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@arietem
arietem est 2025.
she/ her. everything green. pina coladas. fictional men. writing. slasher movies. books. sparkles. pop punk music. pretty boys.
this is a sideblog so i can't follow back unfortunately, but feel free to message me or request/ask anything
requests are open, feel free to hit me up
masterlist
Clicked on your account and was immediately slapped in the face by the most jj maybank text ever (your header)
I know right?? 🤤🤤
can you keep a secret?: one
masterlist
chapter one
sarah cameron x reader
warnings: drugs, alcohol, suggestive content
a/n: this fic has a mind of its own and it's taking me places, it's so fun to write it, hope you like it. if there is anything you want to see in it, let me know :)
two years ago:
junior year was slowly coming to an end, with summer break being right around the corner. this period always passes by in a flash and before you know it you will be with sarah in the bahamas, lounging beside the pool, drinking sneaky cocktails and checking out hot pool boys and gardeners that are somehow always in close proximity of sarah. you can't wait to be there, can't wait to get out on the boat with her and for it to just be the two of you, anchored alone in the middle of the ocean. there will be no school drama and most importantly, no jealous boyfriends that are mad when she ditches them to go hang out with you.
of course, you didn't account for the fact that sarah's current boyfriend, topper, didn't want to let her go that easily, unlike all the others.
…
you are sitting on sarah's bed, fiddling with your lip gloss while she was fighting with topper over the phone again. he was the latest boyfriend in her never-ending rotation. the girl just couldn't be on her own, no matter how wrong for her those boys were. your last argument was about how undeserving they were of her. all the preppy boys were the same, possessive and jealous. you didn't want to see your best friends get hurt again. but that was always the cycles. she gets a boyfriend, they don't treat her well, they fight, she cries, she breaks up with them and then starts it all over again with a different one.
"we're over, topper! do not call and do not come to the party tonight!" sarah was hosting the annual summer break opening party at her house, which meant everyone will be here, kids from both sides of the island.
sarah stomps into her room and falls backwards onto the bed, jostling you in the process. her blonde hair is wild today, not straightened as usual, which means she's letting loose tonight. you reach out and gently move one strand that stuck to her lip gloss.
"what was that? this month's boy toy is finally no more?" you ask her playfully.
she's on her side now and she narrows her eyes at you, supporting her chin with her hand. "you wish," she scoffs. "it depends. we'll see if he listens to me or he comes to the party anyway."
the truth was, you did wish for her to break up with him. you wish everything was at it used to be, just the two of you hanging out at her house, putting makeup on each other and trying out different hairstyles. before all the partying and boys and mean girls who wanted to bring sarah down. and you with her.
"god, sarah, you're the worst," you exclaim and she grins. you don't mean it and she knows it too.
sarah rolls over on her stomach and looks at you over her shoulder. "yeah, and you love it. what would you do without me?"
the sad truth is, you have no idea.
…
the party's being going for a couple of hours and everybody is fucked up. there are rivers of alcohol and you know drugs are galore, seeing as barry's here too. you've seen him get upstairs with rafe a couple of minutes ago, rafe's hands twitchy and barry's smirk dangerous. you're nursing a vodka cranberry in your hands, the ice already completely melted.
topper showed up, naturally, so now all is magically alright in his and sarah's world. she's currently grinding on him in the living room, various couples doing the same all around them. you drain the last of your drink and make your way to the kitchen, ready for another one.
after dumping the empty solo cup in the trash, you start looking for the cranberry juice. it seems somebody used it all up and didn't bother to get another bottle out. vodka shots, it is. you slam three quick vodka shots back to back, cheersing with mariah, scarlett and tristan. doing so could turn out to be a mistake, but that's a problem for future you.
as you're turning toward the back deck for some fresh air, you collide with someone's drink, which leaves a dark spot on your white top. sighing heavily, you wave whoever it is off and head to the storage closet instead, where you know the camerons keep their cleaning stuff.
the door to the storage is kinda hard to open, so you push a little with your shoulder and almost hit rafe in the face with it. both of you stumble a little. he grabs you by the arm and quickly ushers you inside with him. "w-what are you doing?" you clear your throat. the storage closet is small and even smaller with the two of you inside together. your nose is almost smushed in his chest and his chin is awfully close to the top of your head.
you can smell alcohol and weed on his breath when you look up at him, your hand automatically grabbing him by the bicep when he leans backward on the wall. his pupils are so blown wide, he doesn't have irises anymore. his hair is all sweaty and messed up and his eyes have a manic look to them. he looks plain demonic. for some fucked up reason, you feel a little flutter below the waist at the sight of him like this.
he just looks at you without saying anything. his crazy eyes don't leave your face, but you're not afraid of him, you've known him your whole life. there were some occasions on sleepovers over the years when you couldn't sleep so you'd climb on the roof, only to find rafe already there. he was familiar and comforting in that weird way, like you share a secret meant for somebody else. you both loved sarah and she saved both of you in different ways. for rafe, that love turned into something like resentment, and for you, into something softer and way different then anything you felt before.
there are no reasons and a million reasons why you do what you do next. maybe alcohol, maybe loneliness, maybe boredom, maybe horniness, maybe you just want to feel something else toward somebody else. so, you lean closer to him and close the gap between your mouths. hungrily, he kisses you back, like he was waiting for it all this time. his large hand grabs your hair and yanks it. you yelp, breaking the kiss. this is lust, this is hunger, this is feral.
rafe's lips are red from your lipstick and he rubs his mouth. "huh," he mumbles, now looking at the red smears on his fingers. you don't say anything, you can't, as you watch him put those same fingers on your lips, in a shush way.
his other hand releases the hold on your hair. he shoves it in his pocket and takes out a baggie with white powder. "stole this from barry. wanna share?" you tentatively lick his smeared fingers that are still resting on your lips and nod. sarah is occupied, you might as well be too.
rafe peeks through the door and pulls you out the room with him. you stumble your way to his bedroom on the top floor. it's dark and kinda stuffy in there, the only light coming from his bathroom, the door to it ajar. he sits on the bed and pulls you with him so you're straddling him. you don't kiss, you just look at each other, even though you can feel his excitement under you.
rafe lifts you off him effortlessly and drops you on the bed next to him. you're looking around the room, trying to see the real him. there is some memorabilia from his college, some workout equipment and an electric guitar, which you didn't know he played. there's also a lot of composition notebooks on a shelf over his desk.
"ready?" he asks, turning to you with a platter with two lines. rafe doesn't wait for your response before leaning down for his. you mimic his movements when it's your turn and your body suddenly turns fiery and eager.
"come here, rafey." the nickname leaves your lips on accident, but rafe doesn't seem to mind, obeying your playful order. he crashes into you ungracefully and starts kissing up your neck and jaw, leaving wet tracks. the light breeze coming from the open window is the best thing ever in the moment.
you frantically take off rafe's shirt and rake your nails over his stomach, earning a shudder out of him. he hikes your skirt up higher and hooks a finger into your panties, glancing up at you with questioning eyes. you nod once and he takes them off.
soon you're both slick with sweat and something else, your moans silenced by the party still happening downstairs. in the morning you wake up only wearing your panties, with a sleeping naked rafe by your side. when you check your phone, you see that sarah left with topper last night, meaning she's not here to see your walk of shame from rafe's to her room.
…
oh, and the most fucked up thing about all of this? sarah has no idea about you two. you managed to keep this thing resembling a relationship hidden for two whole years.
sorry i love sluts. i thought we all loved sluts. i thought this was the slut-loving website. my bad i guess
chapter two: are you a stalker now, too?
masterlist + moodboards
kook!jj maybank x reader
...
you roll your eyes so hard, for a second you're afraid they're gonna stay like that. you leave his last message on read and throw the phone onto your bed. who does he think he is? asking around for your number? inviting you to his fucking baseball game? like you're some kind of groupie?
nah, no way. you will not be going to that game, no way in hell.
it’s saturday morning and you’re itching to grab an iced coffee on your way to work. ever since you started working at the pet store near campus on the weekends, your saturday ritual stayed the same. walk to the store and grab a drink on the way.
you’re usually hungover on these walks, sometimes less, sometimes more and it always works as a charm to get your head out of the alcohol induced haze.
cleo is already at her boxing class so you grab your phone, wallet and your favorite big sunglasses and walk out the door. it’s still pretty quiet in the dorm, the hallways deserted. no surprise there, it always is after a big party.
your mind is still reeling from his texts and something posesses you to open his instagram profile. his friends or whoever are gassing him up in the comments, but he hasn’t responded to any of them.
you click out of the app and pocket your phone, feeling something you really don’t want to acknowledge. lost in your thoughts, you almost pass the store, stopping abruptly in front of the entrance. you see through the glass door that your manager is already at the cash register, getting ready for the day.
“good morning”, you say, placing the sunglasses on the top of your head.
“good morning. put on your uniform and let’s go, we have so much shit to do today.”
you salute her and start walking toward the back office. jenny, your manager, is only a few years older than you, but damn good at leading this store. she’s skilled at maintaining a balance between coworkers and friends in your relationship.
“oh, there’s someone from the shelter coming by later to pick up some food for the dogs” she yells out.
“gotcha, i’ll gather the bags!”
at your locker, you get out of your athletic shorts and a band tee and put on your pink uniform. each employee has a different color because the owners want the place to be happy and welcoming and you’re pretty sure it’s working. each shirt is also embroidered with an animal, yours being a parakeet.
you take out your phone once more before you start your shift to text cleo, whose class should have ended by now.
you roll your eyes and exit the office, ready to start organizing the new shipments.
lost in all the bags of dog food you are gathering for the shelter, you hear the chime above the door, indicating a customer is here.
“i’ll be right there,” you yell out, dusting off your slacks. you round the corner and stop dead in your tracks.
“are you a stalker now, too?” you ask him, hands crossed over your chest.
jackson’s hair is messy as always, but nothing else gives away that he was partying all night yesterday. his ralph lauren sweater is baby blue and matches his eyes. you hate that you notice that.
“cute uniform.” he smirks, his dimple appearing. “i came to get the food for the shelter.”
“why you?”
“because i volunteer there.” he can tell that you are kinda shocked by the news. “don’t look so surprised. i love dogs.” he shrugs and points behind you. “that it?”
you follow his finger over your shoulder and nod at him. jackson sidesteps you and takes two 22-lb bags of food, one in each hand. you watch him lug the bags to his car until all ten of them are packed safely in there.
you don’t want to look at his strong looking legs when he squats, but you still do. “should i give you the bill?” you ask him feigning disinterest.
“yah, let me pay now. you take apple pay?”
“yeah, we do.” you roll your eyes.
he takes out his iphone and taps it to the machine. you revert your eyes to the window and check out his car. it’s not what you expected of him. it’s a pickup truck but it doesn’t look brand new. it’s light green and you can tell it has some years on it.
the ping of the machine brings your eyes back to him.
“see you at the game tonight, y/n.” he says and winks at you then turns away and walks out the door.
nah, no way.
taglist: @blissfulbutterfliess, @rottinglexi
Hi babes! Do you think that you could write a little blurb or smth about JJ and a gf with chronic anxiety from childhood trauma and maybe he notices? Like it's not constant panic attacks but just all the little things, (always fighting even when relaxing (lip biting, leg thumping, finger picking), cleaning when stressed, shutting down in arguments, etc)
Hi anon 😇
Yes, i can definitely do it! Be on the lookout for it this week 🤍
jj comforting his girlfriend with childhood trauma and anxiety
cw: anxiety, childhood trauma, fluff
a/n: okayy, now that i read it again, i don't know if i really conveyed what you wanted, but i hope you like it either way <3
“hey, y/n, can you grab me that paintbrush?” jj said from the other side of the garage where he was working on his new surfboard. “It’s on that top shelf.”
“of course, jay.”
the two of you were spending the damn hot day in the garage, jj polishing up the surfboard he bought recently at some estate sale. you were mostly flicking through the various magazines you picked up and occasionally handing jj some tools he needed.
the paintbrush in question was lying on top of some paint buckets on the top shelf. to reach it, you needed to support your leg on the lowest shelf. the paintbrush wasn’t that high up, but there wasn’t enough leverage to really grab it. since you really didn’t want to go get a stool, you stretched as far up as you could.
at the exact moment your fingers finally grabbed the handle, the wood under your foot cracked a little, making you lose your balance. before you knew what was happening, your hand twitched and the brush went flying, along with two of the buckets.
when they collided with the floor, they exploded, and paint went flying everywhere. since the garage was a mess anyway, it wasn’t a big deal, but some of the paint got on jj’s bike. the bike he loved and took great care of. you could see the paint was seeping into the stitches of the seat.
“woah, what was that?” jj turned around to look at you, his eyes wide.
you couldn’t move. you could only think about all the times you got yelled at for dropping something as a kid. about that time you got slapped for spilling juice on the couch.
“i’m sorry, jj. okay? i’m sorry. i’ll clean it up, i’m sorry i ruined your bike.”
you couldn’t stay here in the garage anymore. you turned your back to jj and ran out toward the kitchen, where you started grabbing different rags.
he ran inside after you and you felt his gentle hand on your shoulder. his thumb rubbed in soothing motions.
“you didn’t ruin my bike, you made it even better now. and even if you did somehow ruin it, it wasn’t on purpose.” he slowly spun you around so you were facing him. he took your hand in his.
your nails were all ruined, red and broken skin around them. jj gave each finger a little kiss.
“i get it, baby. i know what it feels like to walk on eggshells around people who are supposed to care for you. i see your leg going a mile a minute when we’re watching a movie. i can almost hear your brain overthinking.”
jj pulls you in a tight hug and buries his nose in your hair, inhaling your comforting scent. “you don’t have to run away from me. i’m not mad, i could never be mad at you. i got you, you’re safe here, y/n.”
hot, salty tears spill out of your eyes at jj’s soft words. “i love you so much, jay. thank you for being you.”
“shiit, babe, i should thank you for putting up with me.”
can you keep a secret?
masterlist and backstory to sarah cameron x reader
childhood friends/best friends to lovers (set in college but college is not the main plot/mentioned much)
angst, fluff, parties, drugs, alcohol
chapter one |
reader
sarah
every day for the past few months, you tell yourself this is the day you're breaking up with rafe. the emotional turmoil is becoming too much for you to bear anymore. it's not working. frankly, it never did. he was just there and you were there and both of you were living in the shadow of sarah cameron. she was the favorite child, the popular one in middle school and high school, the one with a huge circle of friends. the truth is, you never held that against her, it was what you loved about her. you loved the way she fit everywhere perfectly, loved the way she was confident and bubbly and out there. she was never the mean one, would never bully anyone and was a girl's girl through and through. you talked about anything and everything. there were some sleepovers that ended with kisses too close to the lips, but that was what best friends did, wasn't it?
you weren't an outcast, not really, but you still felt like one. you were in the popular crowd only because of her. everyone knew you were a package deal and where she was, you were. even so, you felt invisible more often than not. but, that was okay, that gave you more leniency and room for mistakes. sarah didn't have that, she had to be perfect all the time. and you loved sarah, you always had, it was just that somewhere along the line that love may have surpassed simply friendship. not that you could tell her that, not now anyways.
one drunken mess of a night left you in the arms of the one person you shouldn't have let in. rafe cameron, sarah's brother. he was always angry and unpredictable and quiet in that dangerous way, like a rabid animal ready to pounce. but he was also the only one who could understand how you felt. he knew how it felt to have parents that kinda neglect you, but not because they hate you, but just because they don't really care, always working too much. he got how it was living in sarah's orbit but not being able to say anything because sarah was nice and kind and good.
what started as a messy friends with benefits situation escalated into a toxic, codependent relationship that neither you nor rafe could walk away from. the bad days were very bad, but the good days were very good. heated arguments ended with screaming and crying from you and throwing things and punching the wall from him. he never laid so much as a finger on you, but sometimes his words, especially when coked out of his mind, were so cruel he might as well hit you, it would hurt less. the next day, rafe would shower you with gifts and money and the best sex you ever had. mostly, it was the attention you were craving and the distraction from sarah so you didn't have to think about what you couldn't have.
because, sarah met john b. one girls' night at a bar ended with sarah making out with the lead singer of the band that was performing. john b was the broody, mysterious rocker and sarah fell hard. the worst part was, his band, the pogue company was actually good and he was kind and respectful, exactly who somebody like sarah deserved. suddenly, you two were hanging out with him and his friends all the time. you definitely couldn't do or say anything, not now, not when she was so happy.
but lately, the way sarah's gaze lingered on you felt different too. and what are you supposed to do with that? one thing’s for sure - rafe was never the cameron sibling you actually fell for.
okayy, so a sarah x reader idea popped into my head and it doesn't want to leave me alone lol
is anybody interested in that?? (like best friends to lovers kinda deal but sarah's still with john b and reader is with rafe)
anywayss should i do it??
Hi babes! Do you think that you could write a little blurb or smth about JJ and a gf with chronic anxiety from childhood trauma and maybe he notices? Like it's not constant panic attacks but just all the little things, (always fighting even when relaxing (lip biting, leg thumping, finger picking), cleaning when stressed, shutting down in arguments, etc)
Hi anon 😇
Yes, i can definitely do it! Be on the lookout for it this week 🤍
chapter one: you can call me jj
masterlist + moodboards
People talk about love at first sight all the time. Personally, you haven't experienced it and still don't know if it's something that exists or all those people are just full of shit. What you do believe in, though, is annoyance at first sight. Know that feeling when you lock eyes with someone and you just want to smack that look off their face? Yeah, that's exactly what happens when you first come face to face with Jackson fucking Genrette, the golden king of Kildare University.
It's the first big party of the freshman year's second semester, held at a house of some fraternity you didn't bother to remember. Frankly, there are too many of them, and you don't really care enough to know their names. The only important things to know are which frats to avoid at all costs, which guys to steer clear of, and never, ever leave your cup unattended.
Now, Jackson Genrette isn't one of those frat boys you didn't want to find yourself alone with. That doesn't stop him from being a nuisance, though. He is a menace through and through, running around campus with his stupid messy hair and his stupid grin. Every baseball game ends with him doing some shit on the field that makes all the girls swoon and all the boys clap him on the back.
Jackson is a celebrity around here, destined for greatness ever since being born in that rich family of his. Guess it's easy being great when you have everything handed on a silver platter. Bitter? You? Not at all, who said that? At some level, you understand that nobody can help who their family is, but at another one, you are exhausted working two jobs on top of everything else.
You enter the house with your roommate and coworker Cleo by your side. Both of you are newbies to Outer Banks, having lived here for just a few years, but you picked up on the dynamics pretty quickly.
The party is already rowdy with people everywhere and the music is loud and pumping through your body, the floor vibrating with the bass that's traveling through the space. After an evening shift at the diner with Cleo, you rushed to your dorm to get ready.
Your black sparkly skirt is showing off your legs, and the long mesh sleeves of the black bodysuit are hugging your upper body perfectly. The final accent tonight is your sleek, long hair, pulled up into a high ponytail. Truth be told, your head is kind of aching from the tension the ponytail is creating, but that's a cheap price to pay for the confidence the hairstyle gives you.
Since it's way too loud in the living room to hear anything, you grab Cleo's hand and lead her to where you assume the kitchen is. The kitchen's also crowded, with people sitting on the counters and standing all around.
"Vodka soda, right?" you yell to Cleo, making your way to the bar. It's both of your drinks of choice, being the easiest to make and the cheapest.
"That Genrette kid is not skimping on the vodka," Cleo says and points to the bottles of Beluga on the counter.
"Genrette? As in Jackson Genrette? This is his party?" You still haven't had the displeasure of officially meeting the guy, but you knew all about him. It was hard not to, considering everybody was talking about him for what seemed like the whole fucking time. "Also, what the fuck? Do you know how much a bottle of Beluga costs?"
Cleo rolls her eyes at the annoyed tone of your voice when talking about Jackson. She was usually the one on the other end of your rants, listening and enduring. Okay, so maybe you were kinda obsessed with talking shit about him, so what? He is a spoiled, rich frat boy who doesn't know anything about struggle and you don't know why is everybody kissing his ass so much.
"I don't even wanna know, girl. And yah, this is his frat, he's the president." Cleo lifts her hands up in surrender when she notices the face you're making. "Just sayin'. I don't know why you hate the kid so much, he's not so bad, he helped me jump-start the car one morning when you were in class."
Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. That was news to you. Still, that didn't change your mind much, you didn't trust any of them. Money and power can corrupt anyone.
"Whatever, let's go dance." You don't wait for Cleo's response, just grab your drink and head to the makeshift dance floor. The music is rougher now, the beat making you dizzy and lightweight in the best way possible. It's so easy to get lost in the dance, in the way you feel like floating through the air. The sweat is beading along your hairline and it's so hot, you almost can't breathe. But none of that matters.
After some time spent dancing, you see Cleo tying her braids up and mouthing to you that she's gonna go find the bathroom. You decide to take a break too and you throw away your cup on the way to the backyard. Outside, it's breezy and the feeling of the light wind on your hot skin is the perfect cooling balm.
You send a quick message to Cleo letting her know where you are and take a joint out of your back pocket. The rolling paper has little strawberries on it and your lighter is bedazzled and bright yellow. Both of those are your handy work, having spent the whole last summer practicing rolling the tightest joints and customizing all the lighters you could find.
The first inhale is always the best and you savour the taste swirling in your mouth and feel of the smoke coming out of your nostrils. Sitting on a short stone wall lining the property, you are watching the party through the sliding glass doors, when he steps out of the house.
You almost drop your joint when he starts approaching you, an easy smirk on his face. He suddenly stops a few steps in front of you and blinks a few times, shaking his head. His pupils are blown wide, from alcohol or drugs, you don't know.
"Fuck, I though you were somebody else." He brings a hand through his hair, making the messy blonde strands even messier. You can tell he's also sweating and his white linen shirt is sticking to his abdomen. With reluctance, you notice that he's lean, but firm, his long fingers adorned with various rings and a chain peeking through his collar.
"Nope, just little ol' me." You flick the joint to get rid of the ash and take one last long drag before stubbing it out on the wall. Then you pocket the joint to throw it away later.
"My friend Kie would love you for that. She's all about the environment." He stumbles a little. "I'm Jackson, by the way. But you can call me JJ." He extends a hand in greeting, but you don't take it, just look up at him through your eyelashes.
"I know. And I don't think I can." You cross your legs and continue looking up at him, now rocking a smirk of your own.
Jackson lets his hand fall down to his side and chuckles. "Oof, cold. Do you have a name?"
"Yup," you say, popping the p.
"It's gonna be like that, huh? 'Kay mama, I have my ways of finding out."
"Do those lines work on other girls?" you scoff, getting up off the wall. You see Cleo inside the house, waving at you, pointing to the door. She gets fed up with these things quickly and you're ready to go too.
"Bye, Jackson."
You check Jackson with your shoulder on the way to the house and feel his eyes boring into your back, but you refuse to turn around and give him the satisfaction of one last look.
…
Back at the dorm, you take off your makeup and get ready for bed. While you're scrolling on Instagram, a message from a number you don't recognize pops up.
taglist: @blissfulbutterfliess
hi babes! was scrolling through your blog and saw the post about dry humping bsf!jj and so i was wondering if you could pretty please write a little blurb about that? (also, subby jj pls, i really fucking love me some subby jj)
cw: smut !! bsf!jj x reader, public, dom!reader x sub!jj, dry humping, slight humiliation kink, jj cums in his pants.
Maybe it was the smell of the bonfire and the alcohol settling in your stomach, the friendly way you were sitting on his lap, or maybe even the way your panties stuck to you just by being in his presence that made you do it... It started off innocent, just little squirms so you could sit comfortably, little squirms that made his breath hitch and blood rush down.
It wasn’t so innocent anymore. It was pitiful, really. The way JJ's hands kept fluttering against your hips everytime you moved your ass against him, wanting to grab, wanting to beg—but not daring to move.
You kept laughing with the pogues like nothing was wrong, swinging your legs, sipping your drink. Meanwhile, his jeans were getting painfully tight, his whole body stiff under you, breaths short and desperate against your neck.
You felt him nudge his nose into your hair, voice breaking when he whispered, "Please, I can't—gonna cum in my fuckin' pants if you don't stop, please—" His voice cracked on the last word, a little whimper punching out of his chest before he could catch it.
His hands were shaking, clenching uselessly in the sand behind you to keep from grabbing you and humping like an animal in front of everyone. You shifted again, slower than before, devastatingly slow, and JJ let out the softest, most broken little gasp.
"Fuck—" he sobbed under his breath, forehead falling against your shoulder like he physically couldn’t hold himself up anymore.
"Please, mama, you're killin' me—" His voice was all wet and wrecked, thick with tears, frantic little pleas spilling against your skin like he couldn’t even think straight anymore. "I'll do anything, swear to god. You want me on my knees? Wanna watch me cum in my pants in front of everyone here? I will—fuck, just please go faster—"
You smiled sweetly, tilting your head like you were considering it. Then ground your hips down hard, just once, deliberate. JJ choked on a moan, a real, humiliating little noise that made Sarah throw a short glance at you suspiciously.
Another slow roll of your hips and he whimpered, his eyes shooting shut. Hands fisting into your hoodie like he could anchor himself there, but it was useless. You felt him tremble behind you, the stutter of his chest against your back. And then he choked out, like he was about to cry. "Mama, please, please—I'll cum in my fuckin' pants—I'm so close.."
You stayed perfectly still. You didn’t even look at him.
His forehead dropped against your shoulder, his body curling around yours like he was trying to hide how much he was shaking. "I'll do anything, anything you want," he begged, voice cracking, "I'll be so good for you, baby, just—fuck, just please—"
Another desperate little whine punched out of him when you shifted just a tiny bit again, a cruel little drag of your ass right over his cock. You finally feel him break behind you. His whines slurring together, desperate and panicked, like he couldn’t control his mouth anymore.
He pawed at your hoodie again, just barely catching your wrist as his hips pathetically twitched under you, cumming in his pants with a hopeless, wrecked moan.
You finally turn to look at him, he looks back at you with needy, glassy eyes, eyes that were still pleading you to touch him, even if it meant humiliating him in front of his friends again.
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thinking about..something I can’t seem to think of a title for!
jj stood waist deep in the surf, board bobbing beside him, hair dripping and sun warmed. he’d just caught a decent ride, nothing spectacular - but it wasn’t the wave that had him smiling like a fool.
It was you.
twenty yards down the beach, you were getting absolutely demolished by the shore break. not even trying to fight it - just standing knee deep, arms loose at your sides like you trusted the ocean to play fair. which it didn’t.
a wave slammed into your thighs, tripping you. you flailed backward in a full cartoon fall, disappeared under the foam, and then popped up sputtering, hair in your mouth, cheeks pink from the saltwater and laughter.
you laughed like it was the funniest thing that had ever happened to you. like the ocean was in on the joke. And then you did it again.
jj blinked, watching you wipe out again, this time tumbling with a little yelp and faceplanting into wet sand. He couldn’t tell if your laugh was from joy or insanity.
next to him, a guy - surfer, maybe mid twenties, board under his arm - nodded toward you. “yo, you know who that is?”
JJ didn’t look away. Just blinked. “oh, yeah - yeah, I know who..”
but he trailed off, eyes glued to the chaos that was you, now trying to stand up only for another wave to take you out sideways. again. you sat up coughing and laughing and smacking the water like it owed you money.
“…what the fuck?” he muttered, eyes wide, mouth twitching between disbelief and some kind of awe. he sighed a little- but not in annoyance. Never.
then he cupped his hands around his mouth.“baby - come here!”
you looked over from where you were curled in the foam, grinning like an idiot. you waved, still on your knees.
“did ya see that one?!”
jj shook his head. “yeah, I saw all of em’ sweetheart”
still laughing, you picked yourself up and started trotting toward him, soaked, scraped, smiling so hard your cheeks hurt.
and jj - he just stood there waiting, board forgotten, heart somewhere in the sand.
only you get to call him jackson . . .
cw: clingy!boyfriend!jj x reader, fluff !!
JJ’s legs were thrown over yours on the couch, chin on your shoulder as you scroll on your phone. He’d been like this for the past hour, touching you like you’ll disappear if he lets go. “I missed you,” he mumbles, even though he’s been with you since the sun rose this morning. His fingers lazily draw circles on your thigh, rings clinking together when he shifts.
You smile, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “I’m right here, clingwrap.”
JJ ignores that. Then he adds, dead serious, “You’re not allowed to leave me. Ever.”
You scoff. “What about work, Jackson?”
He melts at the sound of it. Jackson. No one else calls him that. Not even his friends. To them, he’s JJ, always has been—loud, reckless, a little unhinged. But to you? He’s Jackson. Soft and warm and real.
He nuzzles into your neck with a small smile. “Say it again.”
“Jackson?” you repeat with a giggle.
A pleased hum leaves his lips. “Mmm. Just like that. Sounds so pretty coming from you.”
“You’re such a weirdo,” you laugh, leaning your head against his.
“I don’t care. No one else gets to say it. Just you. If anyone else calls me Jackson, I’m fighting them.”
You roll your eyes. “You’re so dramatic.”
JJ pulls back, eyes serious now—like he means it. “I’m not kidding. That’s your name for me. You gave it meaning, you know?” His voice softens, “Jackson didn’t mean anything until you said it.”
You freeze, heart doing flips. “That’s… weirdly poetic for you.”
He grins, a little proud. “I can be deep.”
Then he tugs you until you’re laying on his chest, legs tangled. His hand slides under the back of your hoodie, warm and possessive. “I like when you say it when I’m sleepy,” he murmurs against your temple. “Or mad. Or when you’re all cute and bossy.”
“Jackson, get your hands outta my shirt.”
He gasps. “Hot.”
You swat his chest, and he catches your hand easily, lacing your fingers with his. “Don’t test me, Maybank.”
He makes a face. “Ew. Everyone else calling me Maybank? Normal. You calling me Maybank? Hate it. Feels illegal.”
You laugh so hard your stomach hurts, and Jackson is right there, eyes on you like you hung the damn stars. He presses a kiss to your cheek, then your jaw, then the corner of your mouth. “Seriously though. It’s yours. That name. Jackson. You made it soft.”
You go quiet, your fingers playing with the hem of his sleeve. “I like that,” you admit. “That it’s mine.”
“It’s all yours, babe. I’m all yours.” He kisses you again—slower this time, and you believe he’s yours.
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masterlist: i just want you to know who i am
introducing kook!jj and college!reader
chapter one | chapter two |
kook jj maybank x college reader
slight enemies to lovers
angst, fluff, parties, drugs, alcohol
college!reader
she is the type of girl who doesn't fit into a box. she doesn't talk much if she doesn't feel like it, but always says yes to a good house party. she's the observant one, but takes no shit. she doesn't come from a wealthy background and needs to have two jobs to get herself through college. she wears short skirts and too much eyeliner. has an even shorter temper and a wall around her heart. with a prickly and tough exterior, she hides a sentimental, nostalgia-filled soul. she is a writer who carries a journal with her everywhere. slasher horror enthusiast and a lover of pop punk music who loves bright colors.
she doesn't trust rich, pretty frat boys, but how can she say no to one who is nothing like the frat boys she knows?
kook!jj
jackson james genrette is the royalty of kildare university. he is the sunshine boy with all the jokes, the baseball star, the cocky and confident one everyone wants to be around. it seems that everything in his life is perfect, made for him. but there's more to him than meets the eye. he's chaotic and impulsive, does things that endanger him. oversized polo sweaters hide the bruises and panic attacks take his breath away. are his sides hurting from practice or because somebody punched him one too many times?
somebody made jj believe he is worthless despite all his virtues, but along came somebody who saved him from himself. and he's going to show her he is more than a frat boy who parties too much.
just rewatched JJ’s crash out and there are tears running down my leg 🫢 i need DISGUSTINGLY DIRTY smut about helping him destroy the town please and thank you 🙏🏻
cw: rough sex/car sex, degradation, mentions of blood & glass, slight choking/spanking
He smells like gasoline, sweat, and the rage he hasn’t let out in weeks. His hand is still bleeding from the glass on the storefront window—knuckles raw, slick, smearing red fingerprints up your thighs as he drags you into the back of the Ultima like you’re just another thing he’s about to destroy.
The fire he lit is right outside. Flames crackle bright, flickering shadows across the cracked windshield. Heat wraps around the car painting you orange, and the door? He kicked it clean off its hinges. Didn’t even blink. “Get in the fuckin’ back,” he snarled, voice shredded from shouting. “Now.”
You didn’t even think. You obeyed.
Now your bare thighs are sticking to fake leather, and JJ’s yanking your top up over your tits while the metal roof creaks overhead from the heat. His teeth catch your nipple, hard, and you scream, body arching, mind buzzing white-noise.
He chuckles, low and rough. “You hear that?” he pants. “That fire? That’s how bad I needed this. Needed you.” He doesn't undress you carefully. He doesn't even undress you fully. He just rips your shorts down, leaves them around one ankle, and pushes your legs open so wide it hurts. You try to help, hands trembling, but he slaps them away and pins your wrists to the fogged-up window.
His hand smacks your ass so hard the sound echoes off the storefronts. You take it. Not because you’re scared. Because you’re soaked.
The sunroof's cracked above you but you can make out the image. JJ’s smoke-streaked back, sweat dripping down his spine, your legs wrapped around his waist, lips parted, ruined already.
“Fuck—” He sinks into you in one brutal stroke and stays there, forehead on yours, cock throbbing inside you like he needs this to stay alive.
He grins when you whimper. “You hear that sound?” he mutters, hips drawing back, slamming forward—smack. “That wet, fucking noise? That’s mine. That’s what the whole town’s gonna remember when they see this car. You. Dripping. Begging.”
The fire roars louder outside. JJ picks up speed, bruising your thighs with every thrust, hand slipping down to your throat, not choking. Holding. Like he owns you. Like you’re the last thing in the world that isn’t on fire. You moan—half turned on, half breathless from the way his hips are destroying you.
He growls in your ear, voice cracking, low and obscene, “Keep your fuckin’ eyes open. I want you to see yourself. See what you look like getting fucked stupid in a car I ruined for you.”
Your hands fly to his back, fingernails digging into a new bruise blooming across his shoulders. “Just like that. You like it rough, huh? You like me all dirty and mad and dripping blood on your skin?”
His necklace hits your face as he bends over you, all sweat and heat and rage, pressing you flat to the seat while he pounds into you like he’s got something to prove. You can’t speak. You’re nearly babbling, legs shaking, tears in your lashes from how deep he’s hitting. “You’re gonna come like a filthy little slut with glass in her back and my cock in her pussy, aren’t you?”
And you do. Eyes on his. Mouth open. He chases you through it, comes with a shout that sounds like a war cry, fingers digging in like he’s scared you’ll disappear.
For a second, everything is still.
Then JJ leans back on his haunches, cock still wet and twitching, hand slapping your inner thigh hard enough to make you jolt.
“They’re gonne come here and think—” he pants, “—oh no, not the Ultima.”
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when jj falls in love headcanons <3
masterlist
jj maybank x reader
Everyone knows JJ Maybank, and everyone knows he's confident, cocky and a menace all around. He always has something to say, and he can't turn down a fight. Alcohol, weed, girls? He's there.
But, when JJ Maybank falls in love? All bets are off.
When JJ falls in love, he's not reckless, he's not impulsive. At least not as much as he used to be. Now he has someone that cares about him and someone who wants to keep him alive. Now, before he does something, you are on his mind.
When JJ falls in love, no girl can get his attention. Then, you are the only one for him. You are the only one he has eyes for, and what heart eyes those are.
When JJ falls in love, sex is not the only thing he's after. He wants to know you, and he wants you to know him. He memorizes every quirk, love, and hate of yours for future reference.
When JJ falls in love, he starts and ends each day with the thought of you. Usually, he doesn't even know where his phone is, but he doesn't miss sending a single good morning text to you.
When JJ falls in love, he wants you near at all times. He doesn't usually share his Pogues with anyone, but damn, you are not just anyone. You're everything.
When JJ falls in love, he wants to show you off. He wants to hold your hand walking down the Cut, he wants you on his lap in the Twinkie, he wants you in his bed at the Chateau.
When JJ falls in love, he can't stop taking pictures of you. He keeps polaroids of you in his wallet, on his bedroom wall, under his pillow. You are the screensaver of his phone, and he doesn't care that John B and Pope make fun of him for it.
When JJ falls in love, you are his first priority, always and in any scenario.
When JJ falls in love, he can finally see the future. He can see the future as bright and happy, with you by his side.
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