THIS IS A 18+ BLOG. MDNI. AGELESS BLOGS & MINORS WILL BE BLOCKED.
˗ˏˋmay ´ˎ˗ 22, leo, jj maybank’s gf (real), dad!jj and frat!rafe’s wife (also real), friends to lovers and grumpy x sunshine apologist; loves writing, reading, rewatching comfort shows, music, coffee, makeup, women and taylor swift
listening to : ̗̀➛ the fate of ophelia by taylor swift
reading : ̗̀➛ people we meet on vacation by emily henry
can’t seem to find the inspiration to write anymore ughhhh i have read like 7 books in the past week tho so i’m hoping that will give me some inspo soon😭😭
okay #kidding cause i ended up outlining a whole fic and i’m so excited abt it holy shit i just hope it won’t turn out like shit once i start writing it
actually feel so bad for my loved ones because when i'm really under legitimate stress or pressure that's got nothing to do with anybody, my immediate plan of action is "let me take care of [stressor] before i ever see or talk to anybody again" and sometimes it will take months for me to take care of it. in a really bad case, like 16 months before i was like heyyyyyyyyy :) bubble tea?
being obsessed with dilf husband!jj; his muscles are not as tight anymore, the hard ridges of his stomach toned-down into a softer tummy, and his arms have grown bigger; dilf husband!jj that has started to feel a bit insecure about his body since he doesn’t look like he did when you got married, and he is scared you might not be into him anymore; dilf husband!jj that wraps his big arms around you, your body engulfed by him, and kisses you before leaving the house every morning; dilf husband!jj that loves hugging you from behind, his body all over yours, strong arms keeping you flushed against him while he leaves not-so-very chaste kisses on your neck; dilf husband!jj that picks up the kids from school everyday, takes them to the park, plays catch with your son and attends your daughter’s tea parties, and it all just makes him look even more attractive; dilf husband!jj who’s completely oblivious to how needy and desperate you are for him, especially when he keeps touching you but never giving you what you need; dilf husband!jj who is so self-conscious that doesn’t realize you’ve been trying to jump his bones for weeks now; dilf husband!jj who thinks you’re slipping your hands under his shirt, feeling his skin, and moaning in his mouth just out of habit and not because you’re still painfully attracted to him; dilf husband!jj that doesn’t get how crazy he’s driving you until you drag him to your shared bedroom and kneel down in front of him
a/n: based on this ask because i couldn’t help myself😖
warnings: tooth rotting fluff and well jj has the flu and reader takes care of him. also i tried typing out a nasal voice but i was scared it didn’t make sense so just roll with it
nav jj maybank masterlist
—
“Baby, you can’t go to work like this. Stay home, please.” You beg your stubborn boyfriend for what seems the hundredth time this morning.
“’M not sick!” He insists again, nasal voice caused by the obvious congestion he’s suffering from.
JJ is sick.
He refuses to admit it but you know he is. He’s had a sore throat for two days, his skin’s slowly paling, and he has now spent a whole night coughing and sneezing. Despite your many efforts, he won’t allow you to check his temperature, but his glassy eyes and pinkish, sniffling nose tell you everything you need to know.
Now, because he’s the most headstrong, relentless person you know, he still got dressed, ate his breakfast, and was already on his way out of the door when you stopped him before he left for work. Nonetheless, it seems like you won’t be able to change his mind – no matter how many times you’ve promised to take real good care of him (another obvious sign that he’s not himself right now.)
“Jay, sweetie,” you take a deep breath, hands patiently falling on your hips, “You are sick. Please, just listen to me. I can call out of work too, and –”
“Sweetheart, ’m not sick,” he interrupts you, hands pointing at himself as he continues, “I do not get sick, alright? I get like a system reboot and then I’m all good again. I promise.” And to avoid you from rebutting once again, he takes long strides towards you and leaves a quick kiss on your cheek. “I’ll see you tonight.”
You sigh loudly, giving up the fight as you know that once JJ makes up his mind, nothing will steer him away. “Text me if you need anything,” you say, voice stern while you place your hand on his burning cheek to stop him from running outside, eyes staring into his, “Okay?”
He smiles – a part of him melting at how much you care for him, although he believes there’s no need to. “’Course, baby,” he whispers before quickly pecking your lips, “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
—
When you come back from work, JJ’s truck is already parked outside your house – way earlier than he usually is – and the house is awfully quiet. Confusion washes over you as you make your way through the dimly lit living room, carelessly throwing your purse on the couch, and finally reach your shared bedroom. The room is dark, not a single ray of light illuminates the space, not even from the small window whose blinds have been strangely closed shut.
Squinting, you finally notice the pile of blankets on top of your bed and a mop of blond hair peeking out from underneath.
“Jesus!” You gasp, hand flying to your chest from the heart attack your boyfriend almost gave you. Sitting down next to him, you carefully lower the blankets to reveal his face, eyes scrunched shut, and gently brush some hairs back, earning a hum of appreciation from him. “Jay, are you awake?”
He slightly nods, cheek pressed against the pillow. “Babe…I think ’m sick,” he mumbles, lips pouting at you as he softly sniffles, baby blues looking up at you like a kicked puppy.
You bite a chuckle back, suppressing an I told you so from slipping past your lips. “I know, baby,” you whisper, fingers running through his hair, “Will you let me take care of you now?”
Reluctantly, he admits defeat and mutters a small “Yes.”
You bend your head down to kiss his forehead, which is scorching hot and you have to stop yourself from reprimanding him for not listening to you sooner — you know he needs you right now and not a scolding from his girlfriend. “Just wait here, I got you,” you murmur, lips still ghosting over his skin.
By the time you step back into your bedroom, you have clean clothes on, a bowl of hot soup in one hand and paracetamol, along with a water bottle, in the other. Silently, you place everything on JJ’s bedside table, ignoring the amount of used tissues on top of it, then you kneel beside him on the mattress, hand falling to brush his hair once again.
“Sit up and eat some soup, baby.” You softly say, and he obliges immediately, now completely hanging from your lips.
As he follows your orders, you try to get up to get something else but he stops you abruptly. “Where you goin’?”
“I was just getting a wet cloth for you,” you smile at his pouting lips, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning in and leave a chaste kiss on his mouth, “You big baby.”
“Hey!” He calls out as you walk towards the kitchen, “‘M sick!”
Once he has taken his meds and he’s all cuddled up in your arms, you place the wet cloth on his forehead and begin stroking his back, slipping your hand underneath his shirt because you know how much he loves the physical contact. His head rests on your chest, arm thrown over your stomach while your free hand settles on his cheek, thumb rubbing the warm skin affectionately.
“Thank you,” he suddenly breathes out, mouth brushing over your palm.
Grinning to yourself, you bend your neck to kiss his head, burying your face in his hair. “Anytime, baby.”
a/n: based on this ask because i couldn’t help myself😖
warnings: tooth rotting fluff and well jj has the flu and reader takes care of him. also i tried typing out a nasal voice but i was scared it didn’t make sense so just roll with it
nav jj maybank masterlist
—
“Baby, you can’t go to work like this. Stay home, please.” You beg your stubborn boyfriend for what seems the hundredth time this morning.
“’M not sick!” He insists again, nasal voice caused by the obvious congestion he’s suffering from.
JJ is sick.
He refuses to admit it but you know he is. He’s had a sore throat for two days, his skin’s slowly paling, and he has now spent a whole night coughing and sneezing. Despite your many efforts, he won’t allow you to check his temperature, but his glassy eyes and pinkish, sniffling nose tell you everything you need to know.
Now, because he’s the most headstrong, relentless person you know, he still got dressed, ate his breakfast, and was already on his way out of the door when you stopped him before he left for work. Nonetheless, it seems like you won’t be able to change his mind – no matter how many times you’ve promised to take real good care of him (another obvious sign that he’s not himself right now.)
“Jay, sweetie,” you take a deep breath, hands patiently falling on your hips, “You are sick. Please, just listen to me. I can call out of work too, and –”
“Sweetheart, ’m not sick,” he interrupts you, hands pointing at himself as he continues, “I do not get sick, alright? I get like a system reboot and then I’m all good again. I promise.” And to avoid you from rebutting once again, he takes long strides towards you and leaves a quick kiss on your cheek. “I’ll see you tonight.”
You sigh loudly, giving up the fight as you know that once JJ makes up his mind, nothing will steer him away. “Text me if you need anything,” you say, voice stern while you place your hand on his burning cheek to stop him from running outside, eyes staring into his, “Okay?”
He smiles – a part of him melting at how much you care for him, although he believes there’s no need to. “’Course, baby,” he whispers before quickly pecking your lips, “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
—
When you come back from work, JJ’s truck is already parked outside your house – way earlier than he usually is – and the house is awfully quiet. Confusion washes over you as you make your way through the dimly lit living room, carelessly throwing your purse on the couch, and finally reach your shared bedroom. The room is dark, not a single ray of light illuminates the space, not even from the small window whose blinds have been strangely closed shut.
Squinting, you finally notice the pile of blankets on top of your bed and a mop of blond hair peeking out from underneath.
“Jesus!” You gasp, hand flying to your chest from the heart attack your boyfriend almost gave you. Sitting down next to him, you carefully lower the blankets to reveal his face, eyes scrunched shut, and gently brush some hairs back, earning a hum of appreciation from him. “Jay, are you awake?”
He slightly nods, cheek pressed against the pillow. “Babe…I think ’m sick,” he mumbles, lips pouting at you as he softly sniffles, baby blues looking up at you like a kicked puppy.
You bite a chuckle back, suppressing an I told you so from slipping past your lips. “I know, baby,” you whisper, fingers running through his hair, “Will you let me take care of you now?”
Reluctantly, he admits defeat and mutters a small “Yes.”
You bend your head down to kiss his forehead, which is scorching hot and you have to stop yourself from reprimanding him for not listening to you sooner — you know he needs you right now and not a scolding from his girlfriend. “Just wait here, I got you,” you murmur, lips still ghosting over his skin.
By the time you step back into your bedroom, you have clean clothes on, a bowl of hot soup in one hand and paracetamol, along with a water bottle, in the other. Silently, you place everything on JJ’s bedside table, ignoring the amount of used tissues on top of it, then you kneel beside him on the mattress, hand falling to brush his hair once again.
“Sit up and eat some soup, baby.” You softly say, and he obliges immediately, now completely hanging from your lips.
As he follows your orders, you try to get up to get something else but he stops you abruptly. “Where you goin’?”
“I was just getting a wet cloth for you,” you smile at his pouting lips, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning in and leave a chaste kiss on his mouth, “You big baby.”
“Hey!” He calls out as you walk towards the kitchen, “‘M sick!”
Once he has taken his meds and he’s all cuddled up in your arms, you place the wet cloth on his forehead and begin stroking his back, slipping your hand underneath his shirt because you know how much he loves the physical contact. His head rests on your chest, arm thrown over your stomach while your free hand settles on his cheek, thumb rubbing the warm skin affectionately.
“Thank you,” he suddenly breathes out, mouth brushing over your palm.
Grinning to yourself, you bend your neck to kiss his head, burying your face in his hair. “Anytime, baby.”
a/n: based on this ask because i couldn’t help myself😖
warnings: tooth rotting fluff and well jj has the flu and reader takes care of him. also i tried typing out a nasal voice but i was scared it didn’t make sense so just roll with it
nav jj maybank masterlist
—
“Baby, you can’t go to work like this. Stay home, please.” You beg your stubborn boyfriend for what seems the hundredth time this morning.
“’M not sick!” He insists again, nasal voice caused by the obvious congestion he’s suffering from.
JJ is sick.
He refuses to admit it but you know he is. He’s had a sore throat for two days, his skin’s slowly paling, and he has now spent a whole night coughing and sneezing. Despite your many efforts, he won’t allow you to check his temperature, but his glassy eyes and pinkish, sniffling nose tell you everything you need to know.
Now, because he’s the most headstrong, relentless person you know, he still got dressed, ate his breakfast, and was already on his way out of the door when you stopped him before he left for work. Nonetheless, it seems like you won’t be able to change his mind – no matter how many times you’ve promised to take real good care of him (another obvious sign that he’s not himself right now.)
“Jay, sweetie,” you take a deep breath, hands patiently falling on your hips, “You are sick. Please, just listen to me. I can call out of work too, and –”
“Sweetheart, ’m not sick,” he interrupts you, hands pointing at himself as he continues, “I do not get sick, alright? I get like a system reboot and then I’m all good again. I promise.” And to avoid you from rebutting once again, he takes long strides towards you and leaves a quick kiss on your cheek. “I’ll see you tonight.”
You sigh loudly, giving up the fight as you know that once JJ makes up his mind, nothing will steer him away. “Text me if you need anything,” you say, voice stern while you place your hand on his burning cheek to stop him from running outside, eyes staring into his, “Okay?”
He smiles – a part of him melting at how much you care for him, although he believes there’s no need to. “’Course, baby,” he whispers before quickly pecking your lips, “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
—
When you come back from work, JJ’s truck is already parked outside your house – way earlier than he usually is – and the house is awfully quiet. Confusion washes over you as you make your way through the dimly lit living room, carelessly throwing your purse on the couch, and finally reach your shared bedroom. The room is dark, not a single ray of light illuminates the space, not even from the small window whose blinds have been strangely closed shut.
Squinting, you finally notice the pile of blankets on top of your bed and a mop of blond hair peeking out from underneath.
“Jesus!” You gasp, hand flying to your chest from the heart attack your boyfriend almost gave you. Sitting down next to him, you carefully lower the blankets to reveal his face, eyes scrunched shut, and gently brush some hairs back, earning a hum of appreciation from him. “Jay, are you awake?”
He slightly nods, cheek pressed against the pillow. “Babe…I think ’m sick,” he mumbles, lips pouting at you as he softly sniffles, baby blues looking up at you like a kicked puppy.
You bite a chuckle back, suppressing an I told you so from slipping past your lips. “I know, baby,” you whisper, fingers running through his hair, “Will you let me take care of you now?”
Reluctantly, he admits defeat and mutters a small “Yes.”
You bend your head down to kiss his forehead, which is scorching hot and you have to stop yourself from reprimanding him for not listening to you sooner — you know he needs you right now and not a scolding from his girlfriend. “Just wait here, I got you,” you murmur, lips still ghosting over his skin.
By the time you step back into your bedroom, you have clean clothes on, a bowl of hot soup in one hand and paracetamol, along with a water bottle, in the other. Silently, you place everything on JJ’s bedside table, ignoring the amount of used tissues on top of it, then you kneel beside him on the mattress, hand falling to brush his hair once again.
“Sit up and eat some soup, baby.” You softly say, and he obliges immediately, now completely hanging from your lips.
As he follows your orders, you try to get up to get something else but he stops you abruptly. “Where you goin’?”
“I was just getting a wet cloth for you,” you smile at his pouting lips, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning in and leave a chaste kiss on his mouth, “You big baby.”
“Hey!” He calls out as you walk towards the kitchen, “‘M sick!”
Once he has taken his meds and he’s all cuddled up in your arms, you place the wet cloth on his forehead and begin stroking his back, slipping your hand underneath his shirt because you know how much he loves the physical contact. His head rests on your chest, arm thrown over your stomach while your free hand settles on his cheek, thumb rubbing the warm skin affectionately.
“Thank you,” he suddenly breathes out, mouth brushing over your palm.
Grinning to yourself, you bend your neck to kiss his head, burying your face in his hair. “Anytime, baby.”
Let us talk about our boy JJ! I know he would never leave you wile You were sick. What about him getting sick though? Personally, I would be the best girlfriend attending to whatever he needed or wanted... but how would he act"? would he blow off his being sick and fight through it or become a needy baby boy and be pitiful which would only make you love him more?
okay so the moment i read this ask i had to write it out so here i am at 1am posting this small quick blurb🫣💗
a/n: based on this ask because i couldn’t help myself😖
warnings: tooth rotting fluff and well jj has the flu and reader takes care of him. also i tried typing out a nasal voice but i was scared it didn’t make sense so just roll with it
nav jj maybank masterlist
—
“Baby, you can’t go to work like this. Stay home, please.” You beg your stubborn boyfriend for what seems the hundredth time this morning.
“’M not sick!” He insists again, nasal voice caused by the obvious congestion he’s suffering from.
JJ is sick.
He refuses to admit it but you know he is. He’s had a sore throat for two days, his skin’s slowly paling, and he has now spent a whole night coughing and sneezing. Despite your many efforts, he won’t allow you to check his temperature, but his glassy eyes and pinkish, sniffling nose tell you everything you need to know.
Now, because he’s the most headstrong, relentless person you know, he still got dressed, ate his breakfast, and was already on his way out of the door when you stopped him before he left for work. Nonetheless, it seems like you won’t be able to change his mind – no matter how many times you’ve promised to take real good care of him (another obvious sign that he’s not himself right now.)
“Jay, sweetie,” you take a deep breath, hands patiently falling on your hips, “You are sick. Please, just listen to me. I can call out of work too, and –”
“Sweetheart, ’m not sick,” he interrupts you, hands pointing at himself as he continues, “I do not get sick, alright? I get like a system reboot and then I’m all good again. I promise.” And to avoid you from rebutting once again, he takes long strides towards you and leaves a quick kiss on your cheek. “I’ll see you tonight.”
You sigh loudly, giving up the fight as you know that once JJ makes up his mind, nothing will steer him away. “Text me if you need anything,” you say, voice stern while you place your hand on his burning cheek to stop him from running outside, eyes staring into his, “Okay?”
He smiles – a part of him melting at how much you care for him, although he believes there’s no need to. “’Course, baby,” he whispers before quickly pecking your lips, “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
—
When you come back from work, JJ’s truck is already parked outside your house – way earlier than he usually is – and the house is awfully quiet. Confusion washes over you as you make your way through the dimly lit living room, carelessly throwing your purse on the couch, and finally reach your shared bedroom. The room is dark, not a single ray of light illuminates the space, not even from the small window whose blinds have been strangely closed shut.
Squinting, you finally notice the pile of blankets on top of your bed and a mop of blond hair peeking out from underneath.
“Jesus!” You gasp, hand flying to your chest from the heart attack your boyfriend almost gave you. Sitting down next to him, you carefully lower the blankets to reveal his face, eyes scrunched shut, and gently brush some hairs back, earning a hum of appreciation from him. “Jay, are you awake?”
He slightly nods, cheek pressed against the pillow. “Babe…I think ’m sick,” he mumbles, lips pouting at you as he softly sniffles, baby blues looking up at you like a kicked puppy.
You bite a chuckle back, suppressing an I told you so from slipping past your lips. “I know, baby,” you whisper, fingers running through his hair, “Will you let me take care of you now?”
Reluctantly, he admits defeat and mutters a small “Yes.”
You bend your head down to kiss his forehead, which is scorching hot and you have to stop yourself from reprimanding him for not listening to you sooner — you know he needs you right now and not a scolding from his girlfriend. “Just wait here, I got you,” you murmur, lips still ghosting over his skin.
By the time you step back into your bedroom, you have clean clothes on, a bowl of hot soup in one hand and paracetamol, along with a water bottle, in the other. Silently, you place everything on JJ’s bedside table, ignoring the amount of used tissues on top of it, then you kneel beside him on the mattress, hand falling to brush his hair once again.
“Sit up and eat some soup, baby.” You softly say, and he obliges immediately, now completely hanging from your lips.
As he follows your orders, you try to get up to get something else but he stops you abruptly. “Where you goin’?”
“I was just getting a wet cloth for you,” you smile at his pouting lips, and you can’t stop yourself from leaning in and leave a chaste kiss on his mouth, “You big baby.”
“Hey!” He calls out as you walk towards the kitchen, “‘M sick!”
Once he has taken his meds and he’s all cuddled up in your arms, you place the wet cloth on his forehead and begin stroking his back, slipping your hand underneath his shirt because you know how much he loves the physical contact. His head rests on your chest, arm thrown over your stomach while your free hand settles on his cheek, thumb rubbing the warm skin affectionately.
“Thank you,” he suddenly breathes out, mouth brushing over your palm.
Grinning to yourself, you bend your neck to kiss his head, burying your face in his hair. “Anytime, baby.”
okay so i’m working on some new and old wips but i started studying again so it’s gonna take me a bit longer feel free to talk abt anything (especially if it’s jj related) in my inbox!!! <33
warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, 18+,, sarah went to hs with the pogues (run with it), alcohol consumption, this is basically p with a lil bit of plot, fingering, car sex (p in v), lil bit of dirty talk, reader and jj are both desperate for each other, maybe cheating (not really and it’s like one paragraph), barely proofread
wc: 3.8k
nav jj maybank masterlist
—
A high school reunion less than ten years since graduation seems fruitless.
What’s there to talk about? Your big accomplishments since you left the island six years ago? The breakup that left a bitter taste in your mouth only a couple of months prior? It all just seems like a big joke.
However, Sarah insisted that you were going to regret it (you wouldn’t have) if you had missed out on such an important evening (really, you couldn’t care less.) But it’s Sarah, and she’s your best friend so of course you said yes — and that she owes you big time.
You could be drinking at a bar, living your best single life, let the alcohol wash away the memories of your ex; perhaps even finally spend the night with someone who knows what he’s doing. Instead, here you are with a virgin drink in your hand — because it’s a no alcohol allowed evening.
Really? You’re all grown up and you still can’t drink a bit of the prohibited juice on school grounds?
“Here,” Sarah shows up out of thin air as you sit at your vacant table, and hands you a half-empty flask, “It’ll help with that attitude you’ve got tonight.”
Okay, maybe you haven’t been the best company this evening. To your defense, she’s walking around the barely-still-standing basketball court where you used to be forced to have gym class, her husband on her arm and a picture of their adorable son as her screensaver. You, on the other hand, have nothing to say to these people except that hey, you’ve graduated from college and you’re now unemployed; it’s every girl’s dream to have this kind of conversation at your high school reunion, isn’t it?
You gladly accept the container in your best friend’s hold and let the liquor drip into your glass. Taking a sip, you let out a sigh of satisfaction. “Alright, now I’m functional again. I promise.” A tight-lipped smile tugs at your mouth and you pray that the alcohol does its job — and quickly. You reluctantly give the flask back to Sarah and, before you take another sip, you nod at it. “Whose is that anyway?”
She turns around and subtly points towards the man her husband is talking to. “JJ’s. You remember him, right?”
Your eyes squint at him, trying to focus on the man’s features: blond hair has been perfectly combed, except for a wild strand that has fallen on top of his forehead; a strong jaw locks into place as he listens attentively to his friend; his tongue darts over his bottom lip a second before bringing his drink up to his mouth. Your gaze, however, settles on his biceps, barely contained by the white dress-shirt that hugs his body in the most mouth-watering manner.
There’s no way this guy attended school with you. You would definitely remember him.
“Sarah, I have no idea who he is.” You admit, your eyes never leaving JJ’s figure.
She jokingly shoves you, the action taking you by surprise. “Yeah, right,” she scoffs, “JJ Maybank?” Nothing. “John B’s best friend?” You look at her with a blank expression on your face and she laughs incredulously at you. “He had the biggest crush on you in high school. Do you seriously not remember him?”
Your mind rakes through your memories from your teenage years: you remember Sarah and Kie, John B (once he and your best friend got together) and his friends. Two of them. The smart one and…
Oh God.
That’s impossible.
You do a double take. A triple take. One thing is certain: he did not look like that when he was sixteen. You wouldn’t have shot him down so many times if he did.
“Did he have some kind of reconstructive surgery or something? I think I would remember if he had that face.”
Sarah side-glances at you, an eyebrow lifting up in the process. “I think he just joined the gym.”
You take a big gulp of your drink, the alcohol burning your throat in the process. Some liquid courage. “God bless the gym,” you mutter to yourself before standing up.
“Where are you going?” Sarah asks, amusement clear in her tone.
“I should say hi. It’s a high school reunion after all, right?” You feign innocence.
By the time you reach the table where JJ and John B are sitting at, your confidence begins to falter. He’s even more handsome up close. You notice the veins that run up his forearm as he rolls the sleeves of his shirt upwards; thick fingers grip the alcohol-filled glass, accentuating the lines and ridges of his hand; a set of dimples you had never noticed before deepens on his cheeks.
If someone told you that this man was sculpted by Michelangelo himself, you would believe them — his less known, but definitely worth-mentioning David: JJ Maybank.
John B calls out your name, pulling you out of your thoughts (which would’ve made you fail any art class if voiced out loud.) “You remember JJ?” He points his thumb towards his friend.
And ten minutes ago you would’ve said no, completely and stupidly oblivious, but now, “Of course I do,” you extend your hand, praying that it isn’t shaking from being this close to a man you could only describe as Sex on Legs, “Hi.”
The moment his eyes fall on you, a warm liquid pools in the pit of your stomach. How can one man make you feel this way? Deep blue eyes pull you in with an intensity that makes your head spin, to the point that you’re scared you might melt right into the floor of your high school’s gymnasium.
JJ is afraid you’re a figment of his imagination for a fraction of a second. You look as beautiful as ever — the same as he remembered and yet, somehow, even better. The dress you’re wearing hugs your curves in the best way possible, and he appreciates every inch of it as he shamelessly lets his gaze run up and down your body.
Finally, his hand wraps around yours. Electricity runs through your veins, blood pressure spiking up from the simplest of touches. You both feel it. It’s thrilling.
“Hi.” He rasps, fingers still gently clasping your palm. The low, husky voice might be your undoing. His calloused palm slips from your hold, and there’s a small voice in your head that starts to wonder what those rough hands would feel like on your body. “Nice to see you again.” JJ continues, and if you notice a faint blush creep up his cheeks, you don’t mention it.
“Yeah,” you smile seductively, “You too.” You hold his gaze, maintaining eye-contact in hopes that you suddenly find the ability to read his mind.
A very uncomfortable John B clears his throat in the periphery of your eye and you have to suppress a giggle from the situation you just forced him into. “You know what,” you place a hand on John B’s shoulder, “I think Sarah was looking for you.”
He appears awfully entertained as he stares up at you from his seated position. “Yeah. I think so.” And with a glance at his best friend, he finally leaves.
You take his seat, placing your almost empty glass on the table. JJ’s eyes follow your every move and you’re painfully aware of it while a silence stretches between you two as you study each other. You’re not sure if it’s sexually charged only on your end, and it would be so embarrassing if it were that you wouldn’t be able to show your face to any reunion ever again.
“So,” he adjusts himself in his seat while he continues, “You remember me, huh?” A smug smile etches on his lips. You both know you never gave him the time of the day back then and now you’re all over him all of a sudden.
JJ’s not dumb. He’s aware of how different he looks now — the hard earned muscles are a testament of that. Women admire him in a way they never did before. You gawk at him in a way you never did before, and it feels like he just won a prize. Congratulations: she’s looking at you.
You shrug, circling the glass in your hand as that last drop stares at you expectantly. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“‘Cause I’m not sure you knew my name when we were sixteen.”
Clicking your tongue, you purposefully cross one leg on top of the other, bringing his attention to the bare skin of your lower thighs. At last, you lock eyes with him. He watches you as you bring the rim of your glass up to your lips, washing down the remaining liquid. With the last bit of bravery left in your system, you make things clear, “Let’s put it this way: I wasn’t interest before, but I am now.” Surprise flickers in his gaze, smirking at your boldness. “Are you gonna do anything about it?”
He chuckles lowly, shaking his head in disbelief. There’s a teenager-JJ somewhere that is cheering loudly and thanking the heavens — which is completely in contrast to the cool exterior he’s trying to keep up for you.
You’re not sure how it happens. Lust clouds your judgement, your mind hazy with want as you let JJ Maybank walk you to his truck, one big, warm hand on the small of your back. One thing led to another, flirty sentences whispered with one goal in mind, and you find yourselves making out against the door of his car.
His lips mold with yours, tongue hungrily licking into your mouth. There’s an urgency in the way his greedy hands pull your body flush to him, your abdomen brushing against his. Calloused fingers run up to your neck, his palm resting on your throat while his thumb traces your jaw. His delicate touch makes you moan in his mouth, his pants growing tighter in a way he’s never felt before. The hand that was resting on your neck slips into your hair, gripping it as he takes control. He pushes you harder into the door behind you, hard metal pressing on your back — not that you would ever dream to complain about it.
“God,” he groans, lips starting to leave open-mouthed kisses on your burning skin, “‘Been wanting to do this for so long.”
The idea of this man having a crush on you when you were younger and still being obsessed with you now makes your eyes roll into the back of your head, fingers tugging on his hair with need. Being in this position with JJ is maddening and exciting all at once.
You tentatively let your hand run over the arm that is circling your waist, muscles rippling under your touch — intoxicating; that’s what it is. You can’t help but think about what he would be able to do to you and how you would gladly let him, too. It sends a thrill through your body, heat curling at your lower stomach. It’s been a while since you’ve wanted a man this badly, and the way one of JJ’s thighs shifts in between your legs isn’t helping with your aching need.
“JJ,” you sigh, “I need you.”
He’s sure he’s had at least one wet dream about you where you said those exact words to him. The real thing is so much better. As much as he’d like to test his luck and savor this moment for as long as he can, he can sense his willpower slipping through his fingers with each passing second.
Opening the passenger door you were being pressed into, he manhandles you with a “C’mon, sweetheart,” voice dripping with want; until you’re sitting on his lap, legs on either side of him, and hips meeting his in frantic and uncoordinated movements. Every action is laced with desire, chasing that high you both so desperately want.
Fingers clutch his shirt, working at the buttons, one by one, and allowing your palm to explore his bare chest. JJ throws his head on the headrest behind him, a moan escaping from his swollen lips while you put your mouth to use and leave a trail of lingering kisses on his skin.
“You’re like a dream come true.” He mumbles, sending a spark of pride through your spine. His hands confidently grab your thighs, sliding beneath your dress, feeling your naked skin. The coldness of his rings is such a contrast to your scorching body as he moves you to his liking against his clothed bulge. And it’s intimidatingly big. Your cunt pulses faster at the thought of having him.
Finally, you slip his shirt off, taut muscles staring at you — wanting to lick each hard ridge of his stomach while he tells you how much he wants you. But when your eyes meet his hungry gaze, you know there’s no time for that.
Your mouth slants hard against his, drowning in the way he moans at the contact. You’re basically dry-humping him at this point as you try to get as close to him as possible.
“Can I take this off, sweetheart?” He breathes in your mouth, tugging at the edge of your dress.
“Please.” You all but whine.
The material is thrown somewhere in the car, leaving you in your lacy underwear. JJ swears he almost comes on the spot.
“Fuck,” he murmurs to himself, his eyes taking in the view, “C’mere.” His head dips down, immediately mouthing at your barely-covered perked-up nipple, tongue licking over the lace. The sounds he lets out against you vibrate through your body, and you swear you can feel a wetness pooling in your underwear at the sensation.
He pulls back and admires your expression whilst his free hand explores each curve of your body. The side of your breast, your ribs, waist, hip, and then it rests on your ass, groping it with intent.
Maintaining eye contact as you breathe heavily into each other’s mouths, his fingers begin testing the waters, curling around your panties. He waits for you to push him away or tell him to stop, but it never comes — no, your eyes are telling a completely different story. He moves your underwear to the side, two fingers running between your folds, and you both gasp at the feeling.
“You’re soaked,” he says at the same time as a soft sigh of his name sweetly falls from your tongue. Without fail and to your surprise, his digits find your clit immediately, bringing your wetness to the small bundle of nerves and drawing slow, wide circles on it.
Of course he’s good at sex too, you think. As if this man needed to be hotter than he already is.
You try to keep up with the silent game you’re playing — the one where he touches you at an unfair pace and you have to stare into his blue eyes the entire time. But it’s impossible. Your eyelids fall close the moment one finger enters your sopping cunt, warm liquid already dripping down his hand.
“You’re killin’ me here, sweetheart.” JJ groans, lips finding your neck as you meet the thrusts of his digit. He easily slips a second one, getting drunk off the way your walls grip his fingers.
“JJ,” you whine — this man actually makes you whine for him, “I want you.”
He curses against your skin, his cock aching to be inside you. “What d’you want, baby?” His mouth reaches your ear, “Wanna come around my fingers?” You shake your head, eliciting a chuckle from him, “No? You want my cock then, sweetheart? ‘S that what you want?”
The fucking filthy mouth on this man.
His smugness should make you mad. It should make you want to get up and leave him alone with a hard dick in his pants. And yet, all you’re able to do is moan out a choked, “Yes.”
It’s music to JJ’s ears.
You’re still confident in your movements as you reach for his belt, unbuckling it and pulling on the buttons of his pants. His digits thrust out of your cunt with a filthy, squelching sound, and he wastes no time in bringing them to his own mouth. JJ moans in pleasure at the taste of your juices, and your pussy clenches around nothing at the sight alone.
“You taste like honey, sweetheart, did you know that?” He hums, completely mesmerized. All he knows is that if he was hooked before, not even the end of the world could pull him off of you now.
He shimmies out of his pants, pushing them down along with his underwear, not even caring about how they’re touching the dirty floor of his truck — there are much more pressing matters right now.
You lean in, mouth watering in front of what is probably the biggest cock you’ve ever seen. The muscles in your stomach are taut, pulling at your insides in anticipation. You let a droplet of spit meet your palm, baby blues suddenly fixated on your movements. Your hand wraps around his length, eliciting a loud groan from him as you smile in victory. Moving your wrist up and down, you draw satisfaction from hearing JJ cursing repeatedly whilst he hides his face in your neck.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he grunts, lips moving against your throat as you giggle. Somehow, even that sound goes straight to his groin.
You gently yank on his hair, craving to see the tortured look on his face. His bruised lips pull you in like a moth to a flame as you ache to taste him again. Your mouth brushes over his —
“Oh shit.” Your whole body freezes, “Condom?” You ask, eyes scanning over his face as fear takes over your features. Actual fear. You’re scared you won’t be able to fuck this man — this is how serious it is.
A boyish smile tugs at his lips — god, when did he get so hot?
A still-wrapped condom appears in his hand, and you wonder if he had one between his fingers this whole time.
“Had one in my pocket.” He smirks.
“Thank god.”
A saccarine-like laugh erupts from him before he quickly opens the package with his teeth. He rolls the condom down his length, your hands anxiously waiting on his shoulders.
Out of the blue, his mouth catches yours in a fiery kiss, stealing a yelp of surprise from you before you completely melt into him. In the meantime, the head of his dick rubs over your wet folds whilst you ghost over it, earning a moan that neither of you is sure whose it was. Maybe it was both of you. His teasing seems almost punishing — making you wait just like he had to. As if this isn’t torture for him as much as it is for you.
At last, his cock catches with your entrance, and you bite down on his bottom lip at the intrusion. You lock eyes with him again, foreheads touching and breaths mixing. His hands rest on your waist, not moving you an inch and allowing you to set the pace as you slowly move down on him.
Your gasp is so loud, JJ’s own sounds are muffled by yours. You try to take him all the way— you want to feel every single inch of him. Your eyes are squeezed shut, mouth agape, one hand gripping his shoulder whilst the other holds tightly to his hair. JJ believes this is the most heavenly view he has ever seen.
Once your hips touch, his cock completely inside you, you still for a moment. The windows are fogged up from your heavy breathing, JJ’s chest heaves up and down, mirroring yours, and his gaze is stuck on you. Your walls deliciously stretch around him, and he’s sure he can feel them already slightly flutter on him.
If this is how he’s going to die, he will die the happiest man on Earth.
A hand slides down your side, reaching your lower stomach, until his thumb slips between your folds and begins circling your clit. The moan that escapes from you is lewd, it vibrates through the small confinement of his truck. His cock twitches in response and he takes a sharp inhale of breath.
“So tight,” he murmurs, thumb never halting its movements, “Your pussy feels like fuckin’ heaven, baby.”
You can barely register his words, pleasure running through your veins so fast. Too fast.
You cry out his name, head hiding in his neck. “‘M not gonna last long.” You moan, your hips still not moving. All it took was the feeling of his length between your walls.
JJ is incredibly pleased with himself, his ego growing at the knowledge that he almost made you come for him by barely doing anything. It’s exhilarating.
The hand that is not making you see stars rubs down your back, it traces your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind it. “‘M close too, baby,” he confesses, a certain fondness laced in his tone, “Want you to come all over my cock.” His words are followed by the hard clenching of your cunt and the thrusting of his hips as he plants his feet on the ground. A strong arm circulates your waist, keeping you slightly elevated, your whole weight carried by him only. You babble incoherent moans in the crook of his neck, nails digging into his shoulder and back.
The truck moves along with JJ’s thrusts, and it’s embarrassing — or at least it would be if you cared the slightest bit right now.
Your orgasm crashes over you abruptly and you come with a gasp of his name on your tongue. Your walls clamp down on JJ’s cock so tightly that the feeling sends him over the edge as well, his thrusts sloppily meeting your hips.
Labored breaths fills the air; your sweaty skin brushes against his as you both try to recover.
“I am…” you swallow on thick air, “so sorry for not seeing the vision earlier.”
JJ’s body shakes with laughter, so contagious that you follow him, lips ghosting over his collarbone. Finally, he cradles your jaw, forcing your gaze on him before connecting your lips for what feels the hundredth time tonight. Both of his hands settle on your ass, slowly starting to move you again.
Of course he’s completely oblivious to the way his phone is being blown up with texts by his now ex-girlfriend, angrily trying to understand why he broke up with her with a quick text — well, at least the time it took between him noticing you at the reunion and immediately retrieving his phone from his back pocket.
warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, 18+,, sarah went to hs with the pogues (run with it), alcohol consumption, this is basically p with a lil bit of plot, fingering, car sex (p in v), lil bit of dirty talk, reader and jj are both desperate for each other, maybe cheating (not really and it’s like one paragraph), barely proofread
wc: 3.8k
nav jj maybank masterlist
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A high school reunion less than ten years since graduation seems fruitless.
What’s there to talk about? Your big accomplishments since you left the island six years ago? The breakup that left a bitter taste in your mouth only a couple of months prior? It all just seems like a big joke.
However, Sarah insisted that you were going to regret it (you wouldn’t have) if you had missed out on such an important evening (really, you couldn’t care less.) But it’s Sarah, and she’s your best friend so of course you said yes — and that she owes you big time.
You could be drinking at a bar, living your best single life, let the alcohol wash away the memories of your ex; perhaps even finally spend the night with someone who knows what he’s doing. Instead, here you are with a virgin drink in your hand — because it’s a no alcohol allowed evening.
Really? You’re all grown up and you still can’t drink a bit of the prohibited juice on school grounds?
“Here,” Sarah shows up out of thin air as you sit at your vacant table, and hands you a half-empty flask, “It’ll help with that attitude you’ve got tonight.”
Okay, maybe you haven’t been the best company this evening. To your defense, she’s walking around the barely-still-standing basketball court where you used to be forced to have gym class, her husband on her arm and a picture of their adorable son as her screensaver. You, on the other hand, have nothing to say to these people except that hey, you’ve graduated from college and you’re now unemployed; it’s every girl’s dream to have this kind of conversation at your high school reunion, isn’t it?
You gladly accept the container in your best friend’s hold and let the liquor drip into your glass. Taking a sip, you let out a sigh of satisfaction. “Alright, now I’m functional again. I promise.” A tight-lipped smile tugs at your mouth and you pray that the alcohol does its job — and quickly. You reluctantly give the flask back to Sarah and, before you take another sip, you nod at it. “Whose is that anyway?”
She turns around and subtly points towards the man her husband is talking to. “JJ’s. You remember him, right?”
Your eyes squint at him, trying to focus on the man’s features: blond hair has been perfectly combed, except for a wild strand that has fallen on top of his forehead; a strong jaw locks into place as he listens attentively to his friend; his tongue darts over his bottom lip a second before bringing his drink up to his mouth. Your gaze, however, settles on his biceps, barely contained by the white dress-shirt that hugs his body in the most mouth-watering manner.
There’s no way this guy attended school with you. You would definitely remember him.
“Sarah, I have no idea who he is.” You admit, your eyes never leaving JJ’s figure.
She jokingly shoves you, the action taking you by surprise. “Yeah, right,” she scoffs, “JJ Maybank?” Nothing. “John B’s best friend?” You look at her with a blank expression on your face and she laughs incredulously at you. “He had the biggest crush on you in high school. Do you seriously not remember him?”
Your mind rakes through your memories from your teenage years: you remember Sarah and Kie, John B (once he and your best friend got together) and his friends. Two of them. The smart one and…
Oh God.
That’s impossible.
You do a double take. A triple take. One thing is certain: he did not look like that when he was sixteen. You wouldn’t have shot him down so many times if he did.
“Did he have some kind of reconstructive surgery or something? I think I would remember if he had that face.”
Sarah side-glances at you, an eyebrow lifting up in the process. “I think he just joined the gym.”
You take a big gulp of your drink, the alcohol burning your throat in the process. Some liquid courage. “God bless the gym,” you mutter to yourself before standing up.
“Where are you going?” Sarah asks, amusement clear in her tone.
“I should say hi. It’s a high school reunion after all, right?” You feign innocence.
By the time you reach the table where JJ and John B are sitting at, your confidence begins to falter. He’s even more handsome up close. You notice the veins that run up his forearm as he rolls the sleeves of his shirt upwards; thick fingers grip the alcohol-filled glass, accentuating the lines and ridges of his hand; a set of dimples you had never noticed before deepens on his cheeks.
If someone told you that this man was sculpted by Michelangelo himself, you would believe them — his less known, but definitely worth-mentioning David: JJ Maybank.
John B calls out your name, pulling you out of your thoughts (which would’ve made you fail any art class if voiced out loud.) “You remember JJ?” He points his thumb towards his friend.
And ten minutes ago you would’ve said no, completely and stupidly oblivious, but now, “Of course I do,” you extend your hand, praying that it isn’t shaking from being this close to a man you could only describe as Sex on Legs, “Hi.”
The moment his eyes fall on you, a warm liquid pools in the pit of your stomach. How can one man make you feel this way? Deep blue eyes pull you in with an intensity that makes your head spin, to the point that you’re scared you might melt right into the floor of your high school’s gymnasium.
JJ is afraid you’re a figment of his imagination for a fraction of a second. You look as beautiful as ever — the same as he remembered and yet, somehow, even better. The dress you’re wearing hugs your curves in the best way possible, and he appreciates every inch of it as he shamelessly lets his gaze run up and down your body.
Finally, his hand wraps around yours. Electricity runs through your veins, blood pressure spiking up from the simplest of touches. You both feel it. It’s thrilling.
“Hi.” He rasps, fingers still gently clasping your palm. The low, husky voice might be your undoing. His calloused palm slips from your hold, and there’s a small voice in your head that starts to wonder what those rough hands would feel like on your body. “Nice to see you again.” JJ continues, and if you notice a faint blush creep up his cheeks, you don’t mention it.
“Yeah,” you smile seductively, “You too.” You hold his gaze, maintaining eye-contact in hopes that you suddenly find the ability to read his mind.
A very uncomfortable John B clears his throat in the periphery of your eye and you have to suppress a giggle from the situation you just forced him into. “You know what,” you place a hand on John B’s shoulder, “I think Sarah was looking for you.”
He appears awfully entertained as he stares up at you from his seated position. “Yeah. I think so.” And with a glance at his best friend, he finally leaves.
You take his seat, placing your almost empty glass on the table. JJ’s eyes follow your every move and you’re painfully aware of it while a silence stretches between you two as you study each other. You’re not sure if it’s sexually charged only on your end, and it would be so embarrassing if it were that you wouldn’t be able to show your face to any reunion ever again.
“So,” he adjusts himself in his seat while he continues, “You remember me, huh?” A smug smile etches on his lips. You both know you never gave him the time of the day back then and now you’re all over him all of a sudden.
JJ’s not dumb. He’s aware of how different he looks now — the hard earned muscles are a testament of that. Women admire him in a way they never did before. You gawk at him in a way you never did before, and it feels like he just won a prize. Congratulations: she’s looking at you.
You shrug, circling the glass in your hand as that last drop stares at you expectantly. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“‘Cause I’m not sure you knew my name when we were sixteen.”
Clicking your tongue, you purposefully cross one leg on top of the other, bringing his attention to the bare skin of your lower thighs. At last, you lock eyes with him. He watches you as you bring the rim of your glass up to your lips, washing down the remaining liquid. With the last bit of bravery left in your system, you make things clear, “Let’s put it this way: I wasn’t interest before, but I am now.” Surprise flickers in his gaze, smirking at your boldness. “Are you gonna do anything about it?”
He chuckles lowly, shaking his head in disbelief. There’s a teenager-JJ somewhere that is cheering loudly and thanking the heavens — which is completely in contrast to the cool exterior he’s trying to keep up for you.
You’re not sure how it happens. Lust clouds your judgement, your mind hazy with want as you let JJ Maybank walk you to his truck, one big, warm hand on the small of your back. One thing led to another, flirty sentences whispered with one goal in mind, and you find yourselves making out against the door of his car.
His lips mold with yours, tongue hungrily licking into your mouth. There’s an urgency in the way his greedy hands pull your body flush to him, your abdomen brushing against his. Calloused fingers run up to your neck, his palm resting on your throat while his thumb traces your jaw. His delicate touch makes you moan in his mouth, his pants growing tighter in a way he’s never felt before. The hand that was resting on your neck slips into your hair, gripping it as he takes control. He pushes you harder into the door behind you, hard metal pressing on your back — not that you would ever dream to complain about it.
“God,” he groans, lips starting to leave open-mouthed kisses on your burning skin, “‘Been wanting to do this for so long.”
The idea of this man having a crush on you when you were younger and still being obsessed with you now makes your eyes roll into the back of your head, fingers tugging on his hair with need. Being in this position with JJ is maddening and exciting all at once.
You tentatively let your hand run over the arm that is circling your waist, muscles rippling under your touch — intoxicating; that’s what it is. You can’t help but think about what he would be able to do to you and how you would gladly let him, too. It sends a thrill through your body, heat curling at your lower stomach. It’s been a while since you’ve wanted a man this badly, and the way one of JJ’s thighs shifts in between your legs isn’t helping with your aching need.
“JJ,” you sigh, “I need you.”
He’s sure he’s had at least one wet dream about you where you said those exact words to him. The real thing is so much better. As much as he’d like to test his luck and savor this moment for as long as he can, he can sense his willpower slipping through his fingers with each passing second.
Opening the passenger door you were being pressed into, he manhandles you with a “C’mon, sweetheart,” voice dripping with want; until you’re sitting on his lap, legs on either side of him, and hips meeting his in frantic and uncoordinated movements. Every action is laced with desire, chasing that high you both so desperately want.
Fingers clutch his shirt, working at the buttons, one by one, and allowing your palm to explore his bare chest. JJ throws his head on the headrest behind him, a moan escaping from his swollen lips while you put your mouth to use and leave a trail of lingering kisses on his skin.
“You’re like a dream come true.” He mumbles, sending a spark of pride through your spine. His hands confidently grab your thighs, sliding beneath your dress, feeling your naked skin. The coldness of his rings is such a contrast to your scorching body as he moves you to his liking against his clothed bulge. And it’s intimidatingly big. Your cunt pulses faster at the thought of having him.
Finally, you slip his shirt off, taut muscles staring at you — wanting to lick each hard ridge of his stomach while he tells you how much he wants you. But when your eyes meet his hungry gaze, you know there’s no time for that.
Your mouth slants hard against his, drowning in the way he moans at the contact. You’re basically dry-humping him at this point as you try to get as close to him as possible.
“Can I take this off, sweetheart?” He breathes in your mouth, tugging at the edge of your dress.
“Please.” You all but whine.
The material is thrown somewhere in the car, leaving you in your lacy underwear. JJ swears he almost comes on the spot.
“Fuck,” he murmurs to himself, his eyes taking in the view, “C’mere.” His head dips down, immediately mouthing at your barely-covered perked-up nipple, tongue licking over the lace. The sounds he lets out against you vibrate through your body, and you swear you can feel a wetness pooling in your underwear at the sensation.
He pulls back and admires your expression whilst his free hand explores each curve of your body. The side of your breast, your ribs, waist, hip, and then it rests on your ass, groping it with intent.
Maintaining eye contact as you breathe heavily into each other’s mouths, his fingers begin testing the waters, curling around your panties. He waits for you to push him away or tell him to stop, but it never comes — no, your eyes are telling a completely different story. He moves your underwear to the side, two fingers running between your folds, and you both gasp at the feeling.
“You’re soaked,” he says at the same time as a soft sigh of his name sweetly falls from your tongue. Without fail and to your surprise, his digits find your clit immediately, bringing your wetness to the small bundle of nerves and drawing slow, wide circles on it.
Of course he’s good at sex too, you think. As if this man needed to be hotter than he already is.
You try to keep up with the silent game you’re playing — the one where he touches you at an unfair pace and you have to stare into his blue eyes the entire time. But it’s impossible. Your eyelids fall close the moment one finger enters your sopping cunt, warm liquid already dripping down his hand.
“You’re killin’ me here, sweetheart.” JJ groans, lips finding your neck as you meet the thrusts of his digit. He easily slips a second one, getting drunk off the way your walls grip his fingers.
“JJ,” you whine — this man actually makes you whine for him, “I want you.”
He curses against your skin, his cock aching to be inside you. “What d’you want, baby?” His mouth reaches your ear, “Wanna come around my fingers?” You shake your head, eliciting a chuckle from him, “No? You want my cock then, sweetheart? ‘S that what you want?”
The fucking filthy mouth on this man.
His smugness should make you mad. It should make you want to get up and leave him alone with a hard dick in his pants. And yet, all you’re able to do is moan out a choked, “Yes.”
It’s music to JJ’s ears.
You’re still confident in your movements as you reach for his belt, unbuckling it and pulling on the buttons of his pants. His digits thrust out of your cunt with a filthy, squelching sound, and he wastes no time in bringing them to his own mouth. JJ moans in pleasure at the taste of your juices, and your pussy clenches around nothing at the sight alone.
“You taste like honey, sweetheart, did you know that?” He hums, completely mesmerized. All he knows is that if he was hooked before, not even the end of the world could pull him off of you now.
He shimmies out of his pants, pushing them down along with his underwear, not even caring about how they’re touching the dirty floor of his truck — there are much more pressing matters right now.
You lean in, mouth watering in front of what is probably the biggest cock you’ve ever seen. The muscles in your stomach are taut, pulling at your insides in anticipation. You let a droplet of spit meet your palm, baby blues suddenly fixated on your movements. Your hand wraps around his length, eliciting a loud groan from him as you smile in victory. Moving your wrist up and down, you draw satisfaction from hearing JJ cursing repeatedly whilst he hides his face in your neck.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he grunts, lips moving against your throat as you giggle. Somehow, even that sound goes straight to his groin.
You gently yank on his hair, craving to see the tortured look on his face. His bruised lips pull you in like a moth to a flame as you ache to taste him again. Your mouth brushes over his —
“Oh shit.” Your whole body freezes, “Condom?” You ask, eyes scanning over his face as fear takes over your features. Actual fear. You’re scared you won’t be able to fuck this man — this is how serious it is.
A boyish smile tugs at his lips — god, when did he get so hot?
A still-wrapped condom appears in his hand, and you wonder if he had one between his fingers this whole time.
“Had one in my pocket.” He smirks.
“Thank god.”
A saccarine-like laugh erupts from him before he quickly opens the package with his teeth. He rolls the condom down his length, your hands anxiously waiting on his shoulders.
Out of the blue, his mouth catches yours in a fiery kiss, stealing a yelp of surprise from you before you completely melt into him. In the meantime, the head of his dick rubs over your wet folds whilst you ghost over it, earning a moan that neither of you is sure whose it was. Maybe it was both of you. His teasing seems almost punishing — making you wait just like he had to. As if this isn’t torture for him as much as it is for you.
At last, his cock catches with your entrance, and you bite down on his bottom lip at the intrusion. You lock eyes with him again, foreheads touching and breaths mixing. His hands rest on your waist, not moving you an inch and allowing you to set the pace as you slowly move down on him.
Your gasp is so loud, JJ’s own sounds are muffled by yours. You try to take him all the way— you want to feel every single inch of him. Your eyes are squeezed shut, mouth agape, one hand gripping his shoulder whilst the other holds tightly to his hair. JJ believes this is the most heavenly view he has ever seen.
Once your hips touch, his cock completely inside you, you still for a moment. The windows are fogged up from your heavy breathing, JJ’s chest heaves up and down, mirroring yours, and his gaze is stuck on you. Your walls deliciously stretch around him, and he’s sure he can feel them already slightly flutter on him.
If this is how he’s going to die, he will die the happiest man on Earth.
A hand slides down your side, reaching your lower stomach, until his thumb slips between your folds and begins circling your clit. The moan that escapes from you is lewd, it vibrates through the small confinement of his truck. His cock twitches in response and he takes a sharp inhale of breath.
“So tight,” he murmurs, thumb never halting its movements, “Your pussy feels like fuckin’ heaven, baby.”
You can barely register his words, pleasure running through your veins so fast. Too fast.
You cry out his name, head hiding in his neck. “‘M not gonna last long.” You moan, your hips still not moving. All it took was the feeling of his length between your walls.
JJ is incredibly pleased with himself, his ego growing at the knowledge that he almost made you come for him by barely doing anything. It’s exhilarating.
The hand that is not making you see stars rubs down your back, it traces your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind it. “‘M close too, baby,” he confesses, a certain fondness laced in his tone, “Want you to come all over my cock.” His words are followed by the hard clenching of your cunt and the thrusting of his hips as he plants his feet on the ground. A strong arm circulates your waist, keeping you slightly elevated, your whole weight carried by him only. You babble incoherent moans in the crook of his neck, nails digging into his shoulder and back.
The truck moves along with JJ’s thrusts, and it’s embarrassing — or at least it would be if you cared the slightest bit right now.
Your orgasm crashes over you abruptly and you come with a gasp of his name on your tongue. Your walls clamp down on JJ’s cock so tightly that the feeling sends him over the edge as well, his thrusts sloppily meeting your hips.
Labored breaths fills the air; your sweaty skin brushes against his as you both try to recover.
“I am…” you swallow on thick air, “so sorry for not seeing the vision earlier.”
JJ’s body shakes with laughter, so contagious that you follow him, lips ghosting over his collarbone. Finally, he cradles your jaw, forcing your gaze on him before connecting your lips for what feels the hundredth time tonight. Both of his hands settle on your ass, slowly starting to move you again.
Of course he’s completely oblivious to the way his phone is being blown up with texts by his now ex-girlfriend, angrily trying to understand why he broke up with her with a quick text — well, at least the time it took between him noticing you at the reunion and immediately retrieving his phone from his back pocket.
warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, 18+,, sarah went to hs with the pogues (run with it), alcohol consumption, this is basically p with a lil bit of plot, fingering, car sex (p in v), lil bit of dirty talk, reader and jj are both desperate for each other, maybe cheating (not really and it’s like one paragraph), barely proofread
wc: 3.8k
nav jj maybank masterlist
—
A high school reunion less than ten years since graduation seems fruitless.
What’s there to talk about? Your big accomplishments since you left the island six years ago? The breakup that left a bitter taste in your mouth only a couple of months prior? It all just seems like a big joke.
However, Sarah insisted that you were going to regret it (you wouldn’t have) if you had missed out on such an important evening (really, you couldn’t care less.) But it’s Sarah, and she’s your best friend so of course you said yes — and that she owes you big time.
You could be drinking at a bar, living your best single life, let the alcohol wash away the memories of your ex; perhaps even finally spend the night with someone who knows what he’s doing. Instead, here you are with a virgin drink in your hand — because it’s a no alcohol allowed evening.
Really? You’re all grown up and you still can’t drink a bit of the prohibited juice on school grounds?
“Here,” Sarah shows up out of thin air as you sit at your vacant table, and hands you a half-empty flask, “It’ll help with that attitude you’ve got tonight.”
Okay, maybe you haven’t been the best company this evening. To your defense, she’s walking around the barely-still-standing basketball court where you used to be forced to have gym class, her husband on her arm and a picture of their adorable son as her screensaver. You, on the other hand, have nothing to say to these people except that hey, you’ve graduated from college and you’re now unemployed; it’s every girl’s dream to have this kind of conversation at your high school reunion, isn’t it?
You gladly accept the container in your best friend’s hold and let the liquor drip into your glass. Taking a sip, you let out a sigh of satisfaction. “Alright, now I’m functional again. I promise.” A tight-lipped smile tugs at your mouth and you pray that the alcohol does its job — and quickly. You reluctantly give the flask back to Sarah and, before you take another sip, you nod at it. “Whose is that anyway?”
She turns around and subtly points towards the man her husband is talking to. “JJ’s. You remember him, right?”
Your eyes squint at him, trying to focus on the man’s features: blond hair has been perfectly combed, except for a wild strand that has fallen on top of his forehead; a strong jaw locks into place as he listens attentively to his friend; his tongue darts over his bottom lip a second before bringing his drink up to his mouth. Your gaze, however, settles on his biceps, barely contained by the white dress-shirt that hugs his body in the most mouth-watering manner.
There’s no way this guy attended school with you. You would definitely remember him.
“Sarah, I have no idea who he is.” You admit, your eyes never leaving JJ’s figure.
She jokingly shoves you, the action taking you by surprise. “Yeah, right,” she scoffs, “JJ Maybank?” Nothing. “John B’s best friend?” You look at her with a blank expression on your face and she laughs incredulously at you. “He had the biggest crush on you in high school. Do you seriously not remember him?”
Your mind rakes through your memories from your teenage years: you remember Sarah and Kie, John B (once he and your best friend got together) and his friends. Two of them. The smart one and…
Oh God.
That’s impossible.
You do a double take. A triple take. One thing is certain: he did not look like that when he was sixteen. You wouldn’t have shot him down so many times if he did.
“Did he have some kind of reconstructive surgery or something? I think I would remember if he had that face.”
Sarah side-glances at you, an eyebrow lifting up in the process. “I think he just joined the gym.”
You take a big gulp of your drink, the alcohol burning your throat in the process. Some liquid courage. “God bless the gym,” you mutter to yourself before standing up.
“Where are you going?” Sarah asks, amusement clear in her tone.
“I should say hi. It’s a high school reunion after all, right?” You feign innocence.
By the time you reach the table where JJ and John B are sitting at, your confidence begins to falter. He’s even more handsome up close. You notice the veins that run up his forearm as he rolls the sleeves of his shirt upwards; thick fingers grip the alcohol-filled glass, accentuating the lines and ridges of his hand; a set of dimples you had never noticed before deepens on his cheeks.
If someone told you that this man was sculpted by Michelangelo himself, you would believe them — his less known, but definitely worth-mentioning David: JJ Maybank.
John B calls out your name, pulling you out of your thoughts (which would’ve made you fail any art class if voiced out loud.) “You remember JJ?” He points his thumb towards his friend.
And ten minutes ago you would’ve said no, completely and stupidly oblivious, but now, “Of course I do,” you extend your hand, praying that it isn’t shaking from being this close to a man you could only describe as Sex on Legs, “Hi.”
The moment his eyes fall on you, a warm liquid pools in the pit of your stomach. How can one man make you feel this way? Deep blue eyes pull you in with an intensity that makes your head spin, to the point that you’re scared you might melt right into the floor of your high school’s gymnasium.
JJ is afraid you’re a figment of his imagination for a fraction of a second. You look as beautiful as ever — the same as he remembered and yet, somehow, even better. The dress you’re wearing hugs your curves in the best way possible, and he appreciates every inch of it as he shamelessly lets his gaze run up and down your body.
Finally, his hand wraps around yours. Electricity runs through your veins, blood pressure spiking up from the simplest of touches. You both feel it. It’s thrilling.
“Hi.” He rasps, fingers still gently clasping your palm. The low, husky voice might be your undoing. His calloused palm slips from your hold, and there’s a small voice in your head that starts to wonder what those rough hands would feel like on your body. “Nice to see you again.” JJ continues, and if you notice a faint blush creep up his cheeks, you don’t mention it.
“Yeah,” you smile seductively, “You too.” You hold his gaze, maintaining eye-contact in hopes that you suddenly find the ability to read his mind.
A very uncomfortable John B clears his throat in the periphery of your eye and you have to suppress a giggle from the situation you just forced him into. “You know what,” you place a hand on John B’s shoulder, “I think Sarah was looking for you.”
He appears awfully entertained as he stares up at you from his seated position. “Yeah. I think so.” And with a glance at his best friend, he finally leaves.
You take his seat, placing your almost empty glass on the table. JJ’s eyes follow your every move and you’re painfully aware of it while a silence stretches between you two as you study each other. You’re not sure if it’s sexually charged only on your end, and it would be so embarrassing if it were that you wouldn’t be able to show your face to any reunion ever again.
“So,” he adjusts himself in his seat while he continues, “You remember me, huh?” A smug smile etches on his lips. You both know you never gave him the time of the day back then and now you’re all over him all of a sudden.
JJ’s not dumb. He’s aware of how different he looks now — the hard earned muscles are a testament of that. Women admire him in a way they never did before. You gawk at him in a way you never did before, and it feels like he just won a prize. Congratulations: she’s looking at you.
You shrug, circling the glass in your hand as that last drop stares at you expectantly. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“‘Cause I’m not sure you knew my name when we were sixteen.”
Clicking your tongue, you purposefully cross one leg on top of the other, bringing his attention to the bare skin of your lower thighs. At last, you lock eyes with him. He watches you as you bring the rim of your glass up to your lips, washing down the remaining liquid. With the last bit of bravery left in your system, you make things clear, “Let’s put it this way: I wasn’t interest before, but I am now.” Surprise flickers in his gaze, smirking at your boldness. “Are you gonna do anything about it?”
He chuckles lowly, shaking his head in disbelief. There’s a teenager-JJ somewhere that is cheering loudly and thanking the heavens — which is completely in contrast to the cool exterior he’s trying to keep up for you.
You’re not sure how it happens. Lust clouds your judgement, your mind hazy with want as you let JJ Maybank walk you to his truck, one big, warm hand on the small of your back. One thing led to another, flirty sentences whispered with one goal in mind, and you find yourselves making out against the door of his car.
His lips mold with yours, tongue hungrily licking into your mouth. There’s an urgency in the way his greedy hands pull your body flush to him, your abdomen brushing against his. Calloused fingers run up to your neck, his palm resting on your throat while his thumb traces your jaw. His delicate touch makes you moan in his mouth, his pants growing tighter in a way he’s never felt before. The hand that was resting on your neck slips into your hair, gripping it as he takes control. He pushes you harder into the door behind you, hard metal pressing on your back — not that you would ever dream to complain about it.
“God,” he groans, lips starting to leave open-mouthed kisses on your burning skin, “‘Been wanting to do this for so long.”
The idea of this man having a crush on you when you were younger and still being obsessed with you now makes your eyes roll into the back of your head, fingers tugging on his hair with need. Being in this position with JJ is maddening and exciting all at once.
You tentatively let your hand run over the arm that is circling your waist, muscles rippling under your touch — intoxicating; that’s what it is. You can’t help but think about what he would be able to do to you and how you would gladly let him, too. It sends a thrill through your body, heat curling at your lower stomach. It’s been a while since you’ve wanted a man this badly, and the way one of JJ’s thighs shifts in between your legs isn’t helping with your aching need.
“JJ,” you sigh, “I need you.”
He’s sure he’s had at least one wet dream about you where you said those exact words to him. The real thing is so much better. As much as he’d like to test his luck and savor this moment for as long as he can, he can sense his willpower slipping through his fingers with each passing second.
Opening the passenger door you were being pressed into, he manhandles you with a “C’mon, sweetheart,” voice dripping with want; until you’re sitting on his lap, legs on either side of him, and hips meeting his in frantic and uncoordinated movements. Every action is laced with desire, chasing that high you both so desperately want.
Fingers clutch his shirt, working at the buttons, one by one, and allowing your palm to explore his bare chest. JJ throws his head on the headrest behind him, a moan escaping from his swollen lips while you put your mouth to use and leave a trail of lingering kisses on his skin.
“You’re like a dream come true.” He mumbles, sending a spark of pride through your spine. His hands confidently grab your thighs, sliding beneath your dress, feeling your naked skin. The coldness of his rings is such a contrast to your scorching body as he moves you to his liking against his clothed bulge. And it’s intimidatingly big. Your cunt pulses faster at the thought of having him.
Finally, you slip his shirt off, taut muscles staring at you — wanting to lick each hard ridge of his stomach while he tells you how much he wants you. But when your eyes meet his hungry gaze, you know there’s no time for that.
Your mouth slants hard against his, drowning in the way he moans at the contact. You’re basically dry-humping him at this point as you try to get as close to him as possible.
“Can I take this off, sweetheart?” He breathes in your mouth, tugging at the edge of your dress.
“Please.” You all but whine.
The material is thrown somewhere in the car, leaving you in your lacy underwear. JJ swears he almost comes on the spot.
“Fuck,” he murmurs to himself, his eyes taking in the view, “C’mere.” His head dips down, immediately mouthing at your barely-covered perked-up nipple, tongue licking over the lace. The sounds he lets out against you vibrate through your body, and you swear you can feel a wetness pooling in your underwear at the sensation.
He pulls back and admires your expression whilst his free hand explores each curve of your body. The side of your breast, your ribs, waist, hip, and then it rests on your ass, groping it with intent.
Maintaining eye contact as you breathe heavily into each other’s mouths, his fingers begin testing the waters, curling around your panties. He waits for you to push him away or tell him to stop, but it never comes — no, your eyes are telling a completely different story. He moves your underwear to the side, two fingers running between your folds, and you both gasp at the feeling.
“You’re soaked,” he says at the same time as a soft sigh of his name sweetly falls from your tongue. Without fail and to your surprise, his digits find your clit immediately, bringing your wetness to the small bundle of nerves and drawing slow, wide circles on it.
Of course he’s good at sex too, you think. As if this man needed to be hotter than he already is.
You try to keep up with the silent game you’re playing — the one where he touches you at an unfair pace and you have to stare into his blue eyes the entire time. But it’s impossible. Your eyelids fall close the moment one finger enters your sopping cunt, warm liquid already dripping down his hand.
“You’re killin’ me here, sweetheart.” JJ groans, lips finding your neck as you meet the thrusts of his digit. He easily slips a second one, getting drunk off the way your walls grip his fingers.
“JJ,” you whine — this man actually makes you whine for him, “I want you.”
He curses against your skin, his cock aching to be inside you. “What d’you want, baby?” His mouth reaches your ear, “Wanna come around my fingers?” You shake your head, eliciting a chuckle from him, “No? You want my cock then, sweetheart? ‘S that what you want?”
The fucking filthy mouth on this man.
His smugness should make you mad. It should make you want to get up and leave him alone with a hard dick in his pants. And yet, all you’re able to do is moan out a choked, “Yes.”
It’s music to JJ’s ears.
You’re still confident in your movements as you reach for his belt, unbuckling it and pulling on the buttons of his pants. His digits thrust out of your cunt with a filthy, squelching sound, and he wastes no time in bringing them to his own mouth. JJ moans in pleasure at the taste of your juices, and your pussy clenches around nothing at the sight alone.
“You taste like honey, sweetheart, did you know that?” He hums, completely mesmerized. All he knows is that if he was hooked before, not even the end of the world could pull him off of you now.
He shimmies out of his pants, pushing them down along with his underwear, not even caring about how they’re touching the dirty floor of his truck — there are much more pressing matters right now.
You lean in, mouth watering in front of what is probably the biggest cock you’ve ever seen. The muscles in your stomach are taut, pulling at your insides in anticipation. You let a droplet of spit meet your palm, baby blues suddenly fixated on your movements. Your hand wraps around his length, eliciting a loud groan from him as you smile in victory. Moving your wrist up and down, you draw satisfaction from hearing JJ cursing repeatedly whilst he hides his face in your neck.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he grunts, lips moving against your throat as you giggle. Somehow, even that sound goes straight to his groin.
You gently yank on his hair, craving to see the tortured look on his face. His bruised lips pull you in like a moth to a flame as you ache to taste him again. Your mouth brushes over his —
“Oh shit.” Your whole body freezes, “Condom?” You ask, eyes scanning over his face as fear takes over your features. Actual fear. You’re scared you won’t be able to fuck this man — this is how serious it is.
A boyish smile tugs at his lips — god, when did he get so hot?
A still-wrapped condom appears in his hand, and you wonder if he had one between his fingers this whole time.
“Had one in my pocket.” He smirks.
“Thank god.”
A saccarine-like laugh erupts from him before he quickly opens the package with his teeth. He rolls the condom down his length, your hands anxiously waiting on his shoulders.
Out of the blue, his mouth catches yours in a fiery kiss, stealing a yelp of surprise from you before you completely melt into him. In the meantime, the head of his dick rubs over your wet folds whilst you ghost over it, earning a moan that neither of you is sure whose it was. Maybe it was both of you. His teasing seems almost punishing — making you wait just like he had to. As if this isn’t torture for him as much as it is for you.
At last, his cock catches with your entrance, and you bite down on his bottom lip at the intrusion. You lock eyes with him again, foreheads touching and breaths mixing. His hands rest on your waist, not moving you an inch and allowing you to set the pace as you slowly move down on him.
Your gasp is so loud, JJ’s own sounds are muffled by yours. You try to take him all the way— you want to feel every single inch of him. Your eyes are squeezed shut, mouth agape, one hand gripping his shoulder whilst the other holds tightly to his hair. JJ believes this is the most heavenly view he has ever seen.
Once your hips touch, his cock completely inside you, you still for a moment. The windows are fogged up from your heavy breathing, JJ’s chest heaves up and down, mirroring yours, and his gaze is stuck on you. Your walls deliciously stretch around him, and he’s sure he can feel them already slightly flutter on him.
If this is how he’s going to die, he will die the happiest man on Earth.
A hand slides down your side, reaching your lower stomach, until his thumb slips between your folds and begins circling your clit. The moan that escapes from you is lewd, it vibrates through the small confinement of his truck. His cock twitches in response and he takes a sharp inhale of breath.
“So tight,” he murmurs, thumb never halting its movements, “Your pussy feels like fuckin’ heaven, baby.”
You can barely register his words, pleasure running through your veins so fast. Too fast.
You cry out his name, head hiding in his neck. “‘M not gonna last long.” You moan, your hips still not moving. All it took was the feeling of his length between your walls.
JJ is incredibly pleased with himself, his ego growing at the knowledge that he almost made you come for him by barely doing anything. It’s exhilarating.
The hand that is not making you see stars rubs down your back, it traces your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind it. “‘M close too, baby,” he confesses, a certain fondness laced in his tone, “Want you to come all over my cock.” His words are followed by the hard clenching of your cunt and the thrusting of his hips as he plants his feet on the ground. A strong arm circulates your waist, keeping you slightly elevated, your whole weight carried by him only. You babble incoherent moans in the crook of his neck, nails digging into his shoulder and back.
The truck moves along with JJ’s thrusts, and it’s embarrassing — or at least it would be if you cared the slightest bit right now.
Your orgasm crashes over you abruptly and you come with a gasp of his name on your tongue. Your walls clamp down on JJ’s cock so tightly that the feeling sends him over the edge as well, his thrusts sloppily meeting your hips.
Labored breaths fills the air; your sweaty skin brushes against his as you both try to recover.
“I am…” you swallow on thick air, “so sorry for not seeing the vision earlier.”
JJ’s body shakes with laughter, so contagious that you follow him, lips ghosting over his collarbone. Finally, he cradles your jaw, forcing your gaze on him before connecting your lips for what feels the hundredth time tonight. Both of his hands settle on your ass, slowly starting to move you again.
Of course he’s completely oblivious to the way his phone is being blown up with texts by his now ex-girlfriend, angrily trying to understand why he broke up with her with a quick text — well, at least the time it took between him noticing you at the reunion and immediately retrieving his phone from his back pocket.
warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, 18+,, sarah went to hs with the pogues (run with it), alcohol consumption, this is basically p with a lil bit of plot, fingering, car sex (p in v), lil bit of dirty talk, reader and jj are both desperate for each other, maybe cheating (not really and it’s like one paragraph), barely proofread
wc: 3.8k
nav jj maybank masterlist
—
A high school reunion less than ten years since graduation seems fruitless.
What’s there to talk about? Your big accomplishments since you left the island six years ago? The breakup that left a bitter taste in your mouth only a couple of months prior? It all just seems like a big joke.
However, Sarah insisted that you were going to regret it (you wouldn’t have) if you had missed out on such an important evening (really, you couldn’t care less.) But it’s Sarah, and she’s your best friend so of course you said yes — and that she owes you big time.
You could be drinking at a bar, living your best single life, let the alcohol wash away the memories of your ex; perhaps even finally spend the night with someone who knows what he’s doing. Instead, here you are with a virgin drink in your hand — because it’s a no alcohol allowed evening.
Really? You’re all grown up and you still can’t drink a bit of the prohibited juice on school grounds?
“Here,” Sarah shows up out of thin air as you sit at your vacant table, and hands you a half-empty flask, “It’ll help with that attitude you’ve got tonight.”
Okay, maybe you haven’t been the best company this evening. To your defense, she’s walking around the barely-still-standing basketball court where you used to be forced to have gym class, her husband on her arm and a picture of their adorable son as her screensaver. You, on the other hand, have nothing to say to these people except that hey, you’ve graduated from college and you’re now unemployed; it’s every girl’s dream to have this kind of conversation at your high school reunion, isn’t it?
You gladly accept the container in your best friend’s hold and let the liquor drip into your glass. Taking a sip, you let out a sigh of satisfaction. “Alright, now I’m functional again. I promise.” A tight-lipped smile tugs at your mouth and you pray that the alcohol does its job — and quickly. You reluctantly give the flask back to Sarah and, before you take another sip, you nod at it. “Whose is that anyway?”
She turns around and subtly points towards the man her husband is talking to. “JJ’s. You remember him, right?”
Your eyes squint at him, trying to focus on the man’s features: blond hair has been perfectly combed, except for a wild strand that has fallen on top of his forehead; a strong jaw locks into place as he listens attentively to his friend; his tongue darts over his bottom lip a second before bringing his drink up to his mouth. Your gaze, however, settles on his biceps, barely contained by the white dress-shirt that hugs his body in the most mouth-watering manner.
There’s no way this guy attended school with you. You would definitely remember him.
“Sarah, I have no idea who he is.” You admit, your eyes never leaving JJ’s figure.
She jokingly shoves you, the action taking you by surprise. “Yeah, right,” she scoffs, “JJ Maybank?” Nothing. “John B’s best friend?” You look at her with a blank expression on your face and she laughs incredulously at you. “He had the biggest crush on you in high school. Do you seriously not remember him?”
Your mind rakes through your memories from your teenage years: you remember Sarah and Kie, John B (once he and your best friend got together) and his friends. Two of them. The smart one and…
Oh God.
That’s impossible.
You do a double take. A triple take. One thing is certain: he did not look like that when he was sixteen. You wouldn’t have shot him down so many times if he did.
“Did he have some kind of reconstructive surgery or something? I think I would remember if he had that face.”
Sarah side-glances at you, an eyebrow lifting up in the process. “I think he just joined the gym.”
You take a big gulp of your drink, the alcohol burning your throat in the process. Some liquid courage. “God bless the gym,” you mutter to yourself before standing up.
“Where are you going?” Sarah asks, amusement clear in her tone.
“I should say hi. It’s a high school reunion after all, right?” You feign innocence.
By the time you reach the table where JJ and John B are sitting at, your confidence begins to falter. He’s even more handsome up close. You notice the veins that run up his forearm as he rolls the sleeves of his shirt upwards; thick fingers grip the alcohol-filled glass, accentuating the lines and ridges of his hand; a set of dimples you had never noticed before deepens on his cheeks.
If someone told you that this man was sculpted by Michelangelo himself, you would believe them — his less known, but definitely worth-mentioning David: JJ Maybank.
John B calls out your name, pulling you out of your thoughts (which would’ve made you fail any art class if voiced out loud.) “You remember JJ?” He points his thumb towards his friend.
And ten minutes ago you would’ve said no, completely and stupidly oblivious, but now, “Of course I do,” you extend your hand, praying that it isn’t shaking from being this close to a man you could only describe as Sex on Legs, “Hi.”
The moment his eyes fall on you, a warm liquid pools in the pit of your stomach. How can one man make you feel this way? Deep blue eyes pull you in with an intensity that makes your head spin, to the point that you’re scared you might melt right into the floor of your high school’s gymnasium.
JJ is afraid you’re a figment of his imagination for a fraction of a second. You look as beautiful as ever — the same as he remembered and yet, somehow, even better. The dress you’re wearing hugs your curves in the best way possible, and he appreciates every inch of it as he shamelessly lets his gaze run up and down your body.
Finally, his hand wraps around yours. Electricity runs through your veins, blood pressure spiking up from the simplest of touches. You both feel it. It’s thrilling.
“Hi.” He rasps, fingers still gently clasping your palm. The low, husky voice might be your undoing. His calloused palm slips from your hold, and there’s a small voice in your head that starts to wonder what those rough hands would feel like on your body. “Nice to see you again.” JJ continues, and if you notice a faint blush creep up his cheeks, you don’t mention it.
“Yeah,” you smile seductively, “You too.” You hold his gaze, maintaining eye-contact in hopes that you suddenly find the ability to read his mind.
A very uncomfortable John B clears his throat in the periphery of your eye and you have to suppress a giggle from the situation you just forced him into. “You know what,” you place a hand on John B’s shoulder, “I think Sarah was looking for you.”
He appears awfully entertained as he stares up at you from his seated position. “Yeah. I think so.” And with a glance at his best friend, he finally leaves.
You take his seat, placing your almost empty glass on the table. JJ’s eyes follow your every move and you’re painfully aware of it while a silence stretches between you two as you study each other. You’re not sure if it’s sexually charged only on your end, and it would be so embarrassing if it were that you wouldn’t be able to show your face to any reunion ever again.
“So,” he adjusts himself in his seat while he continues, “You remember me, huh?” A smug smile etches on his lips. You both know you never gave him the time of the day back then and now you’re all over him all of a sudden.
JJ’s not dumb. He’s aware of how different he looks now — the hard earned muscles are a testament of that. Women admire him in a way they never did before. You gawk at him in a way you never did before, and it feels like he just won a prize. Congratulations: she’s looking at you.
You shrug, circling the glass in your hand as that last drop stares at you expectantly. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“‘Cause I’m not sure you knew my name when we were sixteen.”
Clicking your tongue, you purposefully cross one leg on top of the other, bringing his attention to the bare skin of your lower thighs. At last, you lock eyes with him. He watches you as you bring the rim of your glass up to your lips, washing down the remaining liquid. With the last bit of bravery left in your system, you make things clear, “Let’s put it this way: I wasn’t interest before, but I am now.” Surprise flickers in his gaze, smirking at your boldness. “Are you gonna do anything about it?”
He chuckles lowly, shaking his head in disbelief. There’s a teenager-JJ somewhere that is cheering loudly and thanking the heavens — which is completely in contrast to the cool exterior he’s trying to keep up for you.
You’re not sure how it happens. Lust clouds your judgement, your mind hazy with want as you let JJ Maybank walk you to his truck, one big, warm hand on the small of your back. One thing led to another, flirty sentences whispered with one goal in mind, and you find yourselves making out against the door of his car.
His lips mold with yours, tongue hungrily licking into your mouth. There’s an urgency in the way his greedy hands pull your body flush to him, your abdomen brushing against his. Calloused fingers run up to your neck, his palm resting on your throat while his thumb traces your jaw. His delicate touch makes you moan in his mouth, his pants growing tighter in a way he’s never felt before. The hand that was resting on your neck slips into your hair, gripping it as he takes control. He pushes you harder into the door behind you, hard metal pressing on your back — not that you would ever dream to complain about it.
“God,” he groans, lips starting to leave open-mouthed kisses on your burning skin, “‘Been wanting to do this for so long.”
The idea of this man having a crush on you when you were younger and still being obsessed with you now makes your eyes roll into the back of your head, fingers tugging on his hair with need. Being in this position with JJ is maddening and exciting all at once.
You tentatively let your hand run over the arm that is circling your waist, muscles rippling under your touch — intoxicating; that’s what it is. You can’t help but think about what he would be able to do to you and how you would gladly let him, too. It sends a thrill through your body, heat curling at your lower stomach. It’s been a while since you’ve wanted a man this badly, and the way one of JJ’s thighs shifts in between your legs isn’t helping with your aching need.
“JJ,” you sigh, “I need you.”
He’s sure he’s had at least one wet dream about you where you said those exact words to him. The real thing is so much better. As much as he’d like to test his luck and savor this moment for as long as he can, he can sense his willpower slipping through his fingers with each passing second.
Opening the passenger door you were being pressed into, he manhandles you with a “C’mon, sweetheart,” voice dripping with want; until you’re sitting on his lap, legs on either side of him, and hips meeting his in frantic and uncoordinated movements. Every action is laced with desire, chasing that high you both so desperately want.
Fingers clutch his shirt, working at the buttons, one by one, and allowing your palm to explore his bare chest. JJ throws his head on the headrest behind him, a moan escaping from his swollen lips while you put your mouth to use and leave a trail of lingering kisses on his skin.
“You’re like a dream come true.” He mumbles, sending a spark of pride through your spine. His hands confidently grab your thighs, sliding beneath your dress, feeling your naked skin. The coldness of his rings is such a contrast to your scorching body as he moves you to his liking against his clothed bulge. And it’s intimidatingly big. Your cunt pulses faster at the thought of having him.
Finally, you slip his shirt off, taut muscles staring at you — wanting to lick each hard ridge of his stomach while he tells you how much he wants you. But when your eyes meet his hungry gaze, you know there’s no time for that.
Your mouth slants hard against his, drowning in the way he moans at the contact. You’re basically dry-humping him at this point as you try to get as close to him as possible.
“Can I take this off, sweetheart?” He breathes in your mouth, tugging at the edge of your dress.
“Please.” You all but whine.
The material is thrown somewhere in the car, leaving you in your lacy underwear. JJ swears he almost comes on the spot.
“Fuck,” he murmurs to himself, his eyes taking in the view, “C’mere.” His head dips down, immediately mouthing at your barely-covered perked-up nipple, tongue licking over the lace. The sounds he lets out against you vibrate through your body, and you swear you can feel a wetness pooling in your underwear at the sensation.
He pulls back and admires your expression whilst his free hand explores each curve of your body. The side of your breast, your ribs, waist, hip, and then it rests on your ass, groping it with intent.
Maintaining eye contact as you breathe heavily into each other’s mouths, his fingers begin testing the waters, curling around your panties. He waits for you to push him away or tell him to stop, but it never comes — no, your eyes are telling a completely different story. He moves your underwear to the side, two fingers running between your folds, and you both gasp at the feeling.
“You’re soaked,” he says at the same time as a soft sigh of his name sweetly falls from your tongue. Without fail and to your surprise, his digits find your clit immediately, bringing your wetness to the small bundle of nerves and drawing slow, wide circles on it.
Of course he’s good at sex too, you think. As if this man needed to be hotter than he already is.
You try to keep up with the silent game you’re playing — the one where he touches you at an unfair pace and you have to stare into his blue eyes the entire time. But it’s impossible. Your eyelids fall close the moment one finger enters your sopping cunt, warm liquid already dripping down his hand.
“You’re killin’ me here, sweetheart.” JJ groans, lips finding your neck as you meet the thrusts of his digit. He easily slips a second one, getting drunk off the way your walls grip his fingers.
“JJ,” you whine — this man actually makes you whine for him, “I want you.”
He curses against your skin, his cock aching to be inside you. “What d’you want, baby?” His mouth reaches your ear, “Wanna come around my fingers?” You shake your head, eliciting a chuckle from him, “No? You want my cock then, sweetheart? ‘S that what you want?”
The fucking filthy mouth on this man.
His smugness should make you mad. It should make you want to get up and leave him alone with a hard dick in his pants. And yet, all you’re able to do is moan out a choked, “Yes.”
It’s music to JJ’s ears.
You’re still confident in your movements as you reach for his belt, unbuckling it and pulling on the buttons of his pants. His digits thrust out of your cunt with a filthy, squelching sound, and he wastes no time in bringing them to his own mouth. JJ moans in pleasure at the taste of your juices, and your pussy clenches around nothing at the sight alone.
“You taste like honey, sweetheart, did you know that?” He hums, completely mesmerized. All he knows is that if he was hooked before, not even the end of the world could pull him off of you now.
He shimmies out of his pants, pushing them down along with his underwear, not even caring about how they’re touching the dirty floor of his truck — there are much more pressing matters right now.
You lean in, mouth watering in front of what is probably the biggest cock you’ve ever seen. The muscles in your stomach are taut, pulling at your insides in anticipation. You let a droplet of spit meet your palm, baby blues suddenly fixated on your movements. Your hand wraps around his length, eliciting a loud groan from him as you smile in victory. Moving your wrist up and down, you draw satisfaction from hearing JJ cursing repeatedly whilst he hides his face in your neck.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he grunts, lips moving against your throat as you giggle. Somehow, even that sound goes straight to his groin.
You gently yank on his hair, craving to see the tortured look on his face. His bruised lips pull you in like a moth to a flame as you ache to taste him again. Your mouth brushes over his —
“Oh shit.” Your whole body freezes, “Condom?” You ask, eyes scanning over his face as fear takes over your features. Actual fear. You’re scared you won’t be able to fuck this man — this is how serious it is.
A boyish smile tugs at his lips — god, when did he get so hot?
A still-wrapped condom appears in his hand, and you wonder if he had one between his fingers this whole time.
“Had one in my pocket.” He smirks.
“Thank god.”
A saccarine-like laugh erupts from him before he quickly opens the package with his teeth. He rolls the condom down his length, your hands anxiously waiting on his shoulders.
Out of the blue, his mouth catches yours in a fiery kiss, stealing a yelp of surprise from you before you completely melt into him. In the meantime, the head of his dick rubs over your wet folds whilst you ghost over it, earning a moan that neither of you is sure whose it was. Maybe it was both of you. His teasing seems almost punishing — making you wait just like he had to. As if this isn’t torture for him as much as it is for you.
At last, his cock catches with your entrance, and you bite down on his bottom lip at the intrusion. You lock eyes with him again, foreheads touching and breaths mixing. His hands rest on your waist, not moving you an inch and allowing you to set the pace as you slowly move down on him.
Your gasp is so loud, JJ’s own sounds are muffled by yours. You try to take him all the way— you want to feel every single inch of him. Your eyes are squeezed shut, mouth agape, one hand gripping his shoulder whilst the other holds tightly to his hair. JJ believes this is the most heavenly view he has ever seen.
Once your hips touch, his cock completely inside you, you still for a moment. The windows are fogged up from your heavy breathing, JJ’s chest heaves up and down, mirroring yours, and his gaze is stuck on you. Your walls deliciously stretch around him, and he’s sure he can feel them already slightly flutter on him.
If this is how he’s going to die, he will die the happiest man on Earth.
A hand slides down your side, reaching your lower stomach, until his thumb slips between your folds and begins circling your clit. The moan that escapes from you is lewd, it vibrates through the small confinement of his truck. His cock twitches in response and he takes a sharp inhale of breath.
“So tight,” he murmurs, thumb never halting its movements, “Your pussy feels like fuckin’ heaven, baby.”
You can barely register his words, pleasure running through your veins so fast. Too fast.
You cry out his name, head hiding in his neck. “‘M not gonna last long.” You moan, your hips still not moving. All it took was the feeling of his length between your walls.
JJ is incredibly pleased with himself, his ego growing at the knowledge that he almost made you come for him by barely doing anything. It’s exhilarating.
The hand that is not making you see stars rubs down your back, it traces your spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind it. “‘M close too, baby,” he confesses, a certain fondness laced in his tone, “Want you to come all over my cock.” His words are followed by the hard clenching of your cunt and the thrusting of his hips as he plants his feet on the ground. A strong arm circulates your waist, keeping you slightly elevated, your whole weight carried by him only. You babble incoherent moans in the crook of his neck, nails digging into his shoulder and back.
The truck moves along with JJ’s thrusts, and it’s embarrassing — or at least it would be if you cared the slightest bit right now.
Your orgasm crashes over you abruptly and you come with a gasp of his name on your tongue. Your walls clamp down on JJ’s cock so tightly that the feeling sends him over the edge as well, his thrusts sloppily meeting your hips.
Labored breaths fills the air; your sweaty skin brushes against his as you both try to recover.
“I am…” you swallow on thick air, “so sorry for not seeing the vision earlier.”
JJ’s body shakes with laughter, so contagious that you follow him, lips ghosting over his collarbone. Finally, he cradles your jaw, forcing your gaze on him before connecting your lips for what feels the hundredth time tonight. Both of his hands settle on your ass, slowly starting to move you again.
Of course he’s completely oblivious to the way his phone is being blown up with texts by his now ex-girlfriend, angrily trying to understand why he broke up with her with a quick text — well, at least the time it took between him noticing you at the reunion and immediately retrieving his phone from his back pocket.
