Truth or Dare
Pairing: Enemy!JJ Maybank x Kook!Reader
Summary: You've started hanging out with the pogues after years of swearing that you hate JJ Maybank. You still do but a game of truth or dare makes it a little harder to hide your feelings that have been building for him.
Warnings: Alcohol, weed, fingering, JJ being kinda mean (but yn kinda likes it)
Word Count: 3,300
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You swear you didn’t mean to become part of the Pogues’ chaos. But once you ended up tangled in the treasure mess with them, you started showing up more.
Which meant being around JJ Maybank more. Much to his very dramatic dismay. And yours.
The two of you had always been sworn enemies — him with his smart mouth, you with your sharp tongue and the added bonus that your dad was a cop who definitely didn’t approve of JJ. He teased you about it constantly.
He flirted to annoy you and you insulted him because otherwise you’d stare. Because why the hell was he so attractive.
But so annoying.
Somehow, over time, after spending countless hours together and even almost dying together, it was starting to feel less and less like hate.
Your friends noticed.Of course they did.
Everyone is sprawled out on mismatched chairs in the front yard of the Chateau. The cicadas outside are loud, Sarah’s laughing even louder at something John B said, her hysterical laughter making Pope and Kiara crack up with her. JJ’s attention is on you, flicking a bottle cap in at your head like he has been all night like he’s trying to get a reaction. You finally retaliate by throwing a crumpled up can with all the strength you could muster.
Everybody agrees on playing truth or dare and when it’s your turn, Sarah grins wickedly. “I dare youuuu...” she says, drawing it out, “to kiss the person you hate the most… for ten seconds.”
Your whole body freezes. JJ immediately makes a little “oooh” noise.
“Absolutely not,” you scoff. “I’m not doing that. But I'm so glad that you know it would be you, JJ."
“It’s the rules,” he sing-songs, leaning back on his hands. “What are you scared of? You might like it?” He knows he would. Truth is, he's imagined that—and more—more times than he'd ever admit.
Your glare could cut concrete. But you know you probably would also like it. And you are scared of that. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about it a time or two... or a hundred, yourself. “You wish.”
Pope already has his phone out. “Timer ready.”
You should refuse, but JJ’s smirk is so insufferable, so unbelievably smug that you would rather kiss him than let him win. And also you've drank a lot of bit of tequila. So you shake your head, roll your eyes and you crawl across the circle, grab him by the collar, and kiss him.
At first it’s stiff. Just lips pressed, both of you pretending not to feel anything. Then something shifts. His lips part a little. Yours move without you thinking and you can't help but hum quietly into his mouth. Luckily the sound is covered up by everybody's excitement but JJ hears it and can't help but smile against your lips.
He kisses you back — slowly, gently, then deeper, like he’s been waiting for this and you’ve been denying it. You feel it. He feels it.
The timer goes off and neither of you hear it. Pope raises his eyebrows and exchanges looks with your friends. “Uh... guys?”
You jolt back, blinking hard, breath uneven. JJ looks like you just short-circuited his brain.
Then he grins. “Ohhh, you liked that.”
“Please,” you snap. “It’d be weird not to move for ten seconds. They said kiss not be a dead fish."
Pope squints at his phone. “It was actually fourteen seconds.”
Your face goes hot. “I— I was dissociating!”
Every single Pogue: "Suuuuuure."
“For real,” you snap, flustered and mortified, “I might have to kiss all of you. I hate all of you equally now, actually!”
Nobody believes you. Especially not JJ, who won’t stop staring.Not cocky—well, yes, cocky—but there’s something else in his eyes. Something warm. Something hungry.
You don’t look at him again.
Later, you slip inside the Chateau, desperate for air. You grab tequila and orange juice out of the fridge, but all you can think about is his hands and his mouth and how goddamn good that kiss felt.
You’re swirling the liquid in the cup, lost in thought, when JJ walks in. You jump so violently you nearly spill your drink.
He laughs. “Relax, princess. It’s just me.”
“Unfortunately,” you mutter, sipping your concoction and wincing at the insane alcohol to juice ratio.
He grabs a glass, fills it with water, and chugs it, leaning on the counter beside you, eyes locked on you over the rim, smirk pulling slow and dangerous at his mouth.
You take another sip of your drink and glare before swallowing hard.
“So,” he says lightly, setting the glass down. “Fourteen seconds, huh?”
You refuse to react. “Fuck you, JJ.”
“Right now?”
You groan, face heating. “Stop.”
He doesn’t, he moves so that he's in front of you, voice dropping to a low, teasing drawl. "That was fun."
"Glad you had fun."
"So did you."
You shake your head. "Did you really just come in here to get water?"
“Nah, I was just wondering... what would your cop daddy think,” JJ murmurs, eyes flicking down to your lips, “about his perfect little princess kissing JJ Maybank like that?”
Heat floods you so fast it’s dizzying.
“Wouldn’t like that, would he?” JJ whispers, moving in until your back hits the counter. “Wouldn’t like how much you wanted it.”
Your breath stutters. "I—I didn't."
“You kissed me back,” he whispers. “Didn’t even hesitate. Didn’t even try to pull away. You hummed," his face moves closer to yours, smiling wide, "You wanted it.”
Your whole body heats.
“And,” he adds, lips nearly touching your cheek, “you still want it.”
“I don’t—” you whisper.
“Oh, princess.” His fingers trail lightly down your waist. “The way you're lookin' at me says otherwise.”
Your fingers grip the counter. You can't even manage a comeback.
His nose brushes yours. “Tell me to stop,” he says quietly, almost daring you.
You don’t.
He kisses you and it’s nothing like the one outside. It’s hungry, deep and messy. Teeth clashing, tongues sliding warm and wet against each other.
Your hands go to his hair, his palms slide to your waist, pulling you into him until your bodies are flush. You gasp against his mouth and he swallows it, kissing you harder, like he’s been holding himself back for years and finally snapped.
Your back hits the counter again as his hips press into yours.
You’re dizzy with how badly you want him.
He moves his hips, just a slow, deliberate grind and a shocked moan breaks from you—soft, helpless, needy, causing JJ to smile smugly against your mouth. You can feel how hard he is against you and it's driving you absolutely insane.
“Fuck,” he breathes, kissing you again, harder. “There it is.”
His hands slide lower, fingers digging into your hips as he presses you to the counter and rolls against you again, slower this time, testing you—
You moan again, shakier. Your head falls back. “JJ—”
“Yeah?” he whispers, lips brushing your throat. Fuck, he loves hearing you say his name like that. “That feel good?” he murmurs against your lips.
You nod, desperate.
“Use your words.”
“I—” Your voice cracks.
He laughs softly. “Can’t talk, huh? All that attitude…” His lips drag along your neck, slow and hot. “And now you can barely breathe. If this is you hating me, I think you should hate me more."
Your fingers twist in his shirt.
JJ bites gently at your pulse point, and you make a sound you’ve never made before.
His breath shudders.He kisses you again, deeper, hungrier, his hand sliding down your waist—
Lower—
Lower—
Your breath catches hard, your whole body tightening.
JJ pulls back just enough to look into your eyes. “You still hate me?” he whispers.
You don't respond but the look in your eyes is a response in itself.
He smiles and begins to rub you over your shorts.
"Shit," you whimper, brows furrowing, eyes flooding with need.
He smiles even wider. "You like that, baby?"
You let out a shuddered breath and nod again.
He begins to quickly undo your shorts, tongue between in lips in contrentration. His fingers pause on the zipper for half a second, eyes flicking up to your face like he’s waiting for you to tell him no.
You don’t. Your breath catches in your throat.
JJ’s smirk deepens dangerously. He tugs your zipper down the rest of the way, slow enough to make your thighs tremble. When he gets his first look at your pink lace panties, his tongue rests against the back of his teeth, expression darkening with want.
“Adorable” he whispers. And in one smooth motion, he slides his hand into your open shorts — over your panties at first, palm pressing directly against the heat between your legs. You gasp, gripping the counter so hard your knuckles ache. JJ’s jaw clenches; he breathes out through his nose like he’s trying not to lose it. “Shit,” he whispers, voice low and reverent. “You’re fucking soaked.”
You whimper and he laughs quietly, leaning in until your noses brush. “That all from me?” he murmurs teasingly.
“You're so annoyi—” You can’t finish. His fingers drag along the damp fabric again, slow, deliberate. "Ahh, fuck."
“Yeah,” he whispers. “That’s what I thought.” He slips his fingers beneath the lace and your whole body jerks. “Jesus, sweetheart,” JJ breathes, sounding almost wrecked. “You’re dripping.”
Your breath shatters into pieces.
His fingers slide over your bare heat in slow circles, teasing pressure, not enough, never enough. You choke on a moan, hips twitching into his hand. JJ grins like he’s winning. “C’mon,” he taunts. “Where’s all that attitude now?”
You try to glare; it melts instantly as his fingers part you, exploring the slick mess he made of you. Your thighs clamp around his wrist. “JJ—”
His middle finger slides inside you.
Your breath completely leaves your body. Your hand flies to his shoulder, clutching, nails digging in.
JJ swears under his breath, the sound hot and ragged. “Fuck, you’re tight.” He pumps his finger slowly, watching your face, watching you fall apart on his touch like he’s been imagining this exact moment for years. His other hand cups your jaw, guiding your gaze back to him when you try to look away. “Look at me,” he murmurs, voice soft but commanding. “Don’t hide from me now.”
Your eyes flutter open.
“That’s it.” His thumb brushes your clit, gentle at first, then firmer when your knees buckle again. He chuckles, smiling wide “There she is. My little hater."
You choke on a sound that’s embarrassingly close to a sob.
“Too much, princess?” JJ whispers, kissing the corner of your mouth. “Or not enough?”
“J—Jesus—” you breathe.
“Oh, it’s definitely not enough.” Without warning, he adds a second finger.
You moan — loud. Too loud. Your hand slaps over your mouth.
JJ pulls your hand away, gently but firmly. “No, come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “I wanna hear you.” His two fingers pump deeper, faster, curling up just right, grinding his palm against your clit with every thrust. Your legs shake; you cling to him, breath hot and frantic against his neck. He groans softly at the way you cling. “You’re fuckin’ squeezing me, princess — look at you.”
Your forehead drops to his shoulder as pleasure coils hard and fast in your stomach. “JJ— I can’t—”
“Yes, you can.” His voice is a command wrapped in a whisper. “C’mon, princess. Give it to me.”
Your breath breaks. You’re so close you can’t think. His fingers are relentless, his mouth brushing your cheek, breath hot against your ear.
He presses a kiss under your jaw, slow and taunting. “Never thought I'd be making you cum, princess. Let go, sweetheart. Come on.”
That does it. Your whole body arches into him as heat crashes through you. You gasp, clutching his shirt like you’ll fall without him. JJ’s fingers keep working you through it — slower, deeper, coaxing every last tremor out of your body.
He watches you with something feral and hungry in his eyes. When your shaking finally begins to slow, his fingers slide out of you — gentle, careful, like he knows you’re overstimulated. You gasp at the loss.
The kitchen is quiet except for your breathing — fast, shaky, uneven.
JJ’s lips are still inches from yours when he finally lets out a slow, satisfied breath.
You feel his fingers brush your skin one last time before he gently slides his hand out of your shorts. You gasp, a little too loudly.
His eyes flick up immediately. He smirks as he zips your shorts for you, then buttons them slowly — deliberately — like he’s savoring every second of your flustered state. “Breathe, princess,” he says lightly. “You look like you just saw God.”
Your entire face flames.
He chuckles, tapping your chin. “You're so cute.”
You swat his hand away, though your arm is trembling. “Shut up.”
JJ takes one step back, chest rising and falling, trying not to look as wrecked as you. “Alright, I guess I should should go outside before anybody realizes how much you don’t hate me.”
"I— JJ— I didn’t—”
“Save it. We both know.” He places a quick kiss to your cheek and walks out the screen door like he didn’t just ruin you against a kitchen counter.
You whisper into the quiet “…holy shit."
You take a moment to steady yourself, then finally go outside. You try to act normal and sit down like nothing happened. You try to pretend your heart isn’t still pounding.
But JJ is leaning back in his chair across the fire pit, looking at you like he already knows he’ll win whatever game you’re playing.
You avoid his eyes like they’re lava.
At one point, you accidentally look at him. It's damn near impossible not to. You let a tiny smirk slip — just a twitch, barely there — because your brain flashes back to the kitchen.
Kiara sees it and she freezes mid-sentence. “What was that?”
You snap straight. “What was what?”
“That.” She points at your face. “You smiled. At JJ.”
JJ raises his brows, smug beyond belief. “Oh, I definitely saw it.”
“I wasn’t—no, I didn’t—” you stammer.
“Oh, you did,” JJ says, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. “You tried so hard not to, too.”
“Shut up,” you mutter.
He grins wider. “Make me.”
"Now that was just corny." You throw your hands up. “I hate you.”
JJ laughs under his breath. “Princess, that is very bold of you to say considering—”
“JJ.” You warn him, eyes wide.
He ignores the warning. He looks you dead in the eyes, voice dropping just enough that you know exactly what he means, but the others only catch the tone. “That’s not what you were saying in the kitchen.”
Your soul leaves your body.
Kiara’s eyes go huge. “The kitchen?! I knew it. I knew something happened in the kitchen.”
Sarah gasps. Pope chokes. John B mutters “oh my god.”
You bury your face in your hands. “JJ, I swear—”
He leans back, victorious, stretching his arms behind his head. “Don’t worry,” he adds casually. “I won’t tell them everything.”
You WHIP your head up.
Kiara and Sarah scream “Everything?!”
You groan loud enough for the whole Cut to hear, while everybody starts yelling questions.
And JJ just sits there, smiling like he already knows the rest of the night is going to be torture for you…
…and fun for him.
Everyone else has drifted off to bed — doors shutting, lights clicking off one by one, the hush settling over the water like a blanket.
You slip out onto the dock alone, the boards cool under your bare feet, the air thick with salt and cricket buzz. You sit at the edge, spark a joint, inhale until your chest loosens.
Finally. Quiet.
You’re halfway through your second drag when footsteps pad down the dock behind you.
Of course.
“No invite?” JJ’s voice floats out of the dark, lazy and amused. He comes closer, hands in his pockets, that grin already warming the night.
“Don’t you ever take a hint?” You blow out smoke slow, pretending he’s annoying you. Pretending your pulse didn’t just trip over itself.
“Nope,” he answers for you, sliding down to sit beside you. Not touching, but close enough that you feel him in your bones.
There’s a long silence. Quiet water. The faint burn of the joint.
He’s waiting for you to talk and you know you’re not getting rid of him until you do. But you almost don't want to get rid of him.
Finally, you sigh. “Fine. I don’t… hate you.”
He goes still. “Yeah?” he asks, softly without a hint of cockiness.
You nod, your eyes fixed on the ink-black water. “Yeah. Happy? Maybe I did a little at first. You've always annoyed me, but I don't hate you.”
JJ lets out a short, shaky laugh — like he genuinely wasn’t expecting you to say it. He scrubs a hand over the back of his neck, staring out at the horizon. “Wow."
You flick ash off the end of the joint. “You gave me plenty of reasons to though.”
He huffs out a small laugh. “Yeah, well… I only teased you ’cause I liked you.”
You freeze.
He keeps talking, voice low, almost embarrassed. “Since day one. Swear.”
Your breath catches. “When was day one?” you ask, barely above a whisper.
He smiles sideways at you, eyes drifting over your face like he’s replaying it in real time. “When you walked into the Chateau with Kiara,” he starts, voice low and warm. “Way before all the Royal Merchant shit. You weren’t even hanging around us yet — you just showed up for like two seconds, in that little floral dress, grabbed her sunglasses or whatever, and walked right back out like you owned the place.”
He huffs a laugh, shaking his head.
“I said something stupid about her bringing a Kook to the Cut,” he admits. “And you flipped me off without even looking at me. Just— right over your shoulder. Like I didn’t even deserve a full turn-around.”
You press your lips together, trying not to smile.
JJ does smile — soft, a little disbelieving. "And I swear to God I was like…” He shrugs, grinning. “…yep. That’s it. That’s the girl.”
You choke on smoke and shove his shoulder weakly, heart fluttering. “Shut up.”
“See? Still pretending.” His voice dips, warm and knowing. “And then you showed up in my classes that semester? God.” He laughs under his breath. “I was so excited. And not just to torture you, not yet.”
Your cheeks go hot. “You’re ridiculous,” you mutter.
“And you’re still avoiding the point,” he says softly, eyes fixed on you now. “Just… be honest with me.”
Your chest tightens. The dock feels too quiet. Too still. “…I don’t know how to do this,” you admit, voice thin.
“You don’t have to.” He nudges your knee with his. “Just tell me the truth.”
You inhale shakily, taste smoke and salt. And then — because you’re too tired to fight him, or because the dark feels safe, or because he won’t stop looking at you like that —
“I like you too. I have for a while.”
He shuts his eyes like the words actually hit him. When he opens them again, his voice is barely a whisper. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. You make my life exciting. Can't hate you for that."
He laughs softly, then catches your wrist, thumb grazing your skin. And for once, he doesn't look smug.
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