jersey

21୧ ‧₊˚ she/they⋅ ☆ smut enjoyer ☆ a yapper ✩ safe space ✩ masterlist in about me

[jealousjersey]

about me post !! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹

masterlist

certified josh futturman apologist

my name is jersey, i’m 21 years old, my prns are she/they and im a amateur writer, i mostly write for jhutch characters but im open to requests !! please do not interact if ur a minor !!! i mostly write smut !!! you will be blocked !!! most comfortable with writing for: mike schmidt, josh futturman, derek danforth, clapton davis. i will not write for underage characters. if you have any requests my inbox is open !!! ⊹₊｡ꕤ˚₊⊹

[jealousjersey]

posting on this acc feels like i’m talking to a wall

[jealousjersey]

college didn’t work out so i’m probably gonna be back on here…is anyone out there?

[ficpmaan]

[jealousjersey]

i miss u guys

[ficpmaan]

please I need 9 hours of board games with him

[jealousjersey]

are we back in the jhutch mike schmidt era

[jealousjersey]

turned 21 today, everyone take a shot for me

[jealousjersey]

mmm

[jealousjersey]

god he’s so pretty

[jealousjersey]

idk if i can continue kinktober as college is beating me down to a pulp, ill post what i can but i can’t promise it’ll be linear. thank you guys i love u

[xdmir1ngjhutch-deactivated20260]

⭒ NEW LIL' PIC ` . ★ !

[jealousjersey]

he’s so cute

[jealousjersey]

dry humping - kinktober day 17 josh futturman

꩜ boyfriend!sub!josh futturman dry humps you

꩜ tags // josh futturman x reader, dry humping, whimpering, smut, 18+ fanfic, futureman fanfic, porn without plot

꩜ mentions // dry humping, male whimpering, moaning, grinding, praise, teasing, kissing, begging

It’s late at night, and you’re curled up on the couch with Josh, watching some old sci-fi movie. His arm is around you, but you can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s shifting slightly, like he can’t quite get comfortable. You turn to him, catching his eyes in the dim light from the screen.

“Everything okay?” you whisper, brushing a strand of his messy hair from his forehead.

He nods, but his cheeks flush a little. “Yeah, just… you look really good tonight.” His voice is soft, almost shy, but there’s a heat in his gaze that makes your pulse quicken.

You smile and lean in, pressing your lips to his. What starts as a gentle kiss quickly turns heated, his hands finding your waist, pulling you closer. Before you know it, you’re straddling his lap, the movie forgotten in the background.

Josh’s hands grip your hips as you start to move against him, grinding slowly through your clothes. The friction builds, and you feel him harden beneath you. A soft whimper escapes his lips, muffled against your mouth, and it sends a thrill through you.

“You like that?” you murmur, pulling back just enough to see his face, eyes half-lidded, lips parted, looking utterly wrecked already.

He nods frantically, another whimper slipping out as you roll your hips harder. “Please… don’t stop,” he begs, his voice breaking into a whine. His hands guide your movements, but you’re in control, teasing him with every grind.

The dry humping intensifies, his breaths coming in short gasps, punctuated by those delicious whimpers that make you grind even slower, drawing them out. “You sound so good like this,” you praise, kissing along his jaw.

Josh arches up into you, chasing the friction, his whimpers turning into moans. The tension coils tight, and soon he’s trembling beneath you, lost in the sensation.

You keep the rhythm steady, rolling your hips in slow, deliberate circles that have Josh squirming underneath you. His fingers dig into your sides, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to show how desperate he’s getting. Every time you grind down, he lets out these soft, breathy whimpers that make your core ache, high-pitched and needy, like he can’t hold them back.

“Fuck… feels so good,” he gasps, his head tilting back against the couch cushions. You lean down, capturing his lips in a messy kiss, swallowing his next whimper as your tongues tangle. The movie’s still playing, some explosion lighting up the room, but neither of you cares.

You pull back, watching him chase your mouth with a whine. “Tell me what you want, Josh,” you tease, slowing your movements just enough to make him buck up against you involuntarily.

“Please… faster,” he begs, his voice cracking into another whimper. His cheeks are flushed, eyes glassy with want. You oblige, picking up the pace, the friction between your clothes building that sweet, torturous heat. He moans louder now, the sound vibrating through you as he grinds back, matching your rhythm.

You’re both panting, the dry humping turning frantic. You can feel him throbbing beneath you, so close to the edge. “You’re doing so well for me,” you praise, nipping at his earlobe, and that’s what pushes him further, another series of whimpers spilling from his lips, broken and raw.

But you don’t let him finish just yet. You slow down again, edging him, drawing out those delicious sounds. “Not yet, baby,” you murmur, kissing his neck. He whines in protest, hips jerking up, but you hold him steady, building the tension until he’s trembling all over.

Finally, when you can’t take it anymore either, you grind hard and fast, pushing you both over. Josh cries out, a long, shuddering whimper as he comes undone beneath you, his body arching. You follow soon after, collapsing against him in a heap of tangled limbs and heavy breaths.

Afterward, you stroke his hair gently, whispering soft praises as he catches his breath. “You were amazing,” you say, and he smiles shyly, pulling you closer for a lazy kiss. The night stretches on, cozy and content.

[jealousjersey]

kinktober day 16: mike moodboard

sorry i’ve been so late to these so much is happening and im a little stressed out

[jealousjersey]

jealously/posession - kinktober day 15 - billy (burn)

Pairing: Billy (Burn 2019) x fem!reader

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only, smut, jealousy, possession, rough sex, choking, praise kink, creampie, aftercare, unprotected sex (wrap it up irl), dom!Billy vibes

You’ve been working the late shift at the dingy gas station on the edge of town, the kind of place where fluorescent lights buzz like angry hornets and the coffee tastes like regret. Billy hates it. hates that you’re there alone half the night, hates the sketchy guys who roll in for smokes and leer a little too long. But money’s tight, and he’s not exactly rolling in it either, with his odd jobs and that temper that keeps getting him fired.

Tonight, he picks you up like always, his beat-up truck idling in the lot, engine rumbling low like a growl. You slide into the passenger seat, tossing your bag in the back, and he doesn’t say a word at first. Just grips the wheel tighter, jaw clenched, eyes flicking to the rearview as if expecting trouble to follow.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, reaching over to trace your fingers along his arm. He’s tense, muscles coiled under that worn leather jacket he loves.

“Saw that asshole in the store earlier,” he mutters, voice rough like gravel. “The one with the tattoos, buying beer. He was flirting with you. Don’t deny it…I watched from outside.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s a spark in your chest at the way his possessiveness flares. It’s always been like this with Billy, intense, all-consuming. He doesn’t do halfway. “He was just being friendly, Billy. Asked about the lottery tickets. Nothing happened.”

His hand shoots out, grabbing your thigh a little too hard, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp. “Friendly, huh? Looked like he wanted to bend you over the counter. You’re mine, you get that? No one else gets to look at you like that.”

The truck swerves into your shared trailer lot, tires crunching on the gravel. He kills the engine, but doesn’t move, turning to you with those dark eyes that always see right through you. There’s fire there, jealousy burning hot, and it sends a thrill straight between your legs.

“Prove it,” you whisper, challenging him because you know it’ll snap whatever restraint he’s holding onto.

He’s on you in seconds, mouth crashing against yours, all teeth and tongue and desperation. His hands are everywhere, tugging at your shirt, yanking it over your head as he pulls you across the console into his lap. The cab’s too small for this, but Billy doesn’t care. He never does when he’s like this.

“Fuck, you drive me crazy,” he groans against your neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark. You arch into it, moaning as his fingers fumble with your jeans, shoving them down your thighs along with your panties. The cool air hits your skin, but his touch is scorching, calloused palms spreading your legs wide over his.

“Billy, please,” you whimper, grinding against the bulge in his pants. He’s rock hard already, straining against the denim, and the friction makes you ache.

He chuckles low, dark, one hand sliding up to wrap around your throat but not squeezing, just holding you there, tilting your head back so you’re looking right at him. “Begging already? Good girl. You know what I want to hear.”

“I’m yours,” you breathe, hands clutching his shoulders. “All yours, Billy. No one else.”

“That’s right.” He frees himself with his free hand, stroking his cock a few times. thick, veined, tip already leaking. Your mouth waters at the sight, but he doesn’t give you time to think. He lines up, rubbing the head through your slick folds, teasing your clit until you’re trembling. “Gonna fuck you so deep, you’ll feel me for days. Remind you who you belong to.”

He thrusts in hard, one brutal push that buries him to the hilt. You cry out, the stretch burning so good, filling you completely. Billy groans, head falling back against the seat as he holds you there, letting you adjust. “Fuck, so tight. Always so perfect for me, baby. Taking every inch like you were made for it.”

His hips snap up, rough and relentless, each thrust punching the air from your lungs. The truck rocks with the force of it, windows fogging as you ride him, nails digging into his back. His hand tightens around your throat just a bit, enough to make your vision blur at the edges, heightening every sensation.

“Who do you belong to?” he growls, free hand slipping between you to rub circles on your clit, fast and firm.

“You! Fuck, Billy, you!” You’re close already, the jealousy-fueled intensity pushing you to the edge. He hits that spot inside you over and over, praise spilling from his lips like confessions.

“Good girl. Cum for me. Squeeze that pretty pussy around my cock…show me you’re mine.” His words tip you over, orgasm crashing through you like a wave, walls fluttering as you scream his name.

He follows right after, thrusting deep one last time and holding there, spilling hot inside you with a guttural moan. You feel every pulse, every drop claiming you from the inside out. “That’s it, take it all. Fuck, you’re perfect.”

He doesn’t pull out right away, just holds you close, breathing ragged against your shoulder. Eventually, he softens, slipping free with a wet sound that makes you shiver. Billy reaches into the glove compartment for some napkins…always prepared, in his own messy way…and gently cleans you up, his touch tender now, all the roughness melted away.

“You okay?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, pulling your shirt back down.

“Yeah,” you smile, nuzzling into his neck. “More than okay.”

He smirks, that possessive glint still in his eyes. “Good. ‘Cause next time some prick looks at you wrong, I might not wait till we get home.”

You laugh, but deep down, you know he means it. And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

[jealousjersey]

aftercare - kinktober day 14 - mike schmidt

The soft glow of the lamp casts warm shadows across Mike’s cramped living room, the kind of light that makes everything feel a little safer, a little more like home. You’ve been waiting for him, curled up on the worn couch with a blanket draped over your legs, the faint hum of the TV in the background. When the door creaks open and he steps inside, his shoulders slumped from another endless night shift, your heart aches just a bit. He’s always carrying so much like Abby, the bills, the ghosts of that damn pizzeria, but tonight, you want to be the one who lightens the load.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice gravelly from exhaustion, those hazel eyes softening the second they land on you. He kicks off his boots, shrugs out of his jacket, and crosses the room in a few tired strides. Before you can even stand, he’s dropping down beside you, pulling you into his arms like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.

You nestle against his chest, inhaling the faint scent of coffee and night air that clings to his shirt. “Rough night?” you ask, your fingers tracing lazy circles on his back.

He nods, burying his face in your hair. “Yeah. But seeing you… makes it better.” His words are simple, but the way he holds you tighter says everything else. You tilt your head up, capturing his lips in a gentle kiss that’s slow, unhurried, the kind that melts away the tension in his muscles. He sighs into it, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you onto his lap as if he can’t get close enough.

The kiss deepens naturally, his tongue brushing yours with a quiet hunger that’s more comforting than urgent. You feel him harden beneath you, a subtle shift that makes heat pool low in your belly, but there’s no rush. Tonight’s about him, about us. Your hands roam up his chest, tugging at his shirt until he lifts his arms, letting you peel it off. His skin is warm under your palms, dotted with faint scars from god-knows-what, but you kiss each one like they’re precious.

“God, you’re beautiful,” you whisper, and he chuckles softly, a blush creeping up his neck despite everything he’s been through.

“Me? Have you seen yourself?” He flips you gently onto your back, hovering over you with that boyish smile that always makes your heart flutter. His fingers trace the hem of your shirt, asking permission with his eyes. You nod, and he undresses you slowly, reverently, peppering kisses along your collarbone, down to your breasts, where he lingers, sucking gently until you’re arching into him with a soft moan.

By the time you’re both bare, the air between you is thick with warmth, not just desire. He settles between your thighs, his gaze locked on yours as he slides into you inch by inch, filling you completely. “You feel so good,” he breathes, his voice rough and sincere. “Always so perfect for me.”

You wrap your legs around him, pulling him deeper, your hands in his hair as he moves steady, loving thrusts that build a slow, sweet fire. It’s fluffy in the way he whispers your name like a prayer, in the way he pauses to kiss your forehead, your eyelids, making sure you’re right there with him. No demands, just connection, your bodies syncing in that quiet rhythm until pleasure crests over you both. He follows you moments later, groaning softly into your neck as he spills inside, his arms trembling but holding you close.

Afterward, he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he rolls to the side, keeping you tucked against him, his hand stroking your hair as your breathing evens out. “Stay right here,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple before slipping out of bed. He returns with a warm washcloth, gently cleaning between your legs with such care it makes your chest tighten. “You okay? Not too sore?”

“I’m perfect,” you say, smiling as he tosses the cloth aside and climbs back in, wrapping the blanket around you both. He pulls you onto his chest, his fingers tracing patterns on your back. lazy, soothing circles that lull you toward sleep. “Love you,” he whispers, his voice fading into the quiet night, and you know, in this moment, wrapped in his arms, that this is exactly where you’re meant to be.

[jealousjersey]

begging - kinktober day 13 - clapton davis

pairing - sub!fem!reader x dom!clapton davis

fandom - detention 2011

mentions - established relationship, high school setting

warnings - 18+ only (minors dni), smut, dom clapton, sub reader, teasing clapton, begging, choking (light), spanking (reader receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected (wrap it), aftercare, use of “good girl” and “slut” i think i already made one like this but who cares im so tired

words - 1.0k

The dim light of the empty classroom flickered overhead, casting long shadows across the desks. Detention. Again. But this time, it wasn’t for skipping class or mouthing off, it was Clapton’s idea. He’d slipped a note into your locker earlier: Meet me after the bell. Wear that skirt I like. Don’t be late. Your heart had raced reading it, knowing exactly what he had in mind. Clapton Davis, the effortless slacker with that cocky grin and those piercing eyes, always knew how to make you melt.

You shifted in your seat, the short plaid skirt riding up your thighs as you waited. The door creaked open, and there he was…leaning against the frame, skateboard tucked under his arm, his messy hair falling just right. “Hey, babe,” he drawled, kicking the door shut behind him. His eyes raked over you, lingering on your legs, and a smirk tugged at his lips. “Good girl, following instructions.”

Heat flooded your cheeks, but you didn’t move. You couldn’t…not when he looked at you like that, like he owned every inch of you. He dropped his board by the teacher’s desk and sauntered over, his hand trailing along the edge of your desk before he perched on it, towering over you. “You know why we’re here, right?” His voice was low, teasing, as he reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing your skin just enough to make you shiver.

“I… I think so,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. Your thighs pressed together instinctively, already aching for him.

He chuckled, the sound sending a thrill down your spine. “Think? Nah, you know. You’ve been teasing me all week, with those little looks in the hall, bending over just right in that skirt. Time to pay up.” His hand slid to your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “Tell me what you want, pretty thing. Beg for it.”

“Please, Clapton,” you breathed, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I need you. Touch me… please.”

His smirk widened, but he didn’t move right away. Instead, he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “That’s not begging. Try harder.” His free hand landed on your thigh, fingers digging in just enough to make you gasp, but he stopped short of where you wanted him most.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whimpered, squirming under his touch. “Please, Clapton, I’ll be good. I need your fingers… your cock… anything. Make me yours.”

“Better,” he murmured, finally sliding his hand higher, pushing your skirt up as he went. His fingers teased the edge of your panties, brushing over the damp fabric. “Fuck, already soaked for me? Such a needy little slut.” He hooked a finger under the waistband and tugged them down, exposing you to the cool air. You bit your lip to stifle a moan as he dipped a finger inside, curling it just right to hit that spot that made your toes curl.

“Clapton!” you gasped, gripping the edge of the desk as he added another finger, pumping slowly, torturously.

“Shh, keep it down,” he warned, his other hand wrapping loosely around your throat, not squeezing, just holding you in place. The pressure was light, but it made your head spin, submission flooding through you. “You don’t want anyone walking in, do you? Or maybe you do… like the idea of getting caught?”

You shook your head frantically, but your body betrayed you, clenching around his fingers. He laughed softly, picking up the pace, his thumb circling your clit until you were trembling. “Gonna come already? Not yet. Hold it.”

“I can’t! please!” you begged, tears pricking your eyes as the edge built, so close.

He pulled his fingers out abruptly, leaving you empty and whining. “Patience,” he tsked, standing up and undoing his belt with one hand. His jeans hit the floor, and he freed himself, hard and ready. He grabbed your hips, flipping you over the desk so your ass was up, skirt flipped over your back. “Count for me.”

The first spank landed sharp on your cheek, and you yelped. “One!”

“Good girl.” Another, harder. “Two!” He soothed the sting with his palm, then delivered two more in quick succession. By the fourth, you were dripping, pushing back against him desperately.

“Please, Clapton, fuck me,” you sobbed, and finally, he obliged, lining up and thrusting in deep with one smooth motion. You cried out, the stretch perfect, filling you completely.

“Fuck, so tight,” he groaned, hands gripping your hips as he set a brutal pace, each thrust slamming into you. The desk scraped against the floor, but you didn’t care. His hand returned to your throat, pulling you back against his chest as he pounded into you. “This what you wanted? To be my good little sub, taking it like this?”

“Yes, yes, all yours,” you moaned, the coil tightening again.

“Come for me, then,” he commanded, reaching around to rub your clit. It hit you like a wave, crashing over you as you clenched around him, vision blurring.

He followed soon after, burying deep with a low growl, spilling inside you. For a moment, the only sound was your ragged breathing.

Gently, he pulled out, turning you to face him. His expression softened as he wiped you clean with his shirt, pressing soft kisses to your forehead. “You okay, babe? Wasn’t too much?”

You nodded, leaning into him, spent but content. “Perfect.”

He smiled, pulling you into a hug. “Good. Let’s get out of here before someone really does show up.” He helped you fix your clothes, his touch tender now, all dominance faded into care.