i tried to be good, am i no good?
pairing ââŽïžËïœĄâ criminal!jj x sheriffsdaughter!reader
synopsis ââŽïžËïœĄâ you were supposed to be safe, quiet, clean. sheriffâs daughter, sweet southern manners, reputation stitched into the hem of every dress. but jj maybank was all cigarette smoke and hands cuffed behind his back, and youâve been wanting him since seventeen. he didn't look at you back then, not like he does now. and you pretend nothingâs happening, you still say your grace and keep the front door locked. but the window stays open. and his bruises look better when they're yours.
warnings ââŽïžËïœĄâ smut (minors stay away get out), choking, very brief mention of slapping, jj lowk being mean during smut, kinddd of almost getting caught, mentions of christianity and reader being minorly religious, afab!reader, swearing
notes ââŽïžËïœĄâ word count - 6kish words! inspired by 'crush' & 'strangers' by ethel cain. (my admiration and credit belongs to @princessbrunette! they wrote a fic inspired by crush first, it is amazing and wonderful pls go read it! thanks anon)
you hadn't planned to stay long. just long enough to drop off the sandwich, the salad, the sweet tea in a mason jar to your dad, because he'd forgotten his lunch at home again.
it's hot out today and you shiver when you step inside the kildare county sheriff's office from the ac blowing. its quiet- no one is behind the front desk, there's no drunken yells coming from the holding cells. there's a radio humming 60's country music on low, but that's it.
it smells like floor wax and old coffee. you cross the lobby slow, careful not to make too much noise, keys still hooked around your finger.
you're headed to your dad's office, mentally preparing for the lecture you'll probably recieve for wearing a skirt this short, when the slam of a metal door against wall makes you jolt.
the first thing you see is your dad- kildare's sheriff, locally loved and adolescently dispised. he's got that look on his face that can only mean someone's managed to piss him off in the hour and twenty minutes he's been working, or he already knows about the length of your skirt.
it's the first one. your dadâs dragging someone in by the elbow. shirt stained, hair a mess, hands cuffed behind his back, and grinning.
your stomach drops. jj maybank.
you recognize him immediately. how could you not? his file lives in your dadâs top drawer. his name was muttered like a curse word at the dinner table. this is his second time this week getting brought in. something about a fight, something about resisting.
he's the kid whoâs been in and out of this station so many times, he probably knows the code to the back door. he's the boy your mother didnât even bother warning you about. she assumed you had enough sense to know better.
but maybe she should have taken the thirty seconds it does to ward you off him. because the crush you have on jj maybank? it's not the cute kind, it's not the kind you say out loud. it's sickening and a little humilating.
you feel kind of bad for it. you're the sweetest girl in town, getting straight a's in college, you canât even say the word sex without getting red in the face. but still, you want him to press your face to the mattress and say 'so polite for everyone else, huh? letâs see how polite you are for me'.
you didnât know him, not really, but you knew of him. everyone did. thatâs just how it works on a place like this, the islandâs too small to hide anyone, especially not someone like jj.
he was a year older than you. he graduated, barely, from the public school on the island, got into fights, spent half his week in this here police station. while you had been kildare acadamy trained, clean reputation, polite. raised on yes sir, no maâam, and donât ever go near that maybank boy.
you've only spoken once, technically, if you want to count the time he held the door for you. lip split, blonde craze curling out from under his hat, he didnât even look up at first.
you stepped past him, said 'thank you', real quiet, polite, like you were supposed to. he glanced up just long enough to say 'no problem, sweetheart' and then he was gone.
and that was it. so oviously, you've convinced yourself that you're a creep.
jj is still getting dragged across the lobby by your father.
âyouâre really startinâ to make this a habit, sheriff,â he says. âyou miss me or somethinâ?â
your dad grits his teeth, but doesnât answer. he looks over at you, huffing out a smile. "hey, kid."
jj looks up, and then he sees you. he actually stops walking for half a second, forces your dad yank him forward again. but his eyes stay locked on you, his head tilts like heâs trying to remember if youâve ever spoken.
his eyes drag over you, slow and curious, like you donât match the picture in his head.
then, he smiles. "afternoon, sweetheart."
you wondered if he had somehow, magically remembered what he had called you the first and only time you interacted with him, or if he just called every girl that.
he turns to your dad. âyou ever get nervous lettinâ her walk around like that?â
your father tightens his grip on the cuffs. âwatch your mouth, maybank.â
jj grins wider, eyes never leaving you. âjust sayinâ. you're braver than i thought."
âthatâs my daughter."
jjâs eyebrows lift. âlucky man." his lips fall into a line, nodding his head. "she looks just like her mama."
you hide a jaw drop. his head tilts, then shakes it with approval.
they make it to the other end of the lobby, before your dad stops and yanks jj with him. he turns, giving you that look you're sure jj put on his face earlier.
"that thing's real short, kid."
"yeah, completely makes up for gettin' arrested, though. actually, i think i'll even thank you for this one, michael."
your father shoves him foward so hard jj stumbles, shoulder hitting the frame. he probably would've fallen if not for the hostile grip your dad had on the cuffs. but jjâs still smiling.
they pass through the doorway, the door slams behind them. and youâre left standing in a silence that buzzes.
you see him again five days later.
you're in the gas station, picking through the cold drinks while you wait for the gas pump to fill your car.
you turn, and there he is, standing with just enough distance that it makes you kind of fidgety. his arms are crossed and he's already smirking like he won't end up in holding tonight.
you force your face into something neutral, pleasant, indifferent. like your heart isnât already racing just from the sound of his voice.
âjj." you say carefully.
âyou remember my name. iâm touched.â
you roll your eyes and walk toward the counter. he follows, slow.
âcute dress,â he says, like itâs nothing. like he didnât just burn that image into his brain, âreal sweet."
ânot tryin' to cause a scene, sweetheart. just surprised, is all. figured you were only allowed out with a badge escort.â
âfunny,â you say flatly, plucking a pack of gum from the display and tossing it next to your drink. âyou been working on your material?â
he doesnât answer right away, just watches you with that same unreadable look. the one that makes your stomach coil even when you tell yourself it shouldnât.
âhow fast do'ya think your dad would put a bullet in me if i kissed you?â
you go still. not in that flustered, overdramatic kind of way, but in that real kind of still. like your brain forgot how to move your mouth.
he doesnât even look at you when he says it. just taps the cap of the soda bottle against the counter, head tilted slightly like heâs already picturing it.
the cashier hands you your change, not without a look of concern, and you walk out into the sun, hoping it'll hide your reaction to him.
jj doesnât let more than two seconds pass before he pushes through the door behind you.
"okay, that was a joke. not really, but kind of."
you glance back at him, quick. he's a few steps behind, already squinting from the north carolina sun.
"you got somewhere to be?"
you don't look back at him. your handâs tight around your keys, your other fidgeting with the edge of your drink. ââŠno.â
âthen come for a drive.â
your head snaps up, brows raised. âwith you?â
he nods like it's simple, like it was obvious.
"why would i do that?" you ask, eyes flicking between the gas pump and him.
âbeats standinâ here tryinâ to pretend weâre not both thinkinâ about it.â
you swear your whole body locks up, again. he didn't know...did he? no, he couldn't possibly know about the way you think of him at night. but the way he talks like he does makes a silent shiver run down your spine.
you take a deep breath a shake your head. "you aren't funny."
the gas pump clicks as jj laughs, you pull it out and replace it with the gas cap.
âwasnât tryinâ to be. you cominâ?â
you stand there, looking at him. he's smiling, like always, his shirt is stained with something black and is cut at the sleeves.
you hear your dad's voice in your head after the event at the station five days ago, comments made after arresting jj and then coming home and pointing a fork at you during dinner. ânext time he looks at you like that, you walk away.â
you should walk away. you should politely decline and then run for the hills like he's chasing you.
ââŠyou gonna bring me back?â
he grins, slow and tooth-biting. "promise."
the passenger side door creaks when he pulls it open for you. the seatâs hot, the truck smells like sun warmed leather and gas station gum and something darker, sweat and smoke and boy.
he drives with one hand on the wheel, arm lazy out the window. the breeze messes up your hair, but you don't try and fix it.
the roadâs all winding road down by the lighthouse, no one on the road, no reason to feel this tense except for the boy driving like heâs got all the time in the world and none of itâs clean.
youâre hyperaware of the way his arm brushes the console between you, the way his knee shifts when he laughs. the way you keep crossing and uncrossing your legs, trying to shake the warmth climbing up your body.
heâs talking about something dumb, some fight on the beach, some busted cooler and a stolen fishing pole, and then he stops mid-sentence.
âhold up,â he says, low and casual, like itâs nothing. âyou got somethinâ right there.â
before you can ask, his handâs already in your space. his fingers brush over your shoulder, then up, slow and careful, until they find a little piece of something caught in your hair. maybe a leaf, maybe thread, maybe nothing at all.
he pulls it free but doesn't drop his hand. just twirls the same lock of your hair around his finger. once, twice.
you're staring at him with your lips parted, his eyes out onto the road as if he doesn't have you wrapped around his finger, figuratively and literally.
your breath hiccups. he doesnât look at you, doesnât smile, just keeps twirling, like itâs the most normal thing in the world.
and then he tugs. gentle, light, barely a pull.
he lets go like itâs nothing, but it doesn't stop you from gasping, only loud enough for jj to grin.
he flicks the piece of fuzz out the window, and leans back into his seat. âshould see your face right now.â
you roll your eyes, uncross and recross your legs. you can't help the pink that appears on your cheeks as you stare out the winow.
jj looks you over again. looks at your hair, your jaw, your hands placed politely in your lap, your thighs.
he breathes out a shaky breath, almost like he's in awe he's got a girl like you here with him.
âyour dadâs gonna kill me." he says after a beat. he says it with a little humor behind it, but even jj knows it's no joke.
"guess you better make it worth it, then."
the ballroom smells like citrus polish and catered chicken. everyoneâs dressed in their best, firefighters in borrowed jackets, town councilmen in suits that havenât fit right in a decade. your dad sits tall at your side, name printed on a place card in the center of the table. your mom keeps adjusting the silverware.
youâre in a long, light blue dress with a low neckline and bare shoulders, earrings your aunt lent you, and heels that look really good, but don't feel good.
and of course, jj has magically managed to weasel his way into this event as a waiter.
he's dressed in black slacks and a crisp white shirt, sleeves cuffed to the elbows. hair combed but already falling out of place. there's a bruise shadows the left side of his jaw. he looks so out of place he might as well be glowing.
he's next to you before you know it. a hand appears at your side, steadying your glass. a second later, the sound of ice water pouring, slow and quiet.
you glance down. his sleeve brushes your arm. âmiss.â he says.
he leans in just a little closer, not enough for anyone to take a second glance, but enough. âyou look real sweet tonight.â
you tuck away a smile, a subtle hand reaching out to give a harsh tug at his belt, like that'll silence him.
he just lets out a breathy laugh, wandering over to the next table without giving anyone at yours a second thought.
the speeches start twenty minutes later, and you find a decent excuse to sneak outside before you're stuck in there listening to your dad's deputy talk about community.
you lean back against the stone railing, chin tilted up toward the stars you can barely see past the glow of streetlamps and floodlights. your heartâs still beating a little fast. too fast for someone who just needed air.
"knew i'd find you hidin' out here."
you turn, but you're not surprised. you were hoping he would follow you. hoping he would have some slimy, annoying thing to mutter under his breath.
jjâs already halfway to you, hands in his pockets, sleeves rolled, shirt slightly untucked like heâs been messing with it all night.
âhow longâd you wait before following me?â you ask, leaning back against the railing.
âwaited long enough to make it seem like i didnât.â
you sigh. jj steps up beside you, quiet for a moment. he smells like smoke and heat and cologne he probably stole. the bruise on his cheek looks worse under the glow of the patio lights.
you smile a little despite yourself. âyouâre not even supposed to be here.â
âyeah, well,â he says, inching even closer, âlucky for you, iâm real good at beinâ in places i shouldnât.â
you laugh, eyes flicking over him, bruised knuckles, undone top button, the way his hand brushes the edge of the railing next to yours like he knows heâs already too close.
âyou never shut up, do you?â
he gasps, loudly. âwoah. little miss raised-to-be-polite tellinâ me to shut my mouth?â
âno, no,â he says, all mock-offended. âwhat would your mama think?â
you shove his shoulder, failing to hide your grin. âdonât bring my mother into this, jerk.â
he grins, not wide, but slow, lazy.
âmhm.â he tilts his head. âyou always this mouthy when you wanna kiss someone?â
your breath stutters. you blink at him and say his name all stern like.
âwhat?â he says, voice low now, soft at the edges. he holds his hands up like it's absolutely not his fault you're in this situation. âyou told me to shut up. iâm just sayinâ...thereâs better ways.â
you donât answer, you just step forward and kiss him.
you donât warn him. donât ask for the first time in your life. just grab his shirt in your fist and pull him down to meet you.
and for half a second, jj freezes like he wasnât expecting you to actually do it. but he's moving again after a millisecond.
his hands find your hips, not soft, not questioning, and he pulls. drags you in until your chest hits his, until thereâs no air left between you. his fingers flex against the fabric of your dress, not like heâs holding you, like heâs molding you into the shape he wants.
his mouth is hot, moving over yours like heâs got something to prove, as if he needs to show you exactly what youâve been missing.
it's like a dream. this is probably what taking drugs feels like. you can't feel your limbs all the way, and you feel like you're floating.
then, you think you hear something. a laugh, a door, a creak maybe. maybe you're just so paranoid from kissing the kid who has his own personal cell at the station.
you try to pull back, just an inch. jj doesnât let you. he's already finding his way back to you, muttering something like 'don't' as his lips crash into yours again.
it's rougher this time, messier, like heâs trying to drown whatever part of you was second-guessing. like he needs you distracted, breathless, his just a little longer.
and when he finally steps away from you, quickly checking over his shoulder to make sure someone wasn't running to go tell on you two. jj turns back to you, lips parted. then that grin returns, bigger than before.
he's breathless, pupils blown, lips pink from kissing you too long and too hard.
you look up at him, heâs beautiful in this light. ruined and smug and golden. an absolute wet dream that you'll be replaying in your head tonight.
âdonât follow me in,â you say, soft, still smiling.
ââcourse not.â he grins. there's a beat of silence as you walk past him, letting your fingers graze across his stomach just because you could. over his shoulder he says, âsee you in five.â
you took a little more time getting ready this morning, just a little. a little more mascara, a little smoother with the hair, a dress you wouldnât normally reach for on a saturday. nothing dramatic, nothing obvious, just soft enough, just pretty enough.
heâs shirtless, slick with sweat, halfway disappeared under the hood of your dadâs truck. he showed up twenty minutes ago with a smile like he wasnât late. your dad, clearly annoyed but cornered, muttered something about a deal- fix the alternator and maybe next time he gets caught trespassing, the cuffs stay in the glovebox.
your eyes damn near bugged out of your head when your father explained it over cereal this morning. you haven't seen jj since you kissed almost a week ago, it's been killing you. so yes, you sprinted up the stairs and then destroyed your closet getting ready.
you're trying to make yourself look as busy as possible in the kitchen when he walks in. he's wiping grease off his hands with a rag and wearing that smug, sun warmed smile.
âyour dadâs still cussing at the alternator,â jj says, casually grabbing your glass of water off the counter and taking a sip. âfigured iâd come see my favorite girl.â
"sure, help yourself." you try and sound annoyed as you point to your stolen glass, it does not come out the way you want.
he tips his head up with a smile as to say 'thank you', then steps closer to you.
you canât breathe. jj's still very shirtless. he smells like sun and motor oil and whatever troubleâs been festering between you since friday night.
âyou havenât called.â you say, voice smaller than you meant it to be.
âyou havenât either.â
that stops you. you open your mouth, then close it again.
jj watches you, gaze dragging over your face like heâs memorizing it, like he missed it more than he wants to admit.
you tuck your lips and shake your head no, even though you're smiling, even though you're leaning against the counter like you're willing to do all the work for him.
he leans in a little, and you think maybe he's finally gonna kiss you again, before he glances toward the hallway and goes, âwait. which roomâs yours?â
he doesnât even wait for permission. just tosses the rag on the counter and starts walking.
he opens the bathroom door, mutters 'not that one', and then continues. you close the bathroom door while you're trailing behind him.
youâre still whispering like itâll help, like your mom wonât hear if you keep your voice at a hiss while chasing a shirtless felon down the hall. he ignores you completely.
he opens the last door on the left and stops in the doorway. he lets out a low chuckle and you freeze behind him. but heâs already stepping inside before you can stop him.
your bedroom is small, soft. quiet pinks and warm creams. throw blankets and stacked books and a half-open window letting in the breeze. a few dried flowers in a jar on your nightstand, a line of perfume bottles on the dresser, little sea-glass trinkets from the beach, half your closet is still sitting on your bed.
jj takes all of one second to look around before letting out a low whistle.
âyou know,â he murmurs, stepping away slowly, âi thought about this. you, what your room would look like.â
âmhm. oh, totally knew you'd have a diary.â he grabs it from your nightstand, flipping through it without asking, humming.
you tear it from his hands, hoping he didn't see one of the thousands of times you've written his name in there, and toss it on the bed. âyouâre such a jerk.â
he grins. his eyes land on your mirror, the cluttered edge of it, where a few photos are tucked into the frame, polaroids, memories. one in particular, slightly off-center, corners curling just the tiniest bit. jj steps closer.
âdonât even think about it.â your voice is laced with attitude, and you're already moving forward.
he ignores you again, plucking the photo from the mirror like it was his to take.
he doesnât even look at you, just turns the polaroid over in his fingers to show you the photo, head tilted, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth.
it's the one of you at the beach, wearing some bikini the preacher at your church would force you into confessional for. you're laughing, your hair is all over the place, blowing in the wind.
âyeah,â he says. âthis is coming with me.â
your jaw drops. âno, it's not.â
he shrugs. "sure about that?"
you snatch for it, but he's learned his lesson from the diary, and he lifts it higher. the smirk widening, like he lives to make you reach for things you shouldnât want.
âwhat are you even gonna do with it?â you snap, crossing your arms, trying to cover the way your cheeks are burning.
he just stares at it, nodding like he's figuring it out in his head. then, he grins.
âgonna keep it under my pillow,â he says, voice low and warm, âuntil i fuck you in this exact bikini.â
you go completely still. heat explodes across your face, down your neck, in your fingertips. your jaw goes slack, your brain empties, your attitude? gone, totally gone.
"then i'll frame it." he nods one last time, shoving the picture into his pocket.
jj leans back just slightly, satisfied. his hand brushes your waist as he passes, slow and deliberate.
he presses a kiss to your cheek like itâs a favor, light, cocky, devastating. âthanks for the photo, sweetheart.â
and then heâs gone. screen door creaking, footsteps thudding down the porch steps, headed back toward the driveway like he didnât just blow your entire soul out of your body.
and you stay there, flushed and speechless in the middle of your bedroom, already knowing exactly what heâs gonna do the next time he gets you alone.Â
it comes much sooner than you expect it. the same night, actually.
you havenât moved in an hour. just lying there, tucked beneath soft sheets and fairy light shadows, staring at the ceiling and thinking about him.
about the polaroid in his back pocket. about what he said heâd do with it. about the way your breath stopped, and hasnât really come back since.
itâs late, too late. the house is dead quiet, your parents asleep down the hall, the fan humming low in the corner, the sheets cool against your bare legs.
you sit up fast when your window creaks.
and there he is. blond hair a mess, wearing some dirty, old shirt, carefully tossing himself through your window and landing on the floor with a soft thump.
âjj, are you insane?â you whisper, scrambling to your feet. âyou shouldn't be here."
he shrugs, "shouldn't do a lotta things."
he's already crossing the room toward you, eyes dark as they drop down the length of your legs and donât come back up.
you're in white. thin cotton, lace trim, a little bow at the chest and straps falling off your shoulder like theyâre tired of pretending you're not hoping for it.
jj blinks once. then again, and then drags a hand down his face like maybe thatâll stop the blood from rushing straight to his dick.
âjesus fucking christ.â he breathes.
you shush him, but can't help the blush that's creeping on your face.
âhonestly jj,â you whisper harshly, âwhat are you doing?â
âmissed you."Â he says simply, like thatâs reason enough to sneak into your bedroom at nearly one in the morning.
âyouâre gonna get murdered. my dad is right down the hall.â
"no, i'm serious. he's got a loaded gun in the closet i'm sure he's been dying to use on you." you say, breathless, pulling him away from the window anyway, like if heâs going down, you don't mind going with him.
âwell then, you better keep quiet.â
you donât even realize youâve backed into the room until your legs hit the edge of the bed.
the window is still cracked, your fingers are still fisted in his shirt.Â
and then heâs kissing you, like heâs making up for every second he didnât. like heâs not stopping unless someone physically drags him off of you.
heâs already pushing the straps of your nightgown off your shoulders like theyâre in his way. you shudder when his tongue traces along the edge of lace.
you gasp into the air when his lips trail down your neck, slow and open mouthed and intentional. you whisper his name, almost a warning, already shaky.
he hums against your collarbone like you didnât say anything at all.
âyou said be quiet.â you breathe, barely able to form the words. like it's his fault you just made that sound, because it is.
âi did,â he murmurs, kissing lower, teeth brushing just enough to make you gasp. âyouâre the one moaninâ about it.â
your hand fists in his hair and he smiles into your skin. his hands are on your thighs now, pushing the fabric up inch by inch. his palms are hot, steady, grounding and wrecking all at once.
you try to stay still, you try to be quiet. but then he pulls your night dress down to your ribs and pulls your nipple into his mouth, sucking. just a little, just enough to make you forget who's down the hall.
"damn,â he hums, not even looking up. âyou were doinâ so good too.â
âplease what?â his mouth is right above your nipple now, lips brushing it every time he talks.
you look down at him, and let out some sort of twisted version of a sigh and a moan. and it only makes him bolder.
he kisses his way down your stomach, slow and open-mouthed, and when he reaches your hips, he pushes the nightgown up completely.
he pauses, sits back on his knees, and just stares.
youâre panting, red-faced, hands twitching by your sides, and he looks like heâs been punched in the throat.
âholy shit.â he says it like it slipped out, like he didnât mean to say it out loud.
you would try to cover yourself if it wasn't jj maybank sitting it front of you, already coming back to reach for you again.
he's lower now. jj drags his hands up the outside of your thighs, slow, thumbs pressing into soft skin, and leans back down, mouth kissing the inside of your knee first, and then higher.
his fingers peel your underwear to the side, his breath making you jump.
youâre shaking already, and then his mouth is on you. warm and perfect and so slow you nearly cry from it.
his hands keep your hips pinned. his tongue moves in maddening circles, and when you choke out a quiet âjj-â he groans into you, like he needs to hear it.
your back arches, he pulls you down by the hips, harder, his grip is bruising, his mouth is relentless.
he mutters something, then slides a finger in, and your jaw drops.
his mouth is back on you, eyes flicking down to where you're connected then back up to your face, over and over again.
he slips the second finger in slow, and when you gasp, hips jerking, thighs trembling around his wrist, jj just smirks and mutters, âjesus, tight little pussy. sheâs not used to this, huh?â
his fingers are so deep it makes your vision blur.
youâve touched yourself thinking about this before. jj between your legs. jj with his hands on your thighs. jj saying your name like he is now.
youâve thought about it a hundred different ways, slow, soft, angry, teasing, but none of it, none of it, have even touched what this is.
you moan, high, wrecked, and slap your hand over your mouth like it might help.
you canât look at him, not really. not when your thighs are shaking, not when youâre so wet you can hear it, not when your brain is fogged over with warmth and want.
this is so much worse than you imagined. so much better. jj talking shit between your legs, curling his fingers up into you while your back arches off the bed? this is everything, and he knows it.
youâre so close it feels like your whole body is about to snap. jjâs mouth is locked between your thighs, warm, open, sure, tongue dragging slow and deep, and his free hand is keeping you right there while he finishes what he started.
âfuckinâ unreal.â he mutters, only pulling back enough to get half of it out before he's back on you.
youâve never been touched like this. never had someone lick into you like itâs for them, not you.
your legs start to shake and he feels it, tightens his hold on your thighs like he know you're gonna try to run.
âthatâs it,â he mutters, low and steady. âjust like that.â
you clench around his fingers, your eyes roll back, your mouth parts on a silent moan. and jj just stays there, mouth firm, tongue working in slow circles, sucking just right, until your whole body stiffins.
he lets you cum like that, quiet and wrecked and barely breathing, and doesnât move until youâve given him everything.
your legs are still twitching, your eyes wonât focus. youâre wrecked, flushed and messy and so far gone you couldnât speak even if you tried.
jj just watches you. his hands are still on your thighs. his chest is rising and falling like heâs the one who came.
âgonna be thinking about that for the rest of my fuckinâ life.â he leans into you, kissing you once. âyou want more?â
you don't think you've ever nodded that fast in your entire life. you can't feel your fingers, but they're already grabbing to get rid of his clothes.
âeasy,â he mumbles, voice low, amused. âiâll give it to you. donât gotta tear my fuckinâ clothes off.â
you donât say anything. just look at him, flushed, breathing hard, mouth parted, and tug him down into another kiss.
he groans into it, grabbing your leg and hooking it over his hip. his hand finds your thigh, squeezes it once, and then he leans back on his knees, reaching blindly for his wallet.
youâre still catching your breath when he tears the foil open with his teeth, eyes never leaving you.
âshouldâve done this a long time ago.â
he says it like itâs nothing, like itâs just a thought that slipped out as he rolled the condom on. but it lands like a punch to the chest. your breath catches, your whole body stills.
he strokes himself once, slow, and leans forward again, gaze flicking to your face.
âare you sure?â he asks.
your hand finds his wrist, you nod. âjj please-â
âyeah, baby,â he says with the biggest, shit eating grin you've ever seen, lining himself up. âi got you.â
he pushes in, steady but deep, splitting you open in one long, perfect stretch that has your fingers clawing at his shoulders and your legs tightening around his waist.
heâs fucking you deep, slow, deliberate, one hand gripping your waist, the other curled into your soft, pink sheets.
the headboardâs silent, the sheets barely rustle, heâs keeping it controlled, keeping it just quiet enough to survive this.
but you? you're gone. your mind is hazy, half lost, like you're dreaming. like you're still floating somewhere between his mouth and his dick and the way he sounds when he moans into your skin.
your hands scramble for something, his arms, his shoulders, the sheets. and then you find his wrist, and you donât even think.
you wrap your fingers around his forearm and pull, dragging his hand from beside your head and guiding it to your throat like itâs just where he belongs.
his hips still. his chest rises hard against yours. for a second, the only sound in the room is your breathing, high and shaky, like you donât even know what you just did.
he stares at you. then down at his hand, his fingers twitch against your neck. you blink up at him, still panting, still trembling, still clenching around him like you want him to ruin you. and jj just grins.
âknew it.â he mutters, hand tightening slowly, just enough to feel your breath catch under his palm. âyouâre not as sweet as you act, huh?â
he starts to move again, deeper now, heavier, his free hand digging into your hip to keep you still, to make you feel every inch.
âcouldâve just asked.â he places a kiss to your jaw, your heart flutters.
his hips snap forward again and your body jolts, breath catching sharp in your throat, and it hits you. not the thrust, not the sweat-slick sound of skin on skin, the thought, the truth of it.
years of being good. years of doing exactly what was expected- chin up, shirt tucked, hands folded in your lap. never talked back, never crossed the line. of doing everything right because it was easier to be perfect than to be noticed.
and now youâre on your back, spread, mouth open, letting jj maybank fuck you like he's waited his whole life to.
years of being the girl people trusted, respected, relied on. and all it took was jj maybank looking at you the wrong way.
he groans something low and filthy against your shoulder and your whole body clenches like it wants to be worse for him, like it wants to see how far down youâll go.
you feel sick, almost. because you should feel ashamed, you should feel guilty for this.
for how easy it was. for how badly you want it. for how much you donât want to stop. but you donât feel guilty, not even a little. and somehow, that feels worse.
jj slides out, slow, and wraps his fingers around your underwear, pulling down. before you can even question it, heâs got a hand on your hip, flipping you onto your stomach like itâs effortless.
you gasp into the pillow, dizzy from the movement, from the emptiness, from the cold that rushes over your skin, until heâs there again, behind you, covering you, pulling you up.
his arm wraps tight around your middle, dragging your back flush to his chest, his cock sliding back in deep and slow.
heâs so deep it knocks the air out of you. you can feel every inch, every grind of his hips. his hand comes up, slow and sure, fingers curling under your jaw, thumb pressing beneath your chin, and then he wraps his hand around your throat again.
ây' know,â he pants, voice thick with it, lips brushing the back of your neck, âi always knew you had a thing for me.â
you choke and whip your head as far as he's allowing to look at him. âwhat?â
he laughs. moans, really, thrusts again just to make you stutter.
âyour little crush on me,â he says, smug and panting. âyou thought you were subtle?â
it doesnât register at first. but then it hits- like cold water, like fire in your veins. he knew. he knew.
you want to bury your face in the pillow, you try to move down away from him, but he's got you locked.
ânah,â he huffs, grinning against your skin. âshit was adorable. made me wanna be good to you. made me wanna be so fuckinâ mean to you.â
his words, the angle, the way you're finally fucking jj maybank after two full years of pretending you didn't want to makes you moan a noise so loud it shocks you, too.
he pulls out halfway and thrusts back in. his hand slips from your throat to your mouth in one fast, practiced motion, palm pressed firm over your lips, fingers stretching up your cheek, holding you there.
âquiet,â he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. âi mean it.â
you try to get a ''m sorry' out from against his palm, wide-eyed and already trembling.
âyou want me to stop?â
you shake your head fast, desperate, pleading into his hand.
his hips moving slow but heavy, each thrust dragging a sound out of you he doesnât want anyone else to hear.
his voice is low, wrecked against your ear. âyou like that?â another thrust. âquiet now, huh? just needed it deep, baby, that it?â
heâs so deep it doesnât feel real anymore, jjâs hips are steady, slow, like heâs trying to ruin you inch by inch.
then, the phone rings, loud.
you hear it. so does jj. so does your dad.
jj freezes. one hand still over your mouth, one still braced around your stomach. you turn your head to look at him, his expression caught somewhere between amused and very much not supposed to be here.
there's shuffling outside your bedroom, and your dad picks up on the third ring. his voice is muffled but right there, and it sends a cold wave straight down your spine.
jj doesnât move, not right away. his eyes are on yours, dark and gleaming, like heâs waiting for something, permission, panic, surrender. your lips tremble under his hand.
and then, he moves. just once. a single slow, deep thrust that pushes every inch of him deeper into you, and rips a sound from your chest so sharp you think your whole body might short-circuit against his hand.
jjâs mouth curves against your shoulder, all teeth. âmhm. yeah, there it is.â
you sob into his palm, he just shushes you like you're doing something wrong.
his hand disappears from your face. just long enough for his palm to return with a sharp, perfect slap to your cheek, quick and hot and shocking, not cruel, but enough to make your breath catch and your eyes go wide.
he laughs, breathless, smug. âyou play the good girl act so well. almost had me fooled.â
you squeeze your eyes shut. you're fifty percent humilated, fifty percent hoping he'll do it again.
heâs close. you can feel it in the way his rhythm starts to falter, the way his grip tightens, the way his chest presses tight to your back.
your body locks up, your vision goes white, and you cum hard, your whole body seizing around him, sobbing and shaking against him.
jj groans, low and sharp. âfuck, baby, jesus- fuck-â
he thrusts once. twice. and then heâs spilling into you with a soft, broken curse, his head dropped to your shoulder, his arms holding you close like he canât tell where he ends and you begin.
the phone clicks. the house falls into a silence again.
youâre trembling. both of you are slick with sweat, breath sticky in the still air. he pulls out carefully, slow and aching, like it hurts to leave you. and then, without a word, he shifts,tugging you gently with him. you follow- limp, pliant, quiet.
you roll into his chest. he pulls you into him like muscle memory.
you blink up at him, dazed and flushed, and he presses a kiss to your temple. one, then another, slower.
heâs quiet for a beat. then he mutters, voice rough and dry, âif your dad kills me, justâŠtell him i said it was worth it.â
your mouth tips up into a slow, sleepy smile. jj shrugs, barely, his thumb brushing over your hip. âseriously. i wonât even put up a fight.â
you laugh, low and warm, and bury your face in his chest. if this is the last good thing he gets, heâll take it.
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