#thug!jj

𝓇𝒶𝒻𝑒:

frat!rafe catches you sneaking into his frat house

outlaw!rafe headcanons

save a horse… cowboy!rafe x reader

rafe x toppers!gf - coming soon

𝒿𝒿:

bsf!jj x reader - coming soon

jj x kook!reader - in progress

𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒹𝑜𝓂:

headcanons i have for obx men

𝓪𝓫𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓶𝓮 ⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢

new(ish) writer!!

18

loves: books, baking, sleeping, music

country girl to my core

in no particular order ᡣ𐭩

descent: he finds it a quick n easy way to fuck you. usually done before he goes off doin’ shit he knows he shouldn’t. “clears his mind” “makes him think sharper” he says. he gets to see all of you, has the upper hand, and due to the angle, he’s hitting every single spot inside you that makes you melt and mewl. what’s not to love?

mating press: ik it’s called deck chair on the website but i don’t like that. it’s mating press. anyway. jj loves fucking you in this position, chest to chest, deep inside — mhm, that’s his shit. usually his go-to for a softer lovin’, his “making love” position. feels the most connected to you in this way. fucked you this way the day he got out of jail.

low doggy: this one? he is fuckin’ ur shit up in this position. this is the one he does when he’s pent up, frustrated, all twitchy and angry, needing an outlet. deal gone bad, money lost, contacts gone — whatever it is, you’re the solution. well, your pussy. he shoves your face into the pillow because if he sees the look on it he’ll soften, and he ain’t got time for that. he just needs something to fuck.

lotus: mhmmmm. another intimate position he just fucking loves. arms wrapped around you, mouthing at your neck, chest, tits — anywhere. sloppy kisses, slow thrusts. usually a late night one. starts off as a make out session, then cowgirl, then lotus. he fucking loves it.

inquisitor: would it really be an au of mine if they weren’t all about pussy eating? jj just loves it. when he can’t really be bothered to lay you into the mattress, wants to make you feel good, or just because he wants to eat it for his pleasure (which is usually the case), jj is all about pussy eating. thinks a man who doesn’t do it is a fucking idiot and is missing out. he could spend hours lapping at your pussy, and would be happy. and he has. and he will again.

hm, full nelson: you’re fucked when jj pulls this one out. it’s his punishment position. you can’t move, can’t escape, just gotta fuckin take what he gives you. he loves it. usually ends in low doggy when he flips you. don’t piss off jj, you won’t walk right for a week. maybe two.

saw this pic on pinterest and immediately thought of thug jj and his obscene knife collection

cw -> allusions to a knife kink, knives, smoking

you were smoking with jj in his living room, making small talk which turned into jj telling you a story — with you listening intently, since he never opens up — and a passing comment caught your attention.

“‘n I showed him one of my knives—“

“one?” you interrupted.

“huh?”

“one, of your knives?”

he gave a small huff.

“oh. yeah, i got tons. i collect ‘em.” he shrugged nonchalantly, relighting his joint before staring at you.

you seemed confused but interested.

“you wanna see?”

with a nod, “yes” slipped out of your mouth before you could stop it.

he was up on his feet and walked off to his room, rummaging around for a little while.

he came back out after maybe a minute and a half, knives stuffed into his waistband, in his hands.

your stomach flipped.

“this one,” he held up a butterfly knife.

“was the first knife I ever got. fifteen, some dick jumped me n’ tried to stab me with it.“ he explained, all sharp teeth and a cocky smirk as he did so.

“stabbed him with it instead and took off.”

you weren’t listening to the rest of his stories about each knife — some big, some small. switchblades, butterfly, combat, army.

all you were looking at was the knives tucked in his waistband, resting against the bare skin of his stomach, making your cheeks feel a little warm.

“this one’s my favourite,” jj said as he pulled the large knife that was resting teasingly against his v line.

“my ka-bar. good grip, sharp as hell. good for intimidation n’ stuff.” he finally looked at you, seeing the genuine awe in your expression.

it made him tilt his head.

“how sharp?” you asked quietly, glancing to the ka-bar in his hand — which looked stupidly sharp. you don’t know why you asked.

he snorted, “wanna find out?”

again, you don’t know why you did; you nodded.

jj scoffed softly, raising his brow before lifting the knife to press into the underside of your chin, tilting your head up.

not enough to hurt or cut — he’d never do that.

but just enough pressure for you to feel the sharp tip of it.

your breath hitched, eyes widening.

and jj would’ve taken that as fear from anybody else, if it weren’t for the look in your eye.

that fucking look.

a slow grin formed on his face.

thug!jj would be the type to flash u his gun when u get too mouthy

he’s bitching about something — something you tuned out maybe twenty five minutes ago.

maybe you comin’ in whilst he was working a deal, knowing you weren’t supposed to be around his clients, maybe touchin’ his shit, maybe movin’ his drugs.

who knows at this point, but it was starting to grate on your nerves.

sat at the table as he rolled a joint, blabbering and yapping about how you shouldn’t do that, and how he’s told you to not be doin’ that. it just pissed you off so bad.

“oh my god, would you shut the hell up already!” you cut in, his hands pausing, eyes flickering up to stare at you through his blonde lashes.

then he scoffs — putting the half made joint down, leaning back and spreading his legs wide.

he lifts his shirt up, showing the 9mm resting in his waistband, tucked snugly against his v line.

“yeah?”

he watched your annoyed eyes melt to a starry-eyed, pouty look as your eyes flickered over the gun, the v line, the soft contour of his torso, before up to his face.

tucking your pouty bottom lip between your teeth, you shook your head.

his shirt dropped back down over the gun as he stood, walking over to you. he patted your cheek, just slightly too rough.

“don’t lemme catch you doin’ that shit again.”

thug!jj who — grew up learning how to load a gun before he learned how to parallel park. school never taught him shit he couldn’t hustle better on the street.

thug!jj who — don’t trust nobody who smiles too easy. says a real one don’t gotta show teeth ‘unless he’s tryna bite.’

dealer!jj who — started pushing at 14, not ‘cause he wanted to, but ‘cause he had to. when the fridge was empty and his dad was drunk, the block looked more like a classroom than any school did.

dealer!jj who — only fears two things: going broke and going soft. everything else? he’ll handle it when it comes.

thug!jj who — got a rap sheet longer than his patience. every charge he caught was worth it. every one he didn’t catch? even better.

thug!jj who — got his first tattoo in a kitchen chair, first scar from a brass knuckle, first heartbreak from his own mama.

dealer!jj who — never knocks when he walks into a room — if you ain’t expectin’ him, you shouldn’t be there.

dealer!jj who — keeps the lights off in every room he sleeps in. says comfort is for people who ain’t been hunted before.

works…. ·.༄࿔ him flashin’ u his gun. you lyin’ under oath. comfort sex.