as a fellow clumsy gal, i need john b in my life.
i just knowww that man is in tune with every one of your movements.
you're bounding round a corner too fast and john b sees the dip in the sidewalk before you do, his arms out and curling round your waist to redirect you with ease before calamity strikes.
he's the calm to your chaos, preempting every slip, soothing your frenetic rambles with a thick palm to your cheek, tucking your face snug against his shoulder as he coos to you in that low, placating voice.
when you get overstimulated - the group gets too loud, the lights are too bright and hurt your head, the material of your clothes makes you itch - he bundles you into the back of the twinkie and strips you bare from the waist up. he tugs his own tee over his head - looser on your frame and smelling like musk and sweat - and slips it onto your bare form, watching as you go lax and your posture slumps.
"attagirl. feel better now, pup?"
tying your shoelaces when you're too preoccupied wreaking havoc with jj to notice, forcing you to sit still long enough to check you over for hazards even as you bounce and fidget and bite your nails. you try to slip away a couple of times for fear of missing out on the action, only to be wrenched back down by means of his fingers twined round your ankle; yeah, your boyfriend is fucking strong.
whining when he traps you with a thick bicep round your neck and makes you sit, murmuring lowly in your ear until your brain starts to wind down and turn off, eyes growing heavy as you push closer into his arms.
you mewl sadly, calves winding around his own as you stretch lazily and tug at the hem of his shirt. he laughs good-naturedly and lets you herd him into bed like an overeager puppy.
his grip on you when he sleeps is like a vice; he has you locked tightly to his chest, a thick thigh wrapped over the backs of your legs to keep you pinned to him.
the rumble of his snores sends you right to sleep.
jombee🥺🥺🥺
