#꒰ ۫ ੭ requests! ୨ৎ ꒱

[poguesprincess]

like, jj is a needy bf. he will literally have sex w you anywhere anytime, including down on the sand, right up by the water. like your complaining about the cold water that reaches ur toes everytime a wave crashes but its ok cuz hes balls deep in u. also he will laugh at u for being scared of getting sand in ur cooch.

-🐚

*.⊹˚𝜗୧ ‧₊˚

“people are going to see us.”

“is this not a free country or something?” jj’s got his hand down your shorts, rubbing small circles onto your clit. you’re by the water, and literally anybody could come by and see him defiling you. his other hand is sneaking its way up to your bikini, fingers peeking behind the material to give your tit a squeeze, earning himself a smack on the wrist, "have you always been so stupid?"

"have you always been so mean?" he retorts, but he's all smiles. he can't help himself. not when he sees the care start to slowly drain from your face, and your legs twitch slightly as you try widen them without him noticing. you were so obvious. the water draws nearer to you, and you bite back a shriek.

"jay, it's cold! can't we go inside?" you try to reason with him, but his lips latch onto your neck and you know he's too far gone.

"want you. now, princess."

to ease your mind, he's got a towel (mostly) covering you, but it doesn't take long before he's inching his way inside of you, knees pressed into the sand as the evening sun beats down on him. he's deliciously tanned and gorgeous, and it makes you forget why you'd complain about anything in the first place. he presses a soft kiss to your temple, hips rocking slowly into you as he tries to fuck away your whines of protest.

"careful— ah— careful! you're going to get sand up there!" you cry, clawing at his back in a way that has him go slightly deaf to your voice.

"up— up where?" he's laughing again, and you roll your eyes as you finally decide to push him off you, mumbling angrily. you were never doing this again.

"woah, hey— hey, come back!" he tries to seem sympathetic, but his giggles are a dead giveaway that he's not taking any of this seriously, not even bothering to stop you from wrapping the towel from around your body and storming off to the house. you're cute when you're annoyed, he thinks.

[poguesprincess]

u said JJ is a COD type guy. as a cod girly i need to know how he reacts to the things pee-brained men say to women on there

you with his headset on, and him behind the controls, i think he’d be floored by the things they say to you. he’s a little oblivious.

firstly i think i need to preface this by saying he’d be so excited by this idea he’s concocted because he thinks he’s cracked the code on how to get away with gaming and spending time with you at the same time.

“jay, they’re yelling slurs at me. all of them are calling me slurs.” you’re unimpressed, and he’s hastily grabbing at the microphone to tell these losers off. “hey, thats— thats my girl you’re talking to— quit it!”

and, when he thinks he’s gotten a leash on them, the comments begin:

“hey maybank, how’s the pussy on that thing?”

“you gonna let us take turns with her?”

“shit, i’d think it’s your bitch behind the controller and not you, maybank.”

which, of couse, ends with the headset yanked off of your head when you’re done dictating to him the things they’ve said, and a red-faced, angry jj, who’s left the room to properly tell off the men behind the computer screen.

after telling them how bitchless they are, his anger gets to the best of him— tossing the headphones onto his desk and dropping straight to his knees, shorts and panties ripped off from under you.

“jay, what if they’re still on—“

“gonna show those virgin losers what it’s like to feel the touch of a woman, since they’re clearly so desperate for it.”

[poguesprincess]

a lot of rafe writers do rafe x soft!reader. what do you think about rafe with a bad ass reader who doesn’t take shit from no one especially rafe? you can do headcannons or a blurb i don’t mind. thanks!

- 💌 (can i be if it’s not taken)

the way i just posted about this concept before seeing ur ask!! our brains ..

and yes, you absolutely can!!

*.⊹˚𝜗୧ ‧₊˚

it drives him absolutely mad, but he can’t seem to find it in him to ‘fix’ it. he calls it an attitude problem, but you don’t see it that way.

half your relationship is frustrated groans and grumbles from the boy— who’s just as difficult as you are, for the record. he’s always mumbling a string of curses and complaints (“dont know why i put up with your ass”) when you say or do something he doesn’t like.

when he first met you, he thought he could flip the switch in your brain eventually and get you to listen to him, but you were stubborn, and he was quick to realize that there was little to nothing he could do about it. there wasn’t a moment you didn’t do exactly what it was you wanted to do, and while it raises his cholesterol and creases the stressed lines of his forehead a little deeper— he gets caught up on how pretty you are, and how precious your doe eyes are, the way your eyelashes frame the large, demanding orbs— and then he’s too far gone to register that you’re completely disrespecting him.

don’t even get him started on how you dress— the scraps of fabric you call clothes and are so adamant on wearing in public have him on high alert at all times, constantly scoping out the scene to make sure no eyes are on his girl. he’s hardly ever seen without a possessive hand on your ass (that you’ll smack away every once in a while, just to tease him. “hands on your own cargo, playboy”, you’ll tell him).

“can’t you wear some fuckin’— normal clothes for once?” he whispers agitatedly into your ear. it gets you going how easy it is to rile him up sometimes.

when he tells you to slow down on the drinking when you’re partying, or orders you to sit on his lap when he’s dragged you to topper’s or kelce’s— and he’s met with your middle finger absently flung in the air in his direction, his jaw ticks.

“show some respect, will you?”

“why, cause you’re a man, ‘n that makes you the boss of me?” it always makes topper snicker.

“you— you’re fuckin’— insufferable, you know that? can’t fuckin’ listen to me for once in your life can you?”

you’ve heard it a million times, and you roll your eyes. you don’t even bother to look at him, and he could just about lose it. he doesn’t know why he puts up with you.

“y’aint the boss f’me rafey. ‘s time someone humbled you.” even the way you mumble it is laced with insubordination.

he lets out a frustrated huff, tonguing the inside of his cheek as he eyes you— his patience is running thin. you dont even flinch when he surges towards you, tugging you into a separate room to “talk you down” (it never works), face squished between his fingers painfully as he forces you to meet his gaze.

“i oughta fuck that attitude right out of you, huh? would teach you to stop actin’ like a spoiled brat.”

you smile, and his self control slips as the dopey, brattiness of it makes his dick harden. that teasing, defiant smile. when he fucks you, it’s like a challenge to see who’ll back down first. he always gets you right on the cusp of breaking before he hears what he wants to.

“you gonna listen to me, now?” the way he pounds into you and hits that spot every time has you nodding incessantly, moans spilling from your swollen lips without control. he’ll try and get you to say it out loud for him, but he still fails. you’ve got some bite left in you. it’s only when you’re screaming his name until he’s satisfied.

you’re trouble, but he just can’t seem to let you go. ‘specially not when you’re the best fuck he’s ever had in his life.

[poguesprincess]

bff!jj being a secret virgin but being so vulgar and graphic around you just to see you blush hehehe until you catch him out and then it’s his turn to blush 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

im screaming oh my god anon 😵‍💫

*.⊹˚𝜗୧ ‧₊˚

jj maybank being a virgin was the last thing you expected. ever. you knew your best friend like the back of your hand, and the boy was far too explicit— whorish— for the word ‘virgin’ to ever come to mind when you thought of him. he was just, in the kindest way you could put it, rated ‘r’. plus, you’d seen him run off with other girls before, so you could only assume he had something going on.

and he’s always so quick with his comments, the vulgarity of them flying over your head most of the time, before they finally click in your head and your cheeks settle to a burning hot temperature. It’s problematic, at times, because he always seems to do it at the worst possible hour, which only fuels your embarrassment more.

so when you overhear a particularly private conversation between the boy and john b, your head spins a bit— a small smile settling on your face. you felt triumphant, being able to finally get back at him for the first time ever. when he makes his way back to his spot next to you on the couch, you have to bit your lip to contain your smile.

you turn to him wordlessly, patiently waiting for him to return your eye contact before slowly sliding a hand up his thigh, long eyelashes batting up at him innocently, “never pegged you as a virgin, maybank.” your voice is soft, laced with faux concern, and you can feel him tense under the wake of your hand. you watch his cheeks pink as he tries to process what you’ve just said, but you dont give him much of a chance.

as if you could go any slower, your fingers trace along the outline of his hardening dick, tilting your head as you wait for an answer— as if it were the simplest question you’d ever asked.

“i dont—“ he begins, but his words are cut short when you press your palm against him once, and then pull away. you smile, satisfied at the was he’s turned red and at a loss for words, chest heaving and pretty lips parted.

“not so cocky now, are we?” now, you can hardly contain your fit of giggles. your best friend was cute when he was flustered, it turns out.

“shut. up.”

[poguesprincess]

please more teasing bff!jj i’m so down bad for him. wanna give him a lap dance and watch his face get all red🤩

luckily for you teasing bff!jj (or any jj) is my brand! i kinda strayed away from the ask a bit but hopefully the point still stands.. here you go sweetheart <3

♱ ‧₊˚ jj maybank is your best friend.

you remind yourself this as you stare at him from across the crowded room. what he’s brought you to doesn’t necessarily constitute as a party, but it’s certainly too large of a crowd to be considered a small gathering. whatever it is, there’s some faint music, drinks, chatter.

he was your best friend, and maybe it was the 2 or 3 odd beers you’d had already, but he looked, for a lack of better words, yummy. like one of your usual boytoys you’d seduce on a night like this. still slightly upset with him from whatever bickering argument the two of you shared in the car before, it also beckoned you to have some fun with him. rile him up. again, the drinks were talking.

which is why you slam down the half empty bottle in your hand on the counter, its contents splashing over your fingers and onto those of whatever boy had been talking your ear off the majority of the night, storming off and away from him without a word. jj catches a glimpse of you, and his focus drifts away from his own conversation. he’s your best friend. you try to remember this.

but, the closer you get, the more it slips your mind, and the more the drinks whisper how good he looks.

“i want to dance.”

“what happened to princess over there?” he points to the boy you were with before, and you not that you now have two men very clearly still annoyed with you.

“not good enough.” his face is full of protest, but he lets you lead him outside anyways, where the music is louder, the crowd is fuller, the consequences are duller. the two of you dance, but it isn’t enough. slipping from under his arm, you hold his hand in yours, back facing him, and your hips sway faster. jj maybank was an easy boy. a boy like other boys. you knew how to get back at him.

he’s hardly paying attention to you until he realizes the gap between you two is closing, his face pinking up at the proximity. jj never really knew how to deal with having a really, really hot best friend. he tried his best to ignore it. but it didn’t change the fact that he was painstakingly attracted to you, and that the girl he’d sworn himself off of was now slowly grinding her ass onto his crotch. chill, he told himself. just chill.

“the fuck are you doing?” are you trying to get me to fuck you?

“dancing?” you bring his hand down and rest it on your hip, encouraging him to take the lead (you knew he couldn’t). you could feel how tense he was, blue eyes boring down between the space where your hips roll against him. you can hear him utter a small fuck, hands shaky as he tries to keep his cool. you turn, and it takes everything in you not to laugh in his red hot face.

“jesus, maybank, is this how you get every time a girl tries to dance with you?” he’s sputtering, too focused on trying to seem normal— collected, in the public space, feet fumbling as he tries to hide his nervousness with his dancing. you’ve never seen him like this before. the thread snaps when you bend over slightly, hands on your knees, and you feel his strong arm grip yours painfully, practically dragging you as he makes his way back to his truck. you struggle to contain your laughter. he’s still red in the face when you turn to look at him, still spilling over his words as he tries to curse you out.

“think you’re funny, huh. real comedian over here.”

“oh, jay, you should see your face!” you’re doubled over at this point, clutching to his bicep, and he’s desperately trying to shove you into the car. “just get in!” he’s frantic, and you assume it’s because he’s embarrassed, but you can’t see the imprint of his hard cock in his jeans if you’re too busy giggling in his truck, rather than in his arms.

[poguesprincess]

how would it go if you’re sitting on bsf!jj’s lap and you feel him get hard??

feel like he’d get embarrassed ‘n a little pissed off when you notice it!!

*.⊹˚𝜗୧ ‧₊˚

because he’s always the first one to offer up “a seat” (his lap) when there’s seemingly less chairs around than before, or when you have to cram up in the twinkie, or really any excuse he can find to get you to sit on him. most of the time, it’s not like he’s being a perv about it, he just likes being close to you. that’s what he tells you, anyway.

“hup— looks like we’re all outta chairs for you, m’lady. gonna have to take a seat,” he chirps, albeit happily, patting his lap eagerly a little too swiftly the moment you enter the room. john b speaks up as if he’s about to offer you his own chair, but jj gives him a look so intense you roll your eyes at how obvious he’s being, before making your way towards him and plopping yourself on his lap.

but you’re fidgety and restless, and jj begins to regret even calling you over because he knows he can’t hide how painfully bad he has it for you once his dick makes itself known against the curve of your ass. you shift uncomfortably for the nth time in a row, and he grabs your forearm a little too harshly.

“ow, jj”

“stop moving.”

“wh— it’s not my fault your legs are so bony,” you complain, shifting again.

“stop. moving.” his voice is harsher now, and you turn to look at him, confusion evident on your face.

“what’s got your panties in a twist?— oh,” you feel it then, exactly why you began to feel so uncomfortable. the evidence was hard and strained in his pants, pressing painfully against your ass, and you stifle a giggle. it makes his face burn a bright red.

“jj, oh my god— are you 12 years old?”

“shut up!” his voice raises slightly, and the group pauses conversation to ogle at him. he clears his throat, lifting his hips slightly to try alleviate discomfort. it makes things worse, which makes your fit of giggles harder to contain.

“what happened to, ‘not being a perv’?” you ask him, lashes batting in his face in a manner so unnerving he feels the urge to smother you. his breathing is hard, uneven, and embarrassment is clear in the way he avoids eye contact with you. his jaw ticks, and you know you’ve pissed your best friend off. you wouldn’t be his best friend, however, if the fact didn’t egg you on. you continue to silently tease him, and he pushes you off his lap, causing you to stumble slightly onto the ground. he stomps his way, like a child, towards the bathroom— earning himself another confused look from the group of pogues oblivious to what was happening. they turn to you, and you shrug.

“think he’s having a hard time, today,” you snicker, smile unmoving as you watch the boy flip you off in your peripheral as he turns the corner.

he was going to have fun getting back at you.

[poguesprincess]

kind of a part two to this drabble, as a singular person requested (lol). enjoy.

♱ ‧₊˚ rafe cameron can’t get his hands off of you.

the alcohol has for sure gotten to his head now, if it hadn’t before, and his eyes sting from the drastic change of lighting— now shoved into a dark bathroom with you, hard-on pressed against your clothed cunt. both of his hands are locked into your hair, tugging every so often to elicit one of those moans of yours he’s so in love with. he snickers against your lips each time you do. now impatient, your hips wiggle against his own, edging dangerously close to the edge of the counter he’d propped you on. “thought you hated me.” he muses, one hand slipping down to your waist, trailing ever so slowly towards your pelvis, “thought you couldn’t stand me, you never wanted to see me again.” annoyed, you bite down at his bottom lip with a groan, fumbling desperately at his belt in a frail attempt to get him to shut up. last thing you needed was rafe cameron to get another ego boost.

“what is it you called me? a selfish prick?”

“you are one— be quiet” you pant, breathless.

he ignores you. “and look at you, begging for this prick’s dick. can’t help yourself, can you?” your head is pounding from the constant bass of the music outside, and your core aches painfully the more he speaks. you give in. “please, rafe, just fuck me.” he can’t remember a time he’s ever heard you whine like that, and he would give you what you asked for immediately, but his pride is running too high now. he presses his palm flat against you, middle finger stroking through the fabric of your shorts as if in search of your hole. “fuuuuck, babe, can feel your heartbeat through these jeans.”

he’s now focused on the way his fingers toy and prod at your pussy, savoring the way you flinch and twitch when the heel of his palm presses against your clit, and soon he’s working your shorts down with that same hand— the other still grasping your hair, as if to keep you in place. as if you might try to run away from him again. the only light that enters the bathroom flashes from under the door. greens and blues and reds peek through, illuminating the blond of his hair; the hardened edges of his face as he focuses on aligning himself with your hole. it makes you forget about anything he ever did to upset you ever. especially when his tip now circles your sopping wet cunt, sliding up and down, head catching on your clit. his eyes snap up to yours, and his grip on your hair tightens. he stills.

“tell me you want it.” he whispers, pumping his dick slowly as he teases your hole.

“rafe!—“

“tell me you missed this dick, baby. tell me how much you need me right now, or i fucking swear i’ll leave you in this bathroom like the wet and horny mess you are.”

you give in, ears now filled with the sound of your moans and the sticky sound of his flagpole of a cock driving into your walls. he looms over you, supporting himself with a hand pressed above your head and onto the mirror, tonguing at the bottom of his lip in focus. “need it so baddd, rafey, fuck!” he mocks the way you begged for him moments before he began to pound himself into you. “gonna beg for me again, huh princess? gonna beg rafey to let you cum?” you nod as he speaks nonsensically into your ear, arousal heightened by the way he humiliates you, mocks you so loudly and shamelessly as if no one were around to hear. he’s abusing that same, gummy spot inside of you over and over again, fingers ghosting over your clit. you can feel the condensation of sweat on the mirror roll down and dribble onto your shoulder, wetting the back of your head as it lolls back and forth by the force at which the boy fucks into you. his head falls against your shoulder, hips stuttering slightly, but still unrelenting.

“gonna blow my fuckin’ load into you, babygirl.” he begins. you can hardly register what he’s saying, only the way it brings you closer and closer to the edge, “missed this tight fuckin’ pussy so much.” soon, you’re begging him to cum, and the hand over your clit finally lowers, rubbing in tandem with his thrusts.

“thats it baby, give it to me. show daddy how sorry you are.”

[poguesprincess]

based on this ask. content warning: dubcon, forced breeding.

*.⊹˚𝜗୧ ‧₊˚

the minute rafe gets inside of you, he tends to lose all rationality.

or at least, that’s what youve reasoned with yourself, because despite countless conversations with the boy, he continues to cum inside you.

he’s got you in his favorite position— ass up, face down. his long fingers are wrapped around your hair, forcing you to moan out with every hard thrust he delivers you.

“god— damn baby. this all for me? you wet like this for me?” he knows the answer, and you know it too, but he wont stop until you say yes. he’s reaching deeper inside you than he ever has, and you have to bite your lip to restrain from screaming.

“yes— yes! fuck!” is all you can manage, voice strained from the hold he has on your hair. it dumbs you.

“gonna let me cum in this pretty pussy this time ‘round, yeah? show daddy you love him?” you can tell he’s close by the suggestion of cumming inside you, and you try your best to wiggle away from him. he’s too strong. “wait, rafe— rafe, wait, no,” you beg. you’ve had one too many scares in the past, and you couldn’t handle another one. you weren’t entirely sure if he could handle it either. regardless, he only seemed to pound harder, pulling you up to his chest so you can hear him grunt in your ear.

“yeeahhh, you are. gonna fill you up. gonna make you a mommy, ‘n you’re gonna— hmf— gonna make me a daddy. never gonna let you leave me.”

he’s hitting that soft, gummy spot of your walls over and over as he whispers this to you, eyes rolling back and filling with tears as you try to fight off your orgasm so you can get him to stop. but he feels so, so good, and suddenly the idea doesn’t sound too bad to you in your fucked out state. your hands scramble to grab onto something, finally resting against the hand he has pressed against your neck, and you claw at him desperately, a silent plea that said please stop and please don’t stop simultaneously.

his hips stuttered, and you cried out as his release filled you, igniting the orgasm you’d been holding off until now. it pleases you, and you let out a sigh as he continues to fuck his load into you. it’s harsh, and void of any passion.

“good girl, take it. you’re mine now. i’ve made you mine.”

you’re crying silently into the covers as he pulls out, shoving two fingers into your spent cunt so as to keep him from leaking out of you. he brushes your hair away softly, contradictory to the way he completely dehumanized you before, and presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“who do you belong to?” he asks simply, and it makes you wail.

“you, rafe.”

[poguesprincess]

how about pope fingering reader in the back of the twinkie ..

oh anon .. this concept 😵‍💫

*.⊹˚𝜗୧ ‧₊˚

“john b is going to kill me,” he stresses as you drag him by the hand over to the battered van with a devilish giggle. you’re quick to push him into the unlocked car, stumbling on top of him as you try to hurriedly press your lips against his.

“jesus— slow— slow down?” you’re all over him, his body half on the couch seat of the van, and he’s desperately trying to find the lock so as to minimize the chance that someone were to show up unprompted. your hand flies to his jeans, now seated on top of him, desperately trying to undo his belt buckle in a surge of adrenaline.

“missed you— so much—“ you mumble in between kisses, keening into his touch as his fingers massage into your thighs, still trying to get you to slow down a bit, “you saw me this morning,” he reasons, sucking in a sharp breath as you finally undo his pants, not hesitating to fit your hand into the opening.

“yeah, that was like, hours ago.”

“it’s eleven thirty—“

“shut up, pope.”

you’re quick to undo your own pants now, haphazardly pulling your shirt off, breasts spilling out from your bra. you laugh at the way it makes his lips part, eyes focusing completely on the lace of your bra and the way it compliments your soft skin. he reaches to grab the back of your thigh, just below the fold of your ass, pulling you under him swiftly before you could assume complete control of the situation.

he’s on his knees now, and your legs find their way over his shoulder as he inspects the want evident on your underwear. two fingers reach to rub you through the fabric, and you stifle a whimper. “pope..”

“isn’t this what you wanted? don’t worry, i’m gonna give you what you need.”

your head falls back as he moves his fingers to tug your panties to the side, pad of his index quick to find the wetness pooling by your hole. he coos, and it makes your face burn with embarrassment.

when he finally dips a finger in, knuckles deep, you let out a deep groan. he’s quiet as he find his rhythm, twisting and curling his long digits as he tries to find what makes you cry out in the specific way you like. he’s studying your every reaction, every twitch of your body and sound of your lips, face scrunched in a way you can only describe as pure desire as he watches you writhe above him.

every protest you make is cut off by a different thrust of his hand. you wanted more of him, you had since you’d tricked him into meeting you here, but he was determined to have you fall apart with his hands alone. he slides another finger in agonizingly slow, and your hand flies to grip his hair as you try to maintain composure. your eyes flutter closed, and he angles his fingers up farther into your cunt.

“look at me.”

when you do, it only stirs you on more. his gaze is hard, eyes loyal to maintaining contact with your desperate ones. the dominance of it only brings you closer to release. it’s all he’s said to you since he’s brought you apart with his fingers, and it does something to you. your lips part as he brings you closer, brows scrunching as you search for some sort of purchase. his eyes are still locked in with yours, and you can see him fight back his smile.

“let go, baby. just let go.” it sends you over the edge, body falling limp as you cry out weakly. he doesn’t stop thrusting into you as your orgasm takes you over, fingers repeatedly massaging that one spot inside of you that has you falling apart. you try wiggle your way away from him, overstimulation replacing pleasure, but he clamps a firm hand to your thigh to keep you from moving.

“give me another one,” you can see his hardness through the thin material of his briefs, strained and neglected, but his tone commands you keep your eyes on his, and you struggle to find it in you to fight back.

when he finishes you off for the third time, he pops his fingers in his mouth with a cocky smile, sucking off the remnants of your juices happily. it makes you roll your eyes, before you jump at the sound of sudden intrude.

“seriously, dude? pope?” john b calls from outside the twinkie, hand covered over his eyes as he shamefully shakes his head at the two of you. strings of curses fall from his mouth as you scramble to find your clothes and put them on, scolding you as you giggle as you do so. you can faintly hear jj wolf-whistle from next to john b, and popes face falls in his hands, red from embarrassment.

[poguesprincess]

pope and his island girlfren who gets along w jj a lil too well for anyone's liking. the two of them make for a terrfying duo. the pogues are genuinely scared of what theyre plotting when theyre allowed to be together. two reckless bitches who just wanna have fun 🤩

-🐚

oh you know they’re a recipe for trouble

*.⊹˚𝜗୧ ‧₊˚

sometimes, you worry pope’s head might blow off when you and jj are given the opportunity to be, well, you and jj together. the two of you were always too excited when the time came around that you could be together, and you only seemed to egg him on on all his bad ideas.

when jj taught you how to ride his bike for the first time, it genuinely had the whole group stressing.

“it’s all about the throttle and clutch control, ‘aight? don’t worry about the rest. just let ‘er do her thing.”

“is that really the best way to go about this?” pope chimes in, hands raised defensively as you excitedly rev up the bike. you let out an exhilarated yell, and he moves toward you.

“back up, pretty boy. shes got it” jj brushes him off, turning back to you, “okay, so forget the manual for now. just feel the power. ready?” you nod, not wasting a second before you’re speeding off. you can hear pope yelling behind you to stay careful, begging you to slow down. when you turn to look behind you, he’s on his knees as if he’s praying, hands pressed together as he worriedly watches you skirt around the backyard and jj jumps excitedly with a fist pumped in the air.

when you return, you hop off the bike and deliver your signature handshake with the amped up blond boy, chests bumping and excitedly planning your next escapade.

pope is seemingly out of breath, “ne— never do that again— please, oh god,” and you roll your eyes, pulling him into a tight hug as you shake from adrenaline.

“‘kay, now can you do a backflip?”

“jj, no,” pope pleads, but the two of you are already running off into the sand as you get ready for your next lesson. what was he gonna do with you?

“dude, you’ve got yourself another jj,” sarah laughs, joining him as he slowly jogs off to monitor the activity. he shoots her a glare, causing him to stumble and fall onto the sand.

“thank you, pope, for showing her how not to do a backflip. now—“

he was screwed.

[poguesprincess]

pope with reader who will back him up on anything with no context. she's just there for her man.

like she's sittin' on his lap while he and jj r arguing ab something and jj asks reader to back him up, n' reader who was paying zero attention looks up from her phone, pulling her head off of pope's chest and is just like "nah im with my man"

-🎧 (can i be if no one is yet? <3)

reader who supports her man blindly .. sooo me :] yes you can anon <3

*.⊹˚𝜗୧ ‧₊˚

you’re normally full of life and energy, but back at the chateau, when the day starts to end, the only thing you crave is the warmth of your boyfriend’s arms and the space to just turn your brain off. he doesn’t even question or protest when you climb onto him like he’s a chair, easing yourself onto his lap— legs contorted in what he thinks just cannot be comfortable. you tell him he’s never sat in his own lap before. he calls you crazy.

it’s easy for you to shut things out, fiddling with pope’s fingers or the thick curls at the back of his head, lost in your own thoughts. he complains about the haphazard twists of curls you absentmindedly leave, but he secretly loves it. he can carry a piece of you, that way. you can feel, though, when him and jj begin to quarrel for what feels like the millionth time today, his body tensing— the muscles of his thighs stiffen under your soft ones, his shoulders perching defensively. you can hear the progressive beating of his heart as your head rests on his chest.

“nah man, i’m telling you. all we gotta do is pull up on those bastards, and show ‘em who’s the real freakin’ boss!” jj’s on his normal angsty rampage, strategizing for whatever predicament he and his friends have gotten into this time around. his voice raises near the end of his sentence, and it startles you. you feel the air of his sigh on the back of your neck, and he coos in your ear as he soothes you from the abruptness of jj’s outburst.

“yeah, that’s real smart jj. show up on the armed guys unprepared and unarmed. why didn’t we think of it before?” his voice is soft and low, cautious of disrupting you. he was considerate like that— you were his main priority at all times, and that included ensuring your comfort.

they go back and forth for a bit, and you groan as pope shifts a bit too far up in his seat, causing you to slip slightly, head bouncing uncomfortably off of his chest. his hand swiftly moves to catch you as you slide off his lap. when he repositions you, his hand lingers on your waist, tracing small circles on the soft skin of it. it grounds you for a bit, and you catch the tail end of john b’s attempt to mediate the heated exchange.

“—what do you think?”

it takes you a while to register that they’re talking to you, coming back to the present when pope whispers your name into your ear. it’s gentle, and you know he genuinely cares for your input, even if you may not be entirely caught up on what’s going on.

“hm? dunno why you’re asking me. y’know i’m on his side.” the boy chuckles at this, and you feel his chest puff with pride. he knows you’re speaking objectively— but it warms him that his girl is sticking with him. jj huffs, clearly annoyed, running a harsh hand through his hair before fixing his cap on his head. you take it upon yourself to tune out again, fiddling with your boyfriends fingers. he reaches to turn your face towards him, soft smile making you melt all the way down inside. when he presses a soft kiss to your lips as a thank you, the group groans.

“of course she’d take his side,” jj grumbles, plopping himself down on his seat. you giggle quietly, easing yourself impossibly closer into your boyfriend’s hold.

“someone’s jealous,” you whisper to pope, just loud enough for him to hear— and he smiles so bright you’d think you just had said the funniest joke in the world.

“look at that, he’s pussy whipped.”

they argue again.

[poguesprincess]

pope with island gyal reader. like she came as part of a package deal w cleo. and she's a freaky lil thing. she is on pope day and night and what is he supposed to do but entertain her ;)

-🎧

as an island gyal, yes yes and yes

*.⊹˚𝜗୧ ‧₊˚

you were a loose cannon, to put it nicely— loud, intense, sporadic— a good balance for your partner in crime, cleo. who was, though a bit tempestuous, far more rational than you were. when the two of you became a part of the pogue’s crew, it was easy for you to get along with them. one of them, however, you got along with a little too well.

you weren’t shy by any means, and you always knew what you wanted. the second you laid eyes on him, you knew that something was pope.

you’d flirt shamelessly with him— in front of everyone and alone— unphased by the displeased groans and gags towards your unadulterated attempts to seduce the boy. what made it worse, was how shy he got. it only egged you on more.

“hey, brownin’!” you’d call out to him, snickering to yourself as the group— him included— dropped their heads back with a sigh, tired from your antics. he stumbled over to you, avoiding eye contact.

“first of all, i told you i don’t entirely understand what that means, and i’m not sure it’s exactly acceptable to say—“ you rolled your eyes, americans, “and i thought we agreed you’d stop calling me it?” he mumbled once he reached to you, glancing nervously behind him as jj and john b fake made-out with each other behind his back.

“we never agreed to it, pretty boy,” you reminded him, smile like a cheshire cat as you looked him up and down. you cut him off before he could begin arguing with you. he was always chatting back.

“come hang ‘round with me for a bit. i’m not feeling the beach just yet.”

he thought about it for a second, turning back to the group with an apologetic smile before taking your hand and running back to the chateau with you. he couldn’t say no to you— not with your perfectly sun-kissed skin, effortlessly tossed curls, and wild eyes. he thought you were gorgeous, to put it simply, and he found that his senses faltered whenever you asked him of anything.

thats how the two of you ended up with your mouths hurriedly pressed against each other’s, kisses all but wet and sloppy and frankly, gross. you were pushed up against the wall, legs wrapped around his waist and hands cupped to his face as you giggle in between kisses.

“my— what happened to the shy boy i was just with outside?” you managed in between the attacks of his lips. the minute he got a taste of you, he was hungry. you could hardly find time to breathe— but you were sweet and tasted of sea salt and mango and he couldn’t find it in him to care.

“not my fault you’re a freak,” he rasped, moving to attach his mouth to your neck, sucking on that one spot he’d discovered not to long ago and has since not left alone. it made your eyes roll to the back of your head, and the facade you often put on shrink down. you hated putting your walls down, but you found it progressively got easier with him.

“—and for the record,” he started again, “i’m not shy, you’re just vulgar”.

“that’s up for debate,” you smiled as he raised his head to meet your eyes, giggling as he dove his head back to your soft, plump lips.

the afternoon had long passed by the time the two of you finally made it back to the beach (not without you sneaking in the boy a handjob. you were addicted to the way he called your name when he came), and you swore that he would pass out from the amount of teasing the two of you received when you got back. you— you could handle it. you entertained it, even, joining in on the jokes and poking him in his side as you did. he struggled to do the same, hiding his face in his hands and groaning as jj shook him playfully.

when nighttime came around, he was usually the one to initiate with you. the sun was hotter in the caribbean than in obx, so you were more used to prolonged days in the sun, its fatiguing effects having less of an impact on you than it did him. it wore him down, making him downright clingy.

he’d drag you to the sea, both of you laughing as you tripped and clamored as you ran in the sand, before easing you into the water, a possessive hand at the back of your neck as he clashed his lips to yours for the millionth time that day, hand sneaking to rub you through the thin material of your bikini.

“who’s the freak now?”

“shut up.”

[poguesprincess]

pope not being able to study because reader won’t stop bothering him it can be kind of smutty or something regular

*.⊹˚𝜗୧ ‧₊˚

you respect pope and his study regime, but that doesn’t mean you wont try to have some fun with it sometimes.

something about it is just so attractive to you. i like to think sometimes he’ll put on these nerdy little reading glasses that you find extremely hot on him— the way he’s hyperfocused on whatever information he’s trying to retain and they slip lower on the bridge of his nose, the crease in his brows and the way he recites the information to himself quietly has you rubbing your thighs together from afar.

you’re also restless, and he’s the only one that can calm you down. whether it be from pure wanton or puppy-like energy, the boy has a knack for slowly tiring you down so he can turn back to his studies. it has you pacing around the room in your silky pyjamas, mumbling to yourself as you try to give your active mind something to think on.

“you’re talking to yourself again.” he speaks outloud, making you stop in your tracks. he turns to you, taking in your figure in your revealing lounge clothes, and you notice the way his chest rises and falls slightly faster.

“you’re ignoring me. who else am i supposed to talk to?” you reason, hands resting on your hips as if you’re scolding him. he finds it endearing.

“just let me finish these problems and i’ll join you.” but alas, youre in his peripheral, and he just can’t take his mind off the way your nipples pebble through the thin fabric, or the way your hips sway as you stumble back and forth. he seriously needs to stop giving in to everything you want, he thinks, as he stands to fulfill the desires invading his previously focused mind.

other times, you simply just miss his presence. the two of you can fill your days with excited conversation, laid across his chest as he recalls whatever topic he finds interesting to you as you listen intently, nodding and humming to encourage him to keep on going, even if you don’t entirely understand what he’s rambling on about.

sometimes he’ll let you sit on his lap as he works, legs crossed against his own as you zone out, happy to be in close proximity with your boyfriend. it doesnt last long, though, before you’re fiddling with his hair, twisting the thick curls that stand out slightly against the rest of his hair pattern— or trailing your fingers along the sharp end of his jaw, tracing circles on his bicep and kissing him in their wake as if to leave your invisible mark on him.

“it’s hard to work when you do that.” his voice is even, tainted with concentration as he continues to scribble down notes and annotations onto his notebook. you hum, continuing with your antics. was it your fault he’s so easily distracted? you begged to differ. once he’s finished scribbling, he turns his attention to you, soft hands gently grabbing your jaw as he leans in to press a kiss to your bitten lips.

“do you miss me?”

“maybe.” it makes him chuckle. he presses another kiss to your cheek. it spurrs you on, moving your head to capture his lips on yours once again. when you open your mouth to deepen the kiss, he pulls away, and you let out a weak whine.

“gotta study for this test tomorrow, darling.” you don’t listen to him, whispering pleads for him to join you in bed, to talk you down in his arms and stroke your hair in the way you liked. your heart yearned to be infinitely closer to him. every plead is accompanied with another kiss to his jaw, his neck, and soon you notice the way his pen falters, and his hand moves to stroke your hair before he’s pulling you up and onto the bed, strong arms wrapped around your figure.

“you can’t always sweet talk me out of studying, you know”

“speak for yourself.”

[poguesprincess]

˖°🌊𓇼₊island girl reader & pope <3 𓈒 ݁ ₊ ⋆🦪

[poguesprincess]

john b’s girl! 𓇼⋆ ｡ ˚.

[poguesprincess]

pope tutorinh sweetheart!kook!reader who's literally a ball of sunshine, n she tries to be super positive all the time, but one day rafe and his friends were really mean to her and she just cant right now, so when she goes home to find pope waiting expectantly to work w her she starts crying cuz shes overwhelmed, and so they basically just ditch the lesson and watch a romcom and eat chocolate together.

-🎧

*.⊹˚𝜗୧ ‧₊˚

your sessions with pope always go swimmingly. you’re a quick learner, and he’s a great teacher. and he’s sweet, which only encourages you to work harder, do better. always giving yourself extra work to do even after he leaves. on multiple occasions, he’s returned a few hours after your study sessions to retrieve an item left behind, only to find you passed out at your desk— face smushed against the pages of your textbook, pen still in hand, pressed against paper. you’d never put it together, but he’d often carry you to bed before leaving again.

you were radiant, smiling bright whenever you opened the door to him. today, however, things were different.

you’d decided to surprise him with some food before your session started, skipping off to the wreck giddily. waiting for your order, however, was found difficult with a certain cameron present.

“hey uh— you’re not still hangin’ round with that pogue, are ya?” his voice rang in your ears, and annoyance swept through you. you were normally level-headed when it came to rafe and his typical jeering, but when it came to pope? you were sensitive.

“he’s not just a pogue, rafe. what do you care, anyways?” you could feel him behind you, and that cocky smile he always wore as he leaned across the counter to be eye-level with you.

“just wanna make he’s not.. fooling around with you. ‘s impure, you get me?”

“what the hell is that supposed mean?” he raised his arms defensively, backing away from you swiftly.

“just don’t want you to lose the respect your parents have built for you. y’know, running around with a pogue and all.”

he was gone before you could fully digest what he’d said, tears welling in your eyes and fists balled as your food was handed to you.

by the time you’d reached home, pope was already waiting for you. you try push past him with your head down, but you’re only met with protests. when you turn to him, teary eyed and sniffling, his face drops, and he immediately moves to cradle your face, “what happened?”

his voice is soft, and it only makes you cry harder. he leads you into the house and onto your couch as you try to explain what happened through tears, noticing the way he tenses as you recount the story. his shoulders relax once he sets his eyes on you, and he moves to pull the blanket over the two of you as he attempts to soothe you.

“hey, that’s real sweet, alright? thank you for the food. let’s get you calmed down for now, don’t worry about your work.” you can hear him mumble something about the cameron boy to himself, but you’re too distraught to register it. knowing that what rafe said to you might’ve hurt him only made you begin to wail again, apologetic hand’s hiding your face from view.

he pulls you over so you’re rested on his shoulder, not caring when you absentmindedly wipe your snotty nose onto his cotton shirt, a comforting hand rubbing circles against the back of your neck. he has you calmer in record time. he’s turned on a movie— your favorite, though you don’t know if he would know that, and he slowly nurses the food into your mouth as you hiccup through the end of your crying fit.

“don’t worry, i’ve got you. nothing that kook says matters, anyways.”