ᯓ★ You're mine.
⋆˚꩜｡ pairing : fem!reader x toxic!ex!JJ MAYBANK.
⋆˚꩜｡ summary : maybe getting picked up by your jealous ex from a party — and getting flirted with in front of said ex — wasn't the best idea. now he's gotta remind you who you belong to, right? ꒰ wc .ᐟ 4.0k ꒱
⋆˚꩜｡ warnings : dark!jj, jealous!jj, mean!jj mentions of alcohol n weed, reader is wasted, reader being burnt by a blunt, jj being aggressive, jj being told no n obvs not stopping, lowk groping, sort of elicitation to dubcon at the end. please be aware of what you read !
♫ now playing : before we say goodbye, artemas.
“you gonna tell me who he was then, huh?” JJ asks, his brows furrowed and jaw ticking, while raked-through strands falling in front of his narrowed eyes. honestly your more than half out of it — courtesy to the sheer amount of alcohol you’ve had tonight — you can’t quite understand what he’s saying, or even fight back as his calloused finger tips dig into your knees when he pulls your legs over his own. Fuck, your head’s pounding.
“what’re you on about JJ??” you whine, squirming slightly in his warm lap, trying to keep your hazy eyes open.
“that random fuckin’—“ he starts, getting cut off as your head lolls off to the side, seemingly uninterested in the conversation. he’s having none of it. your ex snaps one hand to your chin — the other’s grip tightening around somewhere around your leg — roughly forcing you to face his angered eyes as he continues lowly, “look at me— that fuckin’ kook kid. the one you were flirtin’ with, in front of everyone. all smiley ‘n’ gigglin’, as if you’re not fuckin’ mine.”
the clench he has around your jaw is boarding painful — not that he cares, he’s seemingly too enthralled by rage to give a fuck that he’s hurting you — and you can’t help but yelp at the swiftness of it all. weren’t you just sat comfortably between your friends, laughing and talking like you should be, what feels like only a few minutes ago? you attempt meekly to pry his ring-clad fingers from your face, but it only makes it worse. you should’ve anticipated that. you protest, still wriggling around to escape his wrath, “‘m not yours. we broke up. i wasn’t even flirtin’ with the guy—”
“yeah right. tell me then princess, why’d you call me when you were too fucked up t’drive?” he spits, leaning down to really get in your face. you splutter feebly, eyes wide, trying to come up with the reason. why had you called JJ? the slurry of drunken excuses pouring in your mind gets cut off, by none other then the blonde’s continued jealousy, “why don’tcha tell me why you were flirtin’ with the douche while you’re at it?”
“i wasn’t!! he was flirtin’ with me!!!” this time it comes out as a whimper, not that you exactly intend it to. your skin under his feels like it has to be raw red by now, and it only makes a prickle of tears form around your closing eyes.
“hey, look at me,” he repeats, squeezing at your flesh, this time with a shot more of silent rage that’s spilling out from him. his voice is low, eyes wide and manic, and you can feel just how quick his heartbeat is against your body as he speaks; “i saw it with my own two eyes, baby: you getting another drink ‘n’ laughin’ ‘n’ grinnin’ at the guy, chattin’ all happy to him. what could possibly be so interestin’? go on , tell me. i dunno, i think if i was bein’ all friendly ‘n’ shit to random kook girls you would have a hissy fit, but okay. y’know no one will love you like i do, right princess? ‘cuz i love you so much i put up with all this shit.”
he’s rambling. you can’t even keep up with his envious babbles when you’re not totally wasted, so you can only imagine what it’s like now. you blink up at the blonde who’s now rolling his eyes for some reason — overwhelmingly confused — trying to stop him from overthinking further, “JJ—“
“stop squirmin’.” it’s not an option; it’s a command, a necessity. you instantly still in the blonde’s lap, tucking your bottom lip nervously between your teeth as he stares down at you — daring you to start again. you swallow, using your eyes to follow as his hand slips away from your jaw, instead to pull out a blunt from fuck knows where. he’s getting high. he always gets high right? this is a good sign. you try once again to explain yourself, stuttering at each syllable, “i swear—“
“nah nah nah, don’t wanna hear anymore lame excuses come outta that pretty mouth. jus’ wanna hear you admit it, ‘cuz c’mon. you tryna make me jealous or some shit? it was so obvious,” he mutters as he engulfs the end of the blunt with his favourite lighter — the one with ‘JJ’ carved into the front — and takes a few puffs. he’s still chattering about something you can’t hear, purely from how bad your head’s aching right now — the same aching that’s only getting worse from the thick scent of weed escaping your ex’s lips.
you’re so out of it, you don’t particularly notice as the scruffy blonde peels your wrist away from where it’s tucked into your lap and holds it up, for what feels like an eternity. you’re too focused on the hazy lights above you, and the low grumble coming from the man who’s still got you propped across his lap, to realise what’s happening. when you notice the buzz from JJ die down, along with the smoke emanating from his lips, you finally clock he’s doing something.
“JJ— what’re you doin’—??” you hum, watching as he flicks some ash from the tip of the blunt onto your skin. it falls, the embers tickle at your skin in a way that still makes you try to pull your arm back. you do; your arm jolts back, but JJ’s ready for that: his fingers around your wrist press into the bone hard enough that you know it’s going to leave reddened marks, but it’s nowhere near as harsh as he’s going to be, once he starts teasing the end of the still-lit joint against your skin.
he presses down, hard.
you gasp, a wave of pain from the fire and his grip on you mixing intoxicatingly with the alcohol in your veins, making the whole sensation so much worse. you curl into his lap, into yourself, like a threatened animal, letting out whimpers that only make JJ coo: “jus’ remindin’ you who you really belong to, sweetgirl. sh, sh, sh, it hurts less if y’stop fuckin’ squirmin’.”
“jus’ admit it. c’mon, i know you can do it,” he encourages — almost sickeningly sweet — as he digs the blunt further into your skin. you try to resist; you really do, but the overwhelming smell of the blonde’s cheap cologne, the weed, the taste of beer still present in your mouth weakens you to the point where you can only meekly thrash against him. your hand comes to his wrist, the one pressing the fire against you, and you try to push it off. surprise, surprise, it doesn’t work. much like how squeaking doesn’t either, “ow— JJ that hurts—!!”
he sinks the blunt just that fraction deeper into flesh, but it makes all the difference. you squirm; you flounder; you feel tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, but it does nothing to ease JJ — both his anger and his actions — or the burning against your wrist. if anything, it eggs him on even further, “i know it does. hurts the same way i do whenever you flirt with other guys, ‘cuz that’s what you were doin’, wasn’t it?”
“yesyesyes— mhm, i was. please, stop JJ—!” you whine, tears now starting to pour down your face. you relax almost instantly as the blunt is removed from your skin — placed fuck knows where, but it’s a surprise it’s not right back into his mouth. the lingering heat from the burn remains still on your wrist, and you’d be lying if you said it doesn’t hurt anymore, but at least it’s less pressure, right?
you’re so blissed out in your current state — arms no longer flailing, core eased, thighs slumping back against his as you unfurl — you don’t even notice as he brings the fresh wound towards his mouth. another whine escapes your lips; this time it’s almost graphic at the sensation of JJ lapping at the burn, kissing and tonguing away the last few drips of pain sticking to you. he growls against your skin, encouraging the sounds leaving you, “good. you did so well f’me. was that really so hard, princess? all you gotta do is listen to papa j instead of bein’ a brat.”
“that hurt,” you wince. you can’t believe how you’re melting into whatever fucked up version of aftercare this is, but you can’t deny that the feeling of the blonde becoming so gentle, so soft is borderline euphoric. he keeps kissing away at the mark he’s just made, muttering half-assed apologies against your skin: “i know, i know. ‘m sorry, but you did so well, didn’tcha? no need to cry ‘bout it, my lil’ crybaby.”
one hand — the one that isn’t still wrapped around your wrist, locking it in place as if his tongue easing the sting will make the whole situation valid — moves to gently cup your cheek. you gaze up at him drunkenly, feeling your lashes flutter as his calloused thumb swipes away a tear that had cascaded down your face. but the sweetness JJ’s gotten you used to is short-lived; that lilting quality, which always means he’s up to no good, returns once again, “i mean, you are mine, ain’tcha? no one can love you like i do, princess.”
your eyes widen once again as he hangs the blunt once more over a new spot of your wrist. when did he get that thing again? you know what he’s doing instantly, and you just as instantly start to fight it the best you can in your sleepy, intoxicated state: “JJ, nono— what’re you doin’??”
“makin’ sure everyone knows you’re mine,” he says, almost teasingly. that’s when he digs the smoking end of the blunt once more against your skin, this time closer to the colourful veins right in the middle; this time holding it for longer. he glances towards the corner of his eye — where your once again a whimpering and whining mess in his lap — and can’t help but feel a sickening mix of pleasure and guilt course through him. he needs to justify it, because otherwise he’s just being mean to the love of his life for no reason.
“since apparently there’s some sorta confusion ‘round it.”
“JJ, please— owow— Fuck—“ you snivel and spasm, using your free hand to grasp at something — anything — locating the hem of his shirt. he doesn’t care as you ball it up and tug almost feebly at the fabric; if anything it encourages him to press the thing harder. his grip is bordering vice-like by now, not easing up as a fresh bout of water threatens to pour over your waterline, even as he coos above you, “stop squirmin’. all you gotta do is tell me what we both already know, don’tcha?”
“‘m yours!! i promise, ‘m yours, ‘m yours. won’t ever be anyone else’s, jay!” you sob, clinging to the boy who’s inflicting the same pain that you’re trying to get away from, not even noticing the stream of tears spinning and sliding down. that’s when he pulls off the fire, for hopefully the last time – when you call him by the nickname. the same nickname he misses hearing from your lips, because you pretty much promised yourself you wouldn’t get close enough to the blonde to call him that ever again. this is just a slight blip in that mission, right? Not a full relapse, but a tiny misjudgement in who to call when you’re almost passed out drunk.
“damn right you won’t be.” just like that, he pulls off the blunt, and wipes away the excess ash with the pad of his finger.
your body grows once more limp as a flurry of relieved whimpers slip past your lips, the hand that had begun crinkling his shirt under the sheer pressure of your hold easing up. the blonde goes back to once again kitty-licking and pressing his lips against the scorched skin, savouring the small sounds you’re making and the lingering sensation of heat under his tongue. a few more “i’m sorry baby, but y’know why i had to …”’s get murmured against your skin, each lap at the burn feeling like heaven wrapped up in ribbon. see, he can’t be such a bad guy, when he makes you feel so good?
“you enjoyin’ the view from over there?” he chuckles, sending a cool rush of air against throbbing skin. your eyes had squeezed tight somewhere along the way, so now you force your eyelids open, your sight blurred by glassy tears clinging. you swallow, taking in how pretty the boy manages to be, especially when he’s taking care of you. the next words that flow past your lips are slightly snappier than you mean them to be, thanks to none other than the combined abuse against all your senses, “i like … the feelin’. what’s so wrong with that?”
he tilts his head by a fraction, but that’s all the confirmation that you’ve overstepped some unsaid boundary – like how you’re not allowed to call him bro or some shit. your fear is only intensified, a fresh wave of tears already starting to spill out of your eyes, when he darkly murmurs, “did i hear someone bein’ bratty again?”
“no, wait— ‘m sorry JJ, please—!! ow—“
“what was that? didn’t quite catch the last bit—“ he quips, digging the blunt once more into the skin of your flesh. even though this time the joint spends the least amount of time pressed against you, it hurts possibly the most. Maybe it’s because of how worn out and tired your intoxicated body already is after trying to escape JJ’s anger twice before, maybe it’s because a new bubble of rage at the reminder that you were smiling at a kook kid hit him. You’re instantly spluttering, “please JJ! ‘m so so sorry— fuck— shoulda never been like that t’you, jayj. shoulda never flirted with the kook, ‘cuz ‘m yours ‘n’ always have been—“
“mhm. jus’ what i wanted to hear. you did so good f’me baby, you’re so beautiful. soo perfect,” he hums as a fresh burn gets exposed to the cold air. you collapse again, whole-heartedly this time, against your ex’s chest. your cheek is pressed up against his shirt, staining the old fabric with salty tears.
then one of his thumbs starts tracing sweet circles around each fresh patch of exposed skin, the other finding its rightful place smearing the tears away from your face. the blunt’s now long forgotten, thrown lazily on the blonde’s coffee table, or the side table adjacent to the couch, for later use. he doesn’t care about the weed anymore; he cares about his girl wrying in his arms:” why’re you still cryin’? c’mon princess, couldn’t’ve hurt that bad. y’know i always go easy on your pretty lil’ body,”
he leans down to your weeping, beautiful face, and starts pressing those kisses along the sides of your cheeks. you can’t help but sigh contentedly at the sensation, subconsciously angling your head so the boy can care after the salty streams easier. it’s just such a nice contrast to how the blonde can get; you have to appreciate when the true JJ you know starts to come out, right?
“hurts,” you mumble, dragging your aching wrist to curl into your lap. he continues to pepper loving kisses along your cheeks and temple, each time sending a wave of something you can’t quite name through your body. You let yourself relax, eyes shutting as you soak in the attention, barely listening as the blonde hums, “you sure y’don’t jus’ miss me?”
you swallow, unable to see the correlation between them both, but not exactly knowing how to … disagree. i mean, saying no would be lying. it’s mean to lie to anyone, especially someone as important to you like JJ. in that moment, still addled with cheap beer and a drowsiness that’s been kicking in, you don’t know how to lie. “well …”
“mhmm. that’s what i thought. i missed you too babygirl. my perfect, gorgeous lil’ crybaby, cryin’ over nothin’,” he purrs into your ear. his hand trails down from your cheek, to just around where your shirt hem’s been riding up your torso without you realising. the blonde’s warm hand slips under the thin fabric, teasing your skin with just how gentle he’s being, tracing up your front. goosebumps erupt all over your body.
“Jayjayyy,” you mewl, opening your eyes with a sliver to get yourself to look at him, “what’re you doin’?”
“nothin’. jus’ relax, ‘m gettin’ used t’your body again. missed it, y’know — since someone didn’t let me touch f’the longest time,” he hums, smirking against your cheek as he slides his hand just under the bra you’re wearing. he thumbs at the center of your sternum, his index tracing along the ridge of the clothing – testing just how far you’re going to let him go. hint: you’re drunk, tired, and he’s JJ. the same JJ that used to make you feel so good after arguments. the same JJ that can be so so sweet with you, and the most attentive person you’ve ever met.
“we broke up. ex’s aren’t menta fuck, JJ.”
“so?” he says, as if that’s the answer to all of life’s problems. he continues, “c’mon, you can’t tell me you don’t miss this. miss these hands,” he squeezes at the side of your body, digging the pads of his fingertips into the warm flesh, savouring the way you ripple against him. he inches his mouth closer to yours, smirking at the way your breath hitches just for him. “‘n’ these lips.”
thats when he finally captures you in a long awaited kiss, already teasing ou to let his tongue in. you’re too tired to care about anything anymore, you just melt into the kiss, bathing in the blonde’s affection. you can feel him smirk against the kiss he’s proud that you’re giving in so easily now, proud that you’ve obviously been aching for this for just as long as he has. his hand slides down from your torso, instead landing on your thigh and giving it a few good palms with the callouses on his hands.
“that’s right. you did so well f’me, princess. i dunno know why’re you’re still cryin’, but uh … your real pretty when you’re cryin’,” he murmur as another tear slides down the side of your face – a tear that he kisses away instantly before pressing another passionate kiss against your lips – your hand trying to grab at his forearm. you’re not entirely sure why you’re still crying, since you’re no longer being branded by the blonde, but you know that you can’t stop now that it’s started.
“c’mon, what’s the harm in fuckin’ jus’ one more time?” he asks, feeling your obvious trepidation. your bottom lip an’t help but tremble at the pressure in your chest, craving to just give in and fold like you know he wants you to – and deep inside you know you want too. one thing lingers on you mind, however: “but … ex’s aren’t menta fuck.”
“c’monnn princess. our bodies like— miss eachother ‘n’ shit. so do i; i miss you so fuckin’ much. I love you so fuckin’ much, you don’t know,” he mutters, starting to move his hand further up your leg, just like how you loved when you were together – which wasn’t all too long ago. he can feel your heartrate increase, and your breathing pick up from how close he is, and it grows his smirk to borderline facesplitting.
you’re still on edge about the whole idea, but the way he’s looking at you right now makes it real hard to say no. so you compromise, sniffling quietly as you stare up at your ex in a way that makes his heart skip a beat, and mumbling: “just once? please, you gotta promise me JJ.”
“course. jus’ the once. ‘cuz y’miss me. so i can remind you who y’belong to, right crybaby?” he replies, softly moving himself so he’s no longer under your intoxicated, sleep-addled body, while capturing your lips in another heated kiss that floods your senses. you move in time with him, one hand lacing the back of his neck as you feel a few strands of blonde kiss at your forehead, feeling another tear slip out from the corner of your eye as you feel the boy hover over you. “Fuck i love you so much, gonna take real good care of you, i promise.”
“mhm, just once.”
you repeat it over and over, as if eventually that’ll make it true. even though the both of you know it won’t be the last time; it never is.
ᯓ★ a / n : omd this was sm fun to write. do we like this au ? shld i keep on going w the toxicity ?? bcs i honestly luv it even tho its messed up as flip :3
ᝰ.ᐟ divider cred : @dollywons , @enchanthings .
ᝰ.ᐟ taglist : i’ve decided to do a separate taglist for this kind of content, bcs it’s so different from my usual kind. if u wanna be included, u can either comment under any of my posts saying so ( n which one specifically, or both ) , or ask via the requests !!
