summary: you show up at frankie’s doorstep in the middle of the night after your boyfriend gets violent. he invites you in and lets you stay with him.
pairings: frankie morales x fem!reader
word count: 2.5k
warnings: mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of bruises
At midnight, you speak in fragments.
“I’m at your front door.”
He’s more asleep than awake. He doesn’t have the brain to question you.
“It’s raining.”
He can tell. He can hear it through the phone and from his bedroom window.
“Can you come let me in? Please?” You ask, and before he can say anything, you hang up. He stares at his phone, but figures there’s a girl at his front door, waiting to be let in.
He takes a second to unlock the door, in his groggy state, and sure enough, there you are, in all your midnight glory, on his front doorstep. It’s more romantic in movies, he thinks.
There’s nobody outside except for you. The streets are desolate, and the lamplight is obscured by the pouring rain. It thuds off of your car that’s parked in his driveway, and he knows it’ll bleed in through the crack in the door that doesn’t quite meet the frame.
He’ll help you fix it tomorrow.
But right now, you lean into him, slowly, and wrap your arms around his neck. You're wet, he notes. Wet and cold. He’s sure you're soaked down to your socks. Hair, jacket, shoes, all dripping onto his hardwood floor. You're still on the steps, so he pulls you in, but you refuse to untangle yourself from him. The wind sounds even harder now with the two of you inside.
“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” he mutters, wrapping his arms around your shoulders. He pulls back to look at your face, but you're buried deep in his chest. He wishes it was under different circumstances.
The pouring rain punctuates every silence. He can feel you shaking.
You don’t answer.
He lets you not answer.
There’s a storm brewing in his chest. He has a sickening premonition as to why you’re here. He tries to ignore it, but his gut instinct is always right.
He shuffles awkwardly to close the door, and it muffles the rain. He can hear you sniffling now.
“What happened?”
There is only moonlight streaming in from the window over the couch. You keep your face buried in his chest when he flicks the light on. It’s harsh and bright and he grabs you by the shoulders, pulling you back to look at him but you don't remove your face from his warm, dry chest.
So he waits.
“What’s wrong?” he asks again, softer, in your ear. You rub your forehead on his worn t-shirt, and his arms find their way around your shoulders.
You find the strength to look at him from somewhere deep inside you, eyes red and swollen, eyelashes dark with tears. You squint almost imperceptibly, adjusting to the light. You’ve never felt more safe than in his embrace. Your noses almost touch.
The last and only thing he wants to do is kiss you.
He notices the red mark right away.
On your temple. His eyes soften. You watch him look at you, almost like it’s the first time.
“He hit me,” you say, congested from the tears.
Like he doesn’t notice. Like he doesn’t feel anger shoot up into his chest, heat and warmth and fire in his fingertips, down the back of his calves and aching his face. His sickening premonition coming true. He can’t come up with a single reason as to why he would do this to you. It makes fury throb in his bones. He can see your boyfriend throwing the punch and it makes him want to vomit how enraged he is.
“What do you want me to do?” he asks sincerely.
“Want me to hurt him? I’ll hurt him, you know I will. I’ll hurt him so bad,” he trails off, jaw hard and teeth grinding. Nostrils flared and lip twitching.
“No.”
He watches you rest your head on his chest, the side that your good-for-nothing dick stick didn’t punch, and he’s so careful with you, soft hands and rigid muscles.
“I just...” you start, and he’s listening. He’s listening to every word.
“I didn’t want him to hurt me. And I didn’t want to hurt him. So I... left. I went and sat in the CVS parking lot,” you admit. He figures you needed someone to talk to. He wanted someone to listen to. He’s wide awake now. He still has fight in his blood, so he repurposes it. He holds you, securely. Strong and firm.
“I was gonna fight back... but I didn’t want anyone to get hurt, I really didn’t.” you say. He closes his eyes. He steadies his breathing. How could someone so sweet, so powerful, so kind, end up with the exact antithesis of all of those things?
“I know,” he reassures, “I know you didn’t.”
You sigh shakily into his chest. He’s there for you. He’s steadfast and unwavering. You could collapse into him and you trust he would catch you, help you up, dust you off, or in your case, dry you off. But you don’t. You stand strong with him, and you let herself be supported by him. You yourself whole still. Shaky, and faltering, but whole, all by yourself. With him there, you feel a little steadier, resolute in your decisions. He supports you, and you love him for it.
“Can I stay here?” you ask.
“Of course,” he replies.
His clothes don’t fit you, but you don’t mind and neither does he.
Your hair smells like roses and rain.
You take his bed; he takes the couch.
It’s hard for him to fall asleep there, but he doesn’t mind that, either.
It’s four AM when you wake him up for the second time this morning. The grogginess is stronger than before, it seems. You’re on your knees in front of the couch, face level with him, and he jerks back in surprise.
“I’m sorry,” you say, placing a hand on his chest. His bare chest. His shirt is somewhere, he doesn’t care where. It got hot, he recalls.
“Y’scared me,” he mumbles. Would this girl let him get any sleep?
“Come sleep with me. I feel bad,” you say.
“Woke me up ‘cause y’feel bad?” he asks, and you can tell he’s irritated, but tired more than anything. Sleep carries heavily through his voice.
“No,” you clarify, “I woke you up ‘cause I had a nightmare.”
Now he’s the one that feels bad.
He lets you lead him to his own bed, but he makes a pit stop on the way to use the bathroom. He finds you curled up under his covers, staring at the doorway, waiting for him.
He smiles and joins you. He sleeps on his back. You sleep on your stomach.
He has one pillow. you have one too.
You both listen to each other breathe.
You throw an arm over his stomach. He rubs his thumb over your hand.
It’s not storming anymore, but you can both feel the electricity in the sky.
The old, squeaky mattress creaks as you move, swapping your pillow for his shoulder. It’s not as bony as you thought it would be.
You only wake up when his alarm goes off on the nightstand beside you.
You groan, and realize you’re curled up with someone in a bed that’s not your own. Your face aches as you relive the events of last night.
He wakes up when you shift to turn off the alarm, taking his time to notice you.
“Hey,” you say, in his shirt.
“Morning,” he yawns, not in his shirt.
“Thank you,” you start, but he cuts you off.
“No no no, don’t do that, don’t make it...” he trails, sitting up in bed. He rubs the sleep from his eyes again. All things considered, he got some decent sleep. He thinks it might have something to do with the warm body that was pressed up against him all night.
“No, really,” you say. You sit criss-cross on your side of the bed, and he has to remind himself that it’s his own bed (singular), not your bed (plural), and the whole bed is his bed. But for now, he can say it’s your side of the bed. At least to himself.
“Thank you for being there for me.” you say finally. He smiles at you.
“Of course.” He whines as he yawns, and things are okay for now. The storm is over.
“You want breakfast?” He asks, getting up and stopping at his dresser to put on shorts. His boxers were fine last night, but now that the sun is shining through the window, it’s kind of weird. He pulls on a shirt too.
“I have taquitos,” he says walking into his kitchen, and you squint at him, hot on his tail.
“Taquitos for breakfast?” you ask skeptically, and he makes his way over to the freezer.
“Taquito time is all the time.” He clarifies, taking the cardboard box from underneath a tub of ice cream and a bag of frozen peas. He freezes, before he turns around to look at you.
“Do you, uh, want some ice for that?” He says, and it takes you a second to realize what he means.
You touch the bruise softly, applying light pressure and wincing when it hurts.
He notices and puts the box down on the counter, wrapping the peas thoroughly in paper towels before handing them to you.
You nod a thank you, and hop up on his counter, holding them to your face.
He notices his shirt on you again, and his shorts on you, and how domestic this would be if that mistake hadn’t laid his hands on you. Though he does admit, you probably wouldn’t have been here in the first place without that run in.
He thinks he’d rather never see you again rather than have you come to him hurt like that.
He moves over to you, and carefully moves your head away from the cabinets holding the dish ware so he can open it. There’s tension in the air. He plates the taquitos and you listen to the buzz of the microwave as they warm up.
Neither of you touch your respective phones while you eat your taquitos. There are decisions to be made that will have consequences. You glance at your phone, but look away each time. Your eyes never meet. You both focus on the plate of miniature crunchy tortillas made with fake corn, filled with beef that was probably artificial. Neither of you mind.
After breakfast, or what could be sufficed as breakfast, he watches you finally check your phone.
“seventeen missed calls,” you read, “and thirty something texts.”
“Wow.”
“Not as crazy as I expected,” you note.
“Wanna see if he left any batshit voicemails?” you ask, grinning. He’s less than excited. Your smile falters as you read the texts.
“What? What’d he say?” he asks, getting up from the table to read over your shoulder. You make no move to hide the texts from him and something like relief floods his veins for a split second.
“Nothing,” you clarify, “just that... he’s so sorry… how he’s such a terrible person, that he’ll never do it again.”
He stares at you.
You ignore the messages and lock your phone.
You look up at Frankie.
“So?” he asks.
“So?” you ask back. He clears his throat.
“What are you gonna tell him?”
“I don’t know,” you sigh, grabbing the empty plate and sliding past him. You turn on the faucet in the sink and wait for it to get hot.
“You don’t have to do that,” he says, but you don’t respond.
You add soap to a sponge and start washing the minimal dishes there: a bowl, a few spoons, your plate, a whisky glass.
He stands by you, grabbing a hand towel from the countertop and wiping the dishes down before putting them away.
“Why don’t you have a drying rack?” you ask, as he puts away the last of the glasses.
“I dunno,” he says, “I don’t have that many plates and forks and stuff, so I just dry it and put it away as I go.”
“Hmm,” you remark, and turn off the faucet. He hands you the dish towel and you wipe your hands dry before folding it and placing it on the counter. You look at him and sigh. The elephant in the room is demanding your attention.
“What do you think I should tell him?”
He stares at your bruise, and he feels the anger from last night bubble up in his throat again.
“That you’re gonna send me to beat him the fuck up.” He says, and you roll your eyes, staring at him endearingly.
“I’m not getting back together with him.” you say, and he feels his heart do some weird stuff in his chest.
“It’s over for us. I’m breaking up with him the next time I see him.” you say, a finality in your words that make him confident you would do as you said.
“Good.” He crosses his arms and shifts his weight to one side.
“Should I go see him today?” you ask.
“Do you want to?” he questions. You sigh and shake your head.
“You’re no help.”
“Hey! I’m so much help,” he defends, and you smile at him.
“Sure.”
“I can go with you if you want,” he says seriously. You stare at him.
“If you want,” you offer, and he nods his head.
“Okay.” you say.
He watches you grab your phone and your now dry clothes and make your way into his bathroom. He listens as you close the door and waits until he hears the water start running, accompanied by soft music.
He squeezes the bridge of his nose and takes a second to examine the thawing bag of peas on his kitchen table.
He smiles to himself as he makes out the lyrics of your song.
As he puts the bag back in his freezer, he runs a nervous hand through his hair and stares at your car in his driveway.
He wants nothing more than to bruise you up himself, his mouth on your skin, his hands on your hips.
But that thought is fleeting. He gets closer to the bathroom and can hear you singing clearly, and he takes a second to listen before he speaks.
“Hey, I’m gonna go take a quick look at your car, okay?”
The water turns off.
“What?”
“I’m—I’m gonna go look at your car!” he says loudly, “the leaky door!”
There’s quiet for a moment before you’re unlocking the door, in only a towel. His towel.
“Thank you!” you beam, and with one hand clutching the towel to your chest, you hand him your car keys.
“They were in my pocket. It’d be kinda hard to get in without them,” you joke.
“Yeah, ‘course.” He grins lopsidedly, keeping his eyes a respectable distance from your naked torso.
With a smile, you close the door in his face.
The music resumes, as does the water, and Frankie breathes.
It would be a miracle if he made it through the day without sending someone to the hospital.
Do u take requests?
hello! i do take requests! most of my fics are requests, so please feel free to send in any you have. i feel like most of you follow me for obx, but i also write for marvel haha. im particularly fond of frank castle and the avengers. i’d also like to dabble in apex legends, the witcher, and star wars :)
request: Coul you write a John b x reader where the reader is JJ’s sister and she has feelings for John b and it ends in smut (if you’re comfortable with that) and JJ walks in while drunk or high and praises John b for being with a girl and later on finds out it was his sister
pt 2: This is for the John b and JJ’s sister request, maybe JJ could find out because both her and John b have hickeys and marks all over
summary: john b. finds it hard to sleep one night. that’s not the only thing that’s hard. you decide to enhance his experience a little bit. pairings: john b x fem!reader
word count: 2.1k warnings: little bit of second hand embarrassment, voyeur, male masturbation, vaginal sex, hand job stuff a/n: the title is a double entendre of sorts haha… man… words sometimes… big love, gang.
It was dark and warm in his room that night, and he couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned, trying to lull himself into a peaceful rest, but even in silence everything was too loud. The cicadas were chirping, JJ snoring softly in the living room, the ambiance of life out his window was just the wrong side of too loud.
Naturally, it was only a matter of time before his hand found its way under the covers and into his briefs.
He was sick of staring off into darkness. He closed his eyes, but nothing came of it. He was ready to come another way, in the meantime.
He figured there wasn’t much else to do at that rate, and some serotonin might be exactly what he needed to push him off into dreamland. So he started playing with himself, fondling and pulling as he loaded up PornHub on his phone.
It’s not hard to be quiet while he does it, but he makes sure the volume on his phone is the lowest it can go while he could still hear it. At any given time he could have four friends sleeping over at his house, invading into him room for late night fast food runs.
He takes his time, scrolling and browsing through videos, tugging on himself until he got hard.
He finds himself so deeply entranced by his own rhythm, and the feel of lotion on his cock, that he doesn’t hear you slipping down the hallway from the spare bedroom. He doesn’t hear your bare feet on the floor and he definitely doesn’t hear you stop outside his bedroom, debating whether or not to go in.
Until you hear him.
The squelch of skin on skin and heavy breathing and barely audible moans, clearly not coming from John B. Definitely a phone.
You know he’s jerking off in there. You only wanted to get into bed with him to cuddle after a particularly jarring nightmare, but now there’s a whole new problem.
You could either barge in like you hadn’t heard him and embarrass him, or maybe he was doing something else. Maybe he was working out, or watching weird youtube videos in bed, or scrolling through the kinky side of tiktok.
Either way, you weren’t planning on sleeping alone that night.
But then you hear what you think is your brother, or maybe Kie or Pope, but probably your brother, get up. His feet are padding toward you, or more specifically, the bathroom in the hallway you’re standing in. You really don’t want him to catch you standing outside of John B.’s bedroom, so you twist the knob as quietly and as quickly as you can, the door squeaking just a little as it opens, and John B.’s quick to pull his comforter over himself and scramble with his phone to turn it off. He hopes you didn’t notice it was porn. You totally did. But you decided to give him that much.
“What’re you doing in here!” He hisses at you, and you press a finger up to your lips to silence him. His eyes are wide.
“I had a nightmare,” you whisper, sitting on his bed. You could act none the wiser.
“Okay? Go back to the couch, dude,” he mutters quietly. You smirk to yourself in the darkness as you try to get under the covers with him.
“No, go away,” he says, blocking you from getting underneath them with him.
“What’s wrong with you?” You say, and go to lift the covers again. He blocks you once more.
“Dude, seriously, get out. Where’s JJ?” He whispers sharply, and you roll your eyes.
“He’s sleeping. I didn’t want to wake him up. He has work tomorrow—”
“I don’t care! Go bother him with this!”
“Shut up, your room has a fan and it’s hot—”
“If you don’t leave right now I’m gonna call him—”
“Stop it! Just let me sleep here,” you pout.
The window was open just enough in John B.’s room for you to see the pale blue moonlight on his skin.
You can feel the arousal in your stomach as you think about what he was doing. Think about his moans, and his hands under the covers. It’s the sex deprived part of your brain that responds to him.
“I know what you were doing, y’know,” you clarify. He sighs and lays back in his bed, covering his face with his hands. You take the opportunity to straddle him over the covers. He’s still half hard.
“What the fuck!” He whispers, and you lay your head into his shoulder as you start to move your hips, languidly grinding over his erection. He starts breathing hard again, like he was earlier.
“This is bad, get off me,” he says, but makes no move to get you off of him.
He swallows harshly.
“You’re… You’re JJ’s sister. If he finds out…”
The comforter bunches up underneath you and you press hard to feel the pressure through your shorts.
You move to kiss him, and he responds eagerly. It’s the heat in his room even though the fan is whirring, and the idea of doing something so forbidden, not only pogue on pogue’s sister, but sex in a house where other people are sleeping in various rooms next door.
He’s almost aggressive, and excited. Very excited. You can feel his excitement now.
You sit back on your heels and you strip yourself of your shirt, bare underneath. John B. pulls the comforter down and slips off his underwear that were sitting around his ankles. He sits up and starts stroking the head of his penis.
You watch as he leans over for more lotion, taking a careful handful to his dick. It’s slick and loud again, the way he pumps. It’s obscene. It makes your heart race.
It’s harder to slip off your shorts and underwear but you do anyway, and you’re both left with no clothes and unbearable arousal.
But the door opens and your heart jumps into your throat. You’ve been caught. This, whatever this was, is over before it started. You shield your naked body on John B.’s chest, your face into his shoulder.
It drops even further when you hear the voice of whoever walked in.
“Oh, shit, get some man, my bad,” JJ quips, clearly high and sleep deprived, closing the door quickly.
You and John B. breathe heavily together in darkness.
“Was… did he see us?” You ask quickly.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Does he know it’s me?”
“I don’t think he saw us,” he says, eyes wide with adrenaline.
“Holy shit,” you mutter, resting your head on his shoulder.
“Yeah,” he says, and looks at you.
“You wanna keep going?”
You respond by pressing your lips to John B.’s neck, and he leans over for you, grabbing at your thighs and ass, fisting a hand into your hair.
“We should hurry up,” he recommends, and you giggle softly.
You lay down next to him and you lay a hand over his chest so he doesn’t get up, taking his cock into your own hands. Your hands would be so soft after all the lotion he smothered on it. You apply firm pressure to the head, and pull gently, up and down. You feel his hips chase your hand when you tug upward on it, and your bicep moves with his chest as he breathes.
“Condoms?” You whisper, and his head pops up, no not that one, and he points to the bedside table.
“In there,” he whispers, and you let him take over as you rifle through loose change and pokemon cards and even more lotion, wow.
But you find one, and struggle ripping open the ribbed edge with lotion hands, so John B. helps you. He pinches the tip and rolls it onto his cock like he’s done it before many times. He keeps a steady hand on his cock and keeps stroking it as he rummages around blindly in the drawer before slamming it shut a little too hard.
“C’mere,” he says, nodding you over, and you straddle him again, this time on his thighs, watching intently as he squirts lube onto his palm, groaning as he takes himself into his hand again. He coats it generously, and he takes his hand away, dick throbbing in front of you.
You’re nervous for him.
“Do you wanna… lay down, or…” he ponders, and you don’t know, but you say yes anyway.
He shifts so you’re on your back and you’re waiting for him, your thighs resting on each of his and he scoots closer to you, bed creaking as he moves.
“You ready?” He asks, and you nod slowly. He takes the tip of his cock, and runs from where you were wet for him up to your clit, each time pushing in just a little bit inside of you. You get used to the pace and he takes his time, leaning over you to give you kisses, and it hurts and stings and you feel yourself stretch around him but he’s gentle.
He only goes about halfway in before he pulls out, moving back and forth, going a little bit deeper each time. It’s nice to feel so full, have him so warm and so close when the night breeze starts to pick up. He plants his hands by your head, on his pillows, and he moves a little faster as you touch yourself, rubbing circles into your clit.
His mouth is all over you, your neck, your chest, your shoulders, and when he pulls away, you attack him with the same ferocity. You swear he almost cums when you get dangerously close to his adam’s apple.
He’s not that vocal, which is good for this current moment in time, but you’d have to work on it when you two were all alone. You wonder how loud he’d be in a house all alone, just the two of you, and as you start to pick up speed, so does he.
His hips are relentless against yours, his stomach hard and his balls tight against him as he pushes in and out. He’s about to cum, you can tell by his face, and you rub yourself as fast as you can, panting hard as he pulls out. You squeeze your legs together and he strokes his tip fast, and then slows down, resting a head heavy on your knee as you cum, grinding up against the air, head back in ecstasy as the warmth overtakes you, little bolts of electricity shooting through your veins from head to toe. He whimpers softly as he slips off the condom, tying it off and dropping it on the floor next to his bed.
“Ew,” you say out loud, and he lays down on his side, pulling you close to him.
He pulls the covers over you two.
“Just don’t step on it when you wake up tomorrow,” he whispers, and you turn around to bury your face in his neck as he falls asleep.
THE next morning, you’re sure everyone can tell. You had been prepared to sleep in a tank top and shorts, which you were not going to walk out into the kitchen in, where everyone was after JJ made breakfast. The only reasonable other option was wearing one of John B.’s shirts.
JJ greets you with furrowed brows.
“Is that John B.’s shirt?” He asks immediately, shoveling pancakes down his throat. Everyone else at the table looks up at you, and says nothing.
“Yeah,” you say, and quickly come up with an excuse. “It was… My tank top got all sweaty from last night, because it was so hot,” you say. You don’t know if they believe it, but JJ pushes an empty plate toward your seat. John B. is the only one who doesn’t look up at you. His eyes are locked in on the scrambled eggs on his plate.
Pope, seated next to John B., immediately points out his bruises.
“Woah, who’d you get into a fight with?” He asks, and John B. goes to cover up the hickey on his neck.
“Someone’s lips last night,” JJ jokes, taking a sip of his juice.
“I walked in on his getting down and dirty,” He explains, and the table ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’. Except for you.
Talk resumes until JJ notices the almost identical bruise on your neck.
“Wait, is that a bruise? Is that…” he says, leaning over the kitchen table to pull at your collar.
“Who the fuck did you get a hicky from?” He asks, and you pull away.
“None of your business, stop being weird.”
Kie gasps, pulling her hands up to her mouth.
“You guys did not…” She starts, and your eyes go wide.
“Did not what?” John B. asks fiercely, trying to play dumb, but just coming off as defensive.
“Guys,” Pope chastises, putting his fork on his plate and leaning back in ihs chair to run a hand through his hair.
JJ finally connects the dots.
“THAT WAS YOU?!”
The table erupts into madness.
summary: you wake up to find your brother missing. you’re then met by two handsome boys in your motel room, who just so happen to have his key. they offer to help you find him.
pairings: jj maybank x reader / john b x reader
word count: 3.1k
warnings: a missing brother, teenage boys, and a whole lot of eventual unresolved sexual tension
a/n: outer banks. that is all. happy quarantine yall. big love.
It was jarring to wake up in the motel all by yourself. You hadn’t even heard him leave.
It took you too long to notice. The room was plunged in darkness, and you took your time waking up, getting out of bed, brushing your teeth. You had only turned on the light when you had decided to get dressed. Which is when you saw the empty bed next to you. It was hastily made, but even the fact that it was made threw you off. He had never been one to make his bed, even back home. Especially not when he first woke up. Did he plan on not coming back? His suitcase was zipped up on one of the chairs at a small desk off to the side. It made your stomach drop to think about. In your PJs, you checked the bathroom, the closet (for good measure), and under the bed (just in case).
You called his name, but there was no answer. You had woken up multiple times through the night, afraid of the windows exploding, or the door caving in. There were no sand bags or boards for your room. But each time, you were lulled back asleep during a calm in the storm. The noise plus the springy mattress had not allowed for a restful sleep, and you were out of bed as soon as it was reasonable.
Your bare foot hit the damp pavement stepping out of your motel room. Petrichor filled your nostrils. It was a refreshing change from the musty dank mess you had spent the night in, but it wasn’t much more comforting. You were still alone, and you had no clue why. There were men and women all over the motel balcony, working on moving large branches and surveying the damage. You were suddenly grateful you weren’t in one of the rooms on the end, that had large cracks in the concrete. You looked both ways from your room, but you hadn’t recognized anyone. Power tools drowned out the sound of children playing in front of the motel front down below you. There were mattresses put up against the railing. You were expected to check out today, and you had agreed on leaving early, but you didn’t want to leave without your brother. The only option was to wait for him. You returned to the room.
You figured a shower was in order. So you didn’t hear the knock until you came out, towel around your shoulders, fully dressed this time. Thank God. Because you heard the key turn in the lock and light filled the room and all the doubt plunged from your chest because your brother was back—
But he wasn’t. You stared from the bathroom. Two boys. Neither of them your brother.
“Huh,” one says, and you really take a good look at the two of them. Just in case you have to describe them to the police.
Tall. Wavy brown hair. Hat backwards. Bandanna around his neck. The other one blonde. Short hair. Tank top. Really nice arms, but considering they’re breaking into your motel, you look past it.
“Check the bag, see if there’s a name on there somewhere.”
A name. Why do they want your name? If they’re going to steal things, they might as well just take it. They’re both teenage boys. About your age. Tall. Probably taller than you, but you can’t tell. The blonde one shoves the key deep into his cargo shorts. They go to close the door behind them.
It takes them a second to notice you. You must look like a deer in headlights.
“How did you get in here?” You ask. You saw the key. Where did they get the key? Only you and your brother have keys, how did they—
“Oh shit, I’m so sorry, we didn’t know anyone—” One of them starts.
“Fuck,” the other one says.
“We found this key, we just wanted to—” One goes to explain, but you’re more scared than they are.
“What are you doing here?” You ask
“We just wanted to see where this came from,” says blondie, holding up the motel key. “We wanted to just—”
“Yeah, we’re sorry, we’ll be leaving now,” The brunette goes to leave, and the blonde goes to follow. The one with the key in his hand doesn’t let go of it. You need to know where they got that key from.
“No! Wait,” you say, and they stop in their tracks.
“Where did you find that key?” You ask. They look between each other.
“On a boat,” One of them replies. The other stares at him.
“What boat?” you ask. You can feel your heart thumping in your wrist. You leave the doorway and sit on your brother’s bed. The door to the motel room is slightly ajar. They, theoretically, could run and never come back. But they haven’t left yet.
“We… we found it. At the bottom of a marsh.” Brunette says. You let out a shaky breath. What the fuck does that mean? Whose boat did he have? How did he learn to drive a boat? Why would he get on a boat, in the middle of a fucking storm?
Your phone rings on the table next to them. You rush over to it, and the boys move back a little bit. There’s no caller ID. You answer.
“Hello?” you stare at the boys. They stare back at you. They look invested now.
“Hi! Are you busy?” The person asks. It sounds like a man, but not your brother.
“Who is this? How did you get this number?” you say. Today, nobody feels like giving you their names.
“Is your brother there?”
“No, he’s not here… who is this?”
“Ah, okay, sorry! Have a nice—”
“Who is this?” you demand, but the line goes dead.
“Fucking great,” you mutter, and the boys are still there.
“Uhh,” one of them starts, “We’re just gonna go.”
You’d had enough. You were fed up with the cryptic messages of today. Your brother disappearing out of nowhere, these boys, the phone call.
“Can you… Do you know where the boat is, still?” you ask. You run your hands over your face, exasperated. This day was shaping up to be one of the worst of your life.
They’re both silent for a beat, before Blondie speaks up.
“Yeah. We could, I mean, we could show you where it is. Why?”
Brunette glares at him.
“I can’t find my brother. He left this morning… that’s his motel key. He doesn’t have a boat. I just… I don’t know what’s going on today.” you explain. Brunette gives you a sympathetic look.
“He might be at the store or something,” he suggests, but Blondie has other ideas.
“I’m JJ,” he introduces. He fishes the key out of his pocket and holds it out to you. You decline it.
“No, you can hold on to it. I only need one,” you say, and you lean over to open the drawer next to your bed. Your key isn’t in there. But your brother’s phone is. And a motel sticky note with a number on it
“Oh shit,” you say, and Blondie—JJ, leans over to look in the drawer. He takes out the paper.
“Guess you could use this key then, huh?” he says with a smile. You return it sadly, and take the key from his hands. He looks over the paper.
“Thanks,” you mutter.
“What’s this for?” he asks inquisitively.
You take it from his hands. It’s six random numbers. It means nothing to you.
“I don’t know,” you say, handing it back. He hands it over to the other boy. You get up, and move over to the side of the room where your shoes are. Where your brother’s shoes aren’t.
You give Brunette a once over after you put your shoes on.
“Who are you?” you ask, and he introduces himself as John.
“But he’s really John B.,” JJ clarifies.
“Is there more than one John?” you ask.
“Probably. It’s a popular name,” John B. says, leading the two of you out of your motel room. You’d have to leave before tonight. You have nowhere else to go, so maybe because of the hurricane they’d let you stay. Checking out the boat wouldn't take too long, right?
“You guys aren’t… serial killers, right?” you question after you lock the door behind you. This is a terrible idea, going with these boys you don’t know at all. But there have been worse ideas. Like your brother leaving early in the morning to steal a boat and sink it in the ocean. You know he can swim, but you can vividly remember him tiring easily at the lake you’d spend the summer at with your family together. Your heart breaks a little bit at the memory.
“Oh come on, could a serial killer look this good?” JJ says, flaunting his body. He playfully runs his hands over his chest and face, and John B. laughs at him.
“Come on, dude, you’re freaking her out,” he says, and looks back at you while you guys walk down the stairs.
“No, we’re not serial killers. At least not today,” he smirks. You figured you were gonna regret this, but it was too late to turn back now. Besides, what would you do in the motel room until your brother got back. What if he did come back, and you weren’t there?
Your heart races.
“Wait,” and the sound of their feet on the gravel stops.
“What if he comes back? And I’m not there? I should at least leave a note or something, right?” you worry.
“I mean,” JJ starts, “If I were you, wait—have you texted him?” he says.
“Yeah, it was one of the first things I did. But he didn’t take his phone with him.” you say, picturing his phone sitting in the drawer, halfway charged, your missed calls and texts the only notifications. You didn’t know his password either, so it’s not like you could snoop.
“Well, then I think the boat will be your best bet. I could dive down there and see if there’s anything else in it,” John B. suggests. JJ nods in agreement. It’s nice how they decided to assist you, but you can’t help but feel like there’s an ulterior motive underneath it all.
“Why… I mean, thank you, but—why are you helping me?” you say as you walk with the boys. They’re easy to talk to, and you feel like you guys could be friends very quickly.
“We got nothin’ better to do,” John B. says with a smile, and you think how nice it would be to be a part of something.
“Oh shit, it’s the cops,” JJ says, and you and John B. look up immediately.
“What are they doin’ here…” John inquires.
“Do you guys know them?” you ask, and JJ gives you a look.
“Know them? We’re practically besties.”
The way he says it doesn’t make you feel better.
“Let’s go, before they see us.” John B. says, and you follow them to a little boat moored on the shore.
“This is what we found in the room,” JJ says as he gets closer. There’s two other people there.
“A girl?” the boy says. The girl just smiles at you.
“Hi,” you say, and introduce yourself to them.
“I’m Kie, that’s Pope,” Kie says, gesturing to Pope. They look nice enough. It’s a nice little crew they have, and you find yourself wishing you could have something like this. Maybe, just maybe, if things worked out, you and your brother could make a life here. Do something here. Be someone here. But first, you’d have to find him.
“We walked in and she was in the room,” John B. says.
“We thought someone called the cops on you. Look,” Pope says, gesturing to where they had pulled up. They were talking among themselves near their patrol car.
“Yeah, we know,” JJ says. He holds your hand as he helps you onto the boat. His hands are firm and cold, but you realize you like holding them. He smiles at you, then John B. puts his foot on the side of it.
“Uh, where’s my hand JJ?” John B. asks, and JJ responds with a shove, almost pushing John into the murky marsh water as he loses his footing, half on the boat, half on the shore. John B. gives him a hard shove back, and JJ loses his balance, catching himself with one hand, that comes back wet and muddy. You look on in amusement, but Pope tugs on your shirt, moving you back a little.
“You might wanna move back,” he says, and John B. jumps onto the boat, JJ in tow. They run around the center console for a second, JJ chasing John B. with a muddy hand, and Kie pats the spot next to her. The boat was small, so you took the opportunity to sit down.
“What’s your story?” she says.
“Hmm?” you hum, tearing your eyes away from JJ slathering the back of John B.’s shirt with half dry mud, flaking onto the boat and sticking to his shirt. Pope narrowly avoids the splash zone, gripping the edge of the boat.
“I can’t find my brother. The key you guys found? That was his. And he doesn’t have a boat, so I don’t really know what happend. I wanted to go check out where it was, y’know?”
You felt better around Pope and Kie. They were the more level headed of the four, you concluded. Which is probably why they were on the boat and not breaking into your motel room. You unheedingly ran a hand over the key in your pocket, fiddling with the hem of your shorts. You wish you had brought sandals you noted, as some of the water on the boat saturated the canvas of your shoes, right above where the rubber sole ended.
“That sucks. I’m sorry,” Kie apologizes, before JJ hops off the boat again. At the front, he undoes whatever knot he used to tie the boat to whatever waterlogged tree he could find there. With a strong push, he dislodges the boat from the shore, and just makes it back onto the boat before John B. turns on the engine.
“All aboard that’s coming aboard?” John B. cries out.
“Aye aye Captain,” says JJ, moving to the front of the boat.
John eases the boat out of the motel area, and back into the marsh.
“You ever been on a boat before?” JJ asks, taking a seat at your feet. You politely decline the beer he offers you. He shrugs and places it back into the cooler on Kie’s side.
“Uh, not one like this. I’ve been on a boat before though,” you say.
“What, you been on boats nicer than this one?” Questions John B. from the helm.
“Not possible. This is the nicest boat there is.” Pope replies sarcastically.
“Yeah, I don’t know what’s my favorite part, the broken fishing rod holder or the helicopter engine on the back of this thing.” JJ says. You chuckle softly at his joke, but you find it endearing how John B. defends her.
“Aw, don’t listen to them, Old Girl.” he says to the boat.
“You’re still my favorite,” John B. whispers to her, giving the wheel a little kiss.
Everyone laughs at him, and he grins, sitting a little taller in his seat.
“Are you from around here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.” Pope says, beer in hand. They can’t be of age, but it’s an island, so who cares.
“No, I’m not. My brother and I were just passing through, but the storm hit. We were supposed to leave two days ago, but there were no ferries coming in or out.”
“On your way somewhere?” Kie asks.
“Nowhere specific,” you say, and JJ laughs.
“Mysterious, I like it,” he gets up from his spot at your feet and stretches upward. The tank he’s wearing already shows off a lot of skin, especially his sides, but when he stretches, he exposes his stomach a little bit. He’s got an athletic build. I guess that’s what happens when you live on an island.
“What about you guys?” you ask, suddenly a little claustrophobic with all the attention.
“Have you guys always lived here?”
“Yeah. We all grew up here. Been here since we were born.” Pope says.
“Hopefully not for much longer,” clarifies Kie.
You quirk a brow at her. She continues.
“There’s nothing left for us here. Nobody cares about us. If we can get out, we can probably do something with our lives.”
“Yeah. If I want to do anything worth doing, I won’t be working under my dad when I do it.” Pope adds. Everyone else seems to agree.
Everyone except John B.
“I think that’s it,” he says, slowing the boat down considerably and looking over the console to get a look at it.
You and everyone else crowd the side of the boat. You don’t like how it leans forward a little, with the weight of everyone on the bow of it. In the cloudy water, there sits a big hunk of something. If he hadn’t had pointed it out, you probably would’ve paid no mind to it. It reminds you a little bit of how the Titanic sank.
John B. all of a sudden has his shirt off and his sandals, hat discarded somewhere off to the side with his bandanna in it. He jumps headfirst off the side of the boat, toward the object in the water.
“I hate it when he does that,” Kie voices, “He’s gonna crack his head open one of these days,”
“Let him,” JJ says, watching the water intently with the rest of you.
The seconds pass by slowly, and you begin to worry about John B.
“Should we go get him?” Pope asks, but John B. answers by popping up out of the water, sputtering and coughing, wiping his face with his hands.
“Anything?” you ask hopefully.
John B. stares at you.
“Well, it’s still a boat.”
“Great, John, that’s totally gonna reassure her.” JJ criticizes.
“I couldn’t stay under long enough to see what was down there,” John B. says, making his way over to the side of the boat.
“So? What now?” you ask. All hope is lost. You can only hope that your brother is waiting for you back at the motel.
John B. shakes his hair dry like a dog, and then slicks it all back. You can see he’s prepared to let the sun dry him off. He looks at you whimsically.
“Actually, I know where we could get some scuba gear.”
request: Could you do one where y/n is kie’s adopted sister & hangs around the pogues a lot? She takes a liking to jj. One day, they’re swimming at John b’s and she watches him get out of the water from afar. He catches her gaze. Kie tells her that she’s not being discreet. Later that night, she goes down to the dock to help jj clean up and he tells her that he saw her watching him. He asks why and they both confess they like each other. They kiss then it gets smuttyish. Thanks.
summary: you watch JJ emerge from the water like an atlantean prince and it makes you want to help him clean the boat, even if he doesn’t really need it.
pairings: jj maybank x female reader
word count: 1.7k
warnings: suggestive content, making out, roaming hands
a/n: hey! Sorry i haven’t been posting in a hot minute, i’ve been doing a bunch of schoolwork since it’s the end of the year and all of my teachers love me so much :)))) i’m also signing up for some summer classes so i dont go batshit crazy, so i'm closing the outerbanks requests for awhile until i can catch up with them!! Thanks for understanding yall, i love you 3000
He caught your eye immediately, wading out from the water in just his swim trunks, hair dripping onto his shoulders as he cleared it from his face. He was ridiculously well built, by anyone’s standards, with broad shoulders and sculpted physique.
You notice his eyes meet yours, and he smiles widely, waving like a dork. It makes you smile shyly back at him.
As you turned your attention back to Kie, you managed to catch the end of her conversation.
She looks at you expectedly.
“Wait, what?” You say, and Kie rolls her eyes, watching as JJ makes his way inside.
“Did you hear anything I just said?”
“Yeah, the uh, the guy… and the show… he did the thing.”
She sighs in response and turns her attention to her buzzing phone.
“Dad?” You ask, leaning over her shoulder, and she nods.
“He wants us home before dark,” she clarifies, sending him a text back.
She places her phone face down on the towel, and squints suspiciously at you.
You notice immediately.
“What?” You ask, none the wiser.
“You’re not slick,” she says, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. You feel your face get hot.
“About what?”
“Shut up,” she mumbles, flipping herself over to tan her back. You shake your head, but follow as well. She resumes the music that was playing, and you’re not totally sure, but you think on his way back, JJ was checking out your ass.
YOUR feet make ripples in the puddles of cold water on the dock as you make your way to the end of it, where JJ stands in the boat, mop in hand, pouring something from a bottle into a bucket on the floor.
As you get closer, he takes note of your presence with a small smile, before sticking the mop into the mixture and swirling it around.
“Need any help?” You offered.
“No, I don’t think so,” he says nonchalantly.
“But you can stay if you want,” he says, taking it out and splashing it onto the deck.
“Y’know… keep me company,” he mutters, swabbing back and forth.
You nod even though he can’t see you.
The dock is quiet at night, but the birds by the water are still squawking. You can smell the cleaning products from the dock, and you sit down on the end of it. It’s too tall for your feet to reach the water, but you kick them anyway and gaze out toward the horizon.
“I saw you watchin’ me today,” he informs you, and you fidget, shifting your glance to the boat.
“Hm?” You hum, and he keeps on scrubbing the deck.
“When I was coming out of the water. You were watching me.”
You don’t say anything. He picks his head up to look at you, hair flopping into his face. He fixes it gently.
“What do you mean?” You ask.
“Like, you were watching me,” he says, and you scoff.
“What?” He asks, and you stare back off into the distance.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You question. He lets his head fall again and he keeps scrubbing the floor, dragging the soapy mop across the surface.
“I just noticed,” he says, and you feel your skin burn with acknowledgement. You’d either have to be more careful about it or stop watching him come out of the water. But you can’t help that when he turns around, you can see all the muscles in his back moving as he cleans the floor. You shouldn’t find it as hot as you do, but there are only so many glances you can steal.
“Why wear a bathing suit if you’re not gonna go in?” He asks suddenly.
“We were tanning.” You explain, glancing down at your skin. You were really only keeping Kie company because she was on her period, but JJ didn’t have to know.
JJ pouts like he’s thinking about something, leaning on the mop. It slips a little and he catches himself on the side of the boat. It makes you laugh.
“Oh you think that’s funny huh? You think me, almost falling in the water, is so funny—” he starts, dipping the mop back into the sudsy water before he kneels down, wringing it out with his hands.
You gaze at him, dumbfounded.
“Hilarious.” You inform, bracing your hands on the dock’s edge.
He stands back up and takes the mop by the joint, where the head meets the stick. You watch with morbid curiosity, until he jerks the mop in your direction, soaking your t-shirt and bathing suit underneath.
You gasp and push yourself back, what was your slightly damp clothes are now soaked on one side from JJ’s brush.
“Oh shit! I’m sorry!” He gasps, eyes and smile wide.
He braces the end of the mop before he swings it at you again, and you yelp in surprise.
He leans over the side of the boat, and with fast hands, grabs your wrist, and braces his foot on the dock, tugging you. You make a fast decision that just jumping into the boat with JJ was much better than slipping into it and cracking your head open, so you let him tug you forward. The mop falls from his other hand as he supports your forearm, but his feet squeak on the floor and he falls backward, taking you with him.
With the fastest reflexes you’ve ever had in your life, you cup the back of his head and he falls onto his back, throwing his arm out to brace himself but knocking over the bucket in the process.
What would’ve been JJ’s head smashing onto the floor of the boat was braced by your hands, and it stings.
You both mutter a soft, “Ow…” at the same time, and it makes the two of you laugh.
You straddle JJ, and his eyebrows almost touch his hairline.
“You okay?” He asks, and you nod.
“That’s not how I thought this night would be going,” you say to him quietly, looking down at JJ underneath you.
“Well, I mean, you kinda saved my life there.” He jokes.
He chuckles, and you feel the water from the bucket run down your knees and shins. You bend back to see it running down the length of the boat. At least that was done.
You look back down at JJ and he’s not smiling anymore. He’s completely serious, and his eyes are flickering from your lips to your gaze. You move imperceptibly closer and JJ takes the hint, gripping the back of your neck and pulling you into him.
You brace yourself with your hands by his head, but he leans up into you, wrapping your arms around his neck as he wraps his own around your waist.
His hands roam your body as he kisses you hard, flipping you over and laying you down on the wet floor of the boat. You gasp away from the kiss.
“Oh my god, I’m all wet!” You exclaim softly.
“You’re gonna be,” JJ threatens, and you laugh as his hands roam to the hem of your shirt.
You close your eyes and breathe heavily as JJ lifts your oversized t-shirt, kissing your stomach and pulling your wet bathing suit to the side. You pull your head up with incredible speed to watch him, but he moves lower, spreading your thighs and kissing the inside of them.
You squeak and writhe away from him.
“What?” He asks, alarmed. You push yourself up against the side of the boat.
“That tickles,” you murmur and you can see the mischief in his eyes before he does anything. He straddles you against the side of the boat and places each hand on the side of your face before kissing you again.
JJ hears the footsteps on the dock before you do.
You two scramble apart, and you grab the closest cloth in your proximity. JJ snags it out of your grip and you’re about to argue with him over it when Kie pops her face over the side of the boat.
“Dad is gonna have a stroke if we’re not back before sunset. You guys okay? Why are you all wet?”
“She fell in. I saved her.” JJ explains quickly, playing with the rag in his hands.
You roll your eyes at him and pull yourself up, stepping forward towards Kie as she extends a hand out to you.
“He got me—thank you—he got me all wet with the mop.” You say, and Kie accepts your explanation.
“Jerk,” she says pointedly, and he sticks his tongue out towards her.
“You better leave before you get in trouble. Daddy’s gonna give the two of ‘ya a spankin—”
“See you later JJ,” she says hurriedly walking down the pier.
He winks at you as soon as Kie turns her back. He mimics a phone up to his ear with his hands and mouths the words, ‘call me’. You smile and turn away from him.
You catch up to her with a smile on your face.
hi just a reminder that alex brightman is bABY
send some in folks! i think these would be really cool to do :)
In the rain.
In a vehicle.
In the street.
On the sidewalk.
In the shower.
In the kitchen.
In the snow.
Under the stars.
In the moonlight.
By the river.
In the water.
In the bedroom.
In a bar.
At a party.
At the other’s place.
By a campfire.
Life or Death
Love
Celebration
Longing
Missing the other
Relief
Lust
Need
No reason at all
Admiration
Power
First Kiss
Confessing feelings
A bet
Sad or hurt feelings
First date
note — NSFW. whelp. if anyone wanted proof of me being clinically insane, this is what you could show them. not only has all of my free time been devoted to watching anything with pedro pascal in it, this is also what i think about while watching these anythings. i know there are people out there who have loved him for longer and are even more obsessed than i, so i figured i would share my personal headcanons for the PPCU (pedro pascal cinematic universe, duh). big love for any fans of pedrito - nat
MANDO
- VIRGIN with a capital V
- did you see how he reacted when grogu touched his face? this man has not been touched since he was a child
- he grew up with the mandalorians but he was exposed to suggestive behaviors because, helloooo, bounty hunter
- you have to coax him into it, but it doesn't take much, since he plans on keeping you around long term
- plus, you're so good with the kid
- you provide him a safe space to explore both himself and also your body and he has no idea how lucky he is for it
- doesn't make very much noise, but loves to listen to you
- he won't last long, he’s so sensitive from years of going untouched, but this man's recovery time???
- unparalleled
- he also has the dick of a space porn star and doesn't know it
- but seriously, rice purity score is NOT lower than 90, and most of the boxes he checks are "running-from-the-police" related
- he really wants to be held and have someone run their hands through his hair and kiss his neck and hold his hands is that too much to ask???
EZRA
- his words are where he gets you
- who knew dirty talk could sound so elegant??? and poetic??
- what a tease he is, too
- he pants so heavily right in your ear holy sweet lord
- and loves to laugh during sex
- he doesn't take himself super seriously unless he gets super into it, which has been known to happen from time to time
- safe words have been used between you two, which there's no shame in, but he's so good to you afterward
- he loves aftercare, and being gentle and sweet after a rough session
- asks you what you want and makes you beg for it
- makes you feel like you're in control but really, he's the one in control
- will make you cum before he does
- kinky kinky boy, almost always willing to try what you want him to
- loves to pin you down, but after he loses his arm it becomes a bit harder, so he settles for holding you flush against his chest as you squirm in his strong grip
FRANKIE
- a little soft spoken, but will whisper in your ear in public because he knows it gets you riled up
- will stare you down from across the room with bedroom eyes
- he's got that pilot's precision if you know what i mean aha
- he's honest with you about what he likes and has no qualms about telling you up front
- gives off switch energy, but you're gonna have to really make it worth his while if you want to fuck him
- a very gentle touch, which he would love to be reciprocated
- he aches from years in the service, his back, his knees, his shoulders
- would probably drop dead if you gave him a massage as foreplay
WHISKEY
- what an arrogant piece of shit
- "gorgeous, darlin', sweetheart, sugar"
- he will butter you up like a roll on thanksgiving goddamn
- so straightforward, and very up in your face, but it got you to sleep with him the first time you met him, so you can't say it doesn't work
- not the best with his fingers, but dear lord that tongue does wonders when he's not talking
- is a man on a mission to please you
- will spend an absurd amount of time between your thighs, and loves to feel you try to push him away when you get oversensitive
- loves it when you get feisty
- pull his hair, bite down a little harder than usual, push him down onto the bed or forcefully unbuckle his pants and this man will be putty in your hands
- is SO LOUD, and expects the same from you
- doesn't understand that because you're not screaming to the heavens doesn't mean he's doing a bad job
- associates volume with pleasure which isn't always the case
- that's something you'll have to work on with him, but he's a patient man
JAVIER PEÑA
- keeps condoms and lube on hand at almost all times
- ohhhh boy is this man willing to go at it wherever, whenever, you name it
- will fuck you until he sweats, and keeps going afterward
- and will definitely do you right
- he fucks to feel in control, so good luck trying to take control with this one
- almost tries to distance himself from you at first, but really it scares him that he cares so much
- there's just something about orgasming at the same time as you that just makes his whole week, and your hole weak (ahaha)
- likes to fuck you from behind and fuck you roughly, hands both occupied at the same time, mouth on you, and dick inside you
- very hands on, but can be sweet afterward
- this man kisses like no other you've ever kissed before, he leaves you breathless
MARCUS MORENO
- leads by example wink wink
- will show you what he wants done to him, and is pretty vanilla, but in a good way
- is big on foreplay and also aftercare, probably one of the sweeter ones on the list
- he's almost methodical in his sex, very routine, but willing to deviate for you
- gentle, but deep, languid strokes
- thinks he's quieter than he actually is
- always has a lot on his mind, so he really appreciates it when you can ease some of his tension
- secretly was really experimental in college
- very attentive to your needs and likes to tease
- morning sex is his thing. when he gets home from a long day, he wants to eat and relax and sleep. but in the morning? before anyone is up and before breakfast is even being considered, he likes to wake you up with sweet bruises and roaming hands
MARCUS PIKE
- marcus is the type of man to respect your boundaries fully, keep copies of toys he knows you like at his house, and surprise you at work with flowers and a dirty quickie in the bathroom because you've wanted to try it so badly
- a more traditional way of thinking on sex, and semi-reluctant to do anything involving his ass, but will try it for you if you really want him to
- a very quick learner, this one, and incredibly intuitive
- what he lacks in skill he makes up for in enthusiasm
- it's almost like he can read your mind, when he uses just the right amount of pressure and uses just the right motion to make you cum for him
- you have no idea how anyone could give this up, let alone break his heart
- his favorite thing is having you ride him, your face buried in his neck as you grind your hips down as he whispers praise in your ear
- marcus isn't super kinky, but i'm sure you can convince him to try something new every once in a while
MAX PHILLIPS
- OFFICE. DESK. SEX.
- "a private word with you in my office, please."
- so very seductive. the hand on the small of your back gets you going and he knows it, but he'll have to be more subtle if he wants to keep you
- another one who will butter you up to get you to sleep with him. he's very obvious about it, so it may or may not work first time. regardless he's up for a challenge
- pays so much attention to your neck. you will have to invest in many turtlenecks if you want to be with max
- big on eye contact, except for the exception of fucking you senseless over his desk
- obviously, a vampire, so he's absolutely magic between your thighs
- is very personable with everyone else, mainly because he's a business major, but he LOVES to make you jealous, this man LIVES off of it
- will one hundred percent expect you to be putty in his arms immediately, and treats it as a competition if you aren't
- he WILL take it personally and will make it a personal goal of his to get you to like him and want to fuck him without using his powers
- a game of cat and mouse
- does not care at all about being loud in the workplace, but he likes to see you struggle to keep quiet, even if everyone else can hear you anyway
MAXWELL LORD
- has suCH a praise kink wow
- his favorite thing is to hear you moan and tell him he’s doing a good job
- a little more vanilla than his counterparts but does like to take control and be a little rough
- a switch sometimes, falls into ruts where he just wants someone to take care of him
- but he WILL NOT ASK FOR IT. his pride won't let him
- at first, he’s not as mindful of you as you’d like him to be
- his sex is fast and unpleasant with hands everywhere and mouths and teeth and touch
- so you sit him down, and show him what you like. very slow and sensual
- you take your time with him, and he eventually starts to do the same with you
OBERYN MARTELL
- remember din's rice purity score? yeah, oberyn's is maybe ten. which is pushing it
- when you meet him, he knows what he likes, and is very particular about it
- he's done his fair share of experimenting, but he's willing to try new things, if there's anything new to be tried
- takes control inside and outside the bedroom
- not afraid to show you your place
- he's the kinky one in the relationship, and he will let you explore his body all you want
- if he doesn't like it he will kindly redirect you, his hands on yours, stroking and tugging and redirecting pressure and placement so that you learn his body in and out
- loves to watch you with his girls and boys. what an exhibitionist this man is
- for most people, they have to choose between quantity or quality in their sex lives. oberyn martell is not most people
- he is a prince, and will not let you forget it, but likes it when you talk back and he has to punish you
PERO TOVAR
- the roughest one on the list, but not the kinkiest
- sex to him when he's at his worst is just a way for him to feel good and relieve stress
- when he's at his best, it's a way for him to make you scream his name
- very possessive about what's his, and if he has to show it in front of everyone else for them to know that he will do it
- this man fucks like a rabbit. how does he find the time??? nobody knows
- his libido is so high. you have no idea how he isn't absolutely spent at the end of a long day of fighting and training and wandering, but he'll fuck you where you lay if you let him and you're too tired to move
- once you accidentally walked in on him stroking himself, and the AUDACITY OF HIM
- he smirked, groaned, and asked you to help him out
- who could resist a man like that
summary: your dog locks you out of your car. the locksmith who shows up to let her out? is kinda hot
pairings: scott lang x reader
word count: 1.7k
warnings: you have a big dumbass dog (but a cute dumbass) and your dad is your wingman (and if you dont have a dad im ur dad now have you taken your meds today? wanna go fishing?)
a/n: this is based off of a tiktok i found, which you can watch here (x) nobody requested this but i love scott so much. big love.
A van pulls up to the house, and parks in front of the driveway. It’s repurposed, definitely, with the words “X-Con Security Consultants” lovingly (read: clumsily) painted (read: scrawled) onto the side.
“That’s Hank Pym’s kid,” your father says to your mother, and she scoffs.
“No he’s not, he's the intern boy,” she argues, but you don’t care who’s son he is or if he’s interning. He’s beautiful. He has a wide smile on his face as he makes his way from his sketchy van with a bag of tools in hand.
“Scott!” Your father greets, leaving your mother to grumble amongst herself about the man’s origins.
“Hey! Morning, sir!” Scott calls back, and your father gives him a firm handshake. Your father doesn’t notice the pain in Scott’s eyes when he does this, but you do, and you like him immediately for it.
Your father leads the conversation as he guides him over to your car, you shamefully stand by the passenger side, treats and toys in hand. You come around to greet them both.
“—it’s good for extra cash since our expertise is locks and security,” Scott finishes, and your dad listens with intense curiosity.
“Tell Pym I said hi,” he says, before noticing you.
“Ah, Scott, here’s the culprit,” he says, leading him over to you.
“Technically, Delilah is the culprit, dad,” you complain, and he scoffs a little.
“Who locked her in there?” he says playfully, and you gasp.
“She did!” you say, laughing, and there are smiles all around.
“Hi,” you say, introducing yourself, and Scott holds out a hand for you.
“I’m Scott,” he says, and you notice his hands are firm and soft, “I’m here to save your dog. And also your car.”
You smirk, “Thank you.”
You notice he smiles a lot, which is not something you mind. He places a small work bag down on the ground near your driver’s side. He bends his neck at awkward angles to try and make out where your buttons are through your tinted windows.
“Tell him what happened,” your dad encourages, crossing his arms with an ‘I told you so’ look on his face, though it doesn’t apply to this situation.
“I put her in my car to take her on a ride, and I was walking around the other side to get in, and she hit the lock button,” you say sheepishly, staring at Delilah.
Your father laughs and shakes his head, telling you to call him if you needed anything, returning inside to catch the rest of the baseball game for a team he couldn’t care less about.
“It happens to the best of us. She’s really cute,” he says encouragingly, and you smile, because she’s not the only cute one in your general vicinity.
“Hi Delilah!” He coos, and she barks at him.
“Delilah, no,” your mother scolds, and she stares at you from the passenger seat with her tongue out.
“Well, I see how it is,” he mutters, and you laugh. He looks back at you when you do and you notice the light on his hair and how he squints just a little bit when he smiles. He turns back to your car, and works a car door wedge into the window of the driver’s side door. His focus is intense.
“Where you guys headed?” He asks, budging the wedge in and turning a crank on the side.
“We were just going on a ride. I kinda wanted to take her to get Starbucks, but now I’m not sure she deserves it,” you say, crossing your arms, knowing full well Delilah would get her puppuccino anyway.
“Aw, of course she does,” he says, looking at her panting at him through the glass.
“Isn’t that right, Delilah?” He says. She pays no attention to him. But it’s okay. You’re paying enough attention for the both of you.
“She has beautiful eyes,” he muses, and you hum in agreement.
“You have really nice eyes too,” you compliment accidentally, and you can feel the heat on your face as you try to play it off.
“Thank you,” he says, and you note his smile in the reflection of your car window as he falters with the wedge and the crank.
“Can I get you something to drink?” you say, and he stops.
“Uh, sure,” he says. He kneels down in your driveway to look for something in the small bag of tools he brought with him.
“I think we have coke? And orange juice probably, unless you want like, a water or something,” you say, and he accepts the water offer.
You turn to leave, but your mom is already halfway in the house.
“I can go get it,” your mom says, throwing you a smile over her shoulder.
You’re stuck in an awkward silence for a few minutes as he wiggles and pushes and tinkers with wires through your window. He pulls out a malleable wire and shoves it through the window wedge. You watch him work, with precise hands and concentration plastered on his face. But soon enough, with persistence and skill, Scott unlocks your car from the inside, carefully removes the car door wedge, and subsequently frees your poor pooch from her automated prison.
He opens the door, and Delilah moves to the driver’s side to smell Scott. She jumps out of the car and starts sniffing around him, her leash hanging limply on the ground.
You retrieve it and let Delilah do her thing.
“Thank you so much,” you say, as he crouches down to say hello to your pup.
“Ah, it’s no problem,” he says, and begins speaking to Delilah in a baby voice, “especially when I meet cute puppies like you, yes I do, yes I do!”
Delilah is loving the attention, and she smiles as he pets her behind the ears. You give her butt a few taps and go to speak to Scott again, but your mom returns from the kitchen.
“I cut up some fruit for you guys,” she informs, like you two were best friends having a sleepover. She balances two cold bottles of water, and, sure enough, a plate of fruit she stole from a platter sitting in your fridge.
“Mom,” you whine a little, and your dad follows soon after, in pursuit of the fruit.
“I’m alright, ma’am. Thank you though.”
Your mom yells your dad’s name in the direction of the front door, clearly not seeing him behind her. He steals a chunk of fruit off the platter and complains, “I’m right here, woman,”
“Oh,” she says, laughing in your direction, before she informs him Scott had gotten Delilah out.
“Someone had to,” he grumbles, and he runs back inside to grab his wallet.
You watch as Scott stands and grabs his bag, smiling at Delilah and turning to return the stuff to his van. Delilah decides to follow him.
“Delilah, please,” you beg, and she stops pulling on her leash, sitting like a good girl. You watch as he puts some things in his truck, fiddling with something in there, before you realize you’re staring.
You open your driver’s side door, letting Delilah hop in that way instead, and climb in after her, bumping her off your seat. You stare at her intently. She smiles back, none the wiser.
“You, are going to be the death of me,” you assure her, and you're startled by a knock at your window.
You expect Scott, but it’s your dad. You roll down your window.
“I asked specifically for Scott,” he assures, and smiles at you.
“Dad,” you groan, head thumping your headrest. You sigh.
“Don’t be weird,” you plead, and he scoffs.
“When have I ever been weird?” He asks, followed by, “Don’t answer that.”
You absentmindedly pet Delilah.
“You want his number?” he asks, credit card in hand. You turn in your seat to look at Scott. He’s walking around to the other side of his van for something.
“Not from you!” you muse, and that’s all your dad has to hear, grinning in triumph.
“Dad!” you whisper harshly, “Don’t be weird!”
“I won’t!” he says, mocking your raspy whisper.
You watch in your rear-view mirror as your dad goes up to Scott and hands him his credit card. Some words are exchanged, and then your mother goes up to him too. You decide you can’t watch anymore, and you hide your face in Delilah’s fur.
“Delilah, what are we gonna do?” you say, and her ears perk up, because in her mind, you two are going to Starbucks for puppuccinos.
“Not that, Delilah. Scott is so cute,” you inform her. She already knows, her eyes tell you, and you look back over at them.
Scott is smiling at your car. He sees your face, and he waves, causing your parents to look over at you. You blush, and wave back at him. Your dad sends you a signal, but you don’t know what it means, and your mom’s exaggerated wink is overkill.
You sigh and check your phone. No alerts, alarms, or notifications to take your mind off of the situation.
You hear Scott’s truck start up, and he pulls away as easily as he pulled in, and that’s that. Just another candle in the wind, a cute guy you’d never see again. But apparently, your parents had other plans.
Pulling out of the Starbucks drive-thru, you pull into a parking spot to let Delilah enjoy her cup of whipped cream. You take a sip of your icy beverage, and you hear your phone ding. Checking your notifications, you realize it’s from an unknown number, and your heart jumps thinking who it could be.
Opening your phone, Delilah whines in anticipation for the whipped cream in the Starbucks cup in the holder.
“Hang on, ‘Lilah,” you say and you open your phone to read the message.
did delilah get her puppuccino?
You smile at the text, and move to take a picture while you let Delilah go to town on her treat. Your phone chimes again and you hold the cup with one hand, skillfully checking your messages with the other.
it’s scott by the way. didn’t know if you could tell.
You text back Delilah’s picture. You could tell it was Scott.
“Delilah,” you say, “thank you so much for locking my door. You’re such a good girl,”
She knows. She decides to accept her payment in puppuccinos from now on.
1. “That’s not holly... that’s mistletoe...”
2. “Is it just me or does Santa look extra hot this year?”
3. “When Brenda Lee said rock around the christmas tree she didn’t mean literally. Please go put them back outside, they’re not cute.”
“I think it’s rustic.”
4. “(Name)! Why is our bathtub filled with snow?!”
5. “You didn’t have to get me anything. No seriously, I’m Jewish...”
6. “Fine! I’ll put up the lights all by mySELF.”
7. “Please come with me? ‘‘Tis the season!”
8. “Okay this was fun at first but now i’m cold and covered in pine needles, pick one and let’s go.”
9. “Wait, I thought we were going to my parents house this year?”
10. “YOU SPIKED THE EGG NOG???”
11. “Should we make christmas cookies or build a ginger bread house?”
12. “You woke me up at four in the morning to open christmas gifts like a child. At least let me make a cup of coffee first. We don’t even have kids!”
13. “If you’ve seen one Hallmark movie, you’ve seen them all.”
14. “Your nose is so red! Like Blitzen.”
“Wrong reindeer.”
13. “Iron Man 3! My favorite Christmas movie!”
“FOR THE LAST TIME. IRON MAN 3 IS NOT A CHRISTMAS MOVIE.”
14. “She wanted a puppy, not a litter.”
15. “Guys! Wrapping paper rolls are NOT lightsabers!”
16. “Do you wanna build a—“
“I swear to god if I hear you sing Frozen ONE MORE GODDAMN TIME.”
17. “Those aren’t poinsettias. They’re red chrysanthemums. And they mean death.”
18. “Where I grew up, we didn’t have snow at Christmas time.”
19. “You FELL through the FROZEN LAKE? ARE YOU CRAZY?”
20. “Is that... tape? On your gingerbread house?”
21. “Oh... Did I not tell you? The dog likes to eat cardboard. And also wrapping paper. It’s her way of getting in the Christmas spirit.”
22. “Can you come with me to get the ornaments out of the basement? I don’t want to go alone, it’s scary down there!”
23. “Your gingerbread house looks more like a... gingerbread pile.”
24. “The Christmas party is tonight? But I don’t even have an ugly sweater!”
25. “It’s Christmas Day! The only place open is the emergency room. And 7-eleven. We are staying IN.”
request: first time giving jj head??
summary: it’s pretty hot in the Outer Banks. that’s not the only thing that’s getting hot though.
pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader
word count: 1.2k
warnings: oral sex. JJ wears banana boxers. that is all i will say ;) big love.
You clumsily remove your shirt from your body and lay back down on your bed. You’ve been restless and fidgety all day.
“It’s hot,” you complain to JJ, who already has his shirt off and is laying on his stomach at the end of your bed. One of your pillows is fluffed under his head, and he tries his best to take a midday nap. It’s not working.
“Uh, I think you mean, ‘I’m hot’.” He clarifies, tilting his head to look over at you. You watch him notice your tank top and discarded shirt.
“You’re right, I am hot,” you agree, before groaning and pouting at JJ. He scoffs playfully.
“What do you want me to do about it?” He asks, and you move to lay down next to him, on your back. You mumble something that sounds like ‘I dunno’, and sigh.
It doesn’t take long for you to accidentally fall asleep in the Outer Banks heat. The sun was hot on your face when you woke up, meaning you hadn’t slept for that long, and JJ was still asleep next to you, his arm cushioning his head on the pillow, turned away from you. You smile at the fact that he’s still here, and that you two were close enough that he could just nap in your presence, and not have it be weird. You sit up next to him and shake him so that he’d wake up.
He grumbles before he shifts a little in his sleep.
“Stop it,” he murmurs, “That hurts.”
“Get uppp,” you whine, and he jerks a little so you’d get off of him. He turns to look at you again.
“No, ‘m tired.” He says softly. You roll your eyes.
“Sleep when you’re dead. I’m bored.”
He flips his head again, presumably to fall back asleep, but you’re not having it.
“JJ.” You demand.
“Yeah. Right now isn’t… the best time for me to get up,” he says.
You give him a quizzical look.
“What? Why?”
“I got a problem.” he says. He shoves his face into the pillow and mutters something else.
“What problem?” You ask, amused. You sit up and cross your legs, rocking back and forth a little bit.
“Hmph,” he sounds. You poke him in the side and he shifts his weight, shoving his hands underneath his body.
Your eyes widen with recognition, and you laugh.
“What?” he says, face tinting pink.
“Nothing,” you clarify, but keep smiling at him mischievously.
Suddenly, you start to move one hand up his back, fingertips tracing his muscles and tanned skin.
You lightly graze his neck, and you feel the goosebumps that spread over his body at your touch.
“Turn over,” you suggest, and JJ complies, revealing the slight bulge in his pants and tucking his hands behind his head.
It takes a second before you make eye contact with him, but when you do, you notice his bright blue eyes are slightly darker, and his pupils a little bit blown out. He smirks.
Your eyes trail back down to his shorts, and you lean across his legs to unbutton them. He lifts his hips and you shimmy them down to his ankles, but he doesn’t kick them off.
The bright yellow banana print boxers made you smile. You’ve never actually given JJ a blowjob before, but that didn’t seem to deter him in the slightest.
You run your fingernails right under the waistband, and he brings his hands down to his side. Your other hand goes to feel up his thigh and abs. He places his hand on yours, and brings it to cup his bulge, which you can feel is hard, and likely not going away anytime soon.
Squeezing slightly, you get a feel for his dick, and he slides your hand into his boxers. You grab his cock, hot and pulsing. He closes his eyes when that happens, and lets his head fall back onto the pillow. He hums in approval as you start to move your hand in firm strokes. He pulls his boxers down more to free his cock, and you continue to pump it, slowly, with a solid grip.
“Can you, ah… go faster?” he asks, voice breathy as you progress, but you decide to do him one better.
You move your mouth over the tip of his head, red and glistening, and you spit. You watch it run down the side of his cock as you take your tongue to the underside of it, where sensitive veins ran.
His breath hitches and his hips buck slightly at the pressure.
Letting your tongue do most of the work, you lick and press wet kisses to the underside of his dick, using one of your thumbs to flick his wet slit, your hand cupping his shaft.
He lets himself enjoy the attention, eyes still closed and cock still hard. His hand moves to hold the back of your head and you open your mouth and let him fuck up onto your tongue, licking his whole shaft.
You move slightly to straddle his calves, leaning down to bring your tongue back to the head of his dick.
“Oh, fuck that feels good,” he encourages.
You begin slowly, sucking on the tip with hollowed out cheeks and he can’t help himself. He moans and his breath sputters softly.
As you start to bob your head, avoiding teeth and trying not to go down too far, he keeps his hand on your head, encouraging you to take more and more down until his cock touches the back of your throat.
You gag a little and pull back, strings of spit connecting your lips to his cock still.
“Please, don’t stop,” he begs, his neck craned to look down at you, watching your mouth on him.
You decide to take a different approach, and push the tip of his cock back into your mouth, letting him buck up softly into the inside of your cheek.
He groans, and you take him back onto your tongue, towards your throat again, but not too far this time.
“Ah, I’m gonna…” he starts, but whimpers as you pick up the pace.
“I’m cumming, oh fuck, fuck, I’m—”
And you feel his cum pool on your tongue. You decide to swallow it, sucking so that his hips buck again, and he has to grab a fistful of the blanket underneath him to resist from plunging his cock to the back of your throat.
He moans in pleasure, and you pull away, cum still pooling at the tip of his penis. You carefully wipe it away with one hand, and he sits up, grinning.
“Come here,” he says, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer to him forcefully, pressing kisses to your neck.
“No, no, it’s fine,” you protest, wiggling out of his grasp and bending down to wipe his leftover cum on your discarded t-shirt. You had to wash it anyway.
“Aw, come on,” he protests with puppy dog eyes, “that’s not fair.”
“No no, now, you have to do something for me,” you say, and he looks wary of your suggestion.
“Like what?” He asks.
“Like, take a cold shower with me. Because I’m still hot.” You whine, sitting up on the edge of the bed.
“Now that, I can get behind,” says JJ, springing himself off the bed, bare ass naked, in the direction of the bathroom. You admired his body until you couldn’t see him anymore
You hate to see him go, but you love to watch him leave.
He sticks his head out from behind the door frame and stares at you.
“You coming?” He asks.
“I know you’re coming,” you reply suggestively, and he rolls his eyes as you laugh, getting up to follow him.
nat | she/her | gryffindor | sagittarius | xviii
54 posts