Sit Down You’re Rocking The Boat

send some in folks! i think these would be really cool to do :)

A Kissing Prompt List

Places Where People Kiss:

In the rain.

In a vehicle.

In the street.

On the sidewalk.

In the shower.

In the kitchen.

In the snow.

Under the stars.

In the moonlight.

By the river.

In the water.

In the bedroom.

In a bar.

At a party.

At the other’s place.

By a campfire.

Reasons to kiss:

Life or Death

Love

Celebration

Longing

Missing the other

Relief

Lust

Need

No reason at all

Admiration

Power

First Kiss

Confessing feelings

A bet

Sad or hurt feelings

First date

allergic reaction prompts

1. “Does this have (allergy) in it? I’m super allergic to (allergy.)”

2. “It’s getting hard to breathe.”

3. “What do you mean you don’t have an epi-pen on you?!”

4. Is it better to sit down or lie down?”

5. “Okay, just try to breathe, the ambulance is on its way.”

6. “Don’t just stand there, call 9-1-1 you idiot!”

7. “Are you sure there’s (allergy) in this? I feel fine...”

8. “Did he just pass out?! Is he breathing!?”

9. “He’s gonna be pissed when he wakes up in the hospital.”

10. “I have an epi-pen in here somewhere, I know I brought it...”

11. “Take off your shirt, I need to see if there are hives on your back and chest.”

12. “Is that a rash? What did you eat?”

13. “My mouth feels kinda weird. Like, furry. And my tongue is too big.”

14. “Oh god, I think i’m gonna throw up—“

15. “Have you ever been stung by a bee before?”

16. “Is anyone else really really itchy all of a sudden?”

17. “You have to lay down, it’ll help you breathe better.”

18. “Woah, the hives are all over your back now.”

19. “I barely know him. How was I supposed to know he was allergic to Penicillin.”

20. “I’ve never had (allergy) before. Honestly it might be my new favorite thing.”

halloween word prompts

eerie fall prompts for your enjoyment! take as you please :)

1. pitch black

2. true crime

3. cabin fever

4. broken mirrors

5. scary movies

6. injuries

7. heights

8. needles

9. potions

10. raking

11. needle in a hay stack

12. harvest moon

13. friday the thirteenth

14. jumps scares

15. clowns

16. haunted maze

17. ghosts

18. sweet tooth

19. black cats

20. pumpkin carving

21. bugs

22. costumes

23. goosebumps

24. trick or treating

25. bones

26. pranks

27. devil

28. poison

29. blood

30. spiders

31. soaked

would you ever write a reader/jj/john b three way? only write what ur comfortable with. i love reading your stuff!!!!

ahhh thank you so much!! consider it written bby ;) she’s on her way

thanks for writing the john b fic i requested it had such good vibes, especially at the end! i loved it!!💜💜

THANK YOU SO MUCH. I LOVE YOU I LOVE YOU! keep the requests coming in!

masterlist?

you can find my masterlist here! it’s consistently updated, but if you ever notice im slacking call me out please :) and there’s also a link in my bio, called masterlist which send you straight to, you guessed it, my masterlist 

band-aids and bullet wounds

summary: frank comes home with bumps and bruises. you sing him a little tune to brighten his night.

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: general frank castle injuries :(

a/n: back to posting! although it’s still irregular, i have a break from school on the horizon in which i may or may not have some prompts lined up. in the mean time, i love writing for lovable trash men, so please send in requests!

She woke to the sound of jangling keys in the doorway. Shuffling feet, and a clang of them falling to the floor had her up and out of her uncomfortable position on the armrest. Her feet patter against the hardwood floor of Frank's apartment, and behind the bed she hid, her eyes peeking out from above the comforter. She groped the floor for a gun she knew was there. There was a grunt of pain, the keys jangled again, and watched with baited breath. She sighed in relief as Frank walked through the door. Then furrowed her brows in panic as she quickly surveyed his bruised body.

Before she can do, or even say anything, he collapses into a chair near the door and bends down in pain, wincing as he attempts to undo his large combat boots.

"Frankie..." She criticizes, almost pouting as she makes her way over to his seat.

"Oh, don't start," He begins in an attempt to comfort her. He's hunched over, breathing shallow, yet laborious.

"What did you do, Castle?" She asks quietly, getting down on one knee to undo his boots.

He leans up slowly, allowing himself to relax into the shitty upholstery of his chair. He’s pretty sure he got it from a garage sale. It certainly feels like it. Frank gives no response. Instead he grimaces and sighs, closing his eyes and moving his hand to run it over his hair and face.

Without words, she's up off her knee, extending her hand to him. He mindlessly moves his to rest in hers. A gentle tug from her and a grunt of pain from him, and he resists, instead pulling her in towards him. She stumbles over his boot and whimpers as she accidentally bumps into his leg, her face planting straight into his severely bruised shoulder. He whimpers, but drowns it in her neck, letting himself lay idle there as she tried to figure out where to place herself in order to not hurt Frank. She settles for his knee, and for also wrapping her warm arms around his broad, tough shoulders.

"Frank," She murmurs into his jawline, her body rotated so that she could turn into him.

"What happened?" She inquires, running her hands over his freezing ears.

"Just a few bad guys, sweetheart. Don’t worry about it. Nothin' I haven't handled before." He reminds, letting his frigid hands run under her shirt for warmth. He hears her sharp intake of breath, and her chuckle into his ear and he melts. All the cold from outside and the pain from a few hours ago just melts away and he lives in her breathing for a second, before she removes herself from his lap carefully.

"C'mon," she encourages, taking his hand and gripping it tightly. With intent.

He sighs and removes himself from the chair.

She drags him unceremoniously into the bathroom, and sits him down on the side of the tub. Frank closes his eyes and, seemingly, for the hundredth time that night, sighs. He watches her, and wonders how he got to be so lucky. These patch-up sessions happened so often now, that he just let himself be cared for. Maybe he was getting sloppy. Did he deserve the aftercare? Probably not. But he had resisted long enough to realize that whether he likes it or not, if he comes back home and she’s waiting for him, he’s getting stitched, bandaged, and iced.

“What hurts?” She asks. He doesn’t answer.

“Frank—” She begins, but he interrupts her.

“I’m okay.” He lies.

“Bullshit. You’re sitting there, looking like Barney the dinosaur and you’re just gonna, fuckin', lie to my face?” She jokes, halfheartedly.

“Sweetheart,”

“No—don’t even, don’t even pull that shit with me, Castle. God. You know—do you even know what you look like right now, Frank?” She says, opening the mirrored medicine cabinet wide, so that frank could take a good look.

The dried blood on his temple immediately stuck out to him. A large gash where the skin was frayed definitely looked like it would hurt tomorrow. Not to mention the bruises. The cut on his lip would make eating anything spicy a pain. Though he had to admit, he’s seen worse.

“Would you believe me if i told you I won?” He asks, grinning at her.

“Unfortunately, 100%.” She answers. She rolls her eyes and takes the first aid kit from the cabinet.

On the floor next to him, after he takes off his jacket and his shirt, and all other unnecessary clothing items, she spends a ridiculous amount of time deciding what to use on him. Band-aids, gauze, ice packs, and a small suture kit were intermittently attended to as she cared for Frank. Not before long, the gash on his head was closed as best she could, and the majority of the larger cuts were bandaged up. The only things left were the small thin scrapes, littered over his face and arms, and the medium sized laceration on his bicep.

In the middle of applying comically small band-aids to the wounds, she decides that the fastest way to get through the process would be to murmur a very relevant, catchy tune. She sings it proudly yet quietly, applying one of the sticky ends methodically to Frank's face.

"I am stuck on band-aid brand, ‘cuz band-aids stick on me,” she sings under her breath. Frank recognizes the melody. It’s the only commercial that came on kids television, apparently.

“What?” He questions anyway.

“I am stuck on band-aid brand ‘cuz band-aids help heal me,” She croons, looking up at Frank’s incredulous expression.

“I can’t deal with you,” he chuckles, and turns away to watch the wall, before his gaze falls back to her smiling widely on her knees, getting the alcohol to disinfect the scrapes. Without warning, she pours the alcohol into the gash in his arm. He growls. 

“Ah, watch the fuckin'... thing, please.”

“I’m gonna put a band-aid on your mouth,” she mutters, “maybe it’ll fix your language.”

“Ah shut up,” he retorts, and tries to run his sticky, dirty, bloody hand through her hair.

“Nooo!” She whines, dodging it.

“I’m almost done, and then, ah shit—“ she cuts herself off, realizing she should’ve had him take a shower first. Too late now

“Well, we can have it sit for a while, then I’ll hop in the shower with you?” she suggests. He rests his hands on the edge of the tub.

“Sounds good to me,” he responds, listening to her hum and take paper off of band-aids. 

He watches as she meticulously covers each cut with nurturing hands. He doesn’t mind the touch. The cheap whiskey stings a bit when first applied, but the pain become dull after a while. Like a tattoo needle. He only realizes he’s tired when he yawns, and then again when she reaches up to rub the back of his neck after she’s finished. He closes his eyes, just for a moment, and relishes in the undisturbed tranquility of the night. A clock ticking from somewhere inside his apartment. Nearly ancient walls creaking. A car driving by every now and again. He’s glad he’s not alone, is the only thing he can think of when his lips meet hers.

don’t you wish

request: ur writing is so good i love ur fics :’) can u do a confessing feelings kiss with jj summary: jj is really upset you’re going to college. you hold him before you go. pairing: jj maybank x reader

word count: 1.4k warnings: sadness, fluff, reader getting ready for college a/n: this was really sweet to write. thank you for the request! keep em coming yall! Slowly but surely i will get to them all :) big love.

You didn’t want to chase him. He was being dramatic.

It would have been so much easier to let him go. To let him storm off.

But having that be the last time you see him before going off to college for the rest of the year? Not happening.

“Jay,” you call out, chasing him out the back door to John B.’s place. He wouldn’t care if you two were there when he was at work.

“Just fuck off. Go get ready.”

“I don’t want to leave you like this,” you say, and he stops.

“If you didn’t want to leave, you wouldn’t. You obviously want to go.”

“I have to go to college. What am I gonna do if I stay here? Mow lawns for kooks for the rest of my life, JJ—”

“The fuck is wrong with that? That’s probably what’s gonna happen to me! So what’s so bad about that—”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that, I just—”

“What’s so bad about staying together, huh? What’s so bad about being with your friends?”

“We’re teenagers, JJ! Do you really think…” You shouldn’t say what you’re thinking, not out loud.

“Think what?

You avoid his gaze. He’s fuming, hard lips and flared nostrils and really, really red ears.

“You think we’re gonna stay together for the rest of our lives, JJ?” You whisper.

You look up at him with sad eyes.

He shakes his head, a sad grin on his face.

“Wow. Alright. Tell me how you really feel—”

“No, you know what I’m saying,” you say, stepping closer to him.

“If you’re saying that you don’t think we could make it, you don’t think we could be friends for the rest of our lives just because you’re moving away to your fancy college, yeah. I do know what you’re saying. And I—I don’t fucking agree.”

“Don’t do this, JJ…”

Your shoulders feel heavy. There’s a knot in your stomach.

“Fuck, don’t you get it?”

“Obviously not, JJ! So why don’t you just tell me about it, instead of—”

“—You’re all I fucking have! I love you! Okay?” He turns from you with fervor and runs his hands through his hair before bringing them to rest on his hips, letting out a sigh and bringing eyes to the sky like he was asking for a reason this all was happening.

“JJ,” you say softly, “you know I love you too.”

He lets out a humorless laugh.

“And you know we can’t, because of—”

“—No pogue on pogue, right, and I don’t want to be the one who messes this up, because I fuckin’ mess everything up! God, dammit!”

You don’t know what to say. He’s so frustrated he collides his foot with a tree, bark flaking off the old oak, with it’s long curly limbs, having been around since you became friends. You used to climb that tree all the time, sit under that tree, sheltering yourselves from the hundred degree weather, talking about how you would build a tree-house with your own bare hands, just the five of you—The Pogues.

How your heart aches for a simpler time, where summer meant tubes of flavored ice and endless cartoons and learning to swim under the hot North Carolinian sun. Where summer didn’t mean you packing up your things and applying to colleges and trying to spend time with your friends who were always busy with jobs or scholarships, supporting themselves full time at sixteen years old. It hurt. Your face stings with unshed tears and you don’t want this to be the last time you see JJ. The last memory you make with him before you go off to some fancy college up North and never come back to the Outer Banks.

You come up from behind him and wrap your arms around him, resting your head on his back. He doesn’t know whether to pull away or lean into it, so he tenses up under your touch.

“You’re the one I go to, man…” he whimpers.

You hold him a little bit tighter.

“You… you help me out. You’re the one who… what am I gonna do without you?”

You two listen to the birds in the trees and feel the warmth of each other.

You pull away after a minute, and your eyes dart around the place before you meet him. His eyes are glossy and dangerously full.

“I don’t want you to leave us,” he mumbles, and his face scrunches up like he’s trying not to cry, but a single perfect tear runs down his cheek. He goes to wipe it away with the back of his hand, but you beat him to it.

He sniffs loudly, hands by his side as you caress his cheeks with your thumbs, wiping away tears and as soon as his eyes become too intense, the sadness there palpable in the atmosphere, you rest your forehead on his cheek, and he cries.

You can’t help but plant soft, inaudible kisses to his face, where the tears are. You bury your nose into his neck and feel your own tears, hot on your cheeks, soak into his shirt.

You pull back to rest your forehead against his, and he leans into you, making it easier.

But he keeps leaning in. And keeps leaning in. Until there’s nowhere else to go, but you don’t really want to be anywhere else and his lips are so close and he smells like honey and boy cologne and mint so you close your eyes and kiss him.

His lips are salty from the tears, but there are nerves in your lips you’ve never felt before. JJ cups your face and you cup his and he’s crying and you’re crying and you never want the kiss to end.

There’s pressure and warmth and butterflies that are landing and taking off in your stomach because this is JJ, your JJ, the same JJ you grew up with and teased and cried to and laughed with. The boy you love more than anything. The boy you would do anything for.

You wish you could preserve the memory of kissing JJ, his skin wet and lips raw from all the biting he does to them.

It’s hard to pull away from him, knowing it would be the last time. You rest your head on his shoulder and he holds you tighter than he’s ever held you before in his life. Harder than the time you broke your arm riding his bike. Harder than the first time his dad hit him. Harder than when you came back from your first vacation away from him. Harder than the time you had your first breakup. Harder than the time you found out you had gotten into the college of your dreams.

You count down from 10 in your head, and when you reach zero, it’s over. He lets out a shaky breath and wipes the remaining tears from his face before he shoves his hands into his pockets.

You both smile sadly, you down at his shoes, but he’s smiling at you, his eyes glossy. He wants to never forget this moment between you two. He can only hope you’ll come back for him, come back for your childhood friends. Your home. Your boys (and girl).

“I guess this is it,” he says, finally.

You try to look him in the eye, but you notice something.

There’s a single eyelash on his cheek.

“Wait,” you say, and pick it up for him.

“Make a wish,” you encourage, holding it in front of his face.

He looks between you and the eyelash.

Usually he doesn’t believe in that type of thing.

Though instead of his usual protest, he surprises you.

He closes his eyes, and makes his wish, blowing the eyelash off your thumb.

He opens his eyes, smiling.

“D’you know... do you want to know what I wished for?” He asks. He pulls you into his chest and tears start to well up in your eyes again.

“No,” you laugh, sniffling, “Then it won’t come true, dummy.”

“I don’t care if it comes true or not… I know it’s going to come true.”

“I don’t want to know your wish!” You cry into his shoulder. You feel him shudder with laughter.

He traces patterns on your back, his head resting on your shoulder, his ear pressed up against yours, his clean shaven face pressing into your jaw.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, JJ.”

a friend in need is a friend indeed

request: would you ever write a reader/jj/john b three way? only write what ur comfortable with. i love reading your stuff!!!!

summary: reader, jj, and john b. are drunk. really drunk. handsome teenage boys make for fun parties and willing threesomes.

pairings: jj maybank x reader, john b. x reader

word count: 2.3k

warnings: unprotected sex, protected sex, vaginal sex, male on female oral sex, female on male oral sex, drunk sex

a/n: dont have unprotected sex :(  i hope every time you think of having unprotected sex, you picture your own conception. i’d also like for people to know i write outer banks, marvel, star wars, and more! i’m still taking requests, so maybe send in an ask for an idea you’ve had in your head for a while? and we can be friends? okay, big love. later!

The alcohol was overkill. She had to admit.

It’s why she was holed up in some random boy’s kitchen, house party ensuing around her as she macked on JJ.

Her arms fit perfectly around his waist in the bright fluorescent light of the kitchen. Their lips work together, sloppy and inexperienced, but full of nerves and nerve endings that send electricity through their veins.

John B. watches from the doorway.

JJ’s hands move from her waist down to her ass, squeezing for his own pleasure. She smiles into the kiss.

“What’s up, guys?” John B. interrupts. He seemed perturbed more than angry. 

She pulls away from JJ, but keeps her arms around his neck.

“I can smell the alcohol on you,” he says, smiling at her. He moves closer to them, the loud music from the living room making it hard to hear. There are people around them too, talking obnoxiously.

“You know what would be great right now?” She says, and John B. squints at her.

“What?” He says, giving in to his curiosity. The beer he’s holding is cold and sweaty in his warm hand.

JJ leans over, her arms still around his neck, to take a sip from a red solo cup.

“Just, like… sex. Good sex.” She complains, and JJ almost chokes.

“You’re crazy.” Says John B., but he’s not entirely sure she’s kidding.

“No, she’s drunk,” argues JJ hypocritically. 

“Would you guys fuck me?” she asks, and both of their eyes widen. Before they can say anything, she reveals, “I’d trust you guys to fuck me. You seem like you’d be a nice fuck.”

JJ leans in, and says just loud enough for John B. to hear, “We could always find out?”

She gasps and pulls away from him, laughing loudly, smile wide.

John B. licks his lips and places his beer down on the kitchen counter. 

“Not now,” he says, significantly less drunk than the other two.

“Where’s your boyfriend?” JJ asks, and she grabs John B. by the arm, interlocking them.

“Right here,” she sings sweetly, and John B. doesn’t pull away.

“Oh, I’m your boyfriend now? What happened to that other guy?” He questioned, and she blushed into his shoulder.

JJ gives John B. a look.

She smiles sweetly up at him.

“Would you fuck me, John B?” She asks again, and John B. hates that he can feel himself getting a little aroused.

He huffs at her. “Not here,” he replies, and she whines.

“Aw, John B., don’t be like that.” She pouts dramatically.

“I’ll have JJ do it then,” she says, reaching out for JJ. He sandwiches her between the two and she leans her head back against JJ’s chest. His hands are on her waist again and she feels him move to the music against her. She leans up and kisses John B. on the chin.

“No you won’t,” John B. clarifies, and he pulls her closer to him, so that JJ glares, and moves closer.

“You both are drunk,” he says, only on his second beer. The folding table in the living room has different ‘levels’ of alcohol, each increasing in strength with color. He swore he’s seen JJ with at least three different colored cups in the time they’ve been there. Which hasn’t been long. 

“No, no, I’ll…” she starts, but giggles, distractedly.

“I’ll let the both of you… do it.” She states coyly.

“ But you have to do it together,” she smiles, and the boys look at each other.

“No way,” John B. says, bluntly, arms crossed over his chest.

JJ stares at him.

“I just won’t look. It’s not like I haven’t seen your dick before,” he argues, and John B. is not drunk enough for this. 

JJ definitely is.

“It’d be really hot, John B.,” she encourages.

“No. I’m not gay.” He says, finally. 

“Neither am I, but she’s offering, bro,”

“It’s not gay, if it’s in a three way,” JJ sings horribly and lowly to John B. She giggles at them, and rubs her hand slowly up and down John B.’s arm. 

He sighs loudly.

“I’m not touching your dick, JJ, so don’t even think about it,” 

“I don’t want to touch your dick!” JJ cries, and people around him glare at the outburst. John B. shushes him.

“Is that a yes?” she asks, and John B.’s shoulders fall as he pinches his nose.

“Yeah. I guess.” He agrees, and she lets out an excited moan that shouldn’t make him so hot and bothered, but it does.

“Yay! Come on, come on,” she encourages, and both boys are following her into some poor soul’s bedroom. It’s definitely the bedroom of a teenage boy, bare and brightly lit by a red neon playboy sign. The full sided bed has a navy blue comforter and there are trophies that line his dresser. The boys look at each other, taking in the room. She makes no effort to remember it, because she’s already unbuttoning her shorts and collapsing on the half-made bed. Her legs lay off the side of the bed, for easy access of course, and she stretches, hands reaching up for the pillows haphazardly thrown at the head of the bed. Her shirt rolls up a little, and she rubs her hands over her skin, playing with the hem of it. 

She finds it funny that though he was reluctant, John B is the first one to strip down to his briefs, and she can see his half hard-on. He goes to take himself out, ready to peel her out of her remaining clothes, but she has other ideas.

“No no, not yet.” she says, and she sits up. She grabs John B. by the shoulders, and pushes him down to his knees. He looks unaware of what she wants him to do. She grabs his hair at the scalp, and slowly tugs him between her legs. He gets the hint, and she watches as John B. wiggles off her shorts and underwear.

JJ fumbles with her bra behind her. She watches these clueless boys with a smile.

He ends up just tugging it over her head and tossing it on the floor along with her other clothes.

She feels John B.’s tongue, abrupt and fast and vastly uncomfortable.

“Woah, slow down there, partner,” she says, and with her hand on his head again, she guides him with slow, stroke strokes of his tongue. 

“Much better,” she encourages, and she lays back, one hand down by her side, the other rubbing small circles into her clit.

She sticks her tongue out for JJ, and he makes quick work of shimmying out of his shorts. He doesn’t even bother taking off his boxers, his member already throbbing hard and pulsing in his hand. He gives it a couple of strokes before guiding onto her lips.

“Ohhh, aw, fuck,” JJ says, her lips and tongue teasing the tip of his cock as John B. gets to work on her entrance. He’s down between her legs, just like she showed him, teasing and licking and kissing as she rubs fast circles with her fingers.

He does something to make her moan, and JJ stops to watch.

“Oh, fuck, John B.,” she whines, “d-do that again,” 

And he complies, fucking his tongue in and out between her velvet folds, head bobbing rhythmically, fast, as she picks up the pace with her own fingers.

JJ decides he wants in on the fun, and he kneels by her head, tilting her neck up to plant firm kisses there, hard enough to bruise.

She lets out breathy gasps at the attention, and it only encourages the boys further. 

John B. grips her hips hard as JJ takes a hand to play with her breasts, nipples peaked and stiff under his heavy touch. Her other hand comes up to cup JJ’s, and he continues his unyielding kisses as she guides him, showing him exactly the amount of pressure she wants. As soon as he’s got it down, he pulls his head away to watch her unravel underneath him. Her head tilts back and she grinds her hips along John B.’s tongue.

There are whimpers from her and wet sounds from John B. and soft panting from JJ as he takes his other hand to rub himself, stroking his cock leisurely. 

“Oh my god, this is better than porn,” JJ comments, but both of the others ignore it. 

“Right there, John B., right there, fuck,” she curses, and closes her eyes to immerse herself in the moment.

“Just like that, perfect,” she encourages, and John B. licks and plunges his tongue deep, and removes it again to rub circles at her clit, replacing her hand. His tongue is wet and he licks long stripes up and down her length.

“Fuck, oh fuck, just—faster, John B., just like that.”

John B. circles his tongue faster, and it only takes a few moments for her to gasp and buck her hips up, so much so that he has to pressure her hips down to keep her there, toes curling, her legs over his shoulders, trying not to squeeze his head.

She whines and moans, and JJ has to stop touching himself because he feels like he’s going to blow his load right there on the floor.

“Oh, fuck, John B.,” she pants, and John B pulls away, watching her womanhood contract at his touch, wet cum framing where he was about to plunge his cock.

She smiles dopily at the ceiling. He is ragingly hard and almost ready to cum. 

“Guess what guys?” She starts, breathy, and they stare at her.

“I brought condoms!” She whispers excitedly, gesturing to her pants on the floor.

Normally, they’d protest, but they’re so horny they’d take any opportunity to cum inside of her.

John B. struggled with her pockets, but, condom in hand, he rips one open, pinches the tip, and rolls it onto his hard cock. It fits, and he admires her.

He rubs his cock over her entrance, playing with the wetness, and she gasps and shudders when he rubs it over her clit.

He smiles arrogantly, and slowly pushes his head in. It doesn’t take much effort, thanks to her orgasm.

He slowly makes his way in, and JJ starts stroking again, standing up to place his cock on her lips. She purses them slightly, and JJ rubs back and forth over them. John B. moans form between her legs.

JJ grabs her chin firmly, and she looks up at him with doe eyes, moaning as she opens her mouth and lazily takes just the tip.

She hollows out her cheeks around him, and he takes in a shaky breath.

John B. pumps fast inside her, pulling out halfway and pushing back into her, holding her hips with a strong grip. She thinks it might bruise, but she doesn’t care. 

All of a sudden John B.’s strokes get more erratic, faster and harder than before. His breathing is fast, and she watches him as his eyes close and his head falls back, strong, slow thrusts now.

He cums, hands on her hips, cock buried deep inside her, his groans filling the space between them. His strokes are calculated, milking every single drop from himself before pulling out and collapsing on the bed next to her.

“You’re next, JJ,” John B. jokes, and JJ doesn’t say anything, moving to take his spot.

He pushes into her, and she notices. Every ridge, every vein on his cock she can feel.

JJ’s strokes are slow and deliberate to start, but then he starts to pick up speed, as does his breathing. It’s only a few seconds before he’s close.

He pumps fast and hard, with reckless abandon for a few moments before he pulls out quickly, and jerks his shaft, concentrating on the tip.

He cums all over her stomach and groans loudly right after, coating her chest with his thick white cum. He grabs a fist full of the bedspread as he shudders.

JJ lets his shoulders fall, and he hunches over. He plants kisses to the inside of her knees, and she giggles, pulling them away. He smiles at her.

There’s heavy breathing from all three of them. 

“See? That wasn’t so bad,” she comments, and the boys chuckle.

“Yeah John B., nothin’ to be afraid of, man.” JJ pants, running a hand through his hair. He tugs his boxers up over his thighs and tucks his now soft cock back into them, looking around the floor for his shorts.

“Shut the fuck up, JJ,” he says, getting up to find his pants as well.

She lays there, and one of the boys toss her a small pile of her clothes onto the bed.

JJ stares at her once he’s clothed, his seed still on her stomach.

He sighs. He hates this part.

“Go back to the party,” JJ says to John B., “I’ll clean up.” 

John B. looks at him suspiciously.

“Really,” JJ assures, gesturing to her slowly more competent state. She stares at the cum on her stomach.

“It’s okay,” she assures, but JJ is there, using some poor soul’s discarded t-shirt as a rag. It doesn’t smell as far as she can tell, and it’s soft. 

As soon as he’s done, and throws the t-shirt into a corner of the room.

“Uh, okay. We’re gonna go now,” he says, even though John B. left already.

“Okay.” She agrees. JJ slowly makes his way out of the room.

She sits up and gets dressed, ready to make her way back to the party, when John B. enters the room again.

“Where’s JJ?” He questions, making his way over to her swiftly.

“He went back to the party. I thought—” she starts, but John B.’s mouth is on hers, salty and sweet, passionate and slow. His hand grabs the back of her neck and pulls her closer, impossibly so, and there’s teeth and even some tongue.

He pulls away.

“That’s for kissing JJ earlier, in front of me,” he clarifies, and she doesn’t tell him he tastes like her.

She smiles as she watches him leave. His shirt was on backwards. 

Do u take requests?

hello! i do take requests! most of my fics are requests, so please feel free to send in any you have. i feel like most of you follow me for obx, but i also write for marvel haha. im particularly fond of frank castle and the avengers. i’d also like to dabble in apex legends, the witcher, and star wars :)