You padded into the living room wearing nothing but his oversized t-shirt and a pair of lacy black panties — the ones you knew drove him crazy. JJ was back on the couch, legs spread wide, controller in hand, headset on, trash-talking whoever dared challenge him.

He didn’t even glance up.

“Yeah, bro, keep rushing me like that—dumbass.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’ve been playing for hours..”

“One more match, mama. Promise.”

You walked over slowly, hands sliding down his chest. “You said that thirty minutes ago.”

His eyes flicked to you for a second—lingered on your thighs, the curve of your ass in those panties—and then flicked back to the screen.

Game on.

So you straddled him.

Right there, in his lap.

JJ froze. Controller still in his hands, thumbs still on the sticks—but his jaw tightened, and his eyes darkened instantly.

“Baby…”

“I’m bored.” You ground your hips down, right against the bulge in his sweats. “So I figured I’d entertain myself.”

“While I’m playing?” His voice dropped an octave.

“Mhm.” You slid your hand down, tugged his sweats low enough to free him, hard and leaking already. “Keep playing. Don’t stop.”

JJ groaned, his head falling back against the couch for a second. “You’re evil.”

You lined him up and sank down slowly, letting out a long, breathy moan as he stretched you open.

He twitched beneath you. “Holy shit.”

You started to move—slow at first, rolling your hips in tight, teasing circles. He tensed under you, arms shaking slightly as he tried to focus on the game, but his eyes kept flicking down to where you were riding him.

“You’re distracting me,” he muttered.

“Good,” you smirked, dragging your nails down his chest. “You’re lucky I’m letting you play at all.”

He groaned again, this time louder—then bit his lip hard and tried to muffle it as his fingers gripped the controller tight. “You’re so wet, baby, fuck…”

The headset crackled. “Yo, Maybank, you good? You sound outta breath.”

JJ clicked the mic off with one hand and growled, “You’re actually insane.”