Summary: You had a rough couple of days. JJ got arrested for something he didn't do, they won't let you see him, and you're stuck outside on a nasty bench. But it can't get any worse, right?
Warnings: like sex ig, kinda?sub!JJ, top!reader, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), swearing, mentions of blood
Notes: this ain't my collage. OP just said to say that sooo
You really thought it would be okay this time.
He reassured you countless times before he got into the back of that stupid cop car.
You had camped at the front desk of the police station, begging them to let you see him. You just wanted to know that JJ would be okay.
You stormed out of the door, sobbing miserably into the crusty black bench beside the building.
Just because you couldn't see him doesn't mean you couldn't be close to him.
You couldn't even text him. They took everything he had.
All of this for what? A stupid revenge stunt that wasn't even his fault?
As much as you would hate for Pope to be in that cell instead of JJ, you would still accept it. As long as you could have him back.
Your plan was to watch for his dad, because you knew JJ would receive the beating of his life if he found out.
You found yourself dozing off, eyelids heavy.
When you woke, you were covered in mosquito bites and sweat. It may not have been a good idea to sleep outside in ninety-degree weather.
You drug yourself back to the station, certain it would all be sorted out by then.
"I'm sorry honey, his father checked him out a few hours ago."
Fuck.
Despite the lady's persistent yelling, you sprint off, running faster than you ever had before to reach JJ's house, just a few blocks away.
Ten minutes later-drenched in even more sweat-you made it to his gravel driveway.
Your eyes widened with horror, staring at his dad's truck.
A strangled sound passed your lips, halfway between a sob and a dry heave.
There was blood dripping on the inside of the car's window. Fresh blood.
Your ears started to ring. Your mind could only piece together one word. Please. Please let him be alive. Please don't let you find him be dead in that truck.
Peering through the windows, you were relieved to find that wasn't the case.
Then you heard the rock music blaring through the walls of the house, shaking the ground outside.
JJ taught you a way to climb through his window so you wouldn't have to go through the door to sneak in.
You almost wanted to crawl back out after hearing everything.
"None of this would've happened if your mother was here! You're a mistake, and now I gotta pay for it!"
"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!" Then there was slamming.
Whether you liked it or not, you needed to make sure your boyfriend wasn't dying.
You found him punching holes in his bedroom walls. At least he was there.
As soon as he saw you, he turned the speaker volume down, then turned back to you.
He teared up before he could even get a word out. "You're not supposed to be here right now." He choked out, but his eyes said otherwise.
You rushed to hug him, sliding down to the ground in the process.
He buried his face deep in your neck, giving you the bear hug of the century.
After just a few minuted of him crying into your shoulder, your shirt reeked.
It smelt like salt, more salt, armpits, feet, and cigarettes.
He sounded so insanely adorable when he asked: "Did you run all the way here in your good jeans?" And then he sniffled. You almost died on the spot.
You pulled back to look at him. You were going to say some cheesy line like 'and I would do it again', but he winced at your touch.
His right eye was bruised so bad you could see the blood pooling inside of it. He had scratches and gashes all over his face. His lip was split.
You stood up quietly, storming over to JJ's bag where you knew he kept his gun.
You swung open his door, muttering "I'm gonna kill that bitch" all the way to where the (*cough*absolute deadbeat) was passed out.
JJ trailed behind you, actually being the voice of reason this time.
"Listen, we could go to prison. As much as I want him dead myself, just please don't do that."
You aimed the gun, shaking, then felt a hand reach from behind you, gently lowering it.
"It's okay", he whispered. "It's okay."
After a little more...selective reasoning, he managed to successfully pull you back to his room.
You would've gone to John B's place, but JJ said he wanted to be 'in the moment' with you, which is why he is currently feeling you up on his bed (not that you're complaining).
He pulls back, just staring at you. "What did I do right in my life for you to choose me?"
"Being you."
He smiles, which is nice to finally see. But, you want more than that. You want to show JJ that he deserves you. He deserves more than you.
You're tired of his grabby teasing.
You yank him in for a kiss, which quickly turns into a make out session, which turns into JJ dry humping you on the bed.
You tug at his pants. "You want these off?"
He nods.
You're hesitant about even initiating anything, considering all the bruising on JJ's face.
He insisted, though.
It takes no time at all for the two of you to be completely naked.
Usually, he'd lead, you making marks all over him. You have a different plan today.
You tap his bicep, making him stop immediately.
"What's wrong?"
"I wanna try something. Lay down."
He raises an eyebrow. "Ya know, I'd love for you to sit on my face, but..."
"I have a better plan"
"Wha-" You sink down onto his hard dick, making JJ yelp.
"Well that was-mmf-a better plan than I expected"
You didn't move, gingerly touching his face.
"You need a break." You state firmly. "Let me do the work for once."
You start to slowly bounce on his cock, taking every inch like you had a million times before.
A wave of pleasure washes over you-mind tempted to go blank-but you push through. This is about him right now.
He starts to fuck you back, thrusting into your wet pussy like he was meant for it.
Not even five minutes later, JJ starts groaning like crazy.
Before you even get a chance to do anything, a spurt of warmth blooms in your stomach.
You both ride out your orgasms, collapsing on top of each other.
"We can agree you're moving out after this right?" You pant, nuzzling into his collarbone."
jj’s arms were wrapped around you, holding you tight as he slept. the thickness of his limbs felt like vines reeling you in, holding you steady. your backside was flush to his bare chest, light snores seeping from his lips. your breathing was sound and light, nonsensical murmurs hung low in the air.
behind you, jj found himself entranced within his dream. not the best place for him to have a wet dream, but he couldn’t help himself. not when his nose was pressed into the back of your hair, inhaling the scent of you, practically intoxicating him.
slowly, maybe even a bit restrained, his hips rolled into you. it caused a low whine to leave his lips, his arms tightening around you ever so slightly. when you shifted back into him, he full on moaned, mouth falling agape.
he kept rutting into you, short and slow movements, letting his bulge grind against your ass amidst his slumber. huffs and whimpers seeped through his lips, eyes fluttering before snapping open. his hips abruptly stopped.
he looked down at where his erection met your ass and groaned. he was throbbing, silently begging to be touched. but he knew he couldn’t keep going, so he turned around.
with his back to yours, he nearly missed the sound of your soft mumble. “jj … why’d you stop?” he could’ve sworn he came in his shorts right then and there.
Summary: Angela goes back to the outerbanks after many years to visit family and enjoy her holiday. Little did she know how much her life was going to change!
Pairing: JJ Maybank x OC
Warnings: mentions of violence and guns, mentions of injuries and trauma, swearing (GIF not mine).
ANGE’S POV
The whole thing should’ve felt like a win.
We found the gold hidden beneath Mrs. Crain’s house, melted down the wheat-shaped bars, and somehow turned centuries-old treasure into cash.
Instead, we ended up at gunpoint in the middle of nowhere. Honestly, that is starting to feel pretty on brand for us.
The thug orders us out of the Twinkie, John B first. The rest of us follow one by one. I’m second last, and JJ climbs out right after me, subtly pushing me behind him.
A second later, we’re facedown on the road with the gun still trained on us. I end up beside JJ. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see his chest rising too fast, his ringed hands gripping his cap tight. He turns his head slightly toward me. I force a weak smile. Terrified, but fine.He gives the smallest nod back.The guy tears through the Twinkie while yelling threats at us, and suddenly it clicks—the pawnshop lady set us up.
I hear movement, then John B shouting, “I got the gun!”JJ’s on his feet first. The rest of us scramble after him. Together they wrestle the guy down, Pope grabbing the gold back while everyone gets at least one hit in. Everyone except me. “Porca troia! (Holy Fuck!)” I mutter under my breath, still trying to process what just happened.
Someone rips off the guy’s bandana. “I know this piece of shit,” JJ says sharply. “He sells coke to my dad.” The guy starts trying to explain himself, but JJ cuts him off with another kick.
“JJ!” I snap. He stops just before John B can pull him back. Then JJ grabs the guy’s wallet, checks the ID, and looks up with a dangerous grin.“There’s one thing I gotta do.” Before anyone can argue, he tells us to get in the car. JJ takes the driver’s seat and peels away toward the address on the license—Barry’s place.
I already know this is about to turn into a whole new kind of trouble.
“Welcome to crackhead wasteland,” Kie mutters as the Twinkie pulls up outside Barry’s place. “I don’t know about this, man,” Pope says. I stay quiet, watching JJ climb out of the van. This feels different from the kegger — more reckless, more personal. “Dude,” Pope calls after him, “why are we at Barry’s?”
“This’ll take just a second,” JJ throws back before disappearing inside. I exhale slowly, already tense. “Someone should probably go after him.”
“You wanna do it?” Kie asks. I hesitate. “No. I don’t think I’m the right person right now.”John B nods once and heads inside after him while the rest of us wait in uneasy silence.
JJ’S POV:
The second I get inside, I start tearing through Barry’s place. Cupboards. Drawers. Shelves. “I know you got a stash around here somewhere,” I mutter, tossing things aside. The front door opens behind me
“Please tell me you actually have a plan,” John B says.
“As thou hath stealeth from us, we shall stealeth from ye.” John B stares blankly. I sigh. “An eye for an eye, John B.”
“That’s a terrible plan.” I shove past him, searching another cupboard. “Guy held a gun to our heads.”
To her.
“And after you rob a drug dealer?” John B asks sharply. “Then what?”
“I’m not scared of this guy.” Finally, I spot a duffel bag shoved onto the top shelf of the closet. “There we go.” I dump stacks of cash onto the bed.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting even.” I reply while I grab the bag and head for the door, but John B catches my arm. “JJ, stop.” I yank free immediately. “If you keep going like this, you’re gonna end up just like your dad—” Everything in me snaps. I slam him against the wall by his shirt. “You watch your mouth.”
“That’s not the point!”
“Isn’t it?” I shoot back. “Aren’t you sick of people screwing us over?” John B doesn’t answer, and honestly, I don’t care if he has one, I walk out the door, straight past him.
ANGE’S POV:
JJ storms back toward the Twinkie carrying a duffel bag, John B right behind him already looking frustrated. “All right,” JJ says tightly, tossing the bag down. “Five grand each for reparations.” That tells me enough.
“So now we’re robbing drug dealers?” Kie asks while Sarah looks horrified beside her. “Barry’s gonna know it was us.” JJ barely reacts. John B reaches for the bag. “The gold’s enough, man.” JJ shoves him back against the Twinkie. “JJ,” I snap. “Let him go.” His chest rises hard with anger, but after a second he steps back.
“What are you gonna do when Barry comes after us?” John B asks. “After all of us?”
“We deal with it,” JJ says flatly. “Yeah? Great plan.”
“I’m not putting it back.” JJ makes no room for arguments.
I stay quiet after that, watching him grip the bag tighter, his jaw locked so hard I think he might crack a tooth. He’s not angry anymore. That’s the problem. John B keeps pushing while Kie and Pope start talking over each other, and I can practically see JJ shutting down more with every word.
Then Pope pushes too far. “Pope,” JJ says, quieter now, “I took the fall for you. You know how much money I owe because of that?”
“I’m paying you back, I didn’t ask you to do it.” Pope shoots back “I know!” JJ snaps before lowering his voice again. “But I did.” Silence settles over all of us. JJ looks away first, tightening his grip on the bag. “I’ll handle it myself.” He turns to leave and, before I can stop myself, I catch his arm.
He stills immediately. “JJ,” I say softly. For a second, everything else seems to fade out. He glances at me finally — quick, almost hesitant — before his gaze drops away again.
“Angela,” he says quietly. “Let go.”
The use of my full name hits harder than it should as I slowly loosen my grip. Without another word, JJ walks off, leaving the rest of us behind and for the first time today, I let him walk away.
We end up at The Wreck a little while later, everyone gathered around one of the outside tables but I don’t sit. Kie watches me for a second before speaking. “Look, he’ll come around, alright? He’s just… doing a JJ thing.” I nod, but it doesn’t help much.
Part of me keeps wondering if I should’ve gone after him. Maybe it wouldn’t have changed anything, but I didn’t even try. Pope eventually steers the conversation back to the gold, and I force myself to focus as they start planning. John B has fishing with Ward tomorrow, which leaves Pope, Kie, and me to organise everything we’ll need to get the rest of the gold out. I listen, adding in suggestions where I can, but my mind keeps drifting back to JJ.
We pulled up to the château in Pope’s truck to grab supplies. Pope and Kie had been talking when I noticed fairy lights flickering in the distance.
“Che cazzo?” I muttered. (What the fuck), Pope stopped beside me. “What the hell?”
“Who the hell is that?” Kie asked as we followed the sound of music and running water. I froze. Fairy lights covered the yard. Music played softly. And right in the middle sat a steaming jacuzzi with… JJ inside.
“JJ, what…?” I whispered. He grinned, champagne glass in hand. “I got a jet going straight in my butt right now.”
Pope blinked. “Oh, he’s drunk.”
“Y’all should get in immediately, you hear me?” JJ announced. “This is luxury.”
“JJ, what is this?” I asked.
“What does it look like, Angel? It’s a hot tub.”
“How much did this cost?” Pope asked. JJ shrugged. “Generator, petrol, express delivery…” He winced. “Pretty much all of it.” The smile fell from my face. “All of it?” Pope repeated.
“Yeah.”
“You spent all the money?” Kie asked. “Burned a hole right through my pocket.” He spread his arms. “But come on, guys. Look at this. Finest in jet-based massage therapy.”
“JJ, are you insane?” Pope muttered.
“Kie, what?” JJ snapped when she just stared. Then he looked at me. “Come on, Angel, you’ve gotta get in. What’s on your mind, beautiful?” Beautiful. That was new.
“JJ…” I said softly. “Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“You could’ve used this money for restitution.”
“Or given it to charity,” Kie added. “You could’ve helped us get supplies for the well,” Pope said. “Okay, well, you know what? I didn’t do that!” He stood up and I forgot how to breathe.
Bruises. Huge bruises covered the lower half of his chest.
“I got a hot tub!” he shouted. “For my friends.” Then he shook his head, the smile slipping. “Nah. Screw friends.” He looked at all of us. “I got a hot tub for my family.” His voice cracked and so did something in me.
“Guys, look what I did for you.” He laughed weakly. “Look at this.” He turned around in the water.
“JJ…” My voice broke. “No, Angel.” He pointed at me. “No emotional stuff. We’re having a good time, okay?” But the smile wasn’t there anymore. “I mean…” His voice dropped. “It’s sweet, right?” His eyes found mine. And suddenly he didn’t look drunk anymore. He looked scared. “Everything’s just…” He swallowed. “Just get in.”Before I even realised it, I was climbing into the stupid hot tub fully clothed.
The second I stepped in, JJ grabbed me.
Hard.
“I just couldn’t do it,” he said, voice breaking. I held him. “I’m sorry, Angel.” I shook my head as his grip tightened. “I can’t take him anymore,” he choked out. “I was gonna kill him.”
“JJ—”
“I wanted to. I just—he wouldn’t stop talking and I snapped.”
“Hey.” He stopped. “I can’t take him anymore.” he said. I nodded once, holding him tighter. He dropped his head into my shoulder. “I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted to do the right thing.”
“We know, J,” Kie said.
A moment later, Pope climbed out, Kie following to get towels. And then it was just us, the water hummed while neither of us moved.
“What am I supposed to do now?”
“Tomorrow, we will figure it out.” He nodded slightly. It was quiet again, but lighter now. JJ shifted, still holding my hand as he rubbed a hand down his face. “Okay,” he muttered. “We should probably not be in here anymore.”
“Probably not.” He gave a small crooked look. “Solid agreement.”
After a beat, I stepped back. “Come on.”
“Where?”
“Out.” He blinked. “I can find my own way out.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you can.”
“That was rude.”
“You’ll survive.” He scoffed but followed me out.
“Ange,” he said behind me. “You’re soaked.”
“Really? Couldn’t tell.” He shook his head, smiling as he climbed out after me. We stood there for a second, both dripping and exhausted. “So what now?” he asked. “Well,” I said, glancing toward the chateau, “once those towels that are apparently still being made at the factory arrive…” JJ tried not to laugh—and failed. “You’re coming with me.”
“Ange, I can sleep at John B’s.”
“No.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“No.”
“I don’t wanna be a bur—”
“Finish that sentence and I’ll drown you in this stupid hot tub.”
He laughed softly. “Violence. Nice.”
“Good luck arguing with me, Maybank. I was raised by Italians, remember?” That got a real smile out of him. “God help us all.”
“Exactly.”
“Oh thank god,” I muttered as I spotted Kie walking over with towels. “I was about to send out a search party.” We all laughed, grabbing towels and heading inside. JJ grabbed a few things, Kie raising an eyebrow but not asking, we said goodbye and started walking.
After a while, he sighed like he was thinking too hard. “Seriously though… where the hell did you come from?” I smiled. “Australia.” He huffed a laugh. “No, smartass.”
“Sorry. Thought we were doing obvious questions.” He shook his head, still smiling,“I mean you.” I shrugged. “Pretty sure Kie introduced us at a bonfire.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yeah,” I said softly. Then a smile crept onto my face. “Actually, if I remember correctly, somebody spent our first meeting interrogating me.” He groaned immediately, “I wouldn’t call it an interrogation.”
“And then wandered off because maintaining his reputation was very important.”
“No.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“This is bullying.”
“This is consequences. Oh and apparently somebody forgot my name.” His head snapped up. “I remembered your name.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah.”
“Starts with an A, right?” He groaned so loudly, I burst out laughing. “Kie talks too much.”
“So it is true?”
“No!”
“It absolutely is.”
“I knew your name!”
“Mhm.”
“I did!”
“Sure you did, pretty boy.” He froze. “Pretty boy?” I shrugged. “You called me beautiful first. Seems fair.” He smiled—really smiled—and for the first time that night, I saw just JJ again, not the bruises or the tears.
The second the door opens, the smell hits first — coffee still hanging in the air, even though it’s late, and something slow-cooked drifting from the kitchen that makes the whole place feel warm and lived-in.
The TV in the living room hums with a live football match. My dad and uncle sit at the table mid-game, cards scattered between them.
“Late one,” my uncle calls without looking up. “Yeah,” I answer.
“Angela,” my dad says, eyes still on the screen. “Hi Papà.” A pass goes wide and I click my tongue. “He had that run.”
“Troppo lento,” my dad mutters. (Too slow.) “Non è lento,” I shoot back automatically. “È indeciso.” (He’s not slow, he’s indecisive.)
And then we say it together. “Deve tirare.” (He has to shoot.) The shot comes late. Blocked and we both exhale “Idiota,” (idiot) my dad mutters “I know,” I sigh, behind me, JJ shifts quietly.
My mum appears from the kitchen doorway, wiping her hands. “Hey, love.” Then she spots him. “Oh. Hi.”
“Hi,” JJ says politely.
“You must be JJ.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll put the kettle on,” she says warmly, disappearing back into the kitchen before he can argue. Bella wanders out, messy hair and all. “Hey, JJ.”
“Hey.”
“Still one-all?”
“Unfortunately,” I mutter. Bella groans and comes to stand beside me.“They’ve been awful.”
“Tell me about it.” JJ ends up beside us without meaning to. A break forms. All three of us lean forward.
“No—” The shot flies wide. “Oh, come on,” Bella whispers. “Idiota,” Dad mutters from the couch. “Exactly!” Bella and I whisper together.
“Shhh!” Mum calls from the kitchen. “Babies are asleep!” We all bite back our laughter. Dad finally glances over his cards and spots JJ properly. “I remember you, it’s JJ right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You walked my girls home that night.” JJ nods. “Yeah.” Dad studies him for a second. Then nods once. “Good man. Come in.” And just like that, he turns back to the game. Bella bumps my shoulder. “They’re hopeless.”
“They still have twenty minutes.”
“Blind faith.”
“Experience.” JJ snorts softly beside us. I smile and tilt my head toward the hallway. “Come on.” He follows me.
JJ’s POV
I don’t know what I expected. Maybe awkward silence. Questions. A dad with a shotgun. Not… this.
Coffee at midnight. Football arguments in two languages. Her mum deciding I needed tea before I even sat down.Bella treating me like I’d just come back from the store instead of showing up at nearly midnight. Her dad saying, Good man, and meaning it.
Nobody stopped what they were doing when we walked in.Nobody made a fuss.They just… made room.And somehow, without anybody saying it, they made room for me too. I looked at Ange walking ahead of me down the hall, listening to her arguing with Bella over whether the striker was useless or just stupid.
And for the first time all night—
For the first time since everything with my dad—
Something in my chest didn’t hurt quite so much. I wasn’t sure what that feeling was. But I knew one thing. I didn’t want to leave.
KSJDKDBDNJEHSHS THE OLD JJ ONESHOT WAS SO GREAT, i'm surprised i didn't expect you to have the audacy to put reader's as jhon b's and sarah's daughter specifically (and then my mind went crazy with the idea specially when i remembered how jj would be reader's godfather since canonically jhon b asks him that- oopsie). I loved it. If you ever feel like returning to that au feel more than encouraged.
God bless the us sluts
── .✦ dad's best friend! dilf! jj x reader
previous dilf! jj
⊹ ࣪ ۶ৎ cw; the reader's john b and sarah's daughter, age gap (the reader is a consenting adult), piece of written p*rn with barely any plot. i'm emptying my drafts and i have very old requests i've never gotten to write for some reason so here's another part of dilf! jj because he's SO hot. ₊˚⊹ ᰔ
The Chateau had a smell that was etched into your very soul: salt, cedar, and the faint, lingering scent of your father’s fishing gear. It was the smell of home, of safety. But lately, a new scent had begun to weave its way into the tapestry of your childhood: motor oil, stale coffee, and JJ Maybank. At twenty, you were supposed to have outgrown your childhood home, but a gap year had turned into two, and you were still here, watching the sunsets over the marsh, and watching him.
Your dad, John B, had made JJ your godfather the day you were born, a request made with a beer in one hand and a profound, unshakeable trust in the other. For years, JJ was just "Uncle JJ," the wild-haired man who’d toss you in the ocean, teach you how to bait a hook, and sneak you sips of his beer when your parents weren’t looking. He was a legend, a story, a permanent fixture in the background of your life.
↳ ❝ [masterlist] ¡! ❞
But then you’d grown up. Your body had curved in ways that made his eyes linger a second too long. Your laughter had deepened, and you’d caught him watching you from across the bonfire, a look in his eyes that was far from uncle-like. The dynamic had shifted, a subtle, seismic change that you both felt but never acknowledged. You were his goddaughter, the one person he was supposed to protect, not the one he was supposed to desire. That line, once a thick, solid wall, had become a gossamer thread, stretched taut with unspoken words and forbidden glances.
The tension finally snapped on a sweltering August night. A summer storm was rolling in, the air thick and heavy, promising a deluge. You were on the porch, watching the lightning crack across the sky, when JJ’s old van rumbled up the driveway. He’d been working late at the garage, and he looked it. His t-shirt was dark with sweat and grease, his hair was a mess, and a streak of oil was smudged across his sharp cheekbone. He looked exhausted, and utterly, devastatingly handsome.
“Hey, kid,” he grunted, jogging up the porch steps. “Your old man around?”
“Nah, he and Sarah took the boat out. Said they’d be back before the storm hit,” you replied, your voice a little too high. You were suddenly acutely aware of the thin strap of your tank top and the short length of your denim shorts.
He nodded, his gaze sweeping over you, a slow, deliberate perusal that made your skin prickle with heat. “Good. Means I got you all to myself for a bit.” He didn’t wait for an invitation, just collapsed into the wicker chair beside you, leaning his head back with a groan. “Fuck, I’m gettin’ too old for this shit.”
You couldn’t help but stare at the line of his throat, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. You could see the frantic pulse beating in his neck. “You’re not old,” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them.
He cracked an eye open, a small, wry smile playing on his lips. “Oh yeah? What am I then?”
“Just… experienced,” you managed, your cheeks flushing.
He let out a low, raspy laugh. “Is that what we’re callin’ it now?” He sat up, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. The space between you crackled with electricity. “You know, I remember the day you were born. Your dad, he was a mess. Crying and everything. He looked at me, this tiny little screamin’ thing in his arms, and he made me promise I’d always look out for you.”
Your heart hammered against your ribs. “I know.”
“Yeah, well,” he said, his voice dropping to a low, intimate murmur. “I don’t think this is what he had in mind.”
And then he was kissing you. It wasn’t gentle or tentative. It was a desperate, hungry kiss, a decade of pent-up frustration and forbidden longing crashing down on you. His lips were firm and demanding, tasting faintly of mint and the cheap coffee he drank by the gallon. His hand came up to cup the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair, holding you in place. You kissed him back with just as much desperation, your hands fisting in the front of his grease-stained shirt.
He pulled back, his breathing ragged, his blue eyes burning with an intensity that made your stomach clench. “We shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he breathed, but his actions betrayed his words. He stood up, pulling you to your feet, and backed you up against the porch railing. The wood was warm and solid against your back.
“Then stop,” you challenged, your voice a shaky whisper.
He shook his head, a dark, humorless laugh escaping his lips. “Can’t. Been wantin’ this for too long.”
His hands were on you then, large and calloused, roaming over your body with a possessive urgency. He slid one hand up your side, his thumb brushing the underside of your breast, sending a jolt of pleasure straight through you. His other hand gripped your hip, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the hard, thick ridge of his cock pressing against your stomach, a testament to his desire. The sheer size of him was intimidating, a thrilling, terrifying prospect that made your head spin.
He hooked his fingers into the neckline of your tank top, his knuckles brushing against your collarbone. “I’ve thought about this,” he murmured, his eyes dark with lust. “Thought about what you’d look like under these little clothes you wear.”
With one sharp, deliberate tug, he ripped your tank top down the middle. The fabric gave way with a satisfying tear, and the cool night air hit your exposed skin. He didn’t give you a moment to process it before his mouth was on your breast, his hot, wet tongue swirling around your nipple. He sucked hard, his teeth grazing the sensitive peak, and a cry escaped your lips.
“Shh,” he grunted, his voice muffled against your skin. “Don’t want the neighbors hearin’ what a dirty girl you are for your godfather.”
The word “godfather” was a jolt, a shocking, illicit thrill that only heightened your arousal. He was right. This was wrong, so incredibly wrong, but it felt more right than anything ever had.
He abandoned your breast, his lips trailing a fiery path up your chest, to your neck, to your ear. “Gonna take you inside,” he growled, his hands gripping your thighs. “Gonna spread you out on your bed and show you what it feels like to be properly fucked.”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He lifted you as if you weighed nothing, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. He carried you inside, kicking the door shut behind him. He didn’t bother with the lights, just navigated the familiar darkness of the Chateau with an ease that was both comforting and terrifying. He kicked open the door to your bedroom, a space that had always been your sanctuary, and laid you down on your bed.
He stood over you, his silhouette a large, imposing figure in the moonlight filtering through your window. He stripped off his ruined t-shirt, revealing the hard, defined planes of his chest and stomach. He was all muscle and golden skin, a testament to a life lived under the sun.
He crawled onto the bed, caging you in with his body. He unbuttoned your shorts, sliding them down your legs, along with your panties. He spread your thighs, his eyes fixing on the slick heat between them.
“Look at that,” he groaned, his voice thick with awe. “All this for me.” He slid one long, thick finger through your folds, and the sensation was almost too much. You were already so wet, so ready for him. He circled your clit with a maddening slowness, his eyes locked on your face, watching every flicker of pleasure.
“Please,” you whimpered, your hips bucking involuntarily.
“Please what?” he demanded, his tone stern. “Please what, sweetheart?”
“Please, JJ… more.”
He rewarded you by sinking one finger inside you. The stretch was immediate, a delicious ache that had you arching your back. He pumped it in and out slowly, deliberately, his thumb still teasing your clit. It was a tantalizing taste of what you wanted, and it was driving you insane.
“You’re so tight,” he groaned, adding a second finger. The stretch intensified, a burning pleasure that had you mewling. “Gonna feel so fuckin’ good around my cock.”
He began to scissor his fingers, stretching you, preparing you. The heel of his hand pressed against your clit with every thrust, building the pressure inside you to an unbearable peak. You were so close, right on the edge, your hands fisting the sheets beneath you.
“That’s it, come on,” he urged, his voice a low rumble. “Come for me, let me feel it.”
Your orgasm crashed over you, a blinding, intense wave that stole your breath. You cried out, your body convulsing around his fingers. But he didn’t stop. He kept pumping them, his thumb rubbing your clit in relentless circles, pushing you through the first orgasm and straight into a second, more intense one.
“Too much,” you gasped, trying to squirm away from the overwhelming stimulation. “JJ, please, it’s too much!”
His free hand shot out, pinning your hip to the bed. “I’m not done with you yet,” he growled, his fingers curling inside you to stroke that sensitive spot deep within. “You wanted this, remember? You wanted me. Now you’re gonna take everything I give you.”
The overstimulation was a blinding, white-hot pleasure-pain that had you seeing stars. He was relentless, his fingers a blur of motion, his thumb a relentless pressure on your clit. You were completely at his mercy, your body a vessel for his pleasure, and the thought sent another gush of arousal through you. He leaned down, his mouth hot against your ear, sucking a dark mark into your skin as he continued his assault on your senses.
He brought you to the brink again, your body shaking uncontrollably, your vision blurring with tears of pleasure. And just as you were about to tip over the edge, he pulled his fingers away completely.
A desperate, frustrated cry escaped your lips. “No! Please, JJ, don’t stop!”
He just laughed, a low, wicked sound. He brought his glistening fingers to his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours as he licked them clean. “Taste fuckin’ incredible,” he groaned. “But you’re not coming again until I’m buried so deep inside you you can feel me in your throat.”
He quickly shed his jeans and boxers, and his cock sprang free, thick and heavy, curving up towards his stomach. The size of it stole the air from your lungs. It was flushed and angry-looking, the tip already beading with precum, and it was far bigger than anything you had ever taken. The sheer anatomical reality of him was both terrifying and intoxicating.
He gripped your hips, pulling you to the very edge of the bed. The head of his cock nudged against your entrance, hot and insistent. “Gonna split you open, sweetheart,” he warned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. “Gonna ruin you for anyone else.”
He pushed inside, and it was a slow, relentless stretch. Your body struggled to accommodate him, a burning, overwhelming fullness that bordered on pain. He was huge, and every inch he sank into you felt like a revelation. He let out a guttural groan, his head falling forward against your shoulder.
“Fuck… so tight. Takin’ me so good,” he gritted out, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. He gave you a moment to adjust, his thumb stroking soothing circles on your hip, a stark contrast to the punishing stretch between your legs.
Then, he began to move. He pulled out almost all the way before slamming back in, a deep, powerful thrust that knocked the breath out of you. He set a brutal, punishing rhythm, his hips snapping against yours with enough force to make the bed frame slam against the wall. Every thrust hit you impossibly deep, stroking places inside you you didn’t even know existed. The initial pain melted into an all-consuming pleasure, so intense it was almost painful.
He manhandled you effortlessly, one hand sliding up your back to arch it, forcing you to take him even deeper. His other hand tangled in your hair, tugging your head back so he could devour your mouth in a messy, possessive kiss. It was all teeth and tongue, a desperate, claiming act that left you dizzy.
“You feel that?” he growled against your lips, his thrusts becoming harder, more erratic. “That’s my pussy now. You hear me? Mine.”
You could only moan in response, your nails digging into his shoulders, leaving red crescents in his skin. The pressure was building again, that familiar coil tightening in your stomach, but this time it was different. It was bigger, more powerful, a tidal wave gathering strength.
“Please,” you sobbed, tears of pleasure streaming down your face. “Please, JJ, can I come? Please let me come.”
He slowed his pace, grinding into you, his pelvic bone rubbing against your clit with every devastating roll of his hips. “Look at me,” he commanded, his voice rough. You forced your eyes open to meet his intense, burning gaze. “You’re my goddaughter. My best friend’s little girl. And you’re underneath me, beggin’ for my cock. You wanna come? Come for me. Now.”
That was it. The filthy, taboo confession was all it took. Your orgasm ripped through you with the force of a hurricane, a violent, shattering release that had you screaming his name. Your walls clenched around him like a vise, your body shaking uncontrollably as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you.
He fucked you through it, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chased his own release. With a final, deep roar, he buried himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he spilled himself deep within you. The feeling of his hot release filling you was the final push, triggering one last, smaller orgasm that left you a boneless, trembling mess.
He collapsed against you, his weight a welcome, grounding pressure. You were both breathing heavily, the only sounds in the room the ragged sound of your breathing and the distant rumble of thunder. After a long moment, he pushed himself up, his gaze softening as he looked down at you. He gently brushed a stray strand of hair from your sweaty forehead.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice a low, gentle rumble, a stark contrast to the dominant man from moments before.
You could only manage a weak nod, a blissed-out smile spreading across your face. He chuckled, leaning down to press a surprisingly soft kiss to your lips.
“Good,” he murmured, pulling out slowly and helping you sit up. He grabbed a discarded t-shirt from your floor and gently cleaned you up, his touch infinitely tender. “Because I’m not done with you yet. Not by a long shot.”
He lay down beside you, pulling you into his arms. The storm outside was finally breaking, the rain lashing against the windows. But inside, the storm was just beginning. You were his goddaughter, his best friend’s little girl. And you were his. And as you lay there in his arms, you knew that nothing would ever be the same again.
Heeey! Can you do a JJ x Reader where the Reader is actually a kook who ran away and is living on the Pogue side
They find out they’re expecting, and JJ goe into absolute overdrive mode like he’s stealing baby supplies from the Island Club and trying to build a nursery in an old shipwreck
It’s chaotic and stressful but secretly really sweet because he’s so determined to be a better dad than Luke ma shayla
✦ THE SHORELINE CRADLE
“Reader and JJ are expecting, and JJ is determined to do everything to be nothing like his dad.”
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
𓍢ִ໋🌹͙֒ JJ Maybank x Reader ┊ fluff/comfort┊ 0.7k words
The rain hit the tin roof of the Chateau in a steady, drum-like rhythm, but inside, the only sound was JJ pacing back and forth across the creaking floorboards.
When you had first left Figure Eight behind, choosing a cramped room on the Cut over the cold perfection of your parents' estate, you thought you knew what chaos felt like. But nothing in your life had prepared you for the look on JJ Maybank’s face the moment you showed him the positive test.
It hadn't been anger or panic. It had been an immediate, intense focus that shifted his entire universe in a fraction of a second.
"Okay," JJ muttered to himself for the fifth time that morning, running a hand through his messy hair as he shuffled through a pile of stolen items on the porch. "Okay, we need a plan. A master plan."
"JJ," you said softly, leaning against the doorframe, watching him attempt to organize three boxes of high-end organic baby wipes, a pink velvet blanket, and a brass coat rack he had somehow dragged from the Island Club's storage room. "You can't just take stuff from the club. If my dad sees you—"
"Your dad isn't finding out about anything," JJ interrupted, turning around with wide, resolute eyes. He grabbed your shoulders, gentle as always, though his hands were trembling slightly. "I'm handling it. I swear to you, I've got this. You aren't going back to Figure Eight, and this kid isn't going to lack a single thing."
You looked down at the pile. "Where did you even get a brass coat rack?"
"It looked expensive!" JJ insisted defensively, before his shoulders dropped a fraction. "Look, the Chateau is too loud. John B is always around, Pope's going to hyperventilate about safety codes, and Big John's ghost is probably hanging around somewhere. We need our own place."
Before you could ask what he meant, he grabbed your hand and led you down to the marsh.
Tucked away in the creek, half-buried in the mud and overgrown with vines, sat the rusted hull of an abandoned wooden fishing boat. It had been sitting there since Hurricane Agatha, forgotten by everyone on the island—except JJ.
Inside the sheltered deck, he had already begun working. Swept clean of salt and leaves, the small cabin was lined with mismatched lanterns, stacks of stolen plush towels from the country club, and a makeshift crib he had clearly spent all night hammering together out of salvaged driftwood. It was uneven, slightly crooked, but built with every ounce of care he possessed.
You stood in the entrance, speechlessly taking in the sight of it.
"I know it's not a house in Figure Eight," JJ said quietly from behind you, his voice losing its frantic edge, suddenly sounding raw and vulnerable. He stared at the floorboards, pulling nervously at the hem of his shirt. "I know it's just an old boat. But... I'm going to make it safe. I'll sand down every single edge so there are no splinters. I'll get a real mattress. I'll do whatever it takes."
He swallowed hard, looking up at you with eyes full of a fierce, terrifying determination.
"My dad... Luke never cared if the roof was leaking. He never cared if I had food, or if I was terrified," JJ whispered, his voice cracking on his father's name. "I am not going to be him. I'm going to be better. I'm going to give this kid everything I never had, even if I have to build it with my own hands."
The tight weight in your chest finally dissolved. You stepped across the cabin floor, stepping over a box of snatched baby booties, and wrapped your arms tightly around his neck.
JJ froze for a second before his arms locked around your waist, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You could feel the heavy, uneven rise and fall of his chest as the sheer panic of the last twenty-four hours began to melt into relief.
"You're already better than him, JJ," you murmured into his shoulder, holding him tight against the quiet hum of the marsh. "You don't have to steal the whole island to prove it."
He let out a short, watery laugh against your skin, his hands tightening around you protectively.
"Maybe not the whole island," he mumbled softly. "But definitely a better crib."
JJ x Reader where they get stranded on a deserted island separate from the rest of the Pogues, o treasure, no boats, just survival and JJ starts to spiral because he can’t provide or protect the reader from the elements, and he eventually tries to push them away so they’ll focus on their own survival instead of worrying about his mental breakdown but reader won’t let that happen
✦ WHERE THE SALT SETTLES
“JJ and Reader are stranded on an island, separate from the others, and nothing there. JJ tries to push Reader away because he can’t provide.”
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
𓍢ִ໋🌹͙֒ JJ Maybank x Reader ┊ Fluff, angst/comfort ┊ 0.7k words
The tropical sun beat down relentlessly on the stretch of sand, washing out the horizon where the endless ocean met the sky. There was no wreck of a boat, no gold bullion buried under roots, and no sign of the rest of the crew. Just the raw, relentless salt air and a island that felt entirely indifferent to whether either of you made it to the next morning.
You had managed to gather a bundle of damp driftwood near the edge of the tree line, sitting on a sun-bleached log to scrape away the soaked bark with a sharp shell. A few feet away, JJ paced the perimeter of the camp for what felt like the hundredth time. His shirt was torn at the shoulder, his hands caked in dried mud and sea salt, and his eyes darted nervously between the dense jungle and the crashing surf.
For two days, he had barely slept. Every attempt to build a proper shelter had collapsed under the afternoon wind, and the meager stash of coconuts was already running low.
"JJ, sit down for a minute," you said gently, keeping your tone quiet so as not to startle him. "You're going to wear yourself out before the sun even sets."
He stopped mid-step, his jaw clenching tightly. He did not look at you. Instead, he stared out at the water, his arms crossed tightly against his chest, his shoulders tense as steel cables.
"I should have found fresh water by now," he muttered, his voice sharp and ragged around the edges. "John B would have mapped out the interior. Pope would have figured out a rainwater catch. I can't even get a decent roof over our heads."
"We have shelter from the wind, JJ. We're doing fine," you reasoned, placing the shell down and stepping closer to him.
He flinched back a step, putting space between you, his eyes wild with a mixture of exhaustion and deep-seated guilt. The bravado he usually wore like armor had completely cracked, leaving behind the raw terror of a boy who believed his only value was his ability to fight off danger.
"No, we're not fine!" JJ snapped, his voice cracking against the sound of the ocean. He ran a hand through his matted hair, tugging at the ends in frustration. "You're out here starving because I didn't check the fuel gauge, because I couldn't keep us on course. I'm useless out here. I can't protect you from a storm, I can't build a boat, and I sure as hell can't get us home."
"JJ, stop," you said, stepping forward again, refusing to let him retreat.
"No, you need to listen to me!" he yelled, backing away toward the shadows of the tree line. "Stop looking at me like I'm going to figure this out. You need to focus on yourself. Stop wasting your time trying to fix me or check on me. Save your strength. Find food for yourself, build your own shelter, because if you rely on me, you're going to get hurt."
He turned his back, preparing to disappear into the dense foliage, trying to cut the line before he felt he failed you entirely.
You didn't hesitate. You ran across the sand and grabbed his wrist, pulling him back with every bit of strength you had left.
"Don't you dare walk away," you said, forcing him to meet your gaze.
"I'm dragging you down," he choked out, his eyes shining with unshed tears as he tried to pull his arm back, though his grip was weak. "I always do."
"You are the only reason I'm not panicking right now," you whispered, holding tight to his hand, refusing to let go. "I don't need you to be a hero, JJ. I don't need you to fix the whole island or build a palace. I just need you here with me. We do this together or not at all."
JJ stared at you, his breathing heavy, the wall of defense he had built up finally collapsing under the weight of your words. The harshness drained from his posture, leaving him looking smaller, human, and utterly exhausted.
Slowly, his fingers wrapped around yours, gripping your hand like a lifeline in the middle of the sea.
"I'm scared," he whispered, admitting it aloud for the first time since the waves had washed you ashore.
"I know," you replied softly, stepping into his space and wrapping your arms around his waist. "I am too. But we're still here."
JJ dropped his chin onto your shoulder, letting out a long, trembling breath, his arms tightening around you as the quiet of the island settled back in. You held him firmly against the tide, proving that no matter how hard he tried to push, you weren't going anywhere.
