Lazy River

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

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.

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 ;)

coming attraction

request: first time giving jj head??

summary: it’s pretty hot in the Outer Banks. that’s not the only thing that’s getting hot though.

pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: oral sex. JJ wears banana boxers. that is all i will say ;) big love.

You clumsily remove your shirt from your body and lay back down on your bed. You’ve been restless and fidgety all day.

“It’s hot,” you complain to JJ, who already has his shirt off and is laying on his stomach at the end of your bed. One of your pillows is fluffed under his head, and he tries his best to take a midday nap. It’s not working.

“Uh, I think you mean, ‘I’m hot’.” He clarifies, tilting his head to look over at you. You watch him notice your tank top and discarded shirt.

“You’re right, I am hot,” you agree, before groaning and pouting at JJ. He scoffs playfully.

“What do you want me to do about it?” He asks, and you move to lay down next to him, on your back. You mumble something that sounds like ‘I dunno’, and sigh.

It doesn’t take long for you to accidentally fall asleep in the Outer Banks heat. The sun was hot on your face when you woke up, meaning you hadn’t slept for that long, and JJ was still asleep next to you, his arm cushioning his head on the pillow, turned away from you. You smile at the fact that he’s still here, and that you two were close enough that he could just nap in your presence, and not have it be weird. You sit up next to him and shake him so that he’d wake up.

He grumbles before he shifts a little in his sleep.

“Stop it,” he murmurs, “That hurts.”

“Get uppp,” you whine, and he jerks a little so you’d get off of him. He turns to look at you again.

“No, ‘m tired.” He says softly. You roll your eyes.

“Sleep when you’re dead. I’m bored.”

He flips his head again, presumably to fall back asleep, but you’re not having it.

“JJ.” You demand.

“Yeah. Right now isn’t… the best time for me to get up,” he says.

You give him a quizzical look.

“What? Why?”

“I got a problem.” he says. He shoves his face into the pillow and mutters something else.

“What problem?” You ask, amused. You sit up and cross your legs, rocking back and forth a little bit.

“Hmph,” he sounds. You poke him in the side and he shifts his weight, shoving his hands underneath his body.

Your eyes widen with recognition, and you laugh.

“What?” he says, face tinting pink.

“Nothing,” you clarify, but keep smiling at him mischievously.

Suddenly, you start to move one hand up his back, fingertips tracing his muscles and tanned skin.

You lightly graze his neck, and you feel the goosebumps that spread over his body at your touch.

“Turn over,” you suggest, and JJ complies, revealing the slight bulge in his pants and tucking his hands behind his head.

It takes a second before you make eye contact with him, but when you do, you notice his bright blue eyes are slightly darker, and his pupils a little bit blown out. He smirks.

Your eyes trail back down to his shorts, and you lean across his legs to unbutton them. He lifts his hips and you shimmy them down to his ankles, but he doesn’t kick them off.

The bright yellow banana print boxers made you smile. You’ve never actually given JJ a blowjob before, but that didn’t seem to deter him in the slightest.

You run your fingernails right under the waistband, and he brings his hands down to his side. Your other hand goes to feel up his thigh and abs. He places his hand on yours, and brings it to cup his bulge, which you can feel is hard, and likely not going away anytime soon.

Squeezing slightly, you get a feel for his dick, and he slides your hand into his boxers. You grab his cock, hot and pulsing. He closes his eyes when that happens, and lets his head fall back onto the pillow. He hums in approval as you start to move your hand in firm strokes. He pulls his boxers down more to free his cock, and you continue to pump it, slowly, with a solid grip.

“Can you, ah… go faster?” he asks, voice breathy as you progress, but you decide to do him one better.

You move your mouth over the tip of his head, red and glistening, and you spit. You watch it run down the side of his cock as you take your tongue to the underside of it, where sensitive veins ran.

His breath hitches and his hips buck slightly at the pressure.  

Letting your tongue do most of the work, you lick and press wet kisses to the underside of his dick, using one of your thumbs to flick his wet slit, your hand cupping his shaft.

He lets himself enjoy the attention, eyes still closed and cock still hard. His hand moves to hold the back of your head and you open your mouth and let him fuck up onto your tongue, licking his whole shaft.

You move slightly to straddle his calves, leaning down to bring your tongue back to the head of his dick.

“Oh, fuck that feels good,” he encourages.

You begin slowly, sucking on the tip with hollowed out cheeks and he can’t help himself. He moans and his breath sputters softly.

As you start to bob your head, avoiding teeth and trying not to go down too far, he keeps his hand on your head, encouraging you to take more and more down until his cock touches the back of your throat.

You gag a little and pull back, strings of spit connecting your lips to his cock still.

“Please, don’t stop,” he begs, his neck craned to look down at you, watching your mouth on him.

You decide to take a different approach, and push the tip of his cock back into your mouth, letting him buck up softly into the inside of your cheek.

He groans, and you take him back onto your tongue, towards your throat again, but not too far this time.

“Ah, I’m gonna…” he starts, but whimpers as you pick up the pace.

“I’m cumming, oh fuck, fuck, I’m—”

And you feel his cum pool on your tongue. You decide to swallow it, sucking so that his hips buck again, and he has to grab a fistful of the blanket underneath him to resist from plunging his cock to the back of your throat.

He moans in pleasure, and you pull away, cum still pooling at the tip of his penis. You carefully wipe it away with one hand, and he sits up, grinning.

“Come here,” he says, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer to him forcefully, pressing kisses to your neck.

“No, no, it’s fine,” you protest, wiggling out of his grasp and bending down to wipe his leftover cum on your discarded t-shirt. You had to wash it anyway.

“Aw, come on,” he protests with puppy dog eyes, “that’s not fair.”

“No no, now, you have to do something for me,” you say, and he looks wary of your suggestion.

“Like what?” He asks.

“Like, take a cold shower with me. Because I’m still hot.” You whine, sitting up on the edge of the bed.

“Now that, I can get behind,” says JJ, springing himself off the bed, bare ass naked, in the direction of the bathroom. You admired his body until you couldn’t see him anymore

You hate to see him go, but you love to watch him leave.

He sticks his head out from behind the door frame and stares at you.

“You coming?” He asks.

“I know you’re coming,” you reply suggestively, and he rolls his eyes as you laugh, getting up to follow him.

when he’s sick headcanons

note — can you tell i was in a francisco morales mood when i wrote this? also, i’m incredibly soft. i just wanna hold them :’( also also send me your  own headcanons!! i wanna hear ‘em!! big love <3 - nat

MANDO

- he doesn’t know how he survived all those bouts of sickness alone when you step in to help him for the first time

- his body aches, and not the usual after-bounty-capture either

- his head is foggy, he can feel the sweat in his helmet, and his breathing is hard

- he can’t tell if it’s coming through the modulator, but when you bring soup up to the cockpit for him, he knows you know

- he takes it gratefully, knowing that if there was nobody else here he would have just gone to bed to sleep it off, dinner vetoed for the night

- your cold fingers wrap around the back of his neck, moving his cape as you do so, and he melts into you

- he doesn’t know that he lets out the smallest whimper when you do this, and it makes you want to tear off his helmet, pull him into your arms, and hold him until he’s better

- but you can’t, so you settle for a hand on his neck, and the tilt of a helmet when he drinks the soup in front of you, as requested

- he definitely has a fever, and maker knows what else

- so you tell him to get some rest, that you’d watch the ship and get him if anything went wrong

- you supervise him down the ladder, just in case, which he finds funny and sweet

- you wish you could squish into his bunk with him, but you don’t want to invade on his personal space, especially while he’s hot and sick

- you you settle into the cockpit, the ship on cruise control, and you check on him every once in a while, keeping grogu occupied and quiet while he gets some well deserved rest

EZRA

- you knew he would get it

- right after you recovered from your illness, he started displaying symptoms of the same one you had just gotten over

- shortness of breath, fever, aches, lethargy

- he had taken such good care of you, so it was only fair that you’d do the same in return

- resources were sparse and quarters were cramped on the green, but you did what you could to make him as comfortable as possible

- his feverish back was pressed up against your chest in a cot designed for one after he’d stripped down to his underwear to avoid overheating

- he really enjoyed you being the big spoon sometimes, and now was one of those times

- when he got too hot from your shared body heat though, you would sit on the floor next to the cot and stroke right behind his ear to get him to fall asleep

- you made sure he ate as much as he could keep down, and you gave him all the fluids you could spare for his speedy recovery

- it broke your heart to see your usually verbose boy so quiet and in pain

- he muttered fever nonsense to no one and whimpered in his sleep

- you moved your cot directly next to his in order to keep a close eye on him

- but you knew that with time he would heal, and that as soon as he started talking to you again he was getting better

FRANKIE

- he sweats through the sheets next to you in the early hours of the night

- you’re the one who wakes up first, and you honestly thought one of you had wet the bed because of how much liquid there was

- but you realize that it’s frankie, back drenched and sweating out whatever flu he had acquired from whoever he had gotten it from

- you wake him from what seemed to be a not great dream anyway, and when he realizes what happened, he apologizes, groggy from sleep and illness

- “no, no! i’m not mad, frankie, you just can’t sleep in this sweetheart. you’ll get more sick. how are you feeling?”

- he curls up deeper under the covers and you get out of bed to kneel next to him

- your hands card through his matted, sweat soaked hair, and you wipe the drops from his jaw

- “do you want a cool shower, baby? you’re soaked.” you suggest, but frankie is so out of it

- he was fine last night, you remember

- sure he didn’t eat dinner, and went to bed early, but you thought maybe he had a late lunch and a long day

- now, helping him out of bed to the shower, you understand that it was early onset symptoms of whatever he was battling

- he pressed heavily to your side and you’re nervous as you strip him down and get him into the tub

- he sways, and you’re not sure what you’ll do if he passes out, or hits his head, so you sit him down, take off the shower head, make sure the water coming out is room temperature, and you run she showerhead over his overheating body

- you’re careful not to get any water in his face and ears, and you don’t wash his hair, just his body with a gentle soap

- you figure this is one of the only times frankie will let you take care of him like this, so you milk it for all it’s worth

- you blow dry his hair on a low setting, just in case he has a headache, you change the sheets of your bed, you lay him down on his side and you bring him close to your chest

- which is how he falls asleep for the next few nights until his illness eventually subsides

WHISKEY

- he curls up in your lap on the couch as soon as he gets home from work, which is how you know something’s wrong

- but you ask him anyway

- “i don’t feel so great, sugar,”

- which scares you, because did he get drugged? is this just a regular illness? is this like a biowarfare mission gone wrong?

- you leave him to get the thermometer, and when you come back, he’s got sad eyes looking up at you that just break your heart

- turns out, it’s not biowarfare. just a fever of 100.4

- you slip your hands up the back of his shirt and it’s so warm, along with his forehead

- he moans weakly at your touch, worn and tired from his extensive mission that day

- he’s definitely been overexerting himself

- as you settle back onto the couch, he settles into your lap again

- you let him rest for a while, but not after long, you realize he’s fallen asleep, and you’re stuck there for god knows how long

- you turn the volume down on the tv just in case, and you stroke behind his ears and you play with his fingers

- it’s best to just let him sleep it off, and you're not opposed to letting him do it on your lap

- you imagine there are statesman resources you can use to help him, but if he’s feeling better after he’s slept it off, then maybe you won’t need to misuse them

JAVIER PEÑA

- you scared the shit out of him, knocking on his door like that

- in your blinding rage, filled with thoughts like “how dare he take the day off to bang hookers, to recover from his hangover, to generally be a hindrance to the fucking DEA,” you had not pondered the possibility that THE javier peña, was sick

- he’s pulling on a t-shirt just as he opens the door, wearing pajama pants, and it startles you to see him so disarmed and casual

- his eyes and nose are red, his hair is disheveled, and he looks... exhausted

- “wow, you look like shit."

- “i feel like shit,” he says, walking away from the door, sniffling

- you take this as an invitation in, and close the door behind you

- he collapses back onto his couch, where you assume he’s been all day, and wraps himself up in a thick afghan blanket

- his hands shake the slightest bit as he opens his lighter to ignite his cigarette

- you take a seat next to him and help him with his lighter, and he nods his thanks to you

- “you’re gonna be late,” he mutters, taking the cigarette from his mouth and blowing out smoke into his apartment, coughing it out halfway

- “i’ll call out,” you offer, eyes wandering up his blanket clad body

- he closes his eyes and lets his head rest on the back of the couch

- “go in. i’m just gonna sleep it off anyway,”

- you lean in close to him and press your hand against his forehead and he freezes, staring at you

- you run your hand down his neck and feel his warmth, and he melts into your touch just a little bit

- you offer to only call out for a few hours to get him settled and make sure he doesn’t die or something, and he lets you, simply because he knows his illness will only get worse

- when your time is up and you have to go back to work, javi’s eaten, gotten some fluids in him, and taken some pain meds

- you let him know that he can call you if he needs anything, and before you even walk out the door is sleeping contently on the couch

MARCUS MORENO

- you find out he’s sick when he calls you, and asks for a favor

- “hey, can you do me the biggest favor ever?”

- he’s super congested. at first you think it might not be him because of how grainy his voice is

- “i hate to do this to you on such short notice, but would you be able to pick up missy? i’m not feeling too hot right now.”

- when you make it back to their home, it's very clear why he thought he wouldn't be able to make it

- he's curled up in bed, tissues piled on his nightstand, trying to get some sleep, but clearly failing

- he notices the two of you come in, and you quietly usher missy away to her own room to entertain herself while her dad tries to get some rest

- he thanks you for picking up missy, and you tell him you'd be there for him whenever he needed you to be

- you make a special phone call as you care for marcus, keeping his curtains closed and running your cool hands up and down his back and shoulders until he felt like he could fall asleep

- you let him know that you'll be right back, that you were going to pick up a few things for him and that if he needed anything at all, just call

- knowing your chicken noodle soup skills were rusty, your special phone call had been to marcus' mother's house, where she had tupperware containers full of soup waiting for you to pick up for him

- when you get back to his house with pain meds, gatorade, and the soup, marcus is passed out in bed

- you don't want to wake him up, but you have a hunch that he hasn't eaten all day, so you whisper his name softly and lightly shake him awake

- he's so grateful and only eats a portion of what he normally does, but anything is better than nothing

- and you don't want him feeling even more sick as a result

- you end up eating the incredibly nostalgic and rich soup with missy at the table and talk to her about your day while marcus gets some sleep

MARCUS PIKE

- it's only when you get home from work that you realize something's wrong with marcus

- he's asleep on the couch

- which would have been fine, if you had worked overtime, or had gotten out late, but it was only four thirty

- plus, you two had planned on going to see a movie you he was excited about tonight in theatres and maybe grab dinner after

- the tv plays lowly in the background, and he hasn’t changed out of his work clothes yet

- he startles when you close and lock the door, and rubs his temples, eyes squeezed shut in pain

- "marcus, are you okay?"

- "yeah, i'm fine." he tells you, and when you mention the date, he looks shocked that he forgot about it

- "oh my god, you're right. i can’t believe i forgot, i’m so sorry babe, i'll get ready right now."

- you tell him it's no biggie, but he insists

- after you've taken off your work clothes and showered quickly for your date, you realize the two of you are most definitely staying in

- he's promptly fallen back asleep on the couch, and he looks adorable

- you put on your pajamas and he does too, and you settle into the couch behind marcus, flipping through channels with him

- he says he doesn't care what you watch, as long as it's not too bright or loud

- so you choose some old black and white movie with the subtitles on

- normally you're the one between his legs, as he rubs your shoulders and plays with your hair

- but this time, he's curled up into you, his back pressed up against your chest, his head tucked into your shoulder using it as a pillow

- you figure you didn't really want to see the new movie anyway, and decide takeout and casablanca was a better way to spend your time with your sick boyfriend

MAX PHILLIPS

- a big baby

- but he IS a vampire and DOES NOT get sick, which slips your mind completely when you come home after some overtime and find him paler than usual on the couch, his head in his hands

- you try to get him to tell you what’s wrong, and he refuses, but he caves when you sit down next to him and start stroking his head, and playing with the hair at the base of his neck

- he tells you that after the whole vampire fiasco with the company, he was set for a while, and has been feeling great, but he hasn’t had human blood in so long that it’s made him weak

- he gives you a sad puppy dog look, and you know he’s being an asshole about it, but you hate to see the dark circles under his eyes or the color his skin turns when he’s like this

- so you oblige, but you give him STRICT instructions to follow, otherwise you won’t do it again

- don’t take more than a pint, don’t leave unnecessary bruises, if you use your safe word he has to stop immediately, and he has to make it as quick and painless as he possibly can

- he nods enthusiastically, and pulls you into his lap

- he nuzzles into your neck, and grabs your chin, anchoring himself to you

- he blows softly on your skin, and presses hard kisses to the area to get your blood flowing and disarm you

- which isn’t fair because he knows your neck is so sensitive

- it’s a sharp prick when he ejects his fangs into your body and you stop moving completely, your hand fisting at his shirt, just listening to your breathing and his soft moans echoed against your skin

- out of habit your rub soothing circles into his back, more to sooth yourself then anything

- minutes pass, and you start to feel light headed and are about to tell him to stop when he pulls away, grinning ear to ear at you

- he’s back on your neck in seconds though, licking and sucking the leaking blood from the small holes he’s left in your skin

- now that, that feels much better than the bloodsucking that was going on originally

- you jump when he presses soft kisses to the sensitive area along your throat and dives a hand between your legs

- looks like someone’s feeling better already

MAX LORD

- tries to power through it as much as he can with pain killers and cough syrups, but after he almost passes out at dinner after a week of symptoms, you beg him to take at least a day off to recover

- that morning, his hair is a mess, he missed a button on his shirt, and his tie was uneven

- he was about to put on two different colored socks when he begrudgingly obliges

- you unbutton his shirt and help him take off his tie

- it’s easy to bring him back to bed after that, and you let him hold you from behind like a teddy bear, no matter how uncomfortable his arm is shoved under your neck

- usually he likes to be held, but he can feel his own back burning up, so he decides to hold you instead

- he whimpers in his sleep, plagued by fever dreams and his traumatic past

- so when he wakes you up in the middle of the night, something he so very rarely does, you’re concerned

- “i’m sorry, for waking you, i just... i just need... you... i want—“

- it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out he needs a hug

- you hold him and rub his back until he falls back asleep again, in your arms

- when he wakes up with a killer headache, you fight to keep him in bed again, rubbing his temples and pressing kisses to his forehead

- he falls back asleep in less than five minutes

- needless to say, one more day off couldn’t hurt

OBERYN MARTELL

- it’s not often than he gets sick, surprisingly, considering how close he gets to so many different people

- when you arrive at his chambers that morning, the guards seem keen on not letting you in

- you argue with them, but they insist oberyn didn’t want anyone in there

- you call them out, obviously upset and visibly frustrated when his doors creak open and you see him, in a robe, hair messy and pressed down to his forehead

- he quietly tells the guard to let you in, and you’re a little confused

- he sits down on his bed and looks up at you with guilty eyes

- “apologies, my love, but I don't want you to see me like this”

- you scoff and roll your eyes at him, moving in front of him

- you take his head in your hands, and he stares up at you

- “apology accepted, but i’m offended, my prince.”

- he scrunches his eyebrows and presses his chin to your stomach

- you run your hands through his hair and he brings his hands to your waist

- “you think mere illness could keep me away? keep me away from you?”

- his confusion melts into a small smile, and he lets his head rest against your belly as you pull him into you

- “can i get you anything, oberyn? wine, medicine?”

- “no, my love. just you is enough for me.”

PERO TOVAR

- wants to be left alone for the most part

- grumpy in general, and it doesn't get better when he's sick

- he'll let you wipe a cool cloth over his forehead and neck, and doesn't complain

- he says he doesn’t want you there because he doesn’t want you to catch what he has

- you know, survival rates are low for things like this at this point in history

- but really, like oberyn, he doesn’t want you to see him weak

- he’s afraid it’ll ruin your image of him in your mind

- william asks you to get some rest, as they can’t afford to risk more days at the campsite with sick travelers

- so you oblige, keeping your distance from pero, but you stay vigilant

- you stand guard for him for most of the night, listening to him breathe, watching his chest rise and fall, until you eventually fall asleep too

- but you’re up early, with the rest of the men, except pero, who sleeps well into daylight

- the rest of them take off, desperate to find something for dinner, but you stay back with him, stroking his forehead, a gentleness that’s rarely ever been afforded to him, listening to him ramble half in english, half in spanish, but he has your full attention

- it would be a rough few days until he recovered, but his muttered thanks and appreciation for you was more than enough for you to do it all over again if he ever needed you to

;)

CARING FOR STUBBORN MUSES. for when the person you’re trying to care for insists they don’t need your help.

“at least let me clean the wound!” “you’ll be even worse off if you don’t let me bandage this.” “i really think you need to see a doctor.” “i made you some soup, and i’m going to sit here until you eat it. i can wait.” “your feelings matter too! i can’t help you if i don’t even know what’s making you upset!” “..i’m here if you need anything, okay?” “stop trying to push yourself! you can’t do this on your own!” “listen, i know you don’t want to, but.. maybe you should rest for a while. you’re not going to get anywhere like this.” “i’ll make you a deal: i’ll just get you some bandages, and nothing else, and you stop making a fuss over it.” “how long has it last been since you slept?” “have you even been taking your medicine?” “i know you think you have to get through this by yourself, but you have people here to help you.” “let me take care of you, for once.” “you’re gonna hurt yourself even more if you do stupid things like that!” “i hate to break it to you, but you’re not supposed to do any strenuous physical activity for the next couple weeks, and if i have to personally make sure you don’t every waking hour of the day then i’m fully prepared to do that.” “it’s okay to cry in front of me, you know. you don’t have to carry this alone.” “stop trying to act like you’re not bleeding out in front of me!! this is serious!” “listen, asshole. i’m gonna carry you home whether you like it or not. you’re not in any condition to get there yourself.” “oh my god, why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?!”

fall sentence starters

hey y’all! i’ve been in the writing mood so here are some autumnal writing prompts, both tricks and treats!

1. “I don’t really like candy corn.”

2. “I have no one to go apple picking with...”

3. “Do you... maybe wanna have a scary movie night?”

4. “Did you bring an umbrella?”

5. “My hands are so cold.”

6. “Can I borrow your hoodie?”

7. “Look at all the leaves!”

8. “Can you light a candle or something?”

9. “I know a way to warm you up.”

10. “What kind of candy should i get.”

11. “My nephew wants us to take him trick or treating this year.”

12. “Haven’t you ever seen the leaves change colors before?”

13. “Oh no, it looks like it’s gonna rain.”

14. “Your sweater is so big!”

15. “Lay with me?”

16. “Why is it so hot? It’s October!”

17. “Why did you get such a tiny pumpkin? We have to carve this!”

18. “You didn’t tell me we had to carve this!”

19. “Be careful with the decorations! That ladder won’t hold your— weight.”

20. “Are you seriously going all black this month?”

21. “What is the point of pumpkin spice pringle’s.”

22. “Summer is over. Stop wearing sunscreen.”

23. “The sun doesn’t go away just because it’s fall.”

24. “It’s raining so much.”

25. “But you’re so tall! Can you pleaaase come apple picking with me?”

26. “We are NOT dressing up my animal in a halloween costume.”

27. “You make a pretty cute ghost, babe.”

28. “I don’t want to go either but it’s a company party and there’s free food and we might as well have fun with it, right?”

29. “When was the last time you went to a Halloween party?”

30. “What are you going to dress up as?”

31. “You’ve never been to a corn maze?!”

32. “If you want to go to the haunted house I’ll go with you, just so you don’t get scared, y’know?”

33. “They have the best plain donuts here i’ve ever had in my life.”

34. “Cider is the best drink. Period.”

35. “But I’ve never made an apple pie before.”

36. “Come on, aren’t you excited to see the little kids trick or treating?”

37. “I don’t have to have to hand out candy alone, just put on the costume!”

38. “I picked it out especially with you in mind! You’re hurting my feelings!”

39. “They have good stuff down at the farmers market.”

40. “Why are your eyes so... red?”

41. “I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

42. “Did you hear that?”

43. “Is that an... actual skeleton?”

44. “It’s just your imagination.”

45. “Maybe it’s just a scary prank.”

46. “Is that your blood!?”

47. “Is this what being poisoned feels like?”

48. “Help them! They can’t breathe!”

49. “It’s just a scrape...”

50. “How did you break your leg? And so close to Halloween, too?”

51. “Do you know what death smells like?”

52. “Is that a real knife?”

53. “Your nose is bleeding, like, really bad.”

54. “Just sit down, I’m gonna take the nail out.”

55. “It’s Halloween, they’re probably just in a costume.”

56. “You’re scary good at that. For a beginner.”

57. “I love that sound.”

58. “There’s nothing better than fresh meat.”

59. “When I said trick or treat, I meant just treat.”

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

your frank imagine was so good!!

you restore my faith in tumblr anon :) big love. for you, i will keep writing for our favorite boy

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.