone’s mind a break from reading lecture slides and while you were grateful that you didn’t have to be taking notes, you would’ve preferred to just stay home and watch the documentary on the couch instead of in uncomfortable lecture hall seating. Today was also a day you might have preferred the lecture, it would’ve kept your mind occupied instead of letting it wander, thinking again of the inappropriate acts committed between you and the girl sitting to your left.

The more you think about her the more restless in your seat you get. Feeling unusually bold you pulled a piece of paper from your notebook and grabbed a pen.

You scribbled out the words, ‘You weren’t wrong earlier’ and slid the piece of paper over to Jessie.

You watch from the corner of your eye as she reads it and turns to you, confusion written on her face. You turn to her but don’t do anything besides look back at her. When you don’t give her any clarification she grabs the pen from your hand and writes back, sliding the paper over.

‘What does that mean?’ For a second you debate writing ‘never mind’, backing out, but you figure fuck it why not you still had another half an hour of class to go, might as well make it entertaining for yourself.

‘When you said I was thinking of you’ you passed back the paper and pen.

Jessie reads it and writes again, ‘what?’ You have to hold back a laugh, for as big of a game as Jessie talked, the poor girl was oblivious sometimes.

‘I was thinking of you this morning’ you wrote before crossing it out, you may as well be more direct since Jessie wasn’t picking up any context clues. ‘This morning when I was touching myself, I was thinking about you.’

You take a deep breath and slide the paper over to her. The second you feel her start to grab the paper, the butterflies start in your stomach. You don’t turn to see her reaction this time, you stare forward at the screen, acting as if you were fascinated by what was being shown. In your peripheral vision you see her read the note and her head snaps in your direction. She’s staring into the side of your head, refusing to give in, you keep your eyes locked on the movie. She leans forward trying to get you to look at her, you refuse again turning your head away from her slightly. You feel a sharp pain in your shin, now you turn toward her as Jessie has resorted to kicking you to get your attention.

She points to the paper where your confession was written. You look down at the paper then back up to her. Her expression is hard to read, she looks confused but also has a smug look on her face, she raises her eyebrows and gives a small shake of her head, you can tell she wants you to explain yourself. You just shrug at her instead, you’re thankful the lights are dimmed or she’d be able to see the blush on your cheeks.

She grabs the pen and writes quickly, shoving the paper back in your direction. ‘Tell me what I was doing in your fantasy’ You're shocked by her request, not expecting her to ask for the details. You hesitate, feeling shy about fully exposing your dirty thoughts to her.

‘You were on top of me, playing with my nipples, eating me out, using your fingers on me’ you passed back the paper. Jessie reads it and you watch as she adjusts in her seat, looking a little restless herself. She begins writing.

‘Anything else?’ It’s like she knew you were holding back some of the details from her.

Jessie had numerous times before told you about her nights with other girls, she’d talk about the toys she had, the handcuffs, the blindfold, the vibrator, and you wouldn’t mind using those, but what crept into your fantasy that morning was the idea of her fucking you with a strap-on.. You’d heard her gloat before about how good she was with it, the idea was never something you had thought about but this morning when you were picturing her on top of you, your own fingers inside your pussy, you wished it was her thrusting into you with the toy instead of your fingers.

‘I might’ve thought about you using toys.’ Crossing out the word toys you change it to read ‘I might’ve thought about you using your strap’ You couldn’t believe you were sitting in your lecture hall writing these things on a simple piece of notebook paper, surrounded by a hundred other students.

Jessie starts to write back as the lights in the lecture hall are suddenly clicked back on to full strength. Being too caught up in your note passing both of you had failed to see the credits on the documentary start rolling across the screen.

You look at Jessie, you now see that she’s sporting a matching blush, she's looking right back at you, hand still holding the pen that was writing. Breaking the eye contact you look to see what she had written ‘I can make that happen, I just bought a new one that we’

Looking back up she’s still looking at you. You’re unsure of what to say, nerves coming back stronger now that the lights were on, you felt more exposed. Thankfully Jessie breaks the silence.

“So, back to my place?” Her eyes look you up and down again as she had earlier back at your apartment.

You nod rapidly at her, grabbing the pen from her hand and throwing it into your bag along with your notebook, you zip up the pockets. “Yes.”

Jessie is already standing waiting for you as you pack up, you watch as she takes the note and folds it carefully sticking it into her back pocket. You stand up, following her out of the auditorium. Neither of you say anything on the walk back to her place, you’re thankful she doesn’t live far.

Once you’re both through the door you take off your backpacks, tossing them to the side, the second yours leaves your hand Jessie is pressing you against the wall. Her hands are holding your waist tightly, her hips pressing firmly into yours, her face just millimeters from yours.

“Are you sure?” The same words she had used before she fucked you last time come from her lips.

“Please.” You beg her, you had been so needy for her you didn’t care you were begging, if you needed to beg to get her to fuck you that’s what you’d do. You grab the back of her neck and pull her in. Not wasting any time with soft kisses, your tongue is already moving against hers.

You continue to make out, loving the feeling of her pinning you to the door. Jessie’s teeth close around your bottom lip as she pulls away, biting it gently before releasing it with a pop. Your hands move to the bottom of her shirt and for once it’s you asking if you can undress her instead. She gives you the okay and you pull her shirt up and over her head, you toss it and it lands on top of your backpack. You take a second to admire her figure, she was an athlete and worked out often but you had never taken the time to appreciate the muscles of her shoulders, arms, and abdomen.

While you’re admiring her, Jessie’s hands reach for the bottom of your crewneck, pulling it up, you lift your arms helping her remove it.

“No bra?” Jessie’s eyes are wide as she had been expecting you to have a bra still covering your chest. You looked down, you had briefly forgotten that you decided against wearing a bra this morning, the thick crew neck provided you enough coverage. Jessie’s hands come up, grabbing your chest with a squeeze before dropping her head to place her lips around your nipple. She sucks, much rougher than she had the first time, you throw your head back accidentally slamming it into the door. Hearing the sound of you smacking your head Jessie releases the suction on your nipple and looks up at you.

“You alright?”

“Yeah it just felt good.” You clarify “your mouth, not hitting my head.”

“I figured.” She doesn’t put her mouth back where you desperately want it, instead her hands are wrapping around you grasping onto your thighs just below your ass.

“Jump.” She says to you and you do, she picks you up, wrapping your legs around her torso she begins to move you away from the door. She walks you back to her bedroom, attaching her lips to your neck as you move through the hallway. You feel her start to suck, you were normally one to protest anyone leaving marks on you but her warm tongue and lips felt so good you moaned instead of telling her off.

Bending down she places your back onto her bed, her lips continue to trail across your neck, a mix of gentle sucking, licking, and kissing has you arching your back into her touch. Her hands move from your thighs up to your ass giving it a hard squeeze.

“Jessie just fuck me already”

“I’m getting there, have some patience.” She scolds you for being so impatient. “Take your pants off, leave your panties on, I’ll be right back.”

She pulls herself off of you, moving over to a drawer in her dresser. You watch as she pulls out a dildo, a harness, and a bottle of lube. She messes around with the harness for a minute, attaching the dildo to it. Remembering what she asked, your hands move to the button of your jeans, you unbutton and start to remove them as Jessie turns back to you, harness in hand. She makes her way back over placing the harness and lube onto the bed. Her hands come to grip your inner thighs she spreads your legs, eyes staring at your core where the obvious wet spot was showing through your light gray boyshorts.

“Fuck you’re already so wet.”

“I know, I’ve been like this everyday since you fucked me.”

“Jesus.” Her tongue runs across her lips, pulling the bottom one in between her teeth.

Her hands come up to the elastic on your underwear, her fingers curling around and starting to pull down showing how wet you truly were. Once she removed your panties from around your ankles her hands came back up to your inner thigh, she spread them further this time, fully exposing your dripping core to her. Instead of moving to put on the harness like you expected, she moved to lay down, her face settled between your thighs. You grabbed the hair on top of her head, sitting up slightly, your hand holding her in place not letting her mouth reach you.

“What are you doing?” You asked. She looked up at you.

“I’m eating you out?” She phrased it as if she was questioning what she was doing. Her eyes looked from your face down to your pussy and back up.

“I thought we were using the strap.” You used the hand not holding her hair to point to where it sat on the bed.

“We are” she reassures you. “I’m still going to warm you up. It’s not going to feel good if I just shove it in.”

“Oh,” Now you feel silly for questioning what she was doing.

“Lay back down.” You do as she says, relaxing back against the pillows. You’re engulfed in the smell of her, her pillows and sheets covered in her scent. You loosen your grip on her head, letting her lips make contact with you. She starts by just kissing across you, moving from the inside of one thigh, across to the other, keeping the pressure light as she would place her lips on your clit.

You let her tease you, not wanting to question her actions anymore. She continued with the soft kisses passing back and forth across your core until you felt her tongue dip between your folds unexpectedly. You let out a soft moan as her tongue drags from your entrance up to your clit. She moves her lips to surround it, sucking gently and using her tongue to trace circles around the sensitive bud.

“Oh fuck Jess.” You had thought about moaning her name in your fantasies, may as well turn them into a reality. This time you watch her reaction to you moaning her name, she rolls her eyes back and lets out a groan against your heat. Her tongue continues pleasuring you, so much better than your fingers had that morning. Nothing felt as good as her tongue. It wasn’t long before your legs were shaking and your grip on her hair became so tight your fingers were starting to hurt. A string of moans mixed in with Jessie’s name falls from your mouth, she continues sucking, working you through your orgasm before you push her off.

She sits up, using her thumb to clear her chin, the same way she did before, sucking your wetness off her finger. She leans over you, bringing her lips to yours. Being able to taste yourself on her lips had you ready for round two.

“See how good you taste?” Jessie breathes as she pulls away from the kiss. She’s hovering over you, her breathing is heavy, her eyes dark, the way she had you caged to the bed was incredibly dominant but made you feel so safe. You just nod your head at her question.

“So fucking good.” Jessie says quietly, more to herself than to you, as she moves off of you. She stands next to the bed, bending over and kissing you quickly before her hands move to her jeans. She undoes them and they slide down her thighs, leaving her standing in a light blue pair of tight boxers. You swear you can see a wet spot between her legs, a slightly darker blue. Before you can confirm, she reaches for the harness, bending down to put her feet through it, pulling it up to rest around her hips.

“Um, do you want me to put a condom on it?” When you look at her like she’s crazy for asking she explains.

“It’s clean, I always clean them, I just usually offer with different partners if they’re more comfortable, but this one is also brand new so… up to you.” For once, she’s the one who looks flustered and new to this, it’s a nice change, reminding you that it’s still just Jessie, your friend, who, while often a smooth talker, can also be a complete dork.

“No I’m good without it.”

Your stomach fluttered with anticipation as she climbed back on the bed. You couldn’t help but stare at the toy. It was realistically shaped, clear in color, it was thick and relatively long but nothing unrealistic. You were thankful Jessie had picked reasonably, not choosing to get the largest cock she could find.

She found herself settled between your thighs again, she reached over grabbing the small bottle of lube opening it and dripping some onto the head of the toy.

“You’re probably wet enough but better safe than sorry right?” She gives you a shy smile seeing you were watching her hand spread the lube down the shaft. Once she’s done she wipes the extra on the back of her thigh and shifts closer to you. One hand grasps the strap by the base, the other supporting her body weight next to you.

She moved the head of the strap between your folds, collecting some of your own wetness on the tip. She repeats the action a few times before stopping with the tip sitting against your entrance. You feel her begin to push it slowly, letting you adjust to the familiar and yet completely different feeling of her entering you. You watch as her eyes bounce between where she was inside of you and up to your eyes and face, checking your facial expressions with every movement.

She moves her hand from her strap, no longer needing the guidance, she grabs your thigh, pulling it up and around her waist. You get the hint bringing both of your legs to wrap about her back, allowing her to move to be on top of you instead of sitting up. She fully pushes into you until her hips flush with yours. You let out a shaky breath, not even realizing you had been holding it in. You had done this before with men but the girth of Jessie’s cock was stretching you in a new way.

“Are you okay?” Noticing the change in your breathing, Jessie checks making sure you’re comfortable.

“Yeah just give me a second. You’re well endowed compared to my previous partners.” You wink at her. Jessie stays where she is, not moving her hips, holding herself above you. She kisses you and you can’t help but think about how intimate this feels, it spreads a warm tingle throughout your body. She’s patient, not nagging asking if you’re ready yet, not rolling her eyes waiting, not thrusting just to see your reaction, all things your previous partners had done. She just waits, occupying herself with trailing kissing down your neck and across your collarbones.

“You can move.” After what felt like an hour but was probably only a minute or two, the stretching feeling subsides and now just a dull ache of need remains.

Jessie picks up her head from where she was leaving hickeys on your chest, hovering above you again. She slowly moves her hips back before pushing back in. She gives a few more test thrusts, not wanting to rush and hurt you.

You see her eyes studying your face and wanting to give her the confidence that she wasn’t going to hurt you, you pull her in by the neck like you're going to kiss her, only turning your head away and putting your lips to her ear.

“Fuck me like you mean it Jessie.” You softly say into her ear, gently biting in an attempt to get her riled up.

Your words and actions work as Jessie drops to her forearms from her hands, dipping her head into the space between your head and shoulder. She curses into your skin before attaching her lips to your neck. Her hips begin thrusting fast and hard against yours, the sound of skin slapping echoing in the room. The change in pace is just what you needed. Feeling her pull nearly all the way out before slamming back into you filling you back up. Every time her hips meet yours the strap bumps against your clit giving you even more pleasure.

With each thrust into you, a different noise leaves your mouth it's a mix of groans, moans, whimpers, along with curses and cries of her name. Your arms are wrapped around her, nails gently scratching at her back. Jessie is also moaning, her face right next yours meaning you heard every noise she made even if she tried to hide it.

You feel the build up, this time is different, coming from a place that feels deeper in your stomach.

“I’m going to cum.” You manage to get out between all the other noises you were making.

“Me too” you’re surprised to hear Jessie admit. Your surprise doesn’t last long as your mind goes blank as your orgasm crashes down. All you can think of is how good she feels inside of you. You feel yourself clenching tightly around Jessie’s cock as she continues to thrust quickly into you. Your legs shaking again, feeling tired wrapped around Jessie.

She gives one last hard thrust before she moans your name into your neck, something she hadn’t done before. Hearing your name fall from her lips was new and incredibly attractive. Jessie kept her cock fully inside of you grinding her hips against yours, giving her the stimulation she needed to work through her orgasm. Her grinding got progressively slower until she came to a stop. Nothing filled the previously loud bedroom but the sound of you both breathing heavily.

Jessie pressed herself up onto her hands, you feel as the sweat you both had worked up causes your skin to stick briefly. She leaves her hips against yours. Her cheeks are red and you’re sure yours are too. She’s smiling down at you, her shoulders moving up and down with every breath. You reach up with one hand, pushing her baby hairs back and out of her face.

“You alright?” It was your turn to ask her for once.

“I’m so good, that’s never happened before. Are you good?” The smile on her face doesn’t leave.

“What hasn’t happened before?” You ignore her asking if you’re good, more concerned about what she meant.

“I’ve never cum from using the strap on someone. Like it turns me on but then I usually have to use a vibrator or need something else, that just happened.” She shakes her head in disbelief of what had just occurred.

“Must be the new strap.” You said looking up at her.

“Or it’s you.” She quickly responds. She looks down to where the two of you are still connected. Your eyes follow her. “Are you good with me pulling out?”

“Yeah go ahead.” You try to relax, your pussy still tight around her. A small noise slips out of your mouth as she pulls back slowly. Once she’s fully out you feel yourself clench around nothing, missing the feeling of her inside of you. Jessie slides off the bed and moves into her bathroom. You hear the water run for a second. She comes back a few seconds later with a washcloth in hand. She holds it out almost as if she’s going to give it to you but doesn’t fully extend her arm.

“Are you good if I clean you up? The lube can be pretty sticky. Or you can do it yourself if you’re more comfortable.”

“Yeah that’s fine Jess.” You let your legs fall back open and she uses the washcloth to wipe you down, her movements are extra gentle as you shift away from her unintentionally when she grazes over your clit, still sensitive from your two orgasms.

“Sorry.” She apologizes. She wipes the inside of your thighs last before she turns her attention to the mess between her own legs. She loosens the straps of the harness, letting it fall to the floor. She reaches for the waistband of her boxers before pausing and looking at you. You can tell she seems hesitant to take them off under your watch.

“I won’t look, I promise.” You turn away slightly, looking at the ceiling. You can hear her moving around. A minute later you feel the bed dip beside you. She pulls the blanket up covering herself and then covering you as well. You roll over to face her, keeping your eyes even with hers, the blanket was covering her but still not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

You shift closer to her. Not close enough that you can touch her, not wanting to make her uncomfortable, but close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off her skin. Not saying anything, she grabs your hand pulling you toward her, she drapes your arm across her waist, your head coming to rest on her chest as her arm wraps over your shoulder, her fingers gently scratching on your back. You let out a sigh and feel her do the same. You didn’t know what this meant for you and her but just being here, your head on her chest, listening to her heartbeat, felt like everything you’d ever need.

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming imagine #jessie fleming x reader #jflem #woso imagine #woso x reader #canwnt #portland thorns #woso smut #Jessie Fleming smut

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featherandferns · 27 days

Text

rumours (fic)

jj maybank x grumpy!fem!reader | HEAVILY inspired

content warning: mentions of drinking and smoking; absent parents

word count: 20k.

blurb: your life has been surrounded by rumours, and so has JJ Maybank's. One night, out of the blue, he strikes up a conversation with you. From there, the rumours only grow, and some rumours are far worse than others.

There was a rumour that you and your sister weren’t allowed to date until graduating high school. That one was true, until March of Junior Year.

Kildare Academy was full of spoilt assholes.

Well, in fairness, not everyone fit into that category. Some people were spoilt but bearable, and some people were assholes but not particularly spoilt. Rafe Cameron was the perfect culmination of both. He was in your junior year despite being a senior. He flunked so hard last year that the academy insisted that he retake it to graduate with a subpar diploma. At the yacht club, it had been the talk for about two months, much to the displeasure of Ward and Rose Cameron. You’d found yourself sharing nearly every class with Rafe since the year started and, man oh man, was it torture.

He found you the perfect bear to poke, never passing the opportunity to make a jab about your clothes or your face or your overall demeanour. The latter to mean that you weren’t the most approachable of people. Whilst you self-described as tempestuous, others might prefer the term ‘heinous bitch’. Rafe Cameron knew how to push your buttons it seemed, and you in turn knew how to bite back just enough to leave a mark.

“I can’t wait to get out of this town,” you complain to your friend Mia. “If I have to spend another seventeen years surrounded by these half-wits then I’ll pull a Sylvia Plath, I swear.”

“Clearly today has been a good day,” Mia chuckles. She’d known you long enough for the bitter grump of your character not to phase her. “Rafe bothering you again?”

“He’s intolerable,” you tell her, indirectly answering her question. “In music today he thought it’d be funny to put cola in the trombone. Men blow my mind with their stupidity. God knows how the patriarchy was even formed with how little brain cells they use.”

The two of you walk down the stairs of the school, heading to the parking lot amongst the herd of students. The spring weather is finally creeping in now that you're in March. The floral smell of blossoms hangs in the air, embracing the world in a warmish breeze. The briefly pleasant moment is rudely interrupted by none other but the devil-boy himself. His bright red Mercedes whips into the throughway of the parking lot. He doesn't seem to care about hitting anybody. To him, others are like bowling pins: he’d probably take delight in taking someone out.

You and Mia ignore him as you walk up to your car. At least, that was the plan, until you look up from your keys in time to see your younger sister Charlotte hopping into the back of Rafe’s pimped out ride per his offer.

“That’s an interesting development,” Mia remarks.

You watch as Rafe revs the engine - grinning like the pompous asshole he is - before jetting away. He narrowly misses knocking some poor kid off his bike in the process.

“It’s disgusting, is what it is,” you correct, promptly blinking away the surprise.

You follow Mia into your car, tossing your track bag into the backseat, and start up the engine.

Charlotte was only fifteen. She was young, innocent, carefree and (more often than not) insufferable. You couldn’t be more different. Whilst Charlotte searched for the good in people, you tried to find ways to stay as far away from them as possible. The only tell that you were related were your features. The same nose and same chin, you taking your father’s eyes and her your mother’s. At school, Charlotte enjoyed pretending that she didn’t know who you were. Your reputation didn’t pair well with hers, and at fifteen, nothing was more important to Charlotte than popularity. Those things didn’t matter to you. What someone thought of you didn’t make much difference to your mood or your future. Studying on the other hand? That was the stuff of consequence. Nevertheless, you cared for your sister. Her cushioned upbringing made her vulnerable. She had been sheltered by your family’s wealth and because of your father’s obsessive protectiveness, her experiences with boys were minimal. That to say, having her in Rafe’s line of sight certainly made you uneasy.

You drive home chatting to Mia about the plans for the weekend - planning to head to The Wreck for lunch on Saturday - but you can’t stop thinking about Charlotte sat in the back of Rafe’s car. When you pull up outside Mia’s house, she pauses just after opening the door.

“What do you think that was about? With Charlotte and Rafe?”

“Honestly, I have no idea,” you reply, turning down the radio. "But I’m not gonna let it go any further.”

“Amen,” Mia agrees. With that, she gives a small wave and climbs out the car. “See you tomorrow.”

“See ya.”

When you pull up outside your house, you spot your dad sitting on the porch. He’s probably reading notes about the latest case he’s taken on. As one of the best lawyers on Figure Eight, he always has plenty of work to be chipping away at. Sometimes it feels like he has a new client every week.

You make your way up the neatly kept garden path, the creaking gate giving you away.

“Afternoon sweetheart,” he says, not looking up.

“Hey dad,” you reply, walking up the steps.

“How’s your day been? Made anyone cry yet?”

“Not yet, but the day’s still young,” you return, only half joking. With that, he glances up. “How’s the case?”

“Long. Boring. Don’t let on that I said that.” he says. “Where’s your sister?”

Before you can delight in telling, as if manifested into existence, Charlotte comes floating up the pathway. Her ridiculously short white tennis skirt floats in the wind like a dove’s feathered wings taking flight. Not one hair is out of place and not one eyelash misaligned. You resist the urge to roll your eyes as she makes her way up the stairs.

“Where’ve you been?” your dad immediately quizzes.

“Nowhere daddy.”

“How come you’re later home than your sister?”

“Well, somebody wouldn’t give me ride,” Charlotte replies, shooting you a glare. Her perfect smile takes on an edge when you lock eyes.

Your dad sighs and looks up at you. “We talked about this. Until Charlotte gets her license, you drive her to and from school. Y’all are both heading to the same place anyway, so what’s the big whoop?”

“She hijacks my radio and plays fluffy pop crap.”

“Taylor Swift is not ‘fluffy pop crap’. She’s the bible itself. You’re just not used to listening to good music,” Charlotte replies.

Swallowing your anger, you correct your stance, folding your arms across your chest. Biting back a smirk, you say, “ask Charlotte which guy drove her home today.”

“Don’t change the—Guy? What guy?”

Charlotte’s face goes to drop but she recovers quickly. Taking a reproachful step towards your dad like he’s an unpredictable stray dog, she talks in a sickly-sweet voice.

“Now, daddy, don’t be angry, but there’s this boy at school and I think he—”

“Believe me, I think I know what he’ll be thinking,” your dad immediately cuts in. “And the answer is no. It is always no.”

As your little sister’s eyes flash to yours, you grin victoriously. Enjoy, you mouth to her. The angry twitch in her brow is delightful.

“Daddy, this is ridiculous! I’m the only girl in high school who isn’t dating!” Charlotte whines.

“You’re fifteen, you don’t need to be dating. And you’re not the only girl. She isn’t dating either,” your dad replies, shoving a thumb over his shoulder in your direction.

“And I don’t intend to. I got bigger fish to fry,” you say. Charlotte’s deadly stare hardens tenfold. “Besides, the boys in this town are whack jobs.”

“Like music to my ears,” your dad practically sighs. Very rarely do you seem to please him, but your stance on boys appears to be the one common ground the two of you have. “Now y’all both know the rule: no dating ‘til you graduate.”

“This is so unfair! The two of you are so unhinged!” Charlotte goes on. She seems about a minute away from stomping her feet and waving her fists like a toddler throwing a tantrum. You’re only half ashamed to say that you relish in every moment of it.

You see, Charlotte was a daddy’s girl. Pretty, pink and poised, she loved the theatrics of Kook life. At the yacht club gatherings and the monthly dinner parties, the two of them would soak up every minute whilst you’d skulk in the back, headphones in and bitch-face on. You’d never much connected with either of them. Your mom understood you well, but she wasn’t around now, so, what did it matter? All the Kook crap was just that to you: crap. Fickle people who were so rich that their nerves were deadened, leaving them to enjoy nothing more than gossiping about everyone and everything. Whilst one half of the island waited tables and sweated out in the sun day-and-night to keep the lights on, the other was complaining about their golf clubs not being shiny enough. It was all crap.

“Alright, fine. Here’s how we fix this. Old rule out, new rule in. You can date,” your dad says to Charlotte. Her smile is instantaneous. As your mouth goes to gape open in horror – the thought of Rafe Cameron snapping up your sister like a crocodile preying on a bunny – your dad makes your day. “…when your sister does.”

“What!?”

“Har har,” you grin.

Charlotte points accusingly at you. “But she’s a mutant! You couldn’t pay a guy to date her!”

Your grin only grows with the thought.

“Then I guess you’ll never date. Oh! I like the sound of that,” your dad gloats. God, you have never loved him more. “Now get out of my hair, the both of y’all. I need to get these notes done for tomorrow.”

“Thanks dad,” you chirp, promptly heading into the house. Charlotte is quick to follow.

“You’re evil,” she hisses.

You shrug, back facing her as you start up the stairs. “And you’re spoilt.”

“Urgh! Has it ever occurred to you that you’re like clinically insane!?”

“Don’t care!” you sing-song before darting into your room, closing the door behind you. Through the wood, you hear Charlotte let out a shriek.

Smiling, you dump your school bag and take up shop at your desk, hoping to get some studying done, peaceful at last with the thought of Rafe Cameron never getting near your sister.

There was a rumour that when JJ first spoke to you, you spat in his face. That one was false.

“Hiya princess.”

The rasp of a guy’s voice interrupts your conversation about the yacht club’s annual spring-ball with Mia. Slowing turning your head to your left, you come face to face with a dirty-blonde haired boy. He looks to be about seventeen. His skin is slightly glossy, presumably from sunscreen and sweat, and there’s a smirk hiding behind his smile. That’s when you know that this boy is trouble.

“You talking to me?” you ask, unimpressed.

“Who else?”

“Hopefully anyone,” you say.

Mia snorts. You look away from him to share a bemused look with your friend. This guy cannot be serious…

“You need’a hand there?”

Eyebrows pulling together, you glance at him. He seems to think you’re confused about what he’s referring to, nodding down to the Sprite bottle in your hand. The cap’s still on. The truth is, you’re confused as to why he’s even talking to you at all. Wordlessly, you lift the bottle to your mouth and secure your teeth around the cap. There’s the satisfying click-crack as it comes lose and you spit it on the floor by his feet. Then, holding his gaze, you take a drink. His eyebrows quirk up in surprise.

“That’s, uh, certainly one way to get a guy’s attention,” he says, chuckling to try and regain some charm.

“My mission in life,” you return. Then, before he can cook up something else to say, you turn to Mia and loop your arm in hers, guiding the two of you to the exit of The Wreck. You’d been planning on heading out anyway, having finished your lunch earlier, and this was a sign from the universe that whatever good time you’d been having was officially over.

Unfortunately, the guy doesn’t seem so easily deterred.

“I’ll pick up at eight then?”

“Oh, yeah, eight. Uh huh,” you agree dismissively.

He falls in step with you on your left, hands casually shoved in his short pockets, combat boots loudly thudding on the wooden floor.

“Well, you know, the night I take you to places you’ve never been before.”

You see his boyish grin in your peripheral, making you whip your head around to meet his stare.

“Where? The seven-eleven off main street?”

His lips part, blundering for some quick-witted reply, but you don’t give him chance.

“Do you even know my name, screw-boy?”

The smirk is back, full force. Tilting his head slightly, self-assured, he replies, “I know a lot more than you think.”

“Doubtful. Very doubtful,” you assure.

Finally, you and Mia seem to shake him. He doesn’t follow you to your car door and he probably made the right call, because you were moments away from using the bottle of Sprite as a weapon. As you unlock the car, Mia leans against the side of it.

“What was that all about?”

You spare a glance back to The Wreck to find him stood there, glancing inside the building as if debating heading back, scratching the back of his neck. His misplaced confidence seems to have dwindled significantly. Ah, success.

“God knows."

“You know, I think that’s JJ Maybank. One of them Pogues who hangs out with John B,” Mia says.

JJ seems a fitting name for him, you think. You vaguely recall seeing the Pogues hanging around. Kiara from the academy seemed quite close with them. You watch as he pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lighting up and taking a drag. Gross.

Pulling open your car door, you look back to Mia. “Come on. Let’s hang out at the beach.”

“Yeah, and far away from that nutjob,” she snorts, walking around the car to the passenger side.

As you go to climb in, you find yourself looking one final time to the entrance of the restaurant. The messy haired boy is nowhere to be found. Good riddance, you think to yourself. Happiness restored, you swing into the driver’s seat and shut the car door.

There was a rumour that your mum was in witness protection. That one was false.

You weren’t entirely sure how it got so late but it was nearly one in the morning. Having spent the past three hours studying, you’d sort of lost track of time. Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head when you’d checked your phone screen.

“Goddamn,” you mumble. Pushing away from your desk, you close your notebook and switch off your lamp.

Walking to the bathroom, you don’t bother closing the door. You know your dad’s asleep by now and with his own en-suite, there’d be no reason why he’d need to use this bathroom. Charlotte is probably asleep too: beauty rest and all that. You turn on the faucet and pull your hair out of your face. You wash and dry and reach for your toothbrush. That’s when Charlotte appears.

“Oh,” she startles. “Didn’t know you were still up.”

“Could say the same to you.”

You take in her pyjamas. They’re Roller Rabbit, selling at $150 a set. Pastel pink and plum purple, they sit sweetly on her dainty frame. You on the other hand are dressed in an oversized t-shirt that you got given for free at an indie film festival, and a pair of boxer-short bottoms.

“Cute pjs,” you tell her.

“Thanks. Daddy bought them for me,” she chirps.

Charlotte makes a b-line to the vanity. She opens the drawer and retrieves the tweezers. You watch her in the mirror as she tames her already perfect eyebrows. She makes eye contact with you through the reflections, taking in your own nightwear. “You could try a new look, you know? People might like you if you weren’t so hostile.”

“I’m not hostile,” you defend. You put toothpaste on your toothbrush, breaking the line of gaze. “I’m annoyed.”

“Potato potata. I wouldn’t be able to stand it if people didn’t like me.”

“You forget that I don’t care what people think,” you reply honestly. What would it matter if some thought you unwelcoming? Everyone ends up as bones in the ground anyway.

“Sure you do,” Charlotte says. “At least on some level.”

It’s too late in the night (or early in the morning) to argue. Instead, you start brushing your teeth. Charlotte goes on pimping and preening her appearance in the mirror silently. She produces a jade face roller and begins massaging her cheekbones and jawline. It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes. As you’re rinsing out your mouth, you see Charlotte’s extensive skincare routine continue. If someone was to walk in, you’d think she was heading to the Oscars at the crack of dawn. She unbuttons the top two fastenings of her polo pyjama top and shrugs it down enough to reveal her collarbones, taking the effort to jade-roll them too. That’s when you notice the string of pearls around her neck.

“Nice pearls,” you comment, putting your toothbrush away. They did suit her, as did most delicate jewellery.

“Thanks.”

“Dad buy them for you too?”

“No,” she says. “They’re moms.”

Your stomach twists like a viper. “Moms?”

“Yeah. Daddy found them in a drawer last week.”

“And what? Now you’re just gonna start wearing them?” you say aghast, spinning around.

She frowns, looking over her shoulders. “It’s not like she’s coming back to claim them any time soon.”

You scoff. “You’re woefully missing the point.”

“Whatever,” Charlotte mumbles. She looks back to her reflection, smiling at herself, lifting a hand to fiddle with the small beads. “I think they look good on me.”

“Well trust me, they don’t,” you lie before promptly leaving the bathroom.

There was a rumour that you wrecked Rafe Cameron’s car. That one was true.

“Morning Lucy,” you greet, walking into An Offer You Can’t Refuse.

“Morning. Early start for a Saturday, don’t you think?” Lucy replies from behind the counter.

You shrug and shift your tote bag further up your shoulder. “Wanna get first dibs, I guess.”

“Well, all the new stuff is back there, like always,” she says, gesturing with her head to the far end of the store.

You were somewhat a regular at the shop. It was the only spot in town that sold old movies. Not old movies like the nineties. Old movies like the early 20th century: the black and white classics, with extravagant sets and telephone-voices and an untouchable charm that modern things just couldn’t quite capture. You weren’t a film snob exactly. You’d sit through a Marvel movie and tag along with Mia to see the latest cheap jump-scare horror. But those weren’t as gripping, as enthralling, as captivating as the classics. Somewhere along the way, you’d made it your life mission to see every old movie on earth.

Flicking through the cases, you pick out a couple that had been sat on your list. One was a thirty’s flick and the other from the sixties. Lucy settles up with you and you slot one in your bag. You keep the other out to read the back, scanning over the summary as you walk out the door.

“Nice car.”

Stunned, you stop and look up, finding none other than JJ Maybank. He’s sitting on the bonnet of your car with such carelessness that one would assume he owned it.

“Are you following me?” you outright ask.

He looks offended by the insinuation. Gesturing across the street, he says, “I was in the fishing shop. I saw your car and I came over to say hi.”

Rolling your eyes, you put your movie in your bag and continue to your car. “Hi.”

Before you can reach for the handle for the door, JJ slides over, effectively blocking it and forcing you to meet his gaze once more. You catch a whiff of his cologne. It smells more modest than some of the fancy crap the guys at school practically drown themselves in.

“You’re not much of a talker, are ya?”

“Depends on the topic. My car doesn’t really whip me up into a verbal frenzy,” you return, folding your arms across your chest.

JJ takes a moment simply watching you. It’s annoying. First, he interrupts your pleasant weekend by wiping his grubby cargo shorts all over your car, and now he’s trapped you in the most disinteresting conversation of all time. You quirk a brow, hoping that your displeasure reads plain and clear on your face.

“Can I help you?” you prompt, annoyed.

The smile he gives you is less cocky than usual. It’s almost curious. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

You frown. “Afraid of you? Why would I be afraid of you?”

He shrugs. “Well, most people are.”

“Well, I’m not,” you counter.

Whatever he was thinking before seems to have passed. His grin turns smug again, as quick and smooth as the moment dusk turns to flat-out night.

“Well, maybe you’re not afraid of me, but I’m sure you’ve thought about me naked, huh?”

Oh, brother.

You gasp, feigning your fluster by lifting a hand to your sternum. “Am I that transparent? I want you, I need you, oh baby, oh baby.”

With that stellar performance, you practically shove him out the way whilst forcing the car door open. JJ seems to take the hint and backs off, shoving his hands in his short pockets. He watches you climb in your car and he pulls out a cigarette in the process. You’re half-surprised he doesn’t keep blabbering away. JJ doesn’t seem as wounded this time by your dismissal and you’re not sure whether that ticks you off more. As you glance in the rearview to reverse out the parking spot, none other than Rafe Cameron drives up behind you. He then parks illegally in the middle of the parking lot, blocking you in.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

“What is it? Asshole day?”

Rafe shuts off his engine and walks past your car with a faux swagger in his stride. It makes you sick.

“Do you mind?” you loudly ask him as he goes by.

He doesn’t even spare you a glance. “Not at all.”

Your blood is bubbling under your skin, boiling up your nerves and burning up your patience. Doing one last glance at the Rafe’s back as he walks away from you, you don’t think twice before pulling your keys out the ignition. Getting out the car and slamming the door shut, you storm over to the ugly Mercedes. With the car key positioned between two fingers, you lean down slightly and dig it through the paint and into the metal, dragging it along in a satisfying streak. The sound is as pleasing as nails on a chalk board. One cut doesn’t seem to diffuse your anger enough, so you go in for a second. You debate doing a third but better to be safe than sorry. So, you pocket your keys and start walking home. You can pick up your car tomorrow. As you go to leave, you catch JJ’s impressed expression in the reflection of Rafe’s blacked out windows.

There was a rumour that you and JJ hooked up at an outdoor movie night. That was completely false.

Over the dialogue over the movie, the swell of the orchestral music, and the mumbled chatter of friends and families, you can’t hear the soothing lap of the sea waves on the sand. That didn’t take away from the beauty of the scenery. Twilight had painted the sky in the most ethereal pinks, purples, oranges and blues. The boats which had taken anchor looked like shadows with how the sun had dipped. Huge trees framed the waterline cinematically. You can’t seem to help glancing at the view every now and then. It feels like something from a coffee table book. No wonder the beach was your mother's favourite place to be.

There were few island traditions which you liked, but the movie nights were one of your favourites. From March onwards, they ran bi-weekly. A huge screen would be put up in a lawn and people would come with deckchairs and picnic blankets and take up space on the grass. Snacks and cakes and drinks would be shared in the jovially calm atmosphere of the evening. There was a snack bar over near the bathrooms selling bags of candy and pre-prepared tubs of popcorn. When you hadn’t been shooting looks to the view, you’d been looking to the snack bar, debating buying some. At the rumble of your stomach, you relent.

“I’m gonna go get some snacks. Want anything?” you ask Mia in a whisper.

She doesn’t look away from the film when she shakes her head.

“Okay. Be right back.”

Standing up, you whisper out apologies to other movie-goers as you slink away from the lawn, venturing to the snack bar. It’s only when you’re seconds away do you recognise JJ Maybank. He’s wearing longer pants this time, still of the cargo material, and an old t-shirt that says Pelican Docks on the left breast. It looks well-worn at the sleeves. His hair is tucked under a cap. The most notable thing you pick up on is the fact that he isn’t smoking. Every other time you’ve seen him outside, he’s had one of those cancer sticks stuck between his lips. It’s annoying to admit to yourself that he looks good.

Ignoring him, you head straight to the girl manning the snack bar.

“A bag of Sour Patch kids please,” you smile, holding out a couple of dollar bills. She exchanges them for a bag of sweets. Candy in hand, you walk over to JJ.

“If you’re planning on asking me out again, you might as well get it over with,” you tell him, already disgruntled.

He looks away from the movie screen. “You mind? You’re kinda ruining this for me.”

You frown, glancing between himself and the film. “You like ‘Singing In The Rain’?”

JJ shrugs. “Course. Don’t you?”

The guilt from assuming is overshadowed by your curiosity. Before you can think of something to quiz him with, he’s talking again, eyes fixated on the actors.

“I mean, it’s no ‘Casablanca’ or ‘Some Like It Hot’, but I’ll take it,” he says casually.

Your eyebrows must shoot up into your hairline. “You know the movie ‘Some Like It Hot’?”

“No doy. It’s a classic,” JJ says. “Jack Lemmon is a natural in roles like that. It’s kinda rogue of me to say but I gotta admit, I think he’s better in that than in The Odd Couple.”

The question ‘you know The Odd Couple?’ is on the tip of your tongue but it’s silenced by a loud crash in the movie, catching your attention. You watch the theatrics of Cosmo as he performs ‘Make Them Laugh’, and you can’t help but smile. It’s one of your favourite parts of the movie.

“You know, I saw you earlier and I was gonna come over,” JJ admits, drawing your gaze to him once more. “I’ve never seen anyone look so sexy without even trying.”

The pre-teen at the counter snorts, clearly having overheard. When you and JJ look to her at the same time, she flushes bright pink and presses her lips together in embarrassment. It makes you laugh though, and when you look back to JJ, he’s holding back too. The sunset and reflection of the screen is painting his face in a youthful glow. The smile on his lips seems more genuine than before; it’s no longer bolstered up with ostentatious flare. His self-assured demeanour remains though. You can see it in how relaxed he stands, shoulders loose and back.

“You’re not surrounded by your usual cloud of smoke.”

“Yeah, I quit. Turns out they’re bad for you,” JJ says.

“You think?” you mirthfully reply.

Come with me to the keggar tomorrow night,” JJ asks out of the blue.

You don’t roll your eyes this time. In fact, you’re not even annoyed. Instead, you find your smile growing. “You never give up, do you?”

“Is that a yes?”

You chuckle under breath, passing your candy bag between hands and turning to return to Mia. "No."

You begin to walk away.

“Well, is that a no then?” JJ calls. Someone shushes him abruptly.

Sniggering, you call back, “no!”

“Nine tomorrow night! I’ll pick you up!”

“Hey, shut it, man!”

“Sorry, dude. Jeez,” you hear JJ mumble.

You bite back your laugh, making your way back to the film. Mia is waiting impatiently for you. Taking your spot on the blanket again, you fight the urge to look back over your shoulder to JJ. She takes the bag of candy despite her earlier turn-down.

“What took you so long? You missed the best song,” she whispers.

You shake your head and steal a gummy, eyes fixating on the screen again. “Doesn’t matter.”

And then, you’re lost to the cinema.

There was a rumour that you threw up on JJ’s shoes at the keggar. That one was (unfortunately) true.

You know you’ve made a mistake braving going downstairs for a snack the moment your foot hits the final step.

“Daddy, it’s only for one night!”

Charlotte is there, whinging away, stood beside her friend Laura. You didn’t like Charlotte all that much but you liked Laura even less. Whilst Charlotte was losing her sense of humanity bit by bit, Laura was a hollowed-out husk dressed head to toe in Shien. Maybe if she had a stellar personality you wouldn’t care, but she didn’t. She was cruel, two-faced and you trusted her as far you could throw her. So, you were obviously thrilled to find her stood in your house.

“You know anything about a party?” you dad asks you, roping you unwillingly into the conversation.

You shrug, shaking your head no.

“Of course she doesn’t know, she’s a cave troll,” Charlotte snarls.

“That’s a new one,” you mutter under breath, starting for the kitchen.

“If she isn’t going, you’re not going,” your dad tells Charlotte.

“Urgh!” Charlotte exasperates. She rushes over to you, taking you by the shoulders and forcing you to meet her gaze. You’re a little surprised to find how genuinely desperate she is to leave the house for a dumb keggar. “Can you please forget that you’re completely wicked and just be my sister for one night. Please.”

You suck your teeth, feeling your conviction dwindle. Suddenly the half-completed page of notes about maths drops in your priorities. Charlotte seems to notice. The puppy-dog eyes come out in full effect - the ones that she used to get the new Mac book and the ones that she used to get your old pair of converse when they suddenly became trendy again.

“Please,” she begs, doubling down.

You sigh, shaking your head as if in disbelief of your own actions. “Fine, I can make an appearance.”

Charlotte looks over to Laura and they begin to squeal, hopping up and down like the floor is lava. You realise that she’s wearing the pearls still, but before you can think much more about it, you’re trapped in a hug. Everything tenses, from your head to your toes, and it isn’t over soon enough. You open the downstairs cupboard and retrieve a jacket to combat the spring breeze that’s likely going to haunt the beach at this hour. Your dad is lecturing Charlotte and Laura as you shrug it on; you pass them to the door.

It's a little frightening to open the front door and come face to face with someone who you’re not expecting to be there.

“What are you doing here?” is the first thing out of your mouth when you meet JJ’s eyes.

“Nine o’clock, right?” he replies.

It’s impossible to bite back the smile that’s coming to your face at the sound of his voice. When did that start to happen?

“Well, I’m little late, so,” he admits almost sheepishly.

You blink out of your stupor with that. A man who can’t even be on time for a date that he practically begged for – once again, the bar is on the floor.

“Whatever, I’m driving,” you tell him, brushing past and down the porch steps. He follows.

“Nice digs here.”

“Thanks,” you reply. You pull open the front gate and it creaks like it might snap off any moment.

“Y’all rich and can’t afford to oil that damn thing?"

“Help yourself to it,” you jokingly quip back. You pull your keys out your coat pocket and unlock the car. “Hop in.”

The drive to the keggar is mostly quiet. JJ points out the turnings you need to take and you refuse to let him turn on the radio. He goes to put one leg up on the car seat but must see your sideways glare, making him stop. Instead, he rests an arm on the window frame and taps his fingers along to a non-existent beat.

He’s dressed rather nice. Quite casual, but you supposed for a keggar, it didn’t much matter. It wasn’t like you were dressed to the nines either. A grey sweater hangs slightly big on his frame, but it sits on his broad shoulders a little too nicely. He’s wearing a pair of black cargo shorts which are muddied with dust on the thigh, probably from biking, and those damn cargo boots again. No cap this time, he lets his blonde hair sit mussed, seemingly from running his fingers through it. That’s something he seems to do. A lot.

When the two of you park up, the beach is already buzzing. It’s swarming with people from your school and his, yapping away to one another. People are passing drinks and passing out. Some are carrying coolers in and others are shot-gunning the moment their feet touch the sand. Sighing, you mentally prepare yourself for a hellish night.

JJ tries to walk beside you but you seem to be one step ahead every time. He takes to following your tail around the keggar as you survey the scene. A girl vomiting in the corn; a group passing around a bong; a group of horny dirtbags jeering and cheering as two girls make out. A brunette girl comes stumbling over, practically throwing herself at JJ.

“Kiss me,” she slurs, clearly hammered.

JJ doesn’t look too thrilled but it doesn’t keep you from rolling your eyes and continuing on.

“Not tonight, girly,” you overhear him say. You then hear his footsteps behind you once more.

His popularity among the Pogues is startling. Soon enough, someone else is coming up to him, followed by a third. You overhear good-humoured conversation kick up, spirits high, and the smacking of hands as they enact a brief handshake. It seems a good opportunity to ditch him.

The moment of freedom is over quicker than the final week of summer. Rafe Cameron, in all his knobheaded glory, saunters over.

“Didn’t peg you as a keggar girl,” he tells you. Even on the night, you can’t catch a break from him.

“You know me: full of surprises,” you return dryly.

“Surprising in that outfit too. Nice to see the puppies out today,” he says, licking his teeth as his eyes shamelessly flit down to your top.

You roll your eyes. “Eat crap creep.”

Rafe doesn’t seem to be finished. He follows after you leisurely when you walk around him. “Your little sister coming tonight?”

“Stay away from her, Rafe,” you warn.

“Oh, sure, sure, I’ll stay away,” he nods, raising his hands in mock surrender. The most wicked, twisted grin sinks into his skin. “But I can’t promise she’ll stay away from me.”

Your disgust must read plainly on your face. Rafe chuckles darkly, apparently finished with the interaction, and you watch as he makes his way over to his pack. You shiver out your repugnance and distract yourself by making another lap of the keggar, hoping to find your sister in the process.

Unfortunately, you’re not quick enough to get to her before Rafe. He’s fiddling with a strand of her hair, looking down at her in a way that she might think is doting but you can only read as looming. Your stomach sinks as he notices you, jutting up his chin proudly.

“Yo. Look who found me,” he taunts.

Intestines are now in your shoes as you spot his hand looping around her waist and laying grip. Charlotte tangles her fingers into his, a red solo up in her other hand, and goes to lead the two of them away. You quickly dart after her.

“Charlotte, wait, can I talk to you?”

“Don’t address me in public,” she hisses, horrified.

You hope your expression is as pleading as hers was earlier, but it mustn’t be, because she continues to move away from you.

“Go, enjoy the night,” Charlotte says. She probably thinks she’s being nice, putting your mind at ease, but it makes you all the more concerned. “That’s what I’m gonna do.”

Looking around as if something or someone might tell you what to do next, your eyes fixate on the coolers. You soon find yourself taking a swig of tequila. It burns as it runs down your throat; you close your eyes with wince.

“I’ve been looking all over the place for you!”

You open them to find a very disquieted JJ.

“I’m getting trashed bro,” you reply, lifting the bottle up in proof. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do at a party?”

“Not with that crap,” JJ replies.

Rolling your eyes, you take another shot. “Whatever. I’ll catch you later.”

Then you’re walking away from him and weaving through the crowds. The trashy RnB music playing over a loudspeaker thumps through the sand and rattles through your bones. You find yourself collecting drinks like a pre-teen collects trading cards. With each sip, the alcohol goes down easier and easier, and your control becomes lesser and lesser. You’re only half sure of the time. Nobody here looks familiar to you and you have no idea where Charlotte has gone. The thought of her with Rafe has you reaching for another drink but it’s taken from you before the bottle can meet your lips.

“Hey!”

“How about I have this one?” JJ offers.

You snatch it back. “No way, this one’s mine.”

Was that your voice? Jeez, maybe you’re more drunk than you thought. That doesn’t keep you from necking the whole thing, some dumbass cheering you on. Dumping the bottle in the sand, you pull a face to JJ, extending out your arms as if to say ‘see – what you gonna do about it?’ .

The makeshift dancefloor becomes randomly appealing. The rhythm of the music seems to have finally crept out of the ground and into your bones, and you stagger your way to the crowd of dancing, swaying drunks and begin to move to the music. Closing your eyes, you drag your hands up your sides and into the air, hips dipping and diving to the song. It isn’t your usual thing but you find the groove to it. The reason you lose it is the elbow that suddenly jams into your back. You wince in pain and tumble forward, balance screwed from all the drinks. The ground comes to meet you surprisingly quick and you don’t have time to put your hands out to save your head from hitting a stuck-out branch from driftwood.

“You alright?”

It’s JJ.

“I’m fine,” you slur.

When you go to stand, everything is spinning. It makes you slip in the sand and nearly face plant a second time.

“You’re not fine. Alright, come on,” JJ mumbles as his hands gently take your biceps. You grumble out complaints as he helps you off the ground.

The music drifts away from you as JJ guides you somewhere. The shakiness of the world makes you feel nauseous so you opt with keeping your eyes closed. There’s a throbbing from where you hit your head.

“Can I talk to you?” someone asks. You don't open your eyes to find out who.

“Not right now, man. I’m a little busy,” you hear JJ return, patience clearly dwindling.

“Can you give me a second?”

The firm but friendly hold JJ has on you momentarily vanishes. You hear the crunch of sand as he walks away a few steps but you’re too busy fighting to keep yourself upright to see where he’s gone. Just as you’re about to lose the fight, JJ’s back, catching you and steadying you on your feet.

“Woah, woah,” he chuckles. “Come on.”

As the mayhem of the party fades, you find the pounding in your head to lessen. You’re slowly lowered to sit on a piece of driftwood.

“This is so patronising.”

“Leave it to you to use big words when you’re smashed,” JJ says.

Braving to open your eyes, you find JJ digging around in his cargo pockets. “Why are you helping me?”

“I’m worried you might got a concussion,” he tells you. He produces a small box from his pocket, no bigger than the palm of his hand, and he cracks it open.

“You wouldn’t care if I never wake up,” you snort. The scrunch of your brows has you reaching up to the stinging pain of your head wound. Before you can touch at it, JJ’s pulling your hand away by the wrist.

“Sure I would.”

“Why?”

“Cause otherwise I’d have to start taking out girls who actually like me.”

“Like you could find one.”

“See? That right there, makin’ me swoon, mama,” JJ ribs. He reaches out for your face then. “Alright, this might sting a little.”

His fingers are warm as they touch your skin. He lightly coaxes your head up and back by the edge of your jaw. You watch with half-blurred vision as he concentrates, gently dapping what must be an alcoholic wipe to your cut.

JJ has a pretty face. Dimples that are visible even when he isn’t smiling. A soft jawline that sharpens when he’s flexing, whether it be in concentration or aggravation. The long slender nose sits nicely on his face, guiding into surprisingly neat eyebrows and eyes with lashes so long Charlotte would cry with envy.

The wipe hits the deepest point of the wound. Flinching back, you hiss in pain.

“Sorry,” JJ mumbles.

“S’okay,” you quietly reply.

He finishes dabbing the blood away and sighs, pulling the wipe back. JJ seems to notice your stare at that point, flitting his eyes down to meet yours.

“What?”

“Your eyes have a little grey in them,” you observe.

His lips twitch in a smile. Maybe it’s the warmth of the booze, but you’re half sure that the boy blushes. Your eyes glance down to his lips, the one part of his face you haven’t yet analysed. JJ clears his throat and removes his hand from your head. He litters the wipe on the beach floor and shoves his hands in his short pockets, creating some distance. He doesn’t move any farther away from you though.

“How’d you know to do all that?”

“Cleaning cuts?”

“Mhm,” you say.

“Kinda have to learn, when you grow up in a house like mine,” JJ vaguely replies.

You spare a glance at his side profile to find his eyes trained ahead in an almost vacant stare. He comes back to himself, looking at you.

“So, uh, why’d you let him get to you?”

“Who? Rafe?”

“Uh huh.”

“I hate him,” you state.

JJ purses his lips and nods. “Fair ‘nough.”

Someone whoops out to another in the far distance. You try to ignore it, instead focusing on the susurrus of the wind, the sighs of the sea, and the steady inhales and exhales of the boy sitting beside you.

“So, your mom a nurse or something?” you ask.

“My ma?”

“Yeah. With the cut cleaning and all that.”

“Nah, she ain’t a nurse,” JJ replies. “Fact, I don’t know what she is. She ain’t around anymore.”

“That sucks,” you say.

He shrugs. “Happened a long time ago. She walked out on us so guess there can’t be much to miss, right?”

“I guess,” you agree, though you’re not sure if you fully do. For some reason – maybe because of the alcohol blurring your barriers – you find yourself telling him, “My mom walked out on us too.”

“Really?”

You nod, and instantly regret it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It gave the yacht club something to talk about for like a year,” you say, cracking a smile.

JJ grins. “You Kooks gotta have your gossip.”

“Oh yeah,” you whistle, nodding. “Otherwise we’d actually have to start making conversation about shit that matters. Or realise how little we all like each other.”

The two of you laugh and lock eyes. His dimples are now out in full force, teeth shining in the off-cast street lamp glow and enchanting moonlight.

“You know, you’re not as vile as I thought you’d be.”

His smile only grows. “Thanks. I think?”

The pulsating pain in your head seems to vanish for a moment. You think it’s because of JJ and his weirdly wonderful ways. You think it is, until you realise it’s because your body is distracted by a whole new problem.

Head whipping down, you aim away from your shoes and somehow directly at JJ’s.

And then bam: vomit.

There was a rumour that you and JJ hooked up in the back of your car. That one was false.

It’s abnormal seeing JJ sat behind your steering wheel. His elbow is propped up on the window ledge, knuckles cracked as he grips the wheel at the top, guiding it with the other hand. You keep stealing glances. He focuses ahead on the road. It’s pitch-black asides from the glare of the headlights and the few and far between streetlamps. You’re not entirely sure how you got to this point with him, to have him driving your car and to find yourself completely okay with it.

The playlist that the radio is humming out changes to the next song. You instantly feel your body soften in the passenger seat with the swell of violins and cellos. Naturally, gradually, they find a melody. It’s solemn and serene all at once.

“I love this song,” you hear yourself say.

“What is it?”

“Love Theme, from Cinema Paradiso,” you reply.

JJ’s lips twitch with curiosity. “Never heard of it.”

“It’s my favourite piece of music of all time,” you tell him. “It makes me cry.”

“Really? Don’t know if any song’s ever made me cry.”

“Then you’re listening to the wrong things,” you're quick assert.

JJ chuckles at that, but he doesn’t disagree.

The piano chimes in now; steady waltz-like chords which complement the strings flawlessly. You sigh and watch the world pass by through the window. After throwing up, draining the alcohol from your body in the least flattering of ways, you feel more stable. There’s still a blur to the edge of the world hinting that you’re not fully sober but you no longer feel out of control. The three mints which you had the moment you got in the car helped to freshen your mouth.

“It’s a pretty song,” JJ observes. You’re surprised that he’s listening to it. “Is it meant to be happy?”

“Sort of. It’s the third version. There’s three reprises of the song throughout the film. The movie’s sort of a culmination of genres. It’s a love story about Salvatore and Elena, this girl who he’s completely infatuated with throughout his teens. But it doesn’t work out. It’s also about his relationship with Alfredo, this old man who runs the cinema. Salvatore falls in love with cinema and Alfredo is like a father figure to him. As he grows up, he’s pushed to leave the small town and live his life.”

JJ whistles lowly. “That’s a lot’a unpack.”

“Sorry,” you meekly reply. Maybe you rambled on a bit too much.

“Don’t be. It’s interesting,” JJ says.

You glance over to him and see him smiling, and you struggle to bite back your own, looking back to the road.

“You seem to have a thing for movies,” JJ notes.

“I love them,” you sigh, pushing your hair behind your ears. The music builds at that moment, with the wind instruments taking control of the melody and pushing the emotion to another level. You find your eyes slipping shut on reflex. It’s with them closed that you find the confidence to admit, “I want to write movies for a living. But nothing like the new crappy things. Films like the old ones. The ones with real emotion and meaning behind them. I’m so sick of the cheap rewrites and remakes. All the CGI junk that fills the cinema now and the empty scores.”

“So, why don’t you? Write movies, I mean?”

As JJ asks you this question, he pulls up outside your house.

You scoff. “Yeah, my dad would just love that. He wants me to go to school for accounting or economics. Something with ‘a future’.”

The engine shuts off but the song continues to play. JJ glances down at the radio, his eyes scanning over the song title. He seems lost in thought, or perhaps lost in the music, and you feel a small smile settle comfortably on your face. He’s so pretty in this light. He’s pretty in any light.

He seems to remember himself, coming out of his stupor in a similar manner to how he did back on the beach. Looking up to you, JJ catches your gaze. He reflexively switches off the radio, cutting the song off and enveloping the two of you in silence.

“You uh,” he begins, gesturing lamely to the house, “don’t seem the type to ask for your dad’s permission.”

“Oh what? Now you think you know me all of a sudden?” Your tone is teasing. It’s so different to the usual bite it has from your other interactions.

JJ shrugs. “I think I’m starting to.”

The honesty behind his words has your lips parting, somewhat taken aback. The bad-boy façade that he hides behind seems to have slipped tonight. You hold his gaze and he offers you a warm, tender smile. There’s a nervous yet excitable thrum in your chest. It's terrifying.

“Yeah, well, the only thing people know about me is that I’m scary,” you say dismissively.

“Well, I’m no picnic myself, so,” JJ muses.

And it’s things like that which catch you off guard. Your efforts to push him away and close him off are so easily dismissed. He seems to have a talent for peeling away your walls and it never feels intrusive. Instead, it makes you feel seen. Understood. It’s something that you haven’t really known since your mom walked out. Mia understood you to an extent, but you weren’t sure that she knew you. You weren’t sure if you’d ever let her, as awful as it sounds.

“Well, thank you. For driving me back,” you quietly say.

JJ nods. His eyes never stray from yours. He’s so beautiful it’s unfair.

“Course. Anytime.”

He takes a breath and it’s shaky, tempered with nerves, and that’s when you wonder if his heart is beating as fast as yours. If his stomach is full of butterflies too, bringing about the most addictive of anxieties. As his tongue darts out to dampen his lips, you find yourself taking the leap. Slowly, so slow that you’re not sure you even are, you lean forward to him, letting your eyes slip shut. In the moonlight, in your car, after the conversations of the night, you finally feel as though you have seen the real JJ, and he’s seen the real you.

A second passes.

Then another.

Then a third.

You hear the rustle of clothes and the creak of the car seat as JJ shifts. It makes you open your eyes. He’s watching his fingers trail along the leather grip of the steering wheel, knuckles uncomfortably tight and lips rubbing together.

“Maybe we should do this another time,” he eventually says.

For a moment, you just sit. You take him in. He doesn’t appear cocky or disgusted, or even amused. He seems timorous. It’s so confusing and irritating that you find yourself defaulting to anger. It’s that anger that smothers the burning hot embarrassment you feel deep in your chest. It conceals the crumbling disappointment of not having his lips on yours. Suddenly, you want to be as far away from him as possible.

You scoff and push open the car door. It slams loudly behind you as you storm back up to the house, arms wrapping around yourself in comfort as you feel your heart painfully pulling at your throat. The sting of tears is hard to fight but you manage to keep them at bay until you’re in your bedroom. It’s there that you feel safe enough to cry.

There was a rumour that JJ tracked you down in a movie shop. That one was true.

Have you ever had so much on your mind that it’s physically impossible to concentrate, even on the simplest of things? Ever since the keggar three days ago, that’s how you’ve felt. Studying was more gruelling than usual. You would start reading an exert from Romeo and Juliet and somehow, you’d find your mind drifting to the sound of JJ’s voice on the beach, telling you about his mom. Watching movies was no longer an escape because any guy on screen had you back in the passenger seat, basking in JJ’s beauty. Even now, stood in An Offer You Can’t Refuse, you find yourself staring blankly at the back of a DVD case, trying to make sense of the blurb.

Sighing, you give up and shelve it. You wander back to the main throughway of the store and look at some of the more recent releases. Tugging your cardigan tighter around you, you round the end of the shelve, heading for the exit, to instead come face to face with JJ.

It’s a shame that your stomach twists unpleasantly at the sight of him.

“Excuse me, have you seen ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s?’ I’ve lost my copy?”

You hold back a grunt and opt to roll your eyes instead. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard there was a secret screening,” JJ tells you, humour lining his words.

You scoff. “You’re so…”

“Charming?” he offers.

You breeze past him.

“Wholesome!”

“Unwelcome,” you correct.

“You’re not as mean as you think you are, you know,” JJ suddenly tells you, tone taking an edge.

Mystified, you return, “and you’re not as badass as you think you are.”

“Oh, somebody’s still got their panties in a twist,” JJ quips.

Spinning around, you raise a finger threateningly. “Do not for one second think you had any effect whatsoever on my panties.”

JJ lightly taps your hand away. “What did I have an effect on then?”

It’s moments like these that you’re thankful your mouth is quicker than your mind. “Other than my upchuck reflex, nothing,” you lie.

JJ sighs, frustrated.

In the corner of your eye, you see the movies of the week. The universe works perfectly sometimes. Snatching up a copy, you shove Breakfast at Tiffany's in JJ’s chest before leaving the shop.

It sucks to be mad at JJ. You don’t want to be, but you don’t know how not to be. The whole night felt like an oxymoron. There was a moment when things felt so perfect and then he shattered it. It was abnormal. All that hard work to get you out on a date; the time taken caring for you and driving you back, checking you got home safe; and the conversations that felt far from empty and false…And then nothing. You knew JJ wasn’t a virgin. Not all rumours are based in truth – you knew that – but when it came to JJ Maybank, it was common knowledge that he had a way with girls. You weren’t the first girl for him to lay eyes on, and you certainly wouldn’t be the first girl he’d kiss, so why did he suddenly seem so discouraged? It didn’t make sense.

Whatever.

You close the car door and start up your engine.

You had more important things to sort out than deliberating over JJ’s intentions. Since when had a man ever interrupted your life before? There were some math notes which needed finishing back at home, and a track meet practice to prepare for tomorrow. Life was bigger than some pretty teenage boy.

Catching your eyes in the rearview mirror, you harden your gaze. “Get a grip.”

Your day doesn’t seem to improve when you get home. Whilst you’ve managed to put thoughts of JJ to bed, letting the irritation rest, your dad seems unwilling to give you peace. You walk through the door to hear himself and Charlotte talking animatedly about the Spring Ball at the yacht club.

“I’m not sure,” your dad sighs.

“But daddy, I’ve gone to them before.”

“But this one’s different. The guys there are older now. You’re older now. After last year, and our reputation, I’m just…”

The creaking floorboard before the kitchen doorway gives you away. Charlotte jumps at the chance to lasso you in.

“What if she comes?”

“She has a name,” you mutter, heading to the cupboard for a snack.

“I mean, if your sister goes then you can go, but I doubt she will.”

“She will what?” you ask. Cereal bar in hand, you tug away the wrapper and take a bite.

“Go to the Spring Ball.”

You guffaw loudly. “Yeah. No.”

“Knew it,” your dad says.

“Oh, come on! What’s wrong with the Spring Ball?” Charlotte carps.

You roll your eyes. “They’re stupid and performative and in bad taste. And old-fashioned. It just makes me feel icky. Whilst the Cut are trying to raise money to renovate the parks, we’re throwing balls for the fun of it. Plus, they’re boring. It’s just a bunch of rich morons talking about other rich morons. No offence, dad.”

“Plenty taken,” mutters your dad.

“You’re exhausting,” Charlotte tells you. “And unhinged.”

“Thanks,” you grin before taking another bite of your snack. You go to leave. “I’ll be upstairs.”

There was a rumour that JJ snuck into your school. That one was true.

You started running track following your school guidance counsellor’s advice. It was after you kneed Kelce so hard in the balls that he had to go to the nurse (you pride yourself for that achievement daily). Track was a good way to let off steam though. The world felt smaller and simpler on the circuit. You felt as though you could run away from all the things that were bothering you: Rafe, your dad, Charlotte, your mom. And now, JJ. The steady beat of your feet hitting the sand-topped track works like a metronome for your musings.

You’d heard the rumours that had been circulating about the night of the keggar. Charlotte hadn’t told you what happened between herself and Rafe, but there was a rumour that he didn’t drive her home. Apparently, someone called Louis had given her a ride back. You’d seen him at school every now and then. He’d only transferred a few months back so there wasn’t much to know about him. He seemed harmless enough though. Compared to Rafe, a rabid dog would be preferred.

“Good pace!” your coach praises loudly to you as you complete a third lap.

You’re panting in the warm sun. April was right around the corner now and the temperature was picking up, bit by bit, every day. Slowing to a jog, you direct yourself to the benches and retrieve your water bottle.

As your swallowing your third sip, you hear the loudspeaker system crackle to life. At first you don’t pay it much mind, assuming it’s one of the band members checking everything is working for a game tomorrow night or something. But then a voice is droning out of the speakers. It has a Carolina twang to it that is more common on the Cut and a youthful rasp that’s now all too familiar.

JJ.

‘Morning you wonderful Kook folks.’

You stare wide-eyed at the speaker.

‘Y’all are probably busy preparing your caviar or whatever the hell it is that you be doing out here on Figure Eight, but I’m here to read something I prepared. Brighten up your day and all that.’

Surely you have heatstroke. Surely this is not happening.

“’I’ve come here with no expectations, only to profess, now that I am at liberty to do so, that my heart is, and always will be, yours.’”

Sense and Sensibility. You glance around the field as if to check that you’re not the only one hearing this and - yep, you’re not.

“‘Me? I’m scared of everything. I’m scared of what I saw, I’m scared of what I did, of who I am, and most of all, I’m scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I’m with you.’”

Dirty Dancing. Lips twitching into a smile, you’re in disbelief. Some people are sniggering at the cheesiness, others are completely befuddled by the whole thing. It is rather random. If you didn’t know what he was doing, you’d be confused too. Well, you still are, in fact. Did he know you'd be at the track today?

“And my personal favourite, ladies and gentlemen: ‘No, I don’t think I will kiss you, although you need kissing. Badly. That’s what’s wrong with you. You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.’”

Your perplexed smile turns more sober with that. Something trills in your chest – most probably your heart – and you nod in quiet approval.

“Alright then, Kooks and…Kooklemen. Y’all have a blessed day.”

The speaker clicks off with a crackle and some people on the field whoop and cheer, laughing and jeering. You shake your head and finish your drink, grinning like an idiot.

Maybe, just maybe, you can find some room to give JJ another chance.

There was a rumour that JJ Maybank spent his free time fishing. That one was true.

JJ Maybank was like a candy bar. He had a way of being sweet without being sickly, and he stayed on your mind the same way one gets chocolate stuck between their teeth. After asking around, you’re told that the best place to find the so-called delinquent was at a local fishing spot, down some old jetty. The floorboards creak unnervingly with every step you take. The sun is high in the sky, it only being mid-morning, and you find JJ easily. He’s perched on the end of the jetty, leaning forward against the rotting wooden railing. In one hand he’s supporting a rod, the wire of which is submerged deep in the water, waiting for a bite. There’s a small cooler by his feet alongside a bag of fishing tack. The back of his t-shirt has a large circular graphic on it. It’s well washed but you can make out the ‘sex-wax’ text.

“Yo,” you call out.

He startles then turns. There’s a strange flurry of emotions that cross over his face in a second when he lays eyes on you.

“Hey. How’d you find me?”

“I have my ways,” you reply, finishing the journey to him.

JJ moves so his back rests against the fence, body now facing you, and you pause a comfortable foot or so apart.

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh?”

“I was kind’a an asshole at the movie store, the other day,” you say, uncomfortable in your confession. The proud twitch of his brow doesn't go unnoticed. “So, I figured it was only right to fess up.”

“Mhm. Anything in particular brought this on?” JJ wonders innocently.

You smile at that, rolling your eyes. Nevertheless, you play along. “You know, it’s so weird. This voice came over the speakers at school yesterday and it got me thinking.”

“Oh? You know who it was?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh, scratching your hairline. “Maybe God?”

“You sure it weren’t an angel?” he checks, tongue poking through his teeth with his boyish grin.

“Nah, but he sure had the voice of one,” you play along.

The entertained lift of JJ’s brows makes your smile flatten into something more genuine.

“Did you get in trouble for it?”

“For breaking into Kook Academy and hacking your intercom?” JJ asks. His face scrunches up as he shakes his head falsely. “Nah.”

“Mhm. Sure.”

“I’m a pro, sweetheart. I was in and out, like an ops-mission,” he recounts, using his free hand to gesture lamely like a discount spy.

You roll your eyes once more and move to stand next to him, separated only by the cooler. Leaning your arms forward on the jetty fence, you sigh and close your eyes, basking in the sun.

“What’re you doing right now?”

“Right now?” you say, opening your eyes to look at him. He nods. “Nothing much.”

“Wanna go to the break? Hear the waves are meant to be pretty sweet today,” JJ asks.

Your lips twitch at the corners. His seem to mirror. “Sure, yeah. Sounds good.”

“Sweet. Lemme just pack this stuff up,” he says. “My friend’s lent me his car for the day so we can ride there in that.”

There was a rumour that you nearly drowned when you went surfing with JJ. That one was completely made up.

The water is so blue you can almost taste it. The gradient of blues and aquamarines is mouthwatering in beauty.

Sighing, your feet sink into the sand, desensitised to the burn on the soles of your feet. On one shoulder you have your rucksack. It’s packed with snacks that the two of you picked up from a local shop: granola bars and a large back of chips, that sort of thing. JJ found some cans of soda when turfing through the cooler. Tucked under your other arm is a surfboard that JJ’s letting you borrow; there were three attached to the roof of the beat-up camper van he’s borrowing. JJ’s carrying a tattered looking picnic blanket that he dragged off the backseats and his own board. It seems JJ’s surfboard is the thing that is the best kept out of all the belongings he has.

JJ whistles. “Pretty good swell, huh?”

“Hell yeah,” you agree.

He walks in front and dumps the picnic blanket, lazily spreading it out with his foot. You put the rucksack down with it before leaning down to place your board carefully on the sand. As you go to stand, you find your eyes falling on JJ’s back. He’s tugging off his shirt, lats and triceps tensing and relaxing with the quick change. You can’t help but stare. The guy’s in good shape – nobody can disagree with that. He turns and catches your eye just before you can divert your gaze to the water, frowning as if assessing the waves. There’s an amused smirk that comes to his face, cocky like always.

“Enjoying the view?” he asks.

Your face scrunches in deliberation. You pretend that he’s referring to the sea. “Yeah; the waves look pretty strong.”

“Mhm,” he hums, entertained.

It’s then that you decide to seek some revenge. Casually, like the whole situation doesn’t make your heartbeat with elated anxiety, you pull your top off, revealing a crotchet-style bikini top. Living in Kildare meant that bikinis instead of underwear were sort of a given. Unbuttoning your shorts, you wiggle them down your body before stepping out and tossing them on the blanket. Glancing up, acting as if you’d completely forgotten JJ was there, you quirk a brow. He’s staring shamelessly at your body.

“Something up?”

“Not yet,” he mumbles.

It’s hard to bite back your smile. Hard, but not impossible. Dipping down to retrieve the board, you strain a little as you lift it.

“Come on. We’re wasting daylight,” you tell him, walking past towards the water.

“Yes ma’am,” you hear him say.

The crunch of sand behind you tells you he’s following. Then, his pace picks up and he’s rushing past, taking a moment to dab at your head jokingly.

“Hey!”

His laugh is light like buttercream frosting. You chase after him, towards the break, and soon enough you’re sliding atop of your board and paddling through the wake. JJ’s just a bit ahead. His back glistens in the sunlight with saltwater. You swallow your pride and dignity and let your eyes trail up his legs and butt. The water makes his clothes stick more than usual. He steadily rises to his feet, finding his balance on the board in such a natural manner that one would think he was born on it. The way he leans forward and back is effortless. He tames the waves like a creature of the sea, dipping on the currents and following the dives. You can’t help but sit up on your board for a moment and watch. His face is tight with concentration but the joy is as clear as the water. The sharp edge of his jawline teases you as you watch him surf. The tremble of your heart and knot in your stomach isn’t unfamiliar and yet it still catches you by surprise. To distract yourself, you paddle out some more before rising to your feet.

You know the old saying ‘time flies when you’re having fun’? You never much believed it until today. The two of you must have been on the water for an hour. Somehow, simultaneously, the two of you agree that it’s time to call it off. The scratchy over-washed cotton of the blanket is only slightly uncomfortable on your legs as you sit. JJ takes your rucksack and digs about for a snack. You opt for taking in the quietness of the beach; it feels as though you’re the only souls for miles.

“Who’s this?” JJ asks.

You glance over to find JJ holding up a photo he’d taken from your wallet. A part of you wants to make a jab about how he’s snooping around, but you don’t. Instead, you smile weakly.

“My mom.”

“Oh,” JJ says, looking back down at the photo with new interest. “She’s pretty. Can see where you get your looks from.”

“Thanks,” you smile.

JJ reaches back into the back and pulls a can of soda free. He tosses it to you and you crack it open.

“I go through phases of having it in there,” you say, nodding down to the photo that he continues to hold. “Sometimes I want it around and other times I don’t. I know that probably sounds dumb.”

“No, it doesn’t,” JJ responds rather easily.

He tucks the photo back away in the wallet, safe and sound, then grabs a can of sofa for himself. He reclines on his elbows. Your eyes fixate on the shark tooth necklace hung around his neck on a discoloured piece of yarn. It rises and falls with each steady breath he takes. As your eyes trail down his stomach, you notice the water droplets drying in the sunlight. In a desperate effort not to stare, you find yourself watching him crack his feet, outstretching them on the sand. Crossing your legs, you take a sip of your soda and glance back up to his face. Then, you follow JJ’s line of sight to the water. The routine of the waves pulling in and pulling back, over and over, is calming in a way few other things are. As the sky’s mosaic of colour darkens by the minute, the water reflects it back like a mirror with a pretty shimmer.

“Sometimes I wish I had a photo of my ma.”

“Don’t you?” you ask, looking to him again.

He shakes his head. “My dad went on this crazy rager when she left and burnt up all her stuff. I was too young and stupid to take a photo for myself and hide it somewhere.”

“Bold of you to assume that you’re not still those things.”

JJ snorts, shooting you a glance. “Thanks.”

You smile back but correct your manners. “Seriously though, that sucks. I’m sorry.” It’s a lame understatement for the reality of it, but it’s all you can think to say. Tenderness isn’t something that comes very naturally for you.

He shrugs, looking back to the water. You know he’s trying to act like it doesn’t bother him, and maybe if you’d only met yesterday, you’d believe it, but there’s something about his composure that tells you that it isn’t true.

“I just wish I could remember what she looks like, y’know?” he says, looking to you once more as if seeking affirmation. You give a small nod. “I mean, I can’t even remember her voice. Not that it should matter. Fuck her, right? She’s the one who left.”

He takes a hasty sip of his soda, breaking eye contact. You frown and watch him, and deliberate whether to speak your mind. I mean, of course you’re going to, but it feels good to deliberate first.

“Well, no, not ‘fuck her’,” you eventually say.

JJ looks to you, eyebrows knotted: bordering on angry.

You continue. “I think it ain’t that simple. It’s why I go through phases of having that photo of my mom in my wallet. You can be mad at someone and still miss them. At least I think you can. They’re not binary things, or mutually exclusive. So, I don’t think it’s as simple as ‘fuck her’.”

There’s a moment where JJ just looks at you, as if he’s soaking you in the same way the two of you are basking in the warmth of the sun. It’s a certain kind of stare; the kind where you don’t feel calculated under his gaze but unquestionably seen. There’s a momentary concern that you’ve offended him but then JJ gains this almost-smile that’s becoming more and more familiar to you, and he nods.

“I’ve never really talked to anyone about her before,” JJ confesses.

You smile sadly. “Me too. About my mom, I mean. Dad shuts down when I bring it up and Charlotte…She remembers things differently.”

“Well, it’s nice to talk about it.”

“Yeah,” you agree. “It is nice.”

The whispering of sea waves melts into the sound of songbirds and geese, singing and squawking in a weirdly melodic harmony. There’re crickets in the dunes which chime in from time to time and you take a moment to look back to the water, close your eyes, and enjoy it all.

“So, what’s your excuse for it?”

“My excuse for what?” you wonder, never opening your eyes.

“You know.” There’s a soft scrape on your skin as JJ kicks some sand off his feet and onto yours. “For acting the way we do.”

Sighing, you deliberate on how to answer. JJ has this way of opening you up. With others, you were hard-shelled and closed off, but like a pistachio, he knew where to pry just right to get you to spill. It was like he already knew the password so you never questioned letting him through the door.

“I don’t want to care what people think of me. It makes no difference, whether I impress them or not, so what should it matter? Why should I waste my time with it?”

“‘Makes no difference?’ Like makes no difference whether they stick around?” JJ wonders.

You open your eyes and look to him, a little taken aback by how easily he translated your words. “Sure. Like that.”

“Like your mom?”

It doesn’t affect you when he asks that. If someone else were to, your fury would spike suddenly and you’d snap. Say something you’d regret. But maybe because JJ might understand more than others, it doesn’t. So, you nod.

“Yeah,” you quietly reply. “Like my mom.”

“I get that,” JJ muses. It’s with that small token that you feel comfortable to elaborate.

“I think it really came clear after she left, how fake people can be,” you say. “Seeing how all our so-called friends reacted. At the Yacht Club, my dad was the laughingstock. Everyone talked about him, about mom leaving, like they didn’t know him. Like he wasn’t this great guy - which he is - and like they hadn’t been drinking cocktails and pints on his tab for years. It was so fake. That’s when I realised that people will think whatever they want to, even if they say another thing. So…why bend yourself backwards to try and change it?”

Sniffing, JJ nods in understanding as he digests your story. His toes dig into the damp sand and you find your own spare hand reaching out and playing with the grains, sifting through them soothingly.

“What about you? Why do you act the way we do?”

“I guess the same, in a way,” JJ replies. You notice that he likes to gaze ahead when he talks about himself, like eye-contact is too painful. Too vulnerable. “With my dad being who he is, people just assume the worst about me. I’m sick of trying to prove them wrong. They’re gonna think what they wanna think so what’s the point, right?”

“The ones who care enough won’t judge a book by its cover. They’ll get to know you and see through all the bullshit,” you assure him.

His head turns with that. Unblinking, he asks, “like you?”

You’re momentarily stunned by the bluntness of the question but soon enough, you’re smiling at him.

“Yeah. Like me.”

When JJ smiles, his teeth peak through in this adorably youthful way. There’re dimples that poke through his cheeks and no tension in his forehead or jaw. Just happiness. You like him like this, all tousled and sun-kissed and seawater bathed. It’s strange. Sitting here with him on the beach feels like the first time you’ve ever been to the water and truly appreciated it. It’s like you’d always thought you would sink, so you never swam. But now, with JJ looking at you the way he is, and the way the two of you seem to click in an inexplicable manner – as if you’d been the two missing parts of the other’s jigsaw puzzle – you realise that maybe you were wrong to make such an assumption.

“It’s weird. We come from such different lifestyles but I don’t think anyone understands me as good as you do.”

JJ’s voice is quiet but not small when he tells you this. It’s a private thought that you’re honoured for him to have shared. There’s only one way you can think to answer.

Leaning forward, you leave your drink abandoned on the blanket and cup his jaw, fingers damp from condensation. His lips meet yours willingly. The kiss the two of you fall into makes your feelings for him all the more obvious to you, and all the more terrifying.

There was a lot of rumours about the both of you. Some were true, and some were not.

JJ drops the campervan off at his friend John B’s house. It’s this quaint fishing shack that could definitely do with a lick of paint on the boarding, and a few fresh nails to keep the porch from caving in on itself. But it’s homely by how clearly lived-in it is. There’s no emotionless ornaments like in your house; only fishing gear, empty cans of beer by the stairs leading up to the front door, and far-from-new throw pillows. You wait on the grass at the bottom of the stairs as JJ heads up to the door, skipping one of the steps entirely. He raps with his knuckles on the door before letting himself in.

“Yo! John B, you home?”

“Back here!” you hear a guy call back. JJ vanishes into the house, car keys in hand, ready to hand them over.

Shoving your hands in your short pockets, you glance out to the backyard. There’s an impressive sized tree from which a hammock hangs, and a less than stable looking jetty. A sort-of shed stands, filled with all sorts of tools and gear, and a half-waxed board lies on a table.

“Alright, let’s bounce,” JJ says, reappearing. He hops off the porch and grabs your hand like it’s second nature, guiding the two of you away from the house.

“You known John B a long time?”

“Since kindergarten,” JJ replies.

“Damn. Don’t think I’ve ever known someone that long. Well, apart from Charlotte.”

“What’s her deal, anyway?”

“Who? Charlotte?”

“Yeah. Like, is she as conceited as everyone says she is?”

Your brows quirk up. “People say she’s conceited?”

Watching JJ fumble and stumble over his tongue is entertaining. He looks to you, mildly panicked. “Well, like, I don’t say that but—”

“I’m just messing with you,” you grin. He unconsciously gives a small sigh of relief. “I know she’s conceited. And spoilt. And bratty.”

“Hm. Sounds like you’re really fond of her,” JJ chuckles.

You laugh under breath and rock your head from side to side in deliberation. “She’s hard to love but harder to hate.”

“That’s ice cold, girl,” JJ whistles.

The moment your feet hit the tarmac of a main road, you realise that you’ve been following the blonde-haired boy blind.

“Where are we going, by the way?”

“To mine.”

“To yours?”

JJ seems to catch onto the innuendo. He looks to you and adds, “my bike’s there. I can give you a ride home.”

“Oh.” Something inside you sinks with disappointment. You don’t dwell on it though. “Thanks.”

The weight of JJ’s fingers nestled between yours is casually intimate. Usually you’d feel coddled and clammy and want to pull away, but instead you feel safe.

“What’d you think I meant? When I said we were heading to mine?” JJ asks you.

You quirk a brow and pull a face which seems to be answer enough. He cracks up. “I mean…I’m down if you’re down…”

“Slow and steady, JJ Maybank. Slow and steady,” you return with a grin.

“That’s my motto baby,” is his sultry reply, topped off with a wink.

You’d be lying if you said your body didn’t flush with that comment.

“You’ve got a reputation, JJ. I’m not gonna be another notch on your belt,” you jokingly say.

JJ rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, half of my reputation is bullshit rumours.”

“Same here, amigo.”

“Yeah, I’ve gotta admit, I’ve heard some pretty batshit things about you,” JJ tunefully says.

Smirking, you turn to look at him. “Oh really? Like what?”

He takes a moment to think. The eventide light shadows his skin like a painting. “The state trooper?”

Ah. You remember that one. Bobby Cromack spread a rumour that you’d kicked a state trooper in the balls during a protest. On accounts that no protest ever existed that month in Kildare, that was a lie.

“False,” you say. You take the opportunity to debunk some of that you’d heard about JJ. One that you were certain wasn’t true was the rumour that he ate an entire turtle raw. “The turtle?”

He blows a raspberry. “Bullshit. The college guy?”

“Hearsay,” you say. Apparently, a friend of a friend of someone at Kildare Academy saw you at a frat college party in Wilmington, snorting coke off some guy’s chest. Incredible how easily fake news flies. “The hooker?”

“Lies,” he debunks. So, JJ didn’t lose his virginity to a prostitute. “The Banksy side-gig?”

You guffaw. “Complete crap.”

Yes, it appeared that people at school thought you were spending your free time running around Kildare, throwing up mediocre spray paint art as an act of rebellion. Stunning.

“Damn. You’re just full of disappointments, ain’t ya?”

JJ leads the two of you up a small dirt road and through a culmination of trees and shrubs, a house begins to emerge. It’s slightly bigger than John B’s but still small. It is somehow even more banged up, but not in an inviting way like his friend’s. No, this place looks desolate and lonely. Sad even. You feel a sympathetic tug when you notice JJ’s shoulders tense at the sight of it. You’re not even sure he realises that he’s doing it. There’s a bright red bike that you recognise; it’s sheltered under a small shack in the garden. It seems that neither of you are ready to close off the conversation yet. Instead, JJ takes you to the steps of his porch and the two of you sit. You lean against one pillar and him against the other. The wood is splintering and the paint is peeling off in strips. Facing one another, you slot your feet between his staple combat boots.

“Tell me something true.”

“Something true?” he checks, rubbing at his jaw. You nod. “I don’t like snakes.”

Laughing, you shake your head. He seems to like your laugh, smiling at the sound and sight. “No. Something real.”

JJ reaches out and plays with one of your laces.

“Something nobody else knows,” you explicate.

“Okay,” JJ nods. He retracts his fingers from your shoe, using his hand to help him keep his balance as he leans forward. You can smell the salt on the skin of his neck from the sea as he presses a kiss to your skin. There’s something sensual about the warmth of his breath on the apple of your cheek.

“You’re sweet,” he says. Your lips push together, suppressing your smile, and JJ pulls back only to move to the other cheek. “And sexy.” He pulls back so he can plant a kiss on your lips. You love how JJ kisses. “And completely hot for me.”

You guffaw, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “You’re amazingly self-assured, has anyone ever told you that?”

He frowns momentarily before nodding, saying, “I tell myself that everyday, actually.”

The smile that his joking response brings you quickly fades when he kisses you again. There’s something different about this kiss. Something passionate, and emotive, and sensuous. When his hand reaches up to cup at the place where your jaw fades into your neck, you find yourself leaning into his hold, deepening the kiss. The brush of his tongue on yours sends electricity shooting from your head, down your spine, straight through your toes. It’s over all too soon. When he speaks, he’s close, and he asks his question against your lips.

“Go to the Spring Ball with me.”

“What?” you dumbly ask, eyes slowly opening.

“The Yacht club spring ball. Go with me,” JJ clarifies.

Your smile doesn’t falter as you gaze into his eyes, admiring the flecks of colour. The answer is easy. “No.”

His brows gently tug together. Smiling, he repeats, “come on, go with me.”

“Is that a request or a demand?” you half-joke. The magic of the moment is dissipating as quick as vapour. He doesn’t reply but the way he holds your gaze suggests that he’s still waiting for an answer. “No.”

“No? Why not?”

You pull away now. “Because I don’t want to. Because it’s a dumb tradition for fake rich people.”

“Come on! People won’t expect you to go. Plus, it’d be a laugh seeing the look on those Kook asshole faces when you show up with me, don’t you think?” JJ prompts.

You frown. Something manifests in your gut. It weighs heavy like a stone. Cocking your head, creating more distance between the two of you, you ask, “why are you pushing this?”

JJ’s lips part. You see them try to form words but nothing comes out. It makes you prod further.

“What’s in it for you?”

He turns, sitting fully on the porch, feet side by side on the step below. You watch his side profile and notice how his jaw ticks and tightens, like he’s annoyed. Like you telling him no has annoyed him. That stone turns into a rock.

“So, you’re saying I need a motive to be with you now?” JJ asks, tone clipped.

Your anger ticks. “You tell me.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, glancing out to the unkept yard. Suddenly, he looks to you. There’s a dark, twisted look on his face that’s so scarily unfamiliar. “You need therapy, you know that? Has anyone ever told you that before? Like you’re actually sick in the head.”

The words hit like darts aimed straight for your heart. You swallow the pain and keep your gaze steely but your voice gives you away. It’s shrinking and holds no conviction as you say, “answer the question, JJ.”

The ugliness of him only grows as he shakes his head once more. There’s a sick smile on his face that comes and goes quick like a hurricane before he sardonically says, “nothing, alright? Just the pleasure of your company.”

The rock in your gut is a boulder; it makes you feel like you’re sinking into the ground. The shock barely has time to settle before he delivers another blow. You watch JJ dig into his short pockets and pull out a pack of cigarettes, shucking one free and propping it between his lips. He said he was quitting. Scoffing, you reach out and take it as he searches for his lighter. You toss the cigarette carelessly on the ground before getting to your feet, hastily walking away from him. It’s like you can’t get away fast enough. Your arms wrap around you in a far from comforting hug the minute you feel obscured by the foliage. When you realise that JJ isn’t following you, your head dips and lips tremble. With the call of a songbird, your mind flashes back to earlier that day, at the beach, and your tears finally start to fall.

There was a rumour that your sister wanted to go to the spring ball with Rafe. That one was (thankfully) false.

Academics don’t hurt you the way people do. Math equations can’t talk back and Shakespeare quotes don’t bite. Throwing yourself into your studies seems the best way to get your mind of JJ’s cruel words. The look on his face when he snapped at you was so different to the way he’d been with you before. It was cold and callous and downright mean. It was also befuddling, how defensive he got. JJ and Spring Ball didn’t seem like the most obvious pairing to you. You knew that JJ liked to stick-it-to-the-man and get under the Kook’s skin, but pushing the spring ball just to take the piss was so abnormal. Maybe that was what hurt the most.

You’re halfway through analysing a sonnet from Romeo and Juliet when there’s a soft rap on your bedroom door.

“Come in!”

It creaks open and you glance over to find Charlotte. She softly closes it behind her. Then, she takes a seat on your bed.

“What’s up?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you say, closing your notebook. Spinning around in your desk chair, you face your younger sister.

She takes a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking. She stands out like a sore thumb in your bedroom, amongst your old movie posters and tapestries and postcards, and the deep grey and white of your bedsheets. Her blossom pink skirt doesn’t quite fit the theme.

“Why don’t you want to go to the spring ball? Is it just to keep me from going?”

You sigh and look away, down at the floor. Shaking your head, you say, “no. I just don’t like the yacht club people. You know that.”

“You act like you’re not one of us,” Charlotte tells you.

“Because I’m not,” you reply quickly, offended. She quirks a brow.

“Look at where we live! At the car you drive! We’re in a lucky position in life and it’s stupid to act like that isn’t true!”

“I can acknowledge my privilege without leaning into it,” you say.

You weren’t stupid. You knew your socio-economic status gave you an advantage in life. Not once had you ever had to worry about money, or not having dinner on the table, or not being able to go for coffee. Your dad worked hard to get to the place where you were at now; it wasn’t handed to him. Nonetheless, spending more time with JJ, seeing his and John B’s homes, made you realise just how easy you had it. That didn’t mean that you liked the frivolities of the lifestyle, though.

“Look, I know you think the yacht club is dumb and fake and all of that stuff,” Charlotte reals off. “But I actually care about it. I really do. It means something to me.”

“But it’s so—”

“You can preach all you want, but it won’t change my opinion,” Charlotte interrupts. You slam your mouth shut. It’s a fair point (something she rarely makes). “Look, there’s a guy that I really like, and he wants to take me.”

“Rafe?”

“No.” She says it in a way that makes you think she’s almost amused at the thought. “Louis. He’s actually nice.”

“Actually?” You check.

She smiles and nods. She has a pretty smile. “Yes. Actually. But daddy won’t let me go if you don’t and I really want to go.”

You swallow. It’s clear where this conversation is going now. Sighing, you look out the window. It’s windy today. Blossoms keep getting blown from the trees and they pass by your window like fake snow.

“The thing with the yacht club isn’t just as simple as not wanting to get all dressed up for some dumb tradition,” you admit. “I don’t like how they treated dad, after mom left.”

“I know,” she says. Then, after a moment’s thought, adds, “But that wasn’t everyone. Remember how Mrs M brought us casserole for a week? And Mr Cameron invited dad out on a fishing trip? Some people are fake, that’s true, but not everyone. Not everyone has ulterior motives.”

That last sentence has your eyes snapping back to hers. She doesn’t seem to realise what she’s said. In fact, it looks like she’s waiting for you to tear into her like you usually would. But when you take her in, you see a sweet fifteen-year-old girl who’s a little tightly wrapped in cotton wool, who wants an excuse to wear a pretty dress and dance to trashy pop music and get to know a cute guy. The thought of keeping her away from that makes you feel guilty. Plus, if you’re there, at least you can keep an eye on her from the outskirts. Check that this Louis isn’t just another Rafe in disguise.

“Fine.”

She blinks at you, confused. “Fine?”

“I’ll go. We can go.”

“We can!?”

The way her whole face lights up like New York at night makes the night of horror already worthwhile. Starting to smile, you nod. The hug that Charlotte fires at you nearly sends you falling out of your chair. As much as you hate hugs, this one might be the best one you’ve ever had from her.

There was a rumour that JJ’s dad beat him. He never told you that was true, but you had a feeling.

JJ’s house seems eerily quiet. It isn’t the sort of quiet that makes you feel as though nobody’s home. It reminds you of the quiet in the movies when the hostages are hiding from the bad guys. The kind where nobody wants to step on a twig and give away their location. Something about it stops you from heading up the porch and knocking on the door. You’ve barely rounded the corner of the house, about to see what you can spot around the back, when someone is grabbing at you from behind. It’s a man, you can tell by their arms. One wraps around your middle, fastening one of your arms to your side, and the other comes to cover your mouth. It muffles your panicked yelps.

“Calm down, calm down, it’s me,” JJ’s whispering frantically in your ear.

It doesn’t stop your struggling though. He’s barely pulled you away from the house before you shake free, shoving him off you. He takes you by the wrist then, guiding you into the marshland.

“What the hell, JJ!”

“Shut up, alright? He’ll hear,” JJ shortly replies.

You do as he says begrudgingly and let him take you further from the house. Eventually, JJ lets go. He takes a second to catch his breath, bringing his arms up to clasp his hands behind his head, back facing you as he paces.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “Don’t matter.”

Turning around, it seems as though his whole demeanour has reset. Well, almost. There’s a tension in his muscles that he can’t fully shake. You overlook it the same way you overlook the bruise forming near his eye. It’s brown and purple. Definitely caused by more than a tap on a doorframe.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I had to come see you,” you say. Suddenly, with the spotlight on you, the confidence that Charlotte instilled within you falters. “About the other day.”

“The other day?”

“Yeah, on your porch…” you clumsily say.

JJ raises his brows, changing his weight from one leg to the other. It seems easier to fixate on his cap rather than meet his eyes. It’s green and purposefully frayed on the edges; it compliments his skin tone well. Swallowing your pride with a sigh, you awkwardly twiddle your fingers.

“I came to apologise for how I reacted.”

“You did?”

Your eyes dart down from his hat to meet his. “Yeah. I shouldn’t have questioned your motives. It was dumb of me, and stupid, and…dumb.”

“Said that one already.”

“Shut up.”

“Right.”

You sigh and rub at your forehead like this conversation is causing you a headache. It turns out pride and stubbornness are sisters.

“Anyway, I just wanted to come and say sorry and see if you still wanted to go. Maybe,” you rush out.

“You wanna go to the spring ball?” JJ frowns.

“Yeah. Charlotte wants to go and my dad—You know what, that doesn’t matter. Because you’re right,” you tell him, cutting yourself off in the process.

His eyebrows almost shoot into his hairline with that. Something tells you that he doesn’t hear that phrase a whole lot.

“It would be funny to rub it in the kook-club faces. And maybe I’d actually enjoy the night if I went with you.”

JJ purses his lips and plants his hands on his hips, looking off to the greenery. You know what he’s doing. He’s basking in this moment, with you stood, tail between your legs, and milking it for what it’s worth. It isn’t exactly amusing, but it does somehow ease your anxiety.

“So, you’re saying that I’m right and that you want me to take you to your fancy spring ball?”

“Yes,” you reply through gritted teeth.

“Huh.” JJ nods, pulling a face. “So this is what it feels like to be right…"

Silence.

"It’s oddly unsettling.”

“Look, do you wanna go or not, cause I’ve got plenty of other things I can do with—”

JJ makes it to you with two large strides. Your face is enveloped by his hands as he guides your lips to yours in a smooch-like kiss. It’s awfully annoying how all of your worries seem to melt away with that one gesture.

“Yes. I’ll go with you,” JJ says the minute he pulls back.

You want his lips on yours again already, but you practice restraint. Bringing a hand up to lay over one of his, you look up into his eyes. God, he’s so dreamy.

“I’m sorry for questioning your motives,” you repeat, more sincerely now.

JJ swallows before nodding. “You’re, uh, you’re forgiven. I’m sorry too, for saying the things that I did. I gotta pretty ugly temper sometimes and I just speak without thinking.”

You missed the smile that comes to your face. Nobody makes you smile like JJ does. Nobody gets you like JJ does either. As if trying to tell him so, you lean up and kiss him again. You can feel his smile against yours, melding and merging like you’re two of the same souls. You assume that this is JJ’s way of saying yes; he’ll join you to the spring ball.

There was a rumour that your sister punched Rafe at the spring ball. That one you weren’t sure about.

The yacht club was a cream building with pastel green shutters and doors. It stood in front of the beach, surrounded by perfectly trimmed green fields and a stone’s throw from a golf course. Several flags stuck out of the thatched roof, waving proudly in the air. For the spring ball, the porch had been decorated with ivy and flowers. Purple and blue blossoms were intertwined with foliage and string-lights, dancing up the poles as if growing. The main event was held in the back, facing the sea. The extensive decorations continued, only now with white sheer-like fabric hanging from place to place, creating somewhat of a shelter. A makeshift dancefloor was put down using wooden boards directly before a small stage for live musicians to perform throughout the night. Tables for snacks which looked as though they’d been meticulously crafted by God himself lined the back wall of the building.

“Holy crap,” you can’t help but mutter at the sight of it all.

JJ whistles lowly in wordless agreement. His fingers intertwine with yours, squeezing, and you look up to him.

“Ready for this?” he asks.

“Are you?”

He grins with that. “Baby, I was born ready to show these Kooks a good time.”

You roll your eyes, smile flowering on your features, and guide the two of you up the porch. The moment you pass Mr and Mrs Johnson, dressed in the over-the-top attire, you hear their hushed whispers. It makes your smile grow.

JJ manages to snag a couple of drinks for the two of you from the bar. You sip and lead the two of you outside, into the belly of the beast. Adults stand chatting away, gushing falsely over their lives. Did you hear the Carol got accepted into Yale? Oh, isn’t it just marvellous! You spot Charlotte fairly quickly and it brightens the night. She’s dancing with Louis, giggling like a child on Christmas morning, and he’s watching her like she hung the stars shining in the sky above.

You and JJ find a quieter spot to the side to people watch. Your leg rests against his as you perch, sipping on the champagne.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” JJ says, breaking the silence.

Looking to him, you smile. He’s the only person who can make you bashful. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I kinda forget to say earlier,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. You love when he does that. It makes you giddy to know you have that kind of effect on him.

“Well, what I think you said was ‘wow’,” you correct.

You know that’s what he said. You think the look on his face, somewhat mesmerised, and the way that the words made your heart hammer like you’d run a marathon, will be permanently etched in your memory.

JJ smiles, looking down to his shoes. You have no idea where he got them from. They’re seemingly brand-new leather loafers, starkly different to his worn-down combat boots.

“You don’t clean up too bad yourself, Maybank,” you clumsily compliment.

He shrugs, confidence somewhat boosted. Glancing down at you, he asks, “Oh really?”

“Mhm. Kinda like you in a penguin suit,” you say.

You fix his collar just for an excuse to touch him. He seems to realise this, wrapping his fingers around your wrist to hold it steady before dipping his head down. Your lips meet his in a chaste kiss that has your toes squirming.

“You wanna walk around. Show my penguin suit off to a few more people?”

You laugh quietly, nodding. “Sure.”

The peruse of the party is probably heightened by the alcohol that JJ keeps managing to sneak for the two of you. At any opportunity, you’re whispering in his ear or his in yours with jokes and jabs about people’s outfits. Rose, looking like lady liberty. Mr Dulany, here to haunt us from his grave. As the night rumbles on, you find yourself actually enjoying it. Somehow, someway, the two of you find yourselves on the dance floor. You’re letting JJ swing you around in some makeshift jive to the mini orchestra’s upbeat rhythm. His theatrics have you practically doubling over. JJ was born with two left feet and then some. You don’t care though. It’s perfect.

When the song ends, there’s a lull as the band catches their breath and sips on some water. The crowd applauses, including yourself, and JJ nods at you as if approving of the talent. It makes you laugh even more. Just as you go to make a joke about it, an all too familiar swell of violins emerges from the stage. Your lips part, head darting over, hands pausing mid-applause, because there’s no way. There is no way that they’re playing what you think they’re playing.

The melody materialises out of the melancholic chords and your heart breaks into a million pieces. Cinema Paradiso: Love Theme.

You scoff in wonderous disbelief, extending a finger dumbly to the stage as you look to JJ, mouth agape. He’s grinning, watching you like he was waiting for your reaction. It patches your heart back together in an instant.

“They’re…” you begin to say.

He nods. Leaning forward, beside your ear, he tells you, “I called in a favour.”

You pull back suddenly, meeting his gaze, checking for some sign of a lie. But he isn’t. He’s smiling, sweet and safe, and you can’t help but step towards him and wrap your arms over his shoulders, around his neck. He accepts your embrace willingly, hands finding solace around your waist. JJ holds you against him as the two of you sway. You practically hide your face in the lapel of his blazer, smiling like a drunk. He did this for you. He remembered this specific song, this specific reprise, for you. The weight of the realisation nearly brings you to tears. Nearly.

In this cocoon of JJ, it feels as though the music coils around the two of you like a snake, trapping you in the lovingly lugubrious song. It ties in perfectly with the distant sound of the ocean. That’s when you realise that you’ll never be able to hear either of those things again without thinking of the seventeen-year-old boy who busted his ass to win you over. You have no idea what you did to deserve him, or what possessed him to pursue you, but whatever it was, you’re eternally grateful.

It takes a split-second to register the hand shoving at your shoulder. It pushes you apart from JJ, making you stumble over your heels as they catch in your dress. After untangling it, you look up to find Rafe’s back facing you. Stepping around him, about to intervene, you see JJ’s face. Something about his expression stops you. He looks anxious.

No.

He looks terrified.

“Look, I didn’t pay you to take out her psycho sister just so some little punk can take out Charlotte instead.”

In that instant, JJ looks like someone who’s just found out his whole religion is a lie, and it’s his fault.

The words parse together slowly. Each syllable as it registers feels like another vice wrapping around your lungs, robbing you of air.

Pay you…

To take out…

Her psycho sister…

JJ isn’t looking at Rafe. He’s not even acknowledging that he exists. He’s staring at you. It doesn’t feel like his usual stare; the kind that makes you feel like he can see you through smog. No. It makes you feel exploited.

That’s when you finally find enough oxygen in your body to form some words.

“Nothing in it for you, huh?”

That same God-awful feeling from the other days returns but tenfold stronger. The urge to just get as far away from JJ as humanly possible. The urge to run. You turn and rush away from the dancefloor, from the crowds, from whatever chaos is bound to follow Rafe like a shadow. From JJ. From the only person you’ve ever really trusted since your mom.

Even though you’re outside, the air feels suffocating. You’re trying to navigate your way around the building, to the carpark where you can call an Uber or just walk home. Anything, anything¸ but stay here, near him.

But JJ’s persistent. You’d known that from the moment you met him. You can hear him calling for you, his voice desperate, and it makes everything hurt even more. He’s faster than you, especially when you’re wearing heels. When he catches up to you, his fingers wrap around your upper arm.

“Please! Please, just lemme explain!” JJ pleads.

“You were paid to take me out by the one person I truly hate.”

You shake him off and turn to face him. He looks guilty as sin and you can’t do it. Can’t bare it. Turning again, you continue to walk away.

“I knew this was a set up.”

The gut feeling from the porch is so horrifically ironic. You should have known. You should have known.

“It wasn’t like that!” JJ insists.

“Really?” You snap. He grabs for you again and you stop, meeting his gaze. You’re not sure how you’re not sobbing. “What was it like? A down payment now and then a bonus for sleeping with me?”

“No, look, I didn’t care about the money, alright!?” JJ desperately insists. You can’t seem to look away. His eyes hold so much feeling but it all feels so lifeless now. “I…I cared about you.”

It all feels so fake.

“I don’t believe you,” you whisper.

Shaking your head, you swallow thickly. The tears finally come, teasing at your waterline, stinging like Rafe’s words from moments ago.

“You’re so not who I thought you were.”

JJ almost physically winces. You push his hand off your arm and go to leave but he’s relentless. He takes you by the wrist with a firm grip, his other hand taking you by the jaw. Then his lips are on yours. The kiss isn’t like the others. It’s dirty and disgusting and disingenuous and desperate, and you shove him off by the shoulders. You glance over him, wet cheeked, like he didn’t cause this. But he did. He hurt you. He hurt you.

This time, when you walk away, JJ doesn’t chase you. Maybe that’s what hurts most of all.

There was a rumour that JJ was paid to take you out. That one was horrifically, painfully true.

When your mom left you cried for a week. Endlessly, morning through to night, tear after tear. It would sometimes pass, but then it would hit again, out of the blue, like a boat colliding with an iceberg in the sea in the vast darkness of night. But after a week, you didn’t have anything left. You just felt hollow and empty. Then you promised that you wouldn’t cry about her anymore.

“You want the moon? Just say the word and I’ll throw a lasso around it and pull it down.”

You sigh and try to focus on the comforting black and white picture on your laptop. George Bailey stands beside sweet little Mary, stood in the night.

“Hey, that’s a pretty good idea. I’ll give you the moon, Mary.”

“I’ll take it.”

The gentle knock on your door is almost a blessing. It’s hard to distract yourself from the awful pain in your chest.

“Come in,” you call out.

Charlotte creeps in, closing the door behind her. She leans against it and looks at you. You’re wallowing in your bed, tucked under a blanket, surrounded by comfort snacks that Mia brought for you and tissues.

“What’s up?” you ask her when she doesn’t speak.

She shakes her head and walks over, climbing onto the bed. She crawls around so she can lie on her back, and you wordlessly turn yourself over, rest your head on her stomach, and begin to cry for what feels like the millionth time. Her fingers lovingly stroke your hair, soothing you through your pain. Suddenly, you’re immensely thankful for your sister. You wouldn’t want her any other way than how she is, no matter how whiny and spoilt she can sometimes get.

“Charlotte?” you sniffle.

“Yeah?” she quietly asks.

It feels like another splinter cracks into your heart as the confession falls from your lips. “I really miss mom.”

She’s still a moment, and then she’s wrapping her arms around you, hugging you tight and close. For once, you don’t pull back. You let yourself be held by your little sister.

“I know,” she whispers. “I do too.”

There was a rumour that JJ regretted what he did. You weren’t sure if that one was true, but you wanted to know.

About a week after the spring ball, you finally brave the outside world. The old movie shop is your first point of call considering you made your way through all your ‘to be watched’ films in the past seven days. It’s nice knowing that you won’t run into anyone in the shop; that you can lose yourself to the world of fiction in sepia and black and white.

The brass bell chimes as you walk through the door.

“Hiya Lucy,” you say.

She glances up from the spreadsheet she’s ticking at, smiling at the sight of you. Then, as if something dawns upon her, she’s waving out her hands for you to pause. “I have something to give you!”

“Oh?”

You didn’t put anything on hold. Wandering over to the counter, you lean against it as Lucy ducks down to rummage for something under the desk. Eventually, she heaves an old typewriter onto the counter.

“What…”

“There’s a note, too,” she says, bobbing back down to search.

Whilst she looks, you reach out a finger and trace it over the iron letters. They’re cold and a little dusty, and beautifully ornate. It’s painted black with gold accents. You’ve never seen something so beautifully vintage. Maybe your dad or Charlotte put it aside for you, as a pick-me-up. You can’t imagine it to be very cheap, not with the quality it is in and the year it was made.

“Here,” Lucy sighs. She holds out a small envelope for you. You take it with a small thanks and open it up.

For you to write your movies.

The two initials printed in black ink make you pause. You stare at it, throat constricting painfully at the sight. You look to the typewriter again and then back to the note. Just like everything else with JJ, you’re overcome by a confusing concoction of emotions.

Remembering Lucy, you flash her a hopefully unbothered smile and tuck the note in your back pocket.

“Thanks, Lucy,” you say. You brace yourself and lift the typewriter with a huff.

“You got it?”

“Yep, yep,” you strain, beginning towards the door. Some nice old lady holds it open for you as you struggle out, hollering a farewell to the storeowner as you go.

The whole drive home, the typewriter watches you. It watches you as you park and it watches you fight your way up the stairs. Finally, in the quiet of your room, you sit and digest the note. It’s funny that a one sentence message has left you so stumped. But you don’t know what it means. An apology, most likely. But is that enough? An apology for lying to your face for over a month. For letting you open up to him and for letting you believe that he was doing the same, only to find out there was a paycheck at the end.

It's so frustrating that no matter how you try to, and no matter how much easier it would be if you did, you just don’t hate him. You don’t. You can’t. You can’t believe that everything that happened between you was a front. Every little anecdote and gesture, ever look and kiss, was all an act. It just can’t be. Just like you’d said to JJ on the beach, feelings aren’t mutually exclusive. ‘You can be mad at someone and still miss them.’ Is that what this was?

Pulling open your desk drawer, you turf around for some pages of plain paper. You tuck them into the typewriter and practice a few of the keys. There’s the aesthetic clack as they mark the page and the ping when the edge of the page is met. Once you feel confident in how it works, you slot a new piece of paper in the machine and sigh. And then, you begin to type.

I hate the way you talk to me

And the way you cut your hair.

I hate the way you drive my car.

I hate it when you stare.

I hate your big dumb combat boots

And the way you read my mind.

I hate you so much it makes me sick.

It even makes me rhyme.

I hate the way you’re always right.

I hate it when you lie.

I hate it when you make me laugh

Even worse when you make me cry.

I hate it when you’re not around

And the fact that you didn’t call.

But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you.

Not even close.

Not even a little bit.

Not even at all.

You reread the poem time and time again. It feels like healing, in a strange way, almost as if you’re soothing your wounds with a homemade balm. Finally, for the first time in a week, you feel yourself give a genuine smile. Gently taking the paper from the typewriter, you deliberate what to do with it. The answer comes to you clear like the water at daybreak.

There was a rumour…

Like clockwork, you find JJ on the fishing jetty. His back is to you once more, only this time he’s wearing a loose navy-blue button shirt. Those same cargo shorts and those same combat boots adorn his lower half. His long, tousled mousy-blonde hair is out free, not buried under a cap: your favourite style on him. You make your way down the jetty slowly, giving yourself time to change your mind. There’s a nervousness in your stomach and it doubles when JJ glances over his shoulder at the sound of footsteps. The moment he sees you, he leaves his rod propped and turns around fully.

“Hey,” he breaths.

You come to a stop in front of him, leaving a safe distance. “Hey.”

“What, uh…I didn’t know you were coming here,” he eventually says.

You shrug. “I didn’t know I was, ‘til now.”

He nods, uneasy, and pushes his fingers through his hair. His wonderful nervous fidget. You love that one almost as much as the neck scratch.

“The typewriter?”

“Hm?”

“The typewriter. What’s that for?”

He shrugs, gesturing out to you. “For your movies. So you can write those films that you wanna make.”

“But what’s it for?”

JJ catches your gaze and flounders. He shakes his head and glances off, inspecting a corner of the jetty. You take a step forward but he seems to think you’re going to leave, because suddenly he’s looking up at you again and talking. “I’m really sorry about how everything went down.”

You pause in place and watch him. In one of your hands is the poem, folded up into a tiny rectangle, withered at the seams from fiddling.

JJ shakes his head. “I’m not proud of it. At first, I was happy to. I mean, I was getting paid to take out some random chick. I don’t come from much and that amount of money can stretch a long way.”

“I know,” you quietly say.

“No, you don’t,” JJ says. He isn’t exactly angry; it seems he just wants to be clear. “My dad’s a deadbeat, alright? He gets fired from every gig he gets and I gotta help keep the lights on. It ain’t your fault, and I’m not blaming you, but you don’t know what it’s like living from paycheck to paycheck. You ain’t ever had to worry about going hungry, or not having gas or power for a week, or going without internet for a month. So, when Rafe offered me $50, course I said yes. I’m a scumbag who’s dirt-broke with no fucking morals.”

You can’t help but close your eyes. It hurts to hear him talk about himself like that. It hurts to hear him admit to taking the money.

“But then I actually got to know you,” JJ continues.

He’s watching you when you open your eyes. Gauging your reaction.

“And I meant everything I said to you. I didn’t make any of that shit up – the real stuff. And I meant it when I said nobody has ever understood me like you do,” JJ tells you. His voice is thick and weighty with emotion.

You purse your lips in a bid to keep from crying. “What about the movies?”

“Well, I didn’t like them all that much before I met you,” JJ admits. “But you’ve made me a fan. To be honest, they make me think of you.”

“And the typewriter?” you can’t help but ask.

JJ’s lips tease to smile. “Well, this asshole paid me a whole bunch of money to take this really cool chick out. But I messed up and I fell for her, so I had to do something useful with the money.”

Your thumb brushes over the paper of the poem. It feels like a safety blanket. You can’t tear your eyes from his and it seems he feels the same. He nods, gently, as if confirming whatever doubt you have.

“I don’t expect you to just forgive me. I know you don’t trust easy and I threw that in your face. But I don’t wanna lose you. I want you around forever, if you’d let me.”

The heaviness in your gut is gone. There’s a feeling of enlightenment that washes over you. Here, stood before you, honest and open, pockets empty and heart on a platter…You find yourself taking a chance. The pain from your mom leaving you without rhyme or reason fades behind one simple fact: all people are different people.

You no longer want to give JJ the poem. It doesn’t feel right to, at least not right now. Pocketing it, you dampen your lips and deliberate.

Eventually, you nod, “I’ll let you. It’ll take time for me to trust you again, like I did before…But I don’t want to lose you either.”

JJ’s smile slowly grows. It’s your smile, the one he saves just for you, and you feel the pain already passing just by seeing it. Stepping towards him, you make the first move to reconnect. He’s more than happy to accept, pressing his lips to yours in a tender, tired kiss.

“‘Sides,” you say, looking up at him, arms thrown around his shoulders. “Everyone knows the best movies are when the couple gets together at the very end.”

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj x reader #jj #outer banks #outerbanks #obx #obx fic #jj maybank fic #jj fic #outerbanks fic #10 things i hate about you

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userlando · 8 months

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sweetener — oscar piastri

oscar piastri x fem!reader [4.2k] summary: you'd shown him a picture of a couple on a date, painting. it was an offhand comment from you, something along the lines of ‘I’d love to do that’ that oscar had apparently stored away in his mind. warnings: 18+ explicit smut & language, semi-public sex, cunnilingus. a/n: hellooo my loves, this was completely inspired by the mclaren painting video and I just couldn't resist writing it. it was time that oscar made his debut on my blog so hope you enjoy this. as always, don't be a ghost reader bc i'd love to hear your thoughts!! happy reading xx

Your boyfriend was a closeted romantic but not many people believed it. He was sarcastic, funny and way more intelligent than people gave him credit for and your friends had warned you of lovebombing when you first started dating.

They couldn’t believe that a man his age could be so sweet, doting on you from the start and planning your dates whereas, in the past, you’d handle everything, secretly wishing that the men on Tinder could - for once - plan nice dates that didn’t involve a couch, a movie and minimal dry conversation that lead nowhere.

It was on your fourth date, when Oscar had taken you for a fun night of mini golf that you realised that you’d quite literally struck gold. And when he’d wrapped his arms around you to help you put and kissed your cheek, you knew you were screwed.

Summer break had just begun but you were still swamped with work, sitting in online meetings until your back turned sore and Oscar kept his distance out of respect for exactly two days before he grew bored and restless. He had your full attention during nights, where you’d go for late night drives to get your usual soggy fries and milkshakes, but he saw how you were growing more and more agitated from work and he couldn’t have that.

It was a bit tricky to set up a picnic basket, packing everything up neatly for a drive out to a meadow he’d come across a few months ago. It was something he’d randomly planned - and scrolled through Pinterest for, and the look on your face was worth all the trouble and then some.

You’d cupped his face in your hands and pressed smacking kisses to his face in thanks, squealing in barely contained excitement as you skipped into your room to change out of your sweats. And when you’d emerged… Oscar had half a mind to throw the plans to the wind, restraining his urge to grab you by the hips and guide you back into the bedroom.

He couldn’t stop staring as you walked in front of him, watching the way your legs moved as you took large and calculated steps over the tall grass. You were surrounded by beautiful flowers and greenery, but his eyes were focused on you and the flowy dress you wore. The hem of it was kissing the tops of your thighs, beautiful and flattering on you but then again, everything you wore was. It must’ve been new, because Oscar would have definitely remembered a dress like that.

You turned your head to shoot him a smile over your shoulder that was brighter than the sun above and Oscar stumbled a little, causing you to giggle as you stuck your hand back for him to grab. The warmth of your palm made him squeeze it in his grasp, taking a few big strides to fall into step with you.

“This is beautiful.” You mused, voice laced with wonder and he was nodding, even though his eyes were trained on you.

“Yeah.” He murmured, sounding faraway and you shot him an amused glance that Oscar absolutely loved.

The furrowed brows and teasing tilt of his lips would be the death of him. He glanced up, scanning his eyes for a good place to spread out the blanket and he made a pleased sound in his throat when he spotted a hidden spot beneath a gigantic tree. It had plenty of shade and he thanked his lucky stars because he’d forgotten sunscreen and the sun was brutal today. He’d hate to see you get sunburnt. Although he never did mind rubbing you down with aloe.

Oscar cleared his throat when his mind started wandering, ridding himself of his thoughts as he steered the both of you to the spot under the tree. You followed him, humming a song quietly and he couldn’t help but smile at the serenity of it all.

You took a few moments to spread out the blanket, toeing off your shoes and settling down with a sigh. Oscar popped open the lid of the basket and reached inside for the bottle of Orangina and champagne.

“Ah, fuck.” He swore as he peered down into the basket, making you frown in concern.

“What?” You scooted closer, craning your neck to see what he was looking at.

“I forgot the glasses.” He looked up at you, giving you an apologetic smile that you were quick to wave off. “Sorry, love.”

“That’s fine.” You made grabby hands at the bottle, watching him pass it over with a laugh. “We’ll just have to share.”

You unscrewed the cork and took a sip of the cold juice while Oscar started unpacking the vast array of food. He’d really gone all out, picking out your favourite pastries and fruits and something about that made you very emotional. Oscar glanced up at you, stopping his movements when he noticed the shine in your eyes and your wobbly lip.

“Baby.” His voice made you look up, and he laughed when you smiled tearfully at him, like you were trying to reassure him that your tears were out of joy rather than sadness. Oscar cupped your cheek and pulled you forward for a kiss. “Why have you gone all teary on me?”

You gave a heavy sigh that made Oscar’s heart clench painfully in adoration. “It’s just… You’re so sweet to me. I love this. I love you.”

Oscar watched you scoot closer, pressing his face into your hair when you cuddled into his side. You smelled like flowers and he couldn’t resist burying his nose in your hair because that scent was absolutely intoxicating. It was everywhere at home. On the pillows, towels and blankets and it always pulled the same reaction from him.

Sometimes you’d pack his suitcases for him, not because he asked or demanded you, but because your heart was just that kind and you’d spritz your perfume on his clothes because you knew that he secretly loved that. And he did. Nothing made him feel more homesick and loved than when he flipped the lid of his suitcase open and was hit with your scent.

“I guess you’re gonna love me even more.” He said and that prompted you to look up, pulling away from his embrace slightly. The curious tilt of your eyebrows made him smile. “Here.”

He handed you the small container of washed and fresh strawberries before turning to his bag to rifle through it. You gave a laugh of surprise when you realised what he was pulling out, eyeing the paintbrushes and tubes of colours.

You couldn’t believe that he remembered. The one time you’d tilted your phone towards him when you were sat on the sofa, showing him a picture of a random couple painting during a date. It was an offhand comment from you, something along the lines of ‘I’d love to do that’ that Oscar had apparently stored away in his mind.

“I suck at painting.” He said and it made you laugh. “But I thought this could be fun.”

“Oscar!” You didn’t even know what to say, staring wide eyed and speechless at the things sitting between you before moving your eyes up to him.

His cheeks went pink, bashful smile stretching his lips and you got up on your knees to smack a kiss to his mouth that he laughed into.

“We’re going to outshine Monet.” You said determinedly, sitting back down and grabbing your canvas.

The evening went on as the both of you painted, not very well but it was fun and prompted several fits of laughter from the both of you as you took occasional peeks at your paintings.

One too many gulps of fizzy champagne later and sandwiches eaten, the both of you found yourselves almost done with your pieces. You were sitting cross legged, face pinched in concentration and Oscar couldn’t help but sneak a picture on his phone; finding the sight of you all too endearing. You had a little paint on your cheek that you weren’t aware of, lips slightly pursed and Oscar couldn’t for the life of him stop staring at your exposed thighs. Your dress had ridden up, giving him an amazing view of your legs and he had to physically flex his fingers to keep from grabbing at them.

He cleared his throat and looked away, glancing up at the sky squinting. The sun had found its way behind some very dark clouds and he silently cursed the weather app for giving him false information because it looked like it was definitely going to rain.

“I think it’s gonna rain.” He said, absentmindedly voicing his thoughts out loud and you looked at him before glancing up at the sky.

You scrunched your nose before your face transformed into a smile that made your boyfriend’s heart skip. He squirmed.

“That’s okay.” You said slowly and put down your brush. “Because I... Am done.”

“Let’s see it then.” He grinned at the way you grabbed both sides of your canvas, revealing the other side slowly.

The splash of colour was pretty and it wasn’t hard to make out what it was supposed to be. A beach with a colourful sky consisting of pink, orange and even subtle red. Oscar nodded his head, visibly impressed and you smiled.

“That’s gorgeous, I don’t even wanna show mine now.” He said and you frowned.

“But I wanna see it.” You said, pushing yourself up a little to strain your neck.

But Oscar was quick to hide his canvas close to his chest which made you pout.

“No, it’s hideous.” He laughed and you rolled your eyes.

“Oscar!” You whined and it almost made him cave.

You realised fairly quickly that he wasn’t going to concede, so you put your canvas down and crawled on all fours over to his side of the blanket. He leaned back, smiling at your giggles until you were on top of him; The awkward angle sending you both into a fit of laughter.

“Is that a duck?” Your voice went high with laughter and Oscar sucked his cheeks into his mouth when you grabbed his canvas and took a look at it. “It’s so cute!”

“It’s —“

“It even has lashes!” You squinted your eyes at it and Oscar frowned.

“That’s eyebrows.” He said and you looked up at him, an apologetic smile playing on your lips.

“Oh.” You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth in a poor attempt to hide your laughter, but Oscar raised his eyebrows in mock insult and it made it harder. “Sorry.”

He wanted to open his mouth and feign insult, but the way you were chewing on your lip made it very hard to concentrate and he found himself getting distracted easier than he’d like to admit. The shine your saliva left had him craning his neck to catch your lips in a kiss, revelling in your surprised moan that you breathed into his mouth.

You tasted of fizzy champagne and sweet fruits, Oscar licking into your mouth and it made you squirm in his lap. He kissed you until you were out of breath, grabbing your sides and rolling the both of you around until he was straddling you. The squeal that left your lips made you both laugh and it didn’t stop when he struggled to get his canvas out from between your chests to throw it to the side. You blinked up at him slowly, and it was like he was stuck in a trance.

The first drop on your forehead was almost comical, and you thought that maybe he’d accidentally drooled on you for a second. But Oscar glanced up with a frown, just in time for the skies to open up and begin drizzling. Luckily, you found yourselves under the tree and that’s what made it so easy to dismiss the rain, grabbing the collar of Oscar’s shirt to redirect his gaze back to you.

“We’re gonna get si—“ He was interrupted by your lips, a small mmpfh being punched out of his chest and you were quick to swallow the noise, kissing him until the pink in his cheeks deepened to a pretty shade of red and his lips were kissed raw.

You loved the way he looked after a make out, with the dark eyes and the smatter of colour on his cheeks. It drove you further to mess his hair up and have him grinding down into you.

He wasn’t doing it yet, hips carefully held above you so he wouldn’t crush you with his weight but you wanted it. Craved it, even.

The rush of water coming down from the sky turned the air damp, clamming your already heated skin up and making it sticky. You let your thighs fall open in an obvious invitation, one that Oscar was too happy to accept when he slotted his hips against yours; Successfully pressing your crotches together. The weight of him was delicious, sparking something hot in your body that had you wrapping your legs around him to keep him close. You felt your foot knock something over, but you were too preoccupied with the way his lips were wandering to actually care.

He kissed wetly down your jaw, sucking insistently on your sensitive skin under your earlobe. You keened, hips jumping up into his in an attempt to grind your centre against him and Oscar quickly met you halfway, the hard bulge of him setting fireworks off in your chest.

“Oscar, please.” You gasped when he bit your throat. He hummed in acknowledgement, low and breathless. “Need more.”

He detached his lips from your neck, glancing around as if he was keeping an eye out for someone and you took that moment to take in his face. The pout of his lips and the width of his neck that you were dying to mark up with your mouth. The sight of it always did things to you, so much so that there had been several occasions where you went a little overboard and sent him on his way to the paddock with a bruised up neck and a blush dancing on his cheeks. He never really protested though, so you didn’t stop.

“Out here?” He asked, looking down at you and you nodded shyly. “Really?”

You turned your head to stare off into the distance, thinking that there was no way anyone was frolicking anywhere near you in this weather. And if there were people around, it was almost impassible to spot the two of you with the way the rain was coming down incredibly heavy. It was hard to see past a few metres and the grass was high enough to hide you both from any prying eyes.

In the meantime your thoughts had calculated the very low risk of being caught, Oscar had begun his ascent up your thighs with his hands, pulling the hem of your dress up in the process. His eyes were fastened on you, wanting to catch every micro expression on your face the higher he went up.

Your mouth opened in a quiet exhale when his hands touched your clothed pussy, thighs trembling when his finger ran over the nub of your clit. Oscar’s heart was beating fast, emotion and adoration gripping his heart in a vice when you looked up at him through your lashes.

You hadn’t dated for that long, but he’d memorised every single expression on your face, along with their meaning. He prided himself in how well he could read you, and he felt just a little smug whenever you brought it up. There was always a bit of wonder in your eyes and surprise in your voice when he said something that you didn’t expect him to remember. Like you never had anyone in your life to pay close attention to you, or even care to and it made him sad because how could they not?

You had somehow managed to become his entire world in the span of a few months and he intended to keep you happier than the average person.

That’s why he didn’t wait to pull your panties to the side when you whispered a small plea, sounding a lot like please, fully zoned in on making you feel as good as possible.

“Oh, shit.” You swore and Oscar hid a smile by hanging his head to stare between your legs instead.

You never swore in daily conversation, but boy, did you turn into a sailor when he was between your thighs.

“My pretty girl.” He complimented you, voice quiet but loud enough to overpower the sound of the downpour.

You smiled shakily, lip wobbling in pure pleasure when he swiped his fingers between your slick folds to wet them. Oscar circled your clit a few times, pulling some moans from your lips and he kept his eyes on your shiny bottom lip as he located your hole and pushed a finger inside.

He groaned around an exhale at the tightness of you, your warmth enveloping his fingers beautifully as he tested the waters. He must’ve deemed you ready for a second digit, sliding it inside alongside the first and watching you squirm atop the blanket.

“God, your fingers.” You bit your lip when his thumb joined in, rubbing your clit just the way he knew you liked it. “Like magic.”

It took everything in your boyfriend not to smile proudly and puff his chest out. It always made him preen when you complimented him while you were lost in the moment, and he knew that a big part of him needed and wanted your validation.

Oscar listened to your whines and moans, bending his head down to press small and fleeting kisses to your clammy skin. Your chest was heaving as he kissed you between your breasts, feeling his own breathing go heavy when you arched your back and stuck your chest out. Like you wanted him to touch you there. And really, who was he to say no when you begged so prettily?

The neckline of your dress was thankfully very stretchy, allowing your boyfriend to pull the material down enough to expose your chest to his eyes. You weren't wearing a bra, something he’d noticed on the car ride over here when the AC had been blasting cold air and tightened your nipples. He hadn’t said anything then but his cock had stirred in interest at the sight.

He moaned almost depravingly when he got his mouth around your nipple, licking and sucking on it until your walls were clenching around his moving fingers. He gave the other the same treatment before deciding that he’d waited enough, moving down your body while his other unoccupied hand bunched up the fabric of your dress over your stomach.

You were dripping wet, slick sliding down his hands and presumably messing up the blanket underneath you and Oscar had to bring a hand down to squeeze around his cock. The sight of you under him with your legs bent and wide open was something he’d take a mental photo of, storing it away in his mind for his loneliest nights.

“Fuck,” he swore, shuffling further down so he was face to face with where you needed him the most. He gave you a sucking kiss on the inside of your thigh and you whined. “You smell so good, baby.”

That had you squirming self-consciously, bringing your hands up to hide your face. Your mouth opened against the palm of your hand when you felt his tongue swipe between his fingers messily, like he was tasting you and you bit down on your hand to stop the inevitable moan from tumbling out.

“Oscar.” You pleaded with him and the next swipe came almost immediately, like he didn’t want to keep you waiting.

Oscar was as talented as they came, when it came to his hands and how to use them. The way the both of you had learned each other’s bodies was admirable, and Oscar had really learnt it well. He knew what made you tick, what made you throw your head back and scream out blasphemous words that had him smirking.

It wasn’t a surprise, really, when he took you to newer highs in record speed. With the aid of his fingers and mouth, he managed to pull out your first orgasm that sent your head spinning right into the gutter. Your thighs closed around his head, turning your head to the sky as you cried out your climax.

Oscar withdrew his fingers from the tight grip of your pussy, but he didn’t stop licking gently as you slowly came down from your high. He kept his eyes on you, enjoying the tremble in your legs around him and the occasional hitch in your breath.

He couldn’t see your face, it being turned to the sky still, but he watched your throat bob before finally looking down at him with a dazed look on your face. Your body jerked when he tongued across your clit, hand shooting down to his hair to grip it loosely.

“That was…” You trailed off, still out of breath and tongue thick in your mouth but Oscar grinned like you’d handed him the stars and moon.

“Another one?” He asked, almost hopefully and you gave him a look of slight disbelief.

You laughed with a nod, trying not to flush warmth when he tilted his head back to wipe at his wet mouth with the back of his hand. He looked so casual, but the sight of it made your entire being turn fire hot. Even more so when he pressed a few absentminded kisses to your thighs before going right back in, working you with his tongue until the initial sensitivity faded off to the background and brought forth a second wave of pleasure.

Oscar’s jaw was starting to ache, but you were grasping at his hair and scratching his scalp so pleasantly that he couldn’t even bring himself to care. He needed you to come again, needed to taste more of you because he couldn’t have enough. So, he upped the ante and focused on your clit, laving his tongue over it and pursing his lips to suck it into his mouth.

He was almost disappointed when your moans started turning high pitched, thighs clenching tightly around his head because he wanted it to go on for longer. But he couldn’t be too sad about it when you sounded the way you did, so breathless and lost to the world.

There was no doubt that anyone could’ve heard you if it weren’t for the rain, the way you were moaning and cursing. It made Oscar smug, but also so fucking hard that he had to reach his hand down to fish himself out of his pants, almost moaning into your pussy when his hand closed around his length.

It really wouldn’t take long for him to come, already feeling sensitive to his touch as he jacked himself off.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You cussed suddenly in one drawn out breath, hips arching up into his mouth as you groaned out your second orgasm.

The hitches in your breaths as the orgasm rolled through you made Oscar squeeze himself and it was when you pushed his head off of you with your hand that he hurriedly sat up, getting so dizzy from the sudden movement that he almost went teetering to the side. You hadn’t realised that he was taking care of himself until you caught sight of his hand, peering at him through hooded eyelids as he groaned low in his throat and aimed between your legs, coming with a jump of his hips.

It made you clench around nothing. The sight of him throwing his head back, hair damp and floppy as he sucked air into his lungs. He gave off a full body shiver, sitting back on his heels with a deep sigh.

“That was new.” You said around a smile, making him look down at you. His cheeks went pink, smile a little shy and you grabbed his arm to pull him down so you could kiss his smiling mouth.

“I hope that was okay.” He whispered against your lips and you gave him a slow nod.

“More than okay.” You glanced down between you two, pulling a slight grimace at your soiled underwear. “Need to get those off though.”

Oscar laughed and sat up, reaching for tissues while you did your best to pull your panties down your legs. You let them drop to the side, cheeks warm at the sight of both your spend on the wet material.

“Do you reckon it’s better to wait the rain out?” Oscar asked casually as he pried your legs apart, gently cleaning you up.

You glanced around, noting that while it was still raining, it seemed to let up quite a bit and you figured that it wouldn’t take long before it ceased completely. It was a trek back to the car and you honestly didn’t think that your legs could work for the next half hour anyway.

Oscar threw away the soiled tissues and grabbed your legs, pulling you closer to him until you got the memo and moved to snuggle up into his side. He pulled you in, burying his face in your hair with a sated sigh.

“Probably best to wait it out.” You replied belatedly. “I don’t mind sitting here with you.”

Oscar hid a smile in your hair.

“Me neither.” He murmured against your temple.

He’d sit around here forever if it meant spending time with you.

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x female reader #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri imagine #f1 #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 smut

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