One In The Hand, Two In The Bush

one in the hand, two in the bush

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.

hot and bothered

request: can you write one where jj and the reader have to share a bed at john b’s and jj ends up waking the reader up all hot and bothered? i love your writing so much keep it up!!

summary: jj and reader fall asleep together at john b.’s place. reader isn’t asleep for long when jj wakes them up asking for help with a rather hard problem. 

pairings: jj maybank x fem!reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: vaginal sex, unsafe sex, inexperienced boys, cunnilingus, lots of inappropriate kissing, almost voyeur? I mean they’re fucking on someone elses futon, so… 

a/n: WEAR CONDOMS. but... ask and you shall receive ;) this is porn without plot. big love, you animals

Only after 1 AM you realized it was late, when John B. excused himself to bed, making sure you had a blanket for the pullout couch in the living room. You were pretty much passed out as soon as your head hit the pillow, and JJ curled up on the other side of the couch. At least he was liberal with the blanket sharing. 

You had woken up in the middle of the night, thinking it was of your own accord. Until you felt JJ from behind, lips lazily on your neck and hands roaming where they shouldn’t be.

“JJ,” you muttered, suddenly very awake. 

You listen to him groan as he pushes himself up against you. He’s quite prominently hard in his gym shorts. It helps you know for a fact he’s not wearing underwear. He grinds slowly.

“Will you…” he trails in a whisper, and you answer by pushing back against him. You listen to his breath hitch.

“Don’t wake John B.,” he clarifies, reaching under your arm to wrap his hand around your waist. He squeezes softly. 

You take the hand and peel it off you.

You sit up in the dark and JJ follows you, watching in the moonlight as you strip your shirt for him. He moves closer, stroking himself in his shorts and watching as you undo your bra with years worth of expertise. You hear the futon creak as you move to sit on his lap, fully aware of the erection in his pants. He kisses you, hands roaming your skin, playing with the waistband of your own shorts. He kisses hard, biting at your lips and soothing them over with a lick.

You slide off of him and kneel as you pull them down to your knees, and the breeze from a window you couldn’t care less about is cold against your skin. You slip them off and place them somewhere on the bed and arousal pools in your stomach, and you feel yourself throbbing for JJ as you lay on your back. 

JJ knows exactly what you want from him, and he lays down in between your legs, tongue eager and cock pulsing.

You fist his hair in your hands and bob his head to a rhythm you create, watching JJ grind against the sheets, hips wide and hands firm on your thighs, calves resting on his shoulders.

He takes his time, sticking his tongue out flat to let you move against him.

Soon the arousal is too much, and it only takes a few quiet minutes before you’re grinding hard and fast, whimpering under his tongue and coming undone at his touch. You cum, throwing your head back against the pillows and you can feel JJ’s wet kisses at your thighs.

He finds his own rhythm against the sheets and you’re afraid he’s going to cum, so you tilt his head up and push him away. His face is wet, and he grins, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. Even in the dark you can make out the obvious tent, until he slips the shorts down to his ankle and struggles to get them off quietly.

“Shhh!” You hush, and he gives you a look that says, “I’m trying!”

He rubs his cockhead over your entrance, teasing, until he slowly slips his head in.

“Relax,” he instructs, leaning over you and gives you a surprisingly gentle kiss. He kisses your cheek and you smile as he rubs his nose over it, a soft eskimo kiss. 

He slowly pushed in further.

It stings, but he’s aware of himself, quietly taking his time until he’s all the way in. 

You find with each thrust, the makeshift bed creaks, but JJ is so blissed out you expect he doesn’t notice.

“Wait,” you whisper, and JJ stops thrusting.

“What, are you okay?” He says. You clench around him and he whimpers, but doesn’t move. His hands squeeze your hips.

“Lay down,” you instruct, and he slowly pulls out, flips himself eagerly onto the bed. You giggle quietly and hush him, planting your face into his neck and kissing him there. He breathes heavily as you settle back, lining yourself up with his cock, bending over at weird angles to make sure. He runs his fingers through your hair, and you look up at him and smile.

He groans as your hips meet his, legs bent on either side of him. Your hips stutter as you move, slowly grinding back and forth, being careful not to make any noise. You plant your hands firmly by his head.

It doesn’t take long before JJ is forcing his hips up to meet yours, and his breathing shifts.

“Ah, ‘m gonna cum, fuck,” he gasps, hands on your waist. You’re quick to get off of him.

He takes the base of his cock into his hand and continues with the same speed you were going.

“C’mere,” he pleads, and you’re hesitant to take the cockhead into your mouth, but do anyway. It would help with the cleanup after all.

He strokes the base fast, your mouth on just the tip of his cock, and he cums, body tense and hips stuttering and mouth open. 

It’s sticky and slimy and just barely salty down your throat, but you swallow, getting rid of most of the evidence in one fell swoop. 

“Woah,” JJ says, adjusting himself on the bed, his erection now half hard and lying against his hip. He lifts his head to look for his shorts, and you pass them to him. You realize you don’t even know what time it is. He lifts his hips and slips them on before laying over on his side to watch you get dressed.You don’t bother finding your bra, just slipping the t-shirt on and your shorts. Your underwear would have to be found in the morning. You laid on your side now too, looking at JJ. He smiles.

“Thank you,” he whispers, and you move closer to him. He accepts, and as he lays down on his back, you curl up into him, throwing a leg over his and resting your head on his shoulder.

With the smell of sex in the air, you can only hope you weren’t too loud as you fell asleep peacefully in JJ’s arms, you not as hot, and JJ not as bothered.

keepin’ busy

request: 5. “I know a few ways we could keep busy…” 19. “Pornhub is giving away free premium right now you perv. Get away from me.” 20. “That’s a dangerous game to play if we’re gonna be stuck with each other for the next four weeks.” with Frank Castle? idk how many prompts per request we're meant to send so I picked my fave 3

summary: frank’s been a lot more… tense, since quarantine started. whether that’s because he’s not taking his rage out on bad guys late at night or because he’s stuck in your house without a little privacy? that’s anyone’s guess… 

pairings: frank castle x reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: suggestive content, frank has nice hands ;) 

a/n: if only we could go back to a time where we all thought we were getting like, eight weeks off… hah…haha…hahaha…whew… on a less depressing note, jon bernthal is really fucking hot. pretty pretty please send in some requests for my boy frankie :( i love him so much. If you’ve had any ideas floating around you’d like to see written out to completion, now’s the perfect time to see it happen! maybe some smut, or fluff, or angst, or anything really… big love <3

He wasn’t supposed to be staying with you. But apartment hunting when your face has been all over the news recently as one of America’s Most Wanted criminals in the state of New York is kind of hard to do, not to mention when there’s a global pandemic going on. You knew first hand, apartment hunting was hard enough as is. At first, you didn’t really notice him. He would always be out going on runs, exercising in the basement in order to not disturb any neighbors, and guarding the streets at night, like a vigilante cop. Soon, he was staying home more than he was patrolling. Frank still got out from time to time, but it was hard to catch bad guys when they were at home, drinking and sleeping and waiting to be able to go back to causing trouble again.

You hadn’t touched anyone in weeks. You were starving for affection of any kind. You missed hugging your friends, awkward cheek kisses from your family, even shaking hands with strangers at this rate. What you wouldn’t give for a nice firm handshake… 

It was driving you crazy. Frank on the other hand, was making the most out of his time stuck in your apartment. He had recently gotten into a netflix show, you had noticed, which was just one of the luxuries exposed to him during the pandemic. He strummed on your old guitar, the one you barely played anymore, if at all. It was a surprise to hear, but you knew from the familiar sounds of tuning and plucking strings that it was not coming from the television. It was a nice thing to see, him hunched over on your couch, guitar case open on the floor, fiddling with the capo for a song he knew by heart. It was nice he could let his guard down a little bit. He was even learning how to cook, and could make a mean fettuccine alfredo for the two of you. 

Frank was a very domestic man outside of his nightly routine of making New York a cleaner place to live. 

Nights were different now. You two sat together on the couch, your head on his shoulder, dozing off against him as he tried to clue you in on what was happening. It was a gangster show, but that was the only thing you gleaned from his run down. 

“I bet you were a mafia man in a past life,” you said, breaking the silence between the two of you. He tore his gaze from the television.

“What?” he said, smiling down at you. You didn’t look away from the TV, but continued.

“Like, a mafia boss or something. Yeah, I can see that.” “Where is this comin’ from?” he asks.

You hum as you imagine it, ignoring his question. 

“You’re weird,” he comments, and he puts his legs up on the coffee table.

“You can see?” he asks, and his feet are in the way of the screen but you’re not really watching it anyway, so you nod your head against his shoulder. He moves his arm behind your head and rubs your shoulder softly before resting it over the arm of the couch. You readjust yourself, head on his thigh, curling up into Frank. It became easier to listen to his breathing when he turned the volume down a bit, fully aware of you on his lap. It didn’t take long before you dozed off, but when you woke up, you were in your bedroom, shrouded in darkness, covered carefully by a comforter. 

OVER the course of the coming week, the two of you get closer. You’d even become invested in the show he’d started watching. 

With your closeness, you hadn’t noticed you started touching Frank a lot more. 

Nothing you wouldn’t do to your other friends. It was mainly just laying your head on his, playing old hand games you remembered from your childhood, and petting the back of his neck. It was absent minded, and it was only because he had shown you how to cut his hair with his old beard clippers. When asked about why you would run your hands over the prickly surface, you explained it felt nice, and that you had the right to admire your handiwork. 

Later into the quarantine you ordered a palmistry book, and since nobody else was around, you asked Frank to read his palms. He of course was hesitant, but did as you asked, handing over his right hand for you to examine. His nails were nicely trimmed, you noticed immediately. The tips of his fingers were calloused, as were his palms, the skin cracked under harsh and constant use. He held the flashlight from your phone as you read from the book and bent and pulled at the taut skin there. You read him his diagnosis, and he said it was all bullshit, like astrology. You just think he didn’t like being labelled as a dreamer. 

It really only heated up when you asked for the massage.

You said it as a joke, but Frank was by your side, rolling his eyes and pushing up the sleeves on his black Henley before you looked up at him.

“Oh shit, you’re actually gonna do it?” You mused, flipping yourself over. Very briefly you were self conscious of your lounge shorts and novelty shirt that was a size too big. But just for a second, because then Frank was straddling your back, considerately resting most of his weight on his knees, kneading your shoulders with his big hands. His palms work the knots out and you breathe a little lighter as he trails downward, pressing hard into your lower back. It makes you moan a little bit, but if he hears you, he doesn't acknowledge it. He takes precious time down there, all fingers and knuckles and palms, pushing hard into your soft skin, almost like he’s done this before. 

You feel him back up off of you, and you note the lack of contact, making you open your eyes for a second. His thumbs push and pull the soft flesh of your calves. It’s only moments before they move softly up your thigh, sending shivers down your back. He goes just a smidgen too high for comfort. It makes your heart jump into your throat, and you wriggle out from his grip.

“Pornhub is giving away free premium right now, you perv. Get away from me,” you say playfully, smile on your face. It’s not contagious.

“I thought that’s what you wanted?” He spoke, confused. Your brows furrowed.

“What?”

“You’ve been doing little things all week like that… ‘thought you wanted me to… God, never mind. I’m just… I’m sorry,” he apologizes, and stands up from the couch. 

You’re dumbfounded. You don’t know what to do. But you know you don’t want him to leave.

“What?” you respond again, this time with even more confusion.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re fine,” he says, making his way down the hall. Did he mean what he said? Did he say what he meant?

You stood up hastily to follow him, tripping over your own feet in pursuit. His hand is on the door handle to your office, which had since been converted into a room for Frank, complete with luxuries such as a pull out futon and fast internet speeds (thanks to the router being in there).

“Frank,” you said, stopping at the beginning of the hallway. You watched his hand grip the knob. His shoulders rise and fall with his breathing.

“I…” you start, but don’t know where to go. What to say. You’re confused, and you don’t want him to be upset. Not even at you, just in general. You can’t stand the lack of contact with the outside world already. It would suck to be alienated by your… roommate? If you could even call him that.

“What is this?” you say, and he spins around to look at you. 

Now it’s his turn to be confused.

“What?” he questions, and his shoulders are squared and tense.

“Where is this coming from? I mean… yeah, but… me?”

His brows are furrowed and he squints at you suspiciously.

“You?” He questions.

“I guess quarantine is taking a toll on everyone, and you can’t really see anyone else… do you… do you really want…”

“Do I really want what?”

You could barely look at him, eyes tracing the wood patterns in the floor and the door behind him. 

“Do you want that, Frank?” You ask. Your eyes meet his.

“Do I want what?” He asks again, irritated. You sigh gently, and your feet move on their own accord, anticipation and worry festering where your heart should be. He watches you come to him.

You stand in front of him, your feet almost touching, your hands by your side.

His eyes are dark in the dimly lit hallway. His gaze is intense.

You reach your hand out to him, taking one of his hands in yours and squeezing it, pulling it closer to you. He moves his head closer to yours, tentatively stopping within centimetres of your lips.

Then he’s on top of you, pushing his lips into yours, unyielding and feverish. His hand comes up to cup the nape of your neck and you breathe heavily into the kiss, softening under his touch. 

He pulls away, and you’re panting with the intensity of it.

“That’s new,” you say, backing up slightly. He smiles mischievously.

“We can take it slow.”

THE television in your room is smaller than the one in the living room, and has remained largely unused since Frank moved in. 

It’s nice to have Frank in bed with you. There are flashes of color bouncing off the walls of your dark bedroom. It’s not Frank’s mafia show tonight. It’s the news.

“It’s crazy out there,” you interrupt. “Never seen anything like it.”

Andrew Cuomo is on screen, making important announcements about the state of New York, when he changes your whole outlook in just a few words.

Statewide shutdown ends May 15th, adding another month on top of your quarantine with Frank. A lot longer than you had originally anticipated.

“That’s... two whole months, huh?” He ponders, your back pressed up against his chest in your bed.

“I know a few ways we could keep busy…” you suggested, tracing patterns up his arm. You tilted your head up to look at him.

“That’s a dangerous game to play if we’re going to be stuck with each other for the next few weeks,” he spoke quietly, tension thick in the air. He was so close you could feel his breath on your lips. 

His hand cups your chin and throat, and you swallow hard, gaze unwavering. You lick your lips inadvertently. 

He comes in even closer, and envelopes you in a soft kiss. Frank being a sweet lover, you never would have guessed. Your skull is cradled in his big hands, and it makes you notice how vulnerable you are to him. Your neck exposed, bodies pressed against each other in a hot passion. His lips are a little rougher down other parts of your body, but his hands are always soft and firm, touching and squeezing and dragging his fingertips down your stomach. He’s painstakingly slow with it, and it makes your breath hitch in your throat. What a tease. He knows what he’s doing to you, and it drives you crazy. It would be a long night. 

Frank knows how to take care of a partner, too. Only in his case, it’s not bandaging and stitching. It’s much, much more pleasant.

eye of the storm

request: Hi! Can you do an imagine where the reader is surfing with John B en JJ on a stormy night and she gets hurts/almost drowns?

summary: john b., reader, and jj go surfing during agatha. they get hurt and the boys fuss and care for them. 

pairings: jj x reader

word count: 1.5k

warnings: near death experience, near drowning, large cuts

a/n: no super huge romance, just some friendly post trauma kisses. nothin gay about kissin your homies. big love

You shouldn’t have gone with them in the first place, but by the time you realized the tides were too rough for you, for anyone, it was too late.

The waves were frothy white, loud, and gorgeous. It was impossible not to feel tempted by them, by mother nature’s intense beauty. They surged high, rolling in on themselves before pushing in as far as they could onto the beach.

At first, you weren’t going to go in. You were going to stand around, watching them in the cold rain, making sure they didn’t drown or get hurt. It was stupid, you thought, as they blared music in the van, harsh winds and pelting rains sounding loudly against the metal, almost pushing John B. off the road a few times.

But the crash of the waves and the peaks of the crests, the strong pulling of the tide at your bare, sandy feet were too much for you. It courses adrenaline through your veins at an unfiltered rate. The sides of the beach were blown out, so you’d have to stay in the middle. You’d be able to live with that.

As JJ and John B. paddled out into the water, you retreated back to the van, where your board sat, begging to be used in the storm.

Paddling out into the ocean, you feel how intense the current is. You have to duck under many waves before you get one that’s salvageable.

It’s incredible to see through the barrel of the wave, but only for a second, as the wave changes and you’re under the water, eyes and lungs stinging. Your hand catches your board before you go too far down, and you wait the wave out, before pulling yourself onto the board, stomach flat on the hardwood finish and paddling out further. You have to duck under the waves that have already started to swell, but you have a good feeling about one far out, forming in the distance.

You see the break line and you’re off, paddling as hard as you can to catch it before it peaks. Before you know it you’re up on the board, and you make the bottom turn, cutting through the wave like a knife, balanced out and eyes the clearest they’ve been all week. You curve up, and then back in, watching the water crest right in front of you. But the whole wave closes out at the same time and you go under again, water in your eyes and ears. The wave turns you over in the swell, and you start swimming back to the surface.

Only, you’re not. You feel the tug on your leg, and you realize you’re swimming in the wrong direction. Using all your strength, you make it to the top, but are pushed back under in another swell, breathless and disoriented.

You pull your leg up to find your strap, panicking, and climb it up to where your board was, getting pulled viciously toward the beach in another wave. You swim up to the top, finally getting some air, and try to find your board. You pant as you wipe your face, but you can see another wave coming. You go under as it crests right above you, and your lungs sting. You come up coughing.

After the wipe out you don’t realize how close you are to the rocks near the pier until you’re on top of them, scraping your legs and the palms of your hands. The ocean is pure white there, all froth and harsh currents. But it’s not as strong as the waves in the middle. You pull your board into you, and decide you’ve had enough for the day, when you see John B. on  the beach, board in hand. You wipe your face again, and sit upright on your board. You survey the water and are surprised to see JJ making his way over to you. His hair is curled over onto his face, almost like a wave itself, his chest bare and his arms moving hard.

“Rocks!” You yell out to caution him, but he’s pulling his board to his chest and ducking under a wave.

He’s almost close enough to hear you when you watch him wince. He must’ve caught himself on a rock.

“You okay?” He yells, and you’re nodding, ready to go back in. He’s by your side and grabbing your arm to keep himself next to you. You grab his knee and feel the waves rock the two of you steadily.

“What happened?” He asks, and you know what he means but it’s too dangerous to hold a conversation out here.

“Let’s go in!” You yell over the swell, and he watches you with concerned eyes for a moment, before he makes you go first. It’s not as bad just riding the waves in, and as soon as you can stand, John B. is in the water, taking your board for you and walking alongside you.

You get to dry sand and rip the velcro off of your ankle. The waves are still loud, but at least now you can hear when John B. tells you, “You’re bleeding.”

You look down and see the culprit: a large scrape down the entire side of your calf, which stings with the salty air. He puts your board down in the sand and kneels down by it to get a better look when JJ makes it in too. He drops his board to the sand and doesn’t even bother unstrapping himself from his board.

“You okay? We saw you wipe out pretty bad,” JJ says, and there’s no pride in his voice. Just concern.

“Yeah, I’m okay, I just cut my leg on the rocks over there,” you say, watching John B inspect the cut.

“I think I have a first aid kit in the car. We have towels too,” John B. informs, and he picks up your surfboard and his own, waiting for you to start walking.

JJ is on you in a second, throwing your arm over his shoulder, his board under his other arm, as his hand wraps around your side. You smile and hobble with him over to John B.’s van.

The walk is silent save for the wind, and is entirely awkward.

“You’re shaking still,” JJ whispers to you as he sits you down on the floor of the van.

“I’ll be fine,” you reply. He moves to the back of the van as John B. starts it up. You wipe your sandy feet carefully on the asphalt before JJ comes back with a towel, pressing it carefully to the cut.  You wince.

“Sorry,” he mutters, lifting it off the cut to inspect the blood. He places it gently back down and applies pressure.

“Ugh, JJ stop doing that. I’m gonna pass out,” you tease, but JJ is not laughing. He glares up at you, and you watch him with warm eyes.

John B. enters from the other side of the van and closes the door, surfboards piled up in the back. He looks under the seat and finds an old first aid kit, probably from when his dad bought the van. It’s dusty and yellow and disgusting looking. He sits down behind you and starts going through it. You turn to him.

“If you take anything from there and touch me with it I’m gonna drive home and leave you here,” you say, and JJ chuckles.

“Be careful, man, she’s bleeding. There’s no telling what she’ll actually do,” JJ says, and he tries to tie the towel around your cut. He’s having a hard time.

“Come inside, you’re gonna catch a cold,” you tell JJ, but he ignores you. Until he laughs out loud.

“A hoe never gets cold,” John B. says from behind you, and JJ remarks, “Hey! I was gonna say that!”

You shake your head and roll your eyes.

“That’s not true. I’m freezing,” you tell the boys, and they both laugh, which fades into silence between you three as John B. puts the kit back under the seat and JJ finishes tying the towel.

There’s a radio station playing ads from the front seat.

“Get in. I’ll close the door,” JJ says, and you scoot backwards as he hops into the back, sliding the door behind him. John B. strategically maneuvers his way into the front of the van. JJ sits next to you, inspecting your fingers and bending them, as if to make sure they’re all in working order.

“You scared us, y’know,” John B. comments from the front. You rest your head on JJ’s shoulders as he notices your scratched palms that have since stopped bleeding.

“It’s okay,” you chide, and JJ runs the pads of his fingers over the cuts.

“It’s just a bad wipeout. It happens all the time to you guys,” you explain, and you feel JJ kiss the top of your head. You pull away to look at him, eyes wide, but he’s not looking at you anymore. He’s watching the rain pelt the window on his side. You two should probably be in seats, but it doesn’t matter at this point.

He refuses to look at you, so you don’t make him. Instead, you place your head back on his shoulder, bring his own palm up to your lips, and plant soft, inaudible kisses there.

You feel him smile as John B. takes his time cruising down the highway.

lazy river

request: hell yeah prompt list time! kissing john b in the rain for love and longing? love your content btw summary: it’s been a long time since you’ve been to a water park. jon b knows this, and wants to change that.

pairings: john b. x reader

word count: 1.7k

warnings: super fluffy. real cute. might rot your teeth.

a/n: requests still open! i got an AP exam this week. i also have to finish a create task i’ve had weeks to work on and haven’t, so... wish me luck. big love! 

It’s just how you remember it as a child; all funnel cakes and water slides and screaming children and too hot pavement. Exactly where you want to be when summer's in full swing. 

Probably the best unofficial date you’ve ever been on.

You don’t know how much money John B. had to save up in order to get you there, but the topping on the cake was his ability to score a free bus ride to and from going with a small church group. You'd never known him to be religious, but it was an eventful ride for the two of you. John B. was playing the role of full blown Christian boy, and it was so hard to hide your smiles and giggles that everyone must've thought you were his even more Christian friend. K-love plagued the speakers, and you and John B. agreed some of it wasn't bad, but most of the kids were insufferably nice, to a point where it was almost disingenuous. Standing in line with them was a pain, but as soon as you were able to, you two booked it off to the umbrellas, searching desperately for two lounge chairs. Maybe even one at this point. Anything really, until you found a small bunch of chairs left secluded by a family whose child was not having a good time. It was a perfect spot right under the umbrella allowing you to spread your towels out and leave the cooler by the chair. John B. was fast to attack the food in there; sandwiches, chips, fruits, cheese. You name it and JJ had gotten (stolen) it from somewhere for you two. “You’re gonna get sick,” you commented, as he scarfed down a sandwich. The smell of sunscreen plagues the area. You rubbed some onto your face. John B. had miraculously thought of everything except spray on sunscreen, so you were forced to either buy some from the gift shop at a ridiculously inflated price, or use the lotion. “Sick shmick. Do you want to go on some rides?” He says, wiping his dirty hands down on his towel. The towel that was supposed to wipe down his wet body. You grimaced, but then he slipped his shirt off and shimmied off his flip flops. He was so well toned and tan already. You can’t imagine him wanting to get any tanner. “Yes I do, actually. Can you get my back first?” You say, and wonder if John B. actually forgot the spray on sunscreen or opted for the lotion instead for this reason. His hands were firm on your shoulders as he applied the sunscreen, rubbing the taut muscle there and going dangerously low down your back. It sends a shiver down your spine and he can so obviously tell because he does it again to gauge your reaction. He ruins it though, by sending you off with a buddy pat on your shoulders. “Let’s do pirates plunge first,” he said, and it made you smile how excited he got. You wondered how long it’s been for him too. “No,” you argue, “we have to work our way up to that.” "Do NOT tell me you're planning on staying in the lazy river the whole time," he said, turning to where the middle aged adults who obliged their children lounged, floating leisurely under bridges and waterfalls. It made him shiver. "It's a great place to tan," you teased, and he glared at you. You smiled, and  stretched upward. "You want sunscreen?" You ask, and he looks like he's about to say no, but he nods his head yes. His back is smooth under your hands, and you make sure to lather his shoulders up nicely. You hand him the bottle when you're finished, and he scoffed. "You only did half," he says. "You can do the rest," you assure, and he rolls his eyes, squirting a glob of cream onto his palm before smearing it over his chest. "This kind of half-assery won't be tolerated," he jokes, "I'm going to have to report you to the manager." "Oh please. You're the king of half-assery." He gasps as he rubs his palms down his face, leaving streaks of white there. "How dare you. You're fired." He claims, looking over to one of the smaller two-person slides. You lean over to him and rub in the white with your thumbs, cupping his face a little. He watches your face the whole time, which, you have to admit, is a little creepy. When you're done, you shove him for good measure, before taking off in the other direction. The sun beats down hot on your shoulders, and you two spend hours waiting in lines and talking and spending time together. You could see the burn on John B.'s face and expected you were going to feel the burn too later on that night. It was a blessing whenever clouds rolled through the sky, blocking out the sun for a brief period before she cleared them away. The rides were subpar, but you two didn't notice in the slightest, screaming and yelling at each other down the slides and in tubes. The two of you dodged children and concerned parents and other teenagers, bobbing and weaving in and out of lines. Dripping wet, bodies glistening in the hot sun, you two decided funnel cakes were in order. You stood in line as John B. toweled off by your seats, and he ducked under the belt to stand with you. It got him dirty looks, but he didn't notice. "When are the church kids leaving?" You pondered, stretching on your tip toes to look in front of John B., trying to catch a glimpse of any of them. "In like an hour," he says, glancing up at the big clock poised over the food shack. There was only one in the entire park, which must've been good for business. They were so hot when you got them that the powdered sugar on top was melting. But as you made your way back to your seats, you felt it. “Oh no,” you whine, the water droplets on your bare shoulder. You turn to look at John B., but his gaze is not with yours. His eyes are on the sky, the grey storm clouds rolling in above. You sigh loudly. It’s not like you’re afraid of getting wet. Of all the places to be when it rains, a water park ranks at least in the top ten. But now all the rides were going to be closed. For god knows how long. He looked back down at you, grinning, and then noted your crestfallen expression. He pouted. “Why the long face?” He said, grabbing your chin and shaking it. You jerked away from his grasp to sulk. “Our day is ruined,” you grumbled, walking down in the direction of your chairs, planted conveniently under one of the large umbrellas. He jogged to catch up to you, intertwining his hand with yours. He swings it back and forth childishly. If he could, he’d probably skip down the concrete path to your area. "We have to eat these anyway. It'll probably be done by then," he assured. Much to your dismay, it was not in fact done by then. "That bus is probably going to leave early now," you mused, checking the notification app they made all of you download before you left the bus. “No way. This day’s not over. It’s just getting started,” he said, plucking your phone from your grasp and burying it in the bag he had brought. He left the rest of the conversation to your imagination before he took off running, pulling you in tow. “Hey!” You cried out, but you couldn’t help the giggle rising out of your throat when he stumbled over his own bare feet a little. He hushed you as you caught up to him on the side of the lazy river. There was nobody in it. All the employees were at the front entrance of it, escorting people out. "Wanna do a river run?" He said, slipping down the ladder. Your eyes bulged. "They're gonna kick us out," you said, hopping in after him anyway. You two stood downstream, and waited for tubes. It only took a few seconds before John B. was passing you one, rain falling on his hair and chest. "Now it's cold," you complained, but John B. chastised you. "Stop being a baby. Hang on," he said, standing up for you to grab onto one of the handles of his tube. The lazy river in the rain was a lot more fun than a lazy river in the sunshine. It would only be a few minutes before you reached the front of the ride, where all the workers were stuck trying to collect the tubes. John B. was splashing water at you, and shaking your tube to get you to fall out. You return the favor by flipping him over near the waterfall. He came up sputtering, and in return tried to flip your tube as well, but you latched onto his neck. It was easy for him to support your weight in the water, and he grabbed your legs, wrapping them around his waist as the tubes got away from the two of you. They floated sadly down the river, under the waterfall by themselves. John B. chased them, hands supporting you, your arms wrapped around his neck. He moved slowly towards the waterfall, and threatened to throw you under it. You squealed and pushed yourself up against him as much as you could, cradling his head to your own. If you were going down, so was he. But he stopped just short. You pulled away just a bit, and he was looking at you, eyes intense, smile bright. Your heart skipped a beat and you swear you saw him move closer. You couldn't help but do the same. Until his lips were on yours, moving in sync with you, rain pelting your bodies. His hands were firm underneath you, and you knew he wouldn't let you fall. It had been so long since you realized you wanted to kiss him for the first time. You could settle for him kissing you. "I love you, you know that?" He remarked. You thought it was sweet, until he tossed you under the waterfall. You swear you could hear his laugh from under the water.

pls write more jj smut, the first one was so good :(

ugh bby you got it. it’s what i’m working on right now ;)