Teenage Dirtbag XIV
JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron
Warnings: mentions of NON-CON, mentions of DUB-CON, abusive relationship, domestic violence, mentions of violence (+ gun violence), gun kink, dacryphilia, attempted murder, blood, public sex, jealousy, manipulation, infidelity, underage drinking, drug use, canon ages, kook!reader
➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | ➥ divider by @firefly-graphics
➥ series masterlist
summary: You’re charmingly spoiled. You’re too kind for your own good. You’re the princess of Figure 8 …and you’re way out of JJ Maybank’s league, but when he realizes that Rafe Cameron’s pride and joy is actually a bruised and battered damsel, he’s determined to save you.
Your rescue just comes with a price.
⭑
You gasped, stomach tight at the feel of the warmth that slid over your folds. Your leg—the good one—was being pushed back, knee bent and almost painfully close to your head. The healing one was resting on the bed, a hand gently massaging your thigh. The soft feel of those fingers were a stark contrast to the tight grip on your other leg, and you reached down to twist your own fingers into blond hair.
“JJ,” you breathed.
You were mindful of the fact that you weren’t alone in the house. It’s not like your parents were the lightest sleepers, but they knew Rafe wasn’t staying over, and so you didn’t feel like lying to them should you wake them up. JJ hummed against your mound, and the vibration against your skin made your toes curl. His hand slid up, straightening your leg a bit and pushing it back a tad more.
You shockingly liked the slight burn from the stretch.
Turning your head to the side, you stared at the window with half hooded eyes and parted lips. Your breathing was coming out in short uneven gasps, fighting the urge to let a moan escape. Sinking your teeth into your lip, an almost inaudible whine escaped when JJ repeatedly thrust his tongue into you. The rough texture against your insides made your back arch, making JJ hum and let your leg go.
It rested over his shoulder as his hand slid up your torso, pushing against your chest and pinning you down. Reaching up, you grabbed his hand, clinging to it as he ate you out, and you almost wished you’d told your father to leave the A/C on. Sweat was clinging to your frame, losing track of just how long JJ had been in between your legs.
Rafe hadn’t been by in two days.
You knew it was Ward’s doing, and for once, you found yourself grateful to the older man. You didn’t know the specifics of that conversation following the hospital visit, but you knew it involved Rafe spending less time around you—until he could get his shit together at least. This was the third week in a row where your boyfriend wasn’t with you every single day, and JJ took full advantage.
It was just hours earlier when he’d climbed into your room just as you were about to take a shower, startling you and forcing you to tell your mother you’d just bumped into the bed. He’d kissed you the moment you’d told him Rafe was at home, and you couldn’t swallow down your gratitude when he offered to help you in the shower.
While still a little sensitive and faintly bruised, your nose was pretty much better. Your knee on the other hand still needed weeks of recovery, and you could only imagine how much longer the process would be dragged out without physical therapy. Your therapist told you that you were doing good and that your recovery was right on track, something you’d been happy to relay to JJ as he peeled your towel off of you.
The teenager in question had long released his hold on your torso, fingers sinking into your soaking cunt. Your juices made a mess of his hand as he massaged your walls, curling his fingers into you and against you and making you reach out to grab your sheets. He added a second and then a third, and when he added a fourth, you grabbed his hair again.
“Oh my God,” you gasped, repeating yourself as he roughly fucked you with his hand. “F-fuck.”
The blond chuckled at that, his amusement at your torment evident. His mouth came down on you again, sucking on your clit and flattening his tongue against your folds. You could feel your legs starting to shake, and JJ cursed when you tightened your hold on his hair, grinding yourself against his face. Running his tongue over you a few more times, JJ turned his head to gently nip at the inside of your thigh just as he curled his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion, and your breath hitched.
Spots danced in your vision as you came, JJ guiding you through it as he kissed and bit at your skin. You were making a mess of your sheets, coming all over his hand, and he hummed at the feel, leaning in and tasting you again. Your chest heaved as you continued to come—out of breath—and JJ was content to lap up all you had to offer while you came down.
When he lifted his head, your leg fell from his shoulder, and you felt like a noodle as he climbed over you. His lips were shiny, and when he kissed you, you tasted yourself on them. The kiss was gentle—sweet—so different from how he was just handling you, and your core buzzed with every movement of your thighs.
“Do you want me to stay the night?” he murmured, lips grazing the corner of your mouth. “I’ll be gone before the sun is up.”
You should’ve said no. After all, it was risky, you knew that, but basking in the bliss of your orgasm and with JJ’s lips so close to yours, you couldn’t resist nodding. You wanted to spend the night with him, relaxing in your bed with your head on his chest. At your agreement, JJ stood up, and your gaze lowered.
“What about you?” you wondered, pointedly glancing at his evident arousal at the look of confusion on his face.
JJ chuckled at that, and you watched him search your drawer before pulling out a t-shirt. You pushed yourself upright as he neared you, allowing him to pull the shirt over your head. He kissed you again once you were dressed, still mindful of your nose, and you reached for his own shirt. He made a slight noise of protest, grabbing your hand.
“Don’t worry about me,” he murmured into the kiss. “Your knee is still healing.”
You rolled your eyes, appreciating the concern, but it wasn’t needed.
“I can still…”
Your smile faded as you glanced down, JJ’s shirt still in your hand as you’d started to lift it.
The bruising peeking from underneath was clear as day, and you blinked when JJ put his hand on yours. The sight took your breath away, having been some time since you were confronted with JJ’s own tumultuous home life. He’d been staying in your pool house so much that you had to guess he was hardly ever at home to experience his father’s abuse.
“What happened?” you finally wondered, voice quiet.
When he didn’t answer, you looked up, and JJ looked like he was going to tell you to forget about it before thinking better of it. With a small sigh, he took your hand into his.
“I crashed a bike he was trying to sell,” he shrugged, relaying the information like it was nothing. “He wasn’t too happy about that.”
You blinked at him, eyes wide.
“You…you what?” you gasped, reaching for him again. “Why didn’t you say any…?”
“I’m fine,” he assured you with a smile, and you shook your head.
“You’re not though! JJ, that looks really bad,” you whispered, pushing yourself towards the end of the bed.
JJ tried to stop you, but you pushed his hands away.
“I can walk, you know,” you lightly told him, making your way to your bathroom.
JJ was close behind, hands hovering around you.
“I know, but…if you don’t have to, you really shouldn’t.”
You searched your cabinet for some cream, facing him as soon as you found it. JJ looked like he wanted to protest, but with one look from you, he relented. With his help, you sat on the sink, JJ moving to stand between your legs as he reached behind his head to pull his shirt off. You couldn’t stop your small gasp as you took in the bruise in its entirety.
It covered so much of his chest and even part of his lower back.
You could see some faint scratches from the accident he hadn’t told you about, and your frown deepened, worried about what came from the accident and what came from his father. As you put the cream on his skin, ignoring his hiss, you wondered why he didn’t tell you.
You asked him.
“You’re already dealing with so much,” he said, and you looked up at him. “I was angry about Rafe, and I’d crashed it before I realized what was happening, and…”
You watched him swallow, eyes troubled.
“I hated that you were being put through his bullshit,” he roughly whispered. “I felt like…I don’t know…like… Like you shouldn’t be the only one hurting.”
Your heart sank at that, lips parting.
JJ scoffed.
“I kept egging him on…”
You softly sighed, gently brushing your fingers over his skin. You couldn’t take your eyes off of the dark coloring, and when you paused, you felt JJ’s hand on your cheek.
“How long?”
You didn’t need to elaborate.
“Too long.”
You didn’t know what to say funnily enough.
Your situation with Rafe was so similar but also just as different in many ways. Rafe was your boyfriend, someone with no familial ties to you whatsoever, fear and conditioning keeping you at his side. JJ’s abuser was his own father, and you didn’t want to imagine the turmoil he felt to remain so loyal and open to the person who raised him. The same person hurting him…
When he helped you back to your bed, you took his hands as you sat down. Glancing up at him, you leaned in, only breaking eye contact when your lips came in contact with his stomach. The skin tightened briefly beneath your touch, but the blond eventually relaxed. You kept your lips against the bruise, wishing you could kiss every single one away.
“Your face looks much better,” Sarah commented, a smile on her face as she sat on your couch. “The last time I saw you, it still looked a little scary.”
Her chuckle was nervous, carefully watching you as you joined her.
“You sure you should be walking?”
You gave her a reassuring smile as you handed her the muffin your mother had baked.
“I can walk, Sarah, it’s fine,” you gently told her. “I just can’t be on it too much.”
She nodded at that, picking at the pastry. There was a look on her face like she had something on her mind, and you watched her shoulders heave.
“Rafe’s tied up with dad and business stuff,” she said. “You probably already know.”
“Yeah, he was here yesterday,” you let her know, swallowing at the memory of his hand on your throat as he fucked you against the couch. “He’s been tied up with Ward a lot recently, so there’s been a few times a week I don’t see him.”
Sarah hummed at that, taking another bite.
“You…don’t seem all that bothered by that,” she commented.
When you looked at her again, her blue gaze was on you, and you frowned slightly.
“I mean, we always spend so much time together. A day or two apart isn’t the end of the world, especially when it’s for a valid reason.”
Sarah slowly nodded at that, and again, you could tell that something was on her mind.
She finally voiced it.
“I never got the chance to talk about what JJ said at the hospital…”
Her demeanor suddenly made a lot more sense, and you let out a soft ‘ah’.
“Every time I visited you, your parents were around, or Rafe was around, and it just didn’t feel like the right time.”
You gave a light chuckle at that, supposing you agreed.
“I mean… that was crazy,” she scoffed. “I don’t even know why he would say that. Do you?”
You shook your head at her, wholly aware of the fact that the man in question was just upstairs in your bedroom.
“You know how JJ and Rafe are with each other,” was all you had to add.
Your words made her eyebrows shoot up.
“Yeah, they fight and can’t stand each other, but JJ accused Rafe of hurting you. He’s an asshole, that I’ll never disagree with, but…” she glanced away, shaking her head. “You broke your nose.”
She frantically blinked.
“You fractured your knee,” she stressed. “I don’t understand why JJ would accuse Rafe of doing that.”
Pretending like you had no idea why he would, you sighed.
“Did you ask him? I just… I don’t know, I just assumed it was because of his feelings about Rafe.”
Running her hand through her hair, Sarah sighed in frustration.
“Yeah, I did, and he just keeps saying to forget it…that he was mad. I know you guys hung out like twice, but I didn’t even think he cared about you like that. Not enough to accuse Rafe of something so horrible,” she mused. “You guys don’t even talk.”
Her face was pinched as she tried to make sense of it, and part of you felt bad for lying to her.
“Why would he say that?” she wondered more so to herself. “I can’t really imagine JJ going that far just because he hates Rafe, you know?”
You nodded, and she continued.
“…and you know more than anyone how much I hate you two together, but it’s just because you could do so much better. Rafe just can’t seem to get his shit together, and he treats you like a child, but I…” Sarah shook her head. “I don’t think I could ever think Rafe is capable of what JJ accused him of.”
Your eyes met hers at that, and she shrugged.
“God knows Rafe is such an asshole, but even I can’t imagine him hurting you like that.”
You pressed your lips together, taking in how upset the thought made Sarah, and you got it. They fought and hated each other at times, but from what you’d seen, that’s just how siblings were sometimes. You never once thought Sarah genuinely hated her brother. She loved him, and even if she didn’t like him most days, she’d never want to imagine he was way worse than what she already thought him to be.
“I think JJ was just worried. It’s like you said, I looked scary coming out of that room,” you chuckled. “…and it probably just got the best of him, and Rafe was an easy target.”
Sarah seemed to stew on that, and you briefly glanced up the stairs.
Her next words shocked you.
“Do you think he likes you or something?”
Your eyes were wide when you looked at her again.
“JJ?”
“Yeah,” she lightly said with a shrug. “Anybody could see that he did seem really concerned about you.”
That was the last thing you wanted to hear, because if anyone could see that, then that most definitely included Rafe.
“Worried enough to full blown attack Rafe? You two only talked like two or three times, but…I guess that’s enough to get a little crush.”
The blonde was smiling, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to return.
“Sarah,” you nervously warned, and she waved you off.
“I know, I know. You and Rafe, and…Rafe would lose his mind if he thought JJ liked you, but I can’t see why else he would react like he did. I do get it though,” she shrugged, leaning back. “You’re pretty, and you’re sweet, and you’re dating the guy he probably hates most in this world.”
Her words brought out a lot of emotions, and you couldn’t deny the way your chest bloomed at the idea of gushing over JJ with Sarah like he was your boyfriend instead of Rafe. You couldn’t though, and swallowing down those feelings, you rolled your eyes at her.
“I don’t think about JJ like that.”
“I know, I know,” she huffed. “You and Rafe, but I’m not going to pretend like I’d hate the idea. I’d definitely love it more than you with my brother, that’s for sure.”
Part if you wanted to tell Sarah the truth. God knows that you did, but it was too risky. While you suspected she wouldn’t care about you cheating on Rafe, she also knew you well, and wouldn’t believe you’d just decided to start sneaking around with JJ without an airtight valid reason. If you told Sarah about you and JJ, she’d know that something was seriously wrong with your relationship with her brother, and considering recent events like JJ’s accusation…
It was just too risky.
You pressed your forehead to your bed, nails dragging along your sheets as JJ pushed his cock into you. His chest was pressed to your back, forearms resting on either side of you and keeping you caged beneath him with every descent of his hips. His face was pressed into the place where your neck and shoulder met, peppering kisses along your skin as he fucked you, and you reached back to glide your fingers through his damp hair.
After showering with you, JJ hadn’t exactly been in a hurry to help dry you off, and you found out why when his lips had met the back of your neck. His hands on your waist had guided you towards your bed, his soft voice in your ear telling you to just relax. You hated being so limp beneath him, but you knew that JJ just wanted to be mindful of your knee.
He was comfortable between your parted legs, taking his time in thrusting into you, skin dragging against yours. Your toes curled as he stretched you out, and a shiver crawled up your spine as he pressed kisses along your shoulder. You really wanted to face him, but every time you tried, JJ warned you off.
“Relax, princess,” he lightly laughed against your skin. “Let me do all the work.”
You rolled your eyes, a laugh on the tip of your tongue when a particularly forceful thrust made you gasp. He nipped at the skin of your neck as you moaned, eyes rolling as he plunged his cock into you. After taking a few deep breaths, you replied.
“Please, JJ,” you sighed, tone pleading.
He hummed at that, and you could feel the smirk on his lips.
“I think I like you when you’re needy.”
You pulled on his roots, making him hiss, but it quickly faded into a chuckle.
“I swear you’re only this bratty with me…”
You didn’t refute him, but a smile did dance along your lips as he pulled out of you. He was gentle in pushing you onto your back, and he softly tapped your right thigh as he climbed over you.
“Keep this leg down,” he warned.
His tone was mirthful, but you knew he was serious, and you gasped when he bent your other leg, pushing the head of his cock past your folds. He took his time in slipping into you again, and your back arched up towards him. The blond groaned at the tight grip around his cock, fitting snugly inside of you, and you reached up to clasp your hands behind his neck.
JJ held himself above you, one hand pressed into the mattress while the other kept your leg hooked on his hip. His blond hair hung onto his forehead, just as damp as it was before due to the thin layer of sweat that clung to his skin. Pulling him down, you lifted yourself slightly to brush your lips against his.
You could hear how wet you were, hear the sound of his cock disappearing into you, but even if you didn’t you could feel how wet you were. You were dripping around JJ, making a mess of your sheets, and as if reading your mind, he looked down to watch his cock go in and out of you. You were just about to reach down and touch yourself when you thought you heard the last thing you wanted to hear.
You froze beneath JJ, quietly telling him to stop.
“What?” he breathed, kissing your jaw.
He was still thrusting into you, and you turned your head towards the window. Heart dropping, you quickly and gently repeatedly hit JJ’s arm.
“I think I hear Rafe’s truck,” you gasped.
At that, the guy on top of you did stop, and in the silence, you confirmed that it was indeed the distinct sound of Rafe’s truck you heard pulling into the driveway.
You remained still for half a second more.
You sat up as soon as JJ got off of you, and you were quick to grab your T-shirt, pulling it on and limping a bit towards the window. You already knew it, but the sight of Rafe’s vehicle in your yard—confirming your suspicions—made your heart drop to your stomach. To make matters worse, any hope you had that JJ could sneak out while you let your boyfriend in were quickly crushed.
You could make out Topper in his passenger seat, and you didn’t doubt that Kelce was in attendance too.
“Oh my God,” you breathed, voice shaky.
You felt like you were going to be sick, and when you turned towards JJ, he’d already pulled his pants back on.
“Topper and Kelce are in his truck,” you choked out, and JJ met you halfway.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he reassured you. “I’ll hide, alright?”
It seemed the only option, and although you nodded, you wanted to throw up as you thought about what could happen if he was caught. You heard your phone vibrate then, no doubt Rafe telling you to let him in. You trembled at the sound, and JJ ran his hands over your temple and cheek.
“He won’t fine me,” he told you, kissing your face and lips. “If they’re with him he can’t plan on staying long.”
That did reassure you, and you nodded, telling yourself you only had to entertain him for a bit.
“Look, JJ…whatever you hear…”
You didn’t continue, and when you looked at his face, you noticed the way it clouded over. He seemed to understand where you were going with this, and after some time, he gave you a nod.
“You can’t come out no matter what. I don’t care what you hear—what he does, you cannot-.”
“I know,” he said, sounding unhappy with that, and you didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched.
At JJ’s urging, you hurried downstairs as best as you could. You took deep breaths the entire way, fixing your face and repeatedly telling yourself everything would be fine. The guy you were cheating on your boyfriend with was currently hiding upstairs, and your volatile boyfriend was about to walk through the door…but everything would be fine. Your stomach twisted more and more the closer you got to the door, and when you finally opened it, you gave him a small smile.
“I thought that maybe you’d get your mother to get the door or something,” was how he greeted you. “You shouldn’t be on that leg unless you need to be.”
Swallowing down a sigh, you gave him a look.
“She’s asleep, Rafe, and I wasn’t expecting you to drop by at eleven at night.”
He nodded at that, leaning in to briefly kiss you on the lips.
“I know,” he huffed. “…but my dad has basically been keeping me hostage, and I’m going to Top’s tonight, and I haven’t had the chance to see you in like three days.”
When he brushed past you towards the stairs, your heart skipped a beat, and you quietly took his hand as he offered it. As he helped you back to your room, you thought to yourself that Rafe didn’t like being away from you, sure, but it was more than just about missing you. He never wanted you to get too comfortable with not having him around.
This unexpected drop in was to confirm you were exactly where you were supposed to be.
When you crossed the threshold to your bedroom, you glanced around. There was no sign of JJ, and you even noted that your bed had been straightened. Heat flooded to your cheeks as you recalled what you’d been doing there just moments before, and one glance towards the cracked bathroom door had you wondering if JJ was in there. You knew he’d be smarter than that, and as you sat on your bed, you realized that you were facing your closet.
The door now closed where it had once been partially open.
“You could’ve let me know you were coming,” you told Rafe. “I just would’ve left the door unlocked.”
Your boyfriend softly chuckled to himself, and it didn’t exactly sound humorous.
“So, you could know when to expect me…?”
His eyes bore into yours as he said that, and you sighed.
You wondered if he’d ever get over that night you’d slept at John B.’s, and you rolled your eyes.
“I have a still healing leg, Rafe. I’m not going anywhere, something I’m sure you took into account when…”
Your words died in the air as Rafe’s face twitched, and you swallowed down the rest of what you were going to say. He made his way towards you, towering over you, and you shrank away from his gaze as he looked down his nose at you.
“…and I’d do it again if it kept you bedridden for months.”
You swallowed at that.
“It’d be worth it to know where you are at all times and having you ready and waiting for me.”
You looked away from him at that, pushing back tears.
“Did you come to make me feel like shit for not being able to go anywhere or…?”
When you looked at him again, he was rolling his eyes towards the ceiling.
“Believe it or not, baby, I did miss looking at you,” he murmured, reaching up to cup your chin. “You know I like falling asleep to this face every night.”
His thumb brushed along your bottom lip, and he bent down to kiss you. This kiss wasn’t as brief as the previous one, and you were forced to move your mouth against his. When he deepened it, his hand circled around your neck, and you flinched, but not because of his fingers on your throat.
There was a spot on your neck that felt more sensitive than the rest.
You knew what it was, and you were relieved the lights were off.
“God, I’d fuck you, right now if Top and Kelce weren’t downstairs waiting on me,” he sighed the moment he pulled away.
You glanced at your closet as his lips moved to your jaw and then your neck. Rafe struggled to pull himself away, and when he did, you leaned into the hand that was on your cheek. He brushed his thumb over the skin, studying your face.
“Sarah told me she came by the other day to check in on you,” he told you.
At the mention of Sarah—and the reminder of that conversation—you blinked.
“Uh…yeah, she did. She didn’t stay long,” you confirmed, and you watched Rafe frown at you.
“Did she say something to you?”
Now, you frowned.
“Like what…?”
When you gave him a questioning look, Rafe merely raised an eyebrow at you. His thumb was still tracing circles into your skin, and you hated the way he drank you in. His blue eyes flitted over your features, taking in every shift, and by the time you evened out your expression, it was too late.
“You know I know you like an open book,” he said, making your shoulders sag. “Somethings bothering you.”
Yeah, the guy in your closet.
The reminder of that conversation about JJ forced you to unintentionally focus on the fact that the man in question was currently in your bedroom. It was a thought that made you want to throw up, and unfortunately, that wasn’t a feeling you were able to keep hiding. While impulsive, you knew JJ understood the severity of his and your current predicament and wouldn’t dare reveal himself. With that being said though, you couldn’t stomach the possibility of Rafe discovering him somehow.
However, that wasn’t the only thing bothering you, just what was currently bothering you, so a half truth spilled from your lips.
“She was just talking about…what happened at the hospital,” you slowly confessed.
The mention of the incident had Rafe’s jaw clenching, in turn also causing him to tighten his hold on your own face.
“Right,” he responded, tone clipped.
Rafe moved away from you, and you watched him poke at something on your dresser.
“JJ’s lucky my dad didn’t have him arrested,” you heard him sneer. “That Pogue is always looking for trouble.”
“I’m sure he just wanted to blame you, Rafe, that’s all.”
You heard your boyfriend scoff, and he shook his head. He turned around to face you, leaning back with his hands on your dresser as he stared you down.
“He probably has a little crush on you.”
His tone was mocking, and you raised your brows.
“He doesn’t know me,” you argued.
“He doesn’t need to. You talked…what…? Once?” he wondered, head tilted. “That’s more than enough for the likes of him.”
You remained silent.
“I mean, come on,” he dragged the word out. “You’re pretty, you’re rich, and you’re my girlfriend.”
Rafe softly laughed to himself.
“That last point alone is enough to have that Pogue wanting what he can’t have,” your boyfriend spat. “After all, why the fuck else would JJ Maybank of all people care if you fell down the stairs? Enough to want to fight me? He’s nothing to you.”
“Sarah and I aren’t exactly strangers, Rafe. She was worried, so it makes sense that he’d be worried too,” you shrugged.
Rafe pulled his lip between his teeth as he regarded you.
“So, that makes what he did okay?”
“No, I just think you’re trying to make it something it isn’t. JJ barely knows me, and what he does know is that I’m a spoiled Kook princess who’s dating Rafe Cameron. Call me crazy, but I don’t think I’m his type.”
What you were doing was the literal definition of gaslighting, and if Rafe wasn’t an abusive jerk, you might’ve felt bad about it.
“You’re the quickest way to get me to break his nose. You’re exactly his type.”
Rafe found himself funny, and you rolled your eyes, feeling uncomfortable with this conversation for obvious reasons. Your boyfriend decided that he’d kept Kelce and Topper waiting long enough, and when he approached you, you were prepared for the kiss. Rafe deeply inhaled when he pressed his lips to yours, hand resting on the back of your neck.
You made a slight noise of protest when his hold tightened.
When he pulled his lips away, he kept his nose touching yours, and his gaze was devoid of humor as he looked between your eyes.
“You should probably tell Sarah to watch her friend,” he whispered. “Next time he puts his hands on me, I just might break his neck. You think you can relay that?”
His thumb was painful against the front of your throat, and you gave him a shaky nod. You reached up to touch it when he roughly let you go, and he threw a comment over his shoulder as he left, telling you he might come back later to stay the night. Your fingers trembled against your skin, and you didn’t relax until you heard his truck start again.
The sound of it was gone completely when the closet door finally opened.
“I’m fine,” you breathed, JJ wasting no time and hurrying to kneel before you.
He turned on the lamp, and you hated how cold his eyes were as he inspected you.
“I told you, JJ, I’m fine,” you assured him, reaching for him.
His entire body was vibrating, and you knew it took everything he had to control himself.
“God, I hate him,” he breathed, pulling you into his arms.
You hugged him back, burying your face into his chest. You inhaled his scent, the smell and feel of him helping you calm down. Rafe’s presence had shaken the very atmosphere in the room, and you took deep breaths, JJ’s hands rubbing up and down your back.
“He said he might come back later,” you murmured.
“I know,” JJ exhaled. “I heard.”
“Maybe…maybe you should leave,” you said, looking up at him.
Rafe’s visit had spooked you, and you knew it was evident, but JJ didn’t seem as disturbed. A small smirk danced along his lips, and he brushed his hand over your cheek.
“Don’t worry,” he slowly leaned in, giving you a tentative kiss before deepening it. “I’ll be out of your room before he gets back.”
He kissed you again, and you shuddered when his hands slid along your thighs, dipping beneath your shirt.
“He insulted me…so now I really want to fuck his girlfriend,” he bit out against your lips, pushing you back and covering your frame with his own.
You couldn’t deny the effect those words had on you, hating how quickly your fear of Rafe started to fade at the sound of JJ’s playful tone.
“JJ,” you warned, but your tone was light, and he smiled into the kiss.
He tapped your right thigh, pushing your shirt up with his other hand, blue eyes glinting as he held your gaze.
“Keep this leg down.”
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Sweeter Than Hunny
Characters: Alastor/Fem!Reader
Reader's POV
Word Count: 1.6k
Important: 18+ minors do not interact. established relationship (?), accidental food play, use of honey, teasing, hickies, kissing, suggestive
In which Alastor indulges in your sweet tooth...
Divider credits to plutism !
The hotel is quiet. There is no sound except for the occasional creak of old flooring, caused by a particular serpent slithering around in the dark. While his hobby may be relatively harmless, it is still unnerving; the sizable goose egg on his forehead is a reminder of what you detest. During your stay, you have developed an interest in zodiac signs. Unfortunately for you, snakes embody stubbornness, and you are far too exhausted to give his knot a twin.
In your hands, the small porcelain cup radiates a comforting warmth that seeps through your fingertips and palms, soothing away the remnants of your tension. You take a moment to savor the aroma of the delicate brew before bringing the drink to your mouth.
The hell?
Immediately, your eyes widen in surprise, a deep grimace forming on your lips as you register the unexpected taste. A sharp bitterness lingers on, contrasting the anticipated sweetness. With a determined resolve to salvage your tea time, you set down the cup and rise from the couch. Making your way to the kitchen, you move around the familiar area effortlessly, and the pitter of your footsteps reverberates softly against the tiled floor. There is only one thing that could salvage a brew that harsh:
Ah ha!
Nestled among the pristine shelves sat your beacon of hope—the honey jar. As you retrieve the sweet treat, you cannot help but notice the signs of wear and tear that mar its once-pristine surface. The edges of the ceramic vessel are chipped and worn from its countless journeys to and from the pantry. Traces of sticky residue cling to the sides of the pot, and the substance adheres to the surface of your hands, creating an uncomfortable sensation. Would it kill folks to wipe it down after use?
Your gaze trails along to the lid; it sits slightly askew, showing signs of repeated twisting and turning, an ode to the desire with which it has been opened and closed numerous times. You shift your grip to the handle and run a finger over the smooth texture. The once-vibrant color faded to a dull patina. And yet, despite its weathered appearance, there's a certain charm to the honey pot—a sense of history and nostalgia that lends it a unique character all its own.
Almost everyone utilizes it, and is probably the only thing you can all agree on. To see it so well-loved and appreciated brings a smile to your face, knowing that the gift aids in adding a little extra sweetness to the lives of those who call the hotel home.
Corny. Maybe Charlie's exercises are starting to rub off on you?
Balancing the pot carefully, you retrace your steps to the living room. As you enter, you are frozen in surprise at the sight before you. There, seated comfortably on the couch, is Alastor, his crimson eyes glinting with delight as he regards you with a ceaseless grin. "Well, well, well, if it isn't my favorite resident! I seem to have caught you at an unfortunate time; don't you agree, sticky fingers?"
"Ha. Ha. Ha." You release a sarcastic chuckle before softly placing the container on the end table next to your cup. "Just indulging in a little tea break, nosey. I was in need of something to sweeten up my evening." As you settle onto the couch, a mischievous impulse stirs within...
With a dramatic, drawn-out hum, you casually prop your socked feet up near his thighs. "Ah, of course! I should have just called on you! You're sweeter than Hunny." Alastor, ever the picture of composure, arches an eyebrow at your antics, his expression a mix of amusement and bemusement. With a subtle flick of his wrist, he not-so-gently pushes your feet aside, his movements refined yet firm as he maintains his personal space. Undeterred by his subtle rebuff, you respond with a pout, forming your lips into an expression of dismay. "Nevermind, I lied. You're as bitter as death."
"Oh, you wound me, crude woman! Boo hoo. I'm afraid my legs aren't meant to serve as a footrest." He quips his tone light and teasing. With a roll of the eyes, you relent, withdrawing your feet with a dramatic flourish. "Fine, fine. I'll behave... for now." You concede that your impish demeanor was undimmed by Alastor's gentle reprimand. "What are you doing up so late anyway?" It is a silly question; however, that does not stop you from asking.
His gaze flickers to the poorly paned ceiling above before emitting a deep sigh, the faint rumblings of his static audible to only the most precise listener. "You know me well enough to know that sleep is but a distant acquaintance," he responds. Of course, you did; this isn't the first time you've graced each other in the dead of night, and it certainly won't be the last. Though the longing to know why always leads you to ask such foolish questions, some things are better left unsaid.
You sit up; your attention is now drawn to the end table, where the tea waits. With deliberate movements, you reach for the dipper, plunging it into the golden pool of honey snuggled within the pot. As you drizzle the viscous nectar into the cup, a sweet aroma fills the air, mingling with the soft glow of lamplight that bathes the room in a warm embrace. The gentle clink of wood against the ceramic echoes in the quiet of the night. "If you're up for a chat, I'm all ears." Alastor leans forward slightly; his expression reflects mock seriousness as he addresses your suggestion. "Well, my darling doe," he begins, his voice dripping with lively charm, "I'm afraid the only topic of conversation that truly piques my interest tonight is your rather unhealthy indulgence in sugar."
As you stare him down, a snort escapes your lips. "Really now? Is that what you want to talk about?" Alastor nods solemnly. "Indeed. I'm afraid I simply can't let such an important matter go unaddressed," he replies, his tone dripping with exaggerated concern.
Oh please!
"Don't be such a killjoy," you say while shaking your head in protest. "A little sugar never hurts anyone. Besides, eternity is too long for me not to indulge now and then." He lets out a scoff while waving a hand dismissively through the air. "A little sugar, you say? From what I've witnessed, your intake is hardly what I would call a little. I'm quite surprised your teeth haven't rotted out of your mouth by now.” While he spoke, you took a hearty sip of the tea, hoping that the addition of honey had tempered its bitterness.
However, much to your dismay, the drink remains as bitter as before, causing you to smack your lips. You make a mental note to avoid buying products from this brand in the future.
As Alastor continues his tirade about the perils of sugar, you half listen with a good-natured smile. "Well, I'll be! I didn't realize you had become the new spokesperson for Hell's Dentistry. Should I expect to see your face on toothpaste commercials anytime soon?"
His expression shifts almost imperceptibly as his once-toothy grin tightens into a thin line. The sudden change in his demeanor is comical, almost cartoonish, and you can't help but burst into laughter at the sight. While you laugh uncontrollably, you attempt to add more honey to your drink. The fit of giggles proves to be too much, causing you to fumble clumsily with the pot. With a sudden jolt, a small stream of honey escapes the confines of the container, dribbling down the wooden dipper and onto the carpeted floor. Determined not to waste any more of the precious nectar, you quickly lean down, attempting to suck the excess honey from the dipper. However, your efforts only result in more hilarity, as the honey dribbles messily down the side of your mouth. It beads slowly onto your neck, leaving a sticky trail in its wake.
"Shit." A mumbled curse leaves you while you place your cup down. Resigned to the mess made, your hand attempts to wipe away the sticky residue, only to find it stubbornly clinging to the skin.
Alastor, ever the opportunist, rises from his seat and approaches. Without a word, he leans in close, his tongue darting to lap up the mess that coats your neck. The sudden sensation sends a violent shiver down your spine, and a sigh catches in your throat from the warmth of his tongue. His lips close around the spot where the honey pooled, his mouth sucking at the sticky sweetness with a hunger that nearly has your knees buckling. Oh, how you wish he'd bite down. Your hands reach out to weakly grasp onto his shoulders for support, the material of his coat bunching up under your hold.
He remains an enigma; his actions are always veiled in layers of mystery, and this moment is no exception. Any questions floating around in your head about why are fizzed out. After all, some things truly are better left unsaid. With a soft pop, he releases the patch of skin, and his tongue trails upward to linger at the corner of your mouth. His touch is delicate yet possessive, a silent declaration of his presence and desire to explore.
Weakly attempting to lighten the atmosphere for your sake you manage a joke, your lips curling into a faint smile despite the lingering heat between you.
"What happened to sugar being an unhealthy indulgence?"
Alastor’s response is immediate yet measured; his gaze gleams with a newfound intensity as he finishes lapping. His tongue traces a final path before your lips meet in a sickeningly sweet kiss.
"I suppose I am starting to see the appeal, my dear!"
Thank you so much for reading ! <33 Inspired by hazelfoureyes !
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ENTRY #5 ♡ F. READER X GOJO SATORU
My eyes are glossed,
And my heartbeat skips,
I crave, I am lost
In the nectar of your lips.
cw: arranged marriage!au, fluff — 2,0k words
a/n: you welcomed the series so warmly and lovely, that I made this part longer. it's sickly sweet, it's fluffy — enjoy!
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“What the hell am I doing–“
You groaned. Again and again. Sighing and throwing your hands into the air, helpless and hopeless. Resignation crawling up your skin, threatening to fight and win with your stubbornness and determination. You felt the characteristics you proud yourself with falter and peel away along with your pride and dignity and you found it ironic — pathetic — that years of harsh trainings, of bloody torture you endured, years of fights and pain did nothing to break you and now you’re losing your mind over a goddamn mochi.
Mochi.
A dessert made of rice dough, sweet and objectively adorable with its round shape and sugary filling. If someone asked you how much time you spent in the kitchen already, heating up the glutinous rice flour, mixing and kneading the dough, you wouldn’t know. Hours, most likely. Fighting a battle that you weren’t ready for, mixing ingredients, adding water, whisking, and then kneading again, burning your fingers and pads of your palms more times than you’d ever admit. And you hated it. Hated the corn starch that dusted all around the place, the sticky mass of heated rice flour that you tried to get just right and above all, you hated how much time it took you before it finally started to look like something you can work with.
“There we go,” you mumbled, kneading and stretching the dough between your hands and the marble countertop. There was a reason you were a fighter, not a cook and the current state of your kitchen made enough of a proof. Mochi now, cleaning later.
The fillings were delicious, you had to pat yourself on the back. You were very lucky today to grab the sweetest strawberries you ever ate. They tasted like summer, like hot, tropical heaven and you fought with yourself before you ate them all. The cream you whipped turned out just perfectly thick and fluffy. Then the green edamame paste — your husband’s favorite — came out just as good. Decadent almost, smooth and sweet, with perfect, bright green color and texture of a cloud. Half of your cream you mixed up with melted chocolate and while happy with the insides, you were still a little concerned about the dough.
You’re not gonna be defeated by a rice dough.
You managed to roll out the mass very thinly, perfectly, and began forming mochi, which turned out to be much easier to do than you anticipated.
Take the dough.
Scoop on the filling.
Close the dough.
Roll.
Repeat.
You filled up a tray, all of the balls prettily displayed on top of a parchment paper and you took it upon yourself to have a taste of each one. Delicious. Absolutely mind-blowing.
To the fridge they go.
Now clean.
* * *
Satoru got home around 7 pm — typical, if nothing comes up or hold him at work. His job as a teacher, you learned it quickly, was repetitive, predictable. He’s out the door just shy of 10 am and back near the evening, before the soft pinks and oranges of the summer turn into nightly blues and greys and you grew to appreciate the routine that settled into your lives. Spending most of the days separately made the first weeks of marriage much more bearable. It gave you and him enough time to get used to the new situation and cool off after many fights you had. But that was about to change and you were meaning to tell him today, sweetening the deal with mochi.
Oh right, mochi!
It got you a little too excited for Satoru to ignore, you looked a little brighter than usually, nervous even and he found it concerningly amusing. You’re rarely happy to see him back, he’s more used to see you ignore him than to greet him, and even if so – you’d usually pass him with a hi or an attempt of a small talk that he hated. Gojo couldn’t tell what was it that made you so much more vibrant that evening, you looked thrilled, your eyes glimmered in the dim lights of the house. You almost looked… happy? To see him? No, that couldn’t be it.
“Did something happen today? You look oddly excited,” he spoke, following his usual routine of taking off his uniform jacket and putting it neatly on a hanger in the hallway, folding his blindfold in half to have it ready in the morning and washing his hands and face. The soft, dry towel soaked up the excess wetness from his skin as he patted it away, pointing his ocean-blue eyes toward you expectantly.
“Well, yes, kind of,” you replied and dropped onto the soft cushions of the sofa in the living room. You twisted your body slightly and looked at him, and he got the hint because few seconds later, he sat down next to you. “Two things. First, I got an offer to work as a teacher in your school. Yaga contacted me–“
“You are the new teacher for the second years?” Satoru cut you and you couldn’t read him. A slight surprise was all you could decipher from the expression of his features.
“Yes. Well, not yet,” you sighed, “before I agree I wanted to ask you what you think.”
“And you’ll do as I say? Since when you’re doing as you’re told?” He teased and for a moment you considered eating all the mochi yourself. Maybe tying him to the chair and devouring it right in front of his eyes? You opened your mouth to say something rather unpleasant before he spoke again. “If you’re asking me for permission, we both know you don’t need it. I’m sure kids will benefit from having you to lead them.”
“Are you willing to be civil with me if we spend more time along each other during the day? Last thing I need is to argue with you more than we already do.”
“We don’t argue that much lately,” he protested and you huffed out a chuckle, nodding in agreement. You didn’t fight at all, if you think about it. It seemed as if slowly you were getting used to… everything.
“So, you’re fine with the idea?”
“I’m fine with the idea, yes,” he said, running a hand through his white, slightly damp hair and brushing it back. You took in his features, allowing yourself to just stare at the man you married, because even if wedded, you see him no more than his students are. He still sleeps on the couch; he still spends most of his time outside. “You’re staring.”
“Why would I–“
“I am,” you confirmed, shamelessly and it made him chuckle. “Talking about staring, close your eyes.”
“Close your eyes and open your mouth,” you ordered, getting up from the comfortable seat you were sunken into. “Please?”
“I’m honestly concerned,” he said but reluctantly lowered his eyelids. As if it made him any less aware of his surroundings. “What are you planning?”
“Don’t peek.”
Quickly, you padded into the kitchen and uncovered the mochi you kept out of the fridge for about ten minutes now. You took the tray and a glass of water and got back to where Satoru was situated. With his eyes closed, comfortable against the cushions. He felt your weight sinking onto the pillows next to him and a hint of something sweet in the air.
“Open up,” your voice made him hum, still uncertain but curious nonetheless. ‘Open up’ was such a foreign command for him to follow and the small amount of trust that was secure between you and him had to suffice for him to comply. “There we go,” you almost whispered and Satoru slightly flinched at the first contact of his mouth with, what felt like, a blob of cold unknown substance. For a reason he couldn’t really rationalize, he grabbed onto your waist to balance himself, even if there was nothing to throw him off.
Slowly, with caution, Gojo closed his mouth, allowing his teeth to meet the dough, go through it. Mochi. He recognized the sweet taste of his very favorite treat immediately but something about what was just melting against his tongue felt different to what he’s used to. The rice envelope was softer but chewy, sweetened just perfectly and the paste inside — green bean — had a texture of silk and butter, a luscious heaven itself. He felt it spreading along his taste buds, warming against the insides of his cheeks. A perfect mixture of fluffy inside and glutinous outside. So sweet, so delicious.
“Oh my god,” he whimpered. A sound so foreign, that it almost surprised you if not for the very vibrant wash of pleasure that relaxed his features. Just as the mochi melted in his mouth, he melted against the couch.
“Was it good?” You asked, while the answer was relatively clear from what you had a chance to witness. “I made them for you and they are not perfect yet but–“
“You made this mochi for me?”
Satoru’s bright blue eyes snapped open and his grip on your waist tightened. A shock pushed to the front of his expression, he blinked — once, twice — before you nodded slowly. Then he followed the direction of your gaze; his own landing on the tray full neat rows of plump rice balls, so perfectly imperfect against the dark wood below them. He could tell some had a green undertone, the edamame filling, and some were looking white and plain. Next row seemed to have chocolate inside and he could catch the hint of it in the air.
“You made all of this? With your hands?”
“From scratch, yeah,” you nodded, reaching for another one. “Chocolate.”
Being fed by you — his wife — felt odd, unfamiliar, and yet the subtle brush of your fingers against his lips whenever you gently pushed the doughy ball into his open mouth felt just right. Satoru thought he could get used to it, and the mochi.
“So you’re not only a good cook,” you’re not, but you hummed. “But also you can make mochi? If we weren’t already married, I would have asked you to marry me now.”
“That easy, huh?”
“That easy.”
You shook your head, visibly suppressing a giggle and Gojo hoped you wouldn’t hold it. It’s only now that he’s learning how pretty is your smile, how your eyes crinkle every time you allow your face to relax and take on a pattern of joy. He likes the shape your lips form, how they stretch whenever you’re happy and how your brows lift up just slightly above your half-closed lids. He wished you’d let yourself burst out laughing, but instead you shook your head yet again and let out a sigh of content. Good enough.
You reached onto the tray again. This time it was the white blob of doughy goodness hanging heavy between your dainty fingers. “This one is my favorite.”
There was no need to tell him twice. Satoru opened his mouth, eager for the sweetness you called your favorite although from your words he had a suspicion what was inside. Strawberries. You love strawberries. He learned that during the wedding celebration, when you eyed the fruit on his piece of the cake with the most adorable envy he’s ever seen – and then, those very same eyes glittered with pleasure when he exchanged his plate with yours. He remembers how you left the red, plump strawberry for the last bite, how you sighed with content as you bit into the juicy flesh of the fruit, how you nearly purred despite the stressful predicament you were placed into.
“Divine,” Gojo purred himself, as the flavors mixed in his mouth. The crisp, fresh strawberry, along the velvety cream and chewy dough made for an experience he could only compare to orgasm.
He wanted more.
Craved more and he blames it on you that the moment you sunk your teeth into the sweet treat, he leaned closer. His mind went blank when he wrapped his own mouth around the half mochi that sticked out, his lips brushed against yours. A drop of red juice run down his chin, wet and sticky against his skin. He didn’t care. Greedy for more, for you, he leaned in even more, tempted by the sweet taste of your sugar-powdered lips flush to his own.
You gasped. Purred. In surprise, in pleasure, or both.
The feeling unfamiliar, addicting, syrupy.
You should stop it.
You wanted more.
He should stop it.
He wanted more.
It was slow, sloppy and nothing but strawberry and cream.
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