reader that writes

It’s when you’re on the phone with your friends John may or may not block after he hears them trying to get you back into the dating feild.

Why would you need to date anyone else but Price? Who else would marry you when you’re already dependent on him, John may or may not have lead to a few men getting in an accident before your planned dates. No deaths, nothing serious (thankfully).

But it has you worried, completely oblivious to the fact that John’s physically blocking any potential prospects from coming your way, maybe you’re not pretty enough anymore. Maybe they don’t actually find you interesting.

Pure Blasphemy leaving your mouth. Sexiest thing on the planet, and he reminds you. Fucks you right against the mirror so you can see him splitting you open, how beautiful you look all disheveled. John holds your legs wide and your back to him. Can see the exact way heis cock is filling you to the brim, Sledgehammering into your slippery walls that’s gushing either way your mixed fluids, his pre weeping into your needy cunt, threatening to get you pregnant.

“Would look even prettier with a rock on y’ finger birdie, mm- have you all stuffed full ‘f me with a rock on your hand. ‘S what you need.”

And your pussy’s trembling, gasping for air into your lungs because you can imagine the sensation. John used to cum in you all the time when he found out you were on the pill, how warm it felt inside you, makes your mind swirl and put the balls of your feet right in the dovey of his back as he could be deeper, till it was dripping out of you’re hole and your body was limp, and he’d dip his tongue in to plug it up. Smear his tongue all against your sensitive clit and suck your cum up. But you got pregnant, came to your senses that even with the pill, you could end up in the same situation—

“You can’t-“ you’re keening, head rolling back on his hairy shoulder, grabbing at his calloused hands to put you down but he only fucks more of himself inside you, faster— harder— “Oh fuck John- nngh!” He’s doing it on purpose, widened mushroom tip knocking right against your cervix.

You can feel him smirking the way his beard prickles against your skin, sucking a love bite onto you, the bastard, “I can’t what honey?”

“You can’t cum inside- you can’t!” You’re shaking your head but your cunt is gripping him tighter with every rough thrust. His breeder balls are slapping against your cunt with every sloppy roll of his hips, lucky he pulls out just as your walls start to spasm. His cum dripping to the floor as he holds you so close. He lets you down to your feet and hold you close, humping against as you both come down from your highs, his hands squeezing your tits.

He lowly groans, flushed forehead pressing against your messy curls, “Fuck, but you’d look so good pregnant again dove.”

You got lucky.

Lucky you didn’t get pregnant but there was a scare. Almost as if your body had been achin for it, for this man and only man to knock you up right after fucking you silly.

“‘S a shame.” He exhaled his cigar when you give him the news.

You’re more than relieved, and John understands that. You’re still young. You’d atleast want some of your life to yourself before having anymore kids. You make your way over to him, falling into his arms on the lawn chair. You wrap your arms around him first for once, because at the very least you know he’s safe. This is home. You mumble into his neck, “Maybe when the baby turns four or five we could—“

“—Whatever you want sweetheart, God it’s whatever you want.” He hums, pressing his lips against your temple. Hand running up and down your back as he presses you into him.

You’d definitely be married by the end of the year.

She’s on her side of the bed, facing away from the door, one hand tucked under her cheek. The comforter is pulled up to her waist, her bare shoulders rising and falling with each slow, even breath. The sight of her like this, so soft, so utterly unguarded, sends a wave of pure, dizzying adoration through me. There’s a physical ache, a tightness in my chest that’s the manifestation of my reverence.

I strip out of my clothes and the bed dips as I slide in behind her, the warmth of her body an instant balm. I press myself against the curve of her back, my front to her back, and a sigh escapes me that’s half relief, half worship. I nuzzle into the fragrant cloud of her hair, breathing her in—shampoo, sleep, and her.

“Hey, sweetheart,” I whisper into the dark, my voice a rough scrape. “Missed you.”

She doesn’t stir. Not a twitch. The trust in that, the absolute surrender of even her unconscious body recognizing me. She knows it’s me. Her body knows. She’s safe, so she sleeps on.

My arm comes around her waist, my hand splaying possessively over the soft cotton of her sleep shirt. I press a kiss to the back of her neck, then another, trailing up to the sensitive spot behind her ear.

“So perfect,” I murmur, my lips moving against her skin. “My perfect, sleeping girl.”

My hand begins to move, a slow, sweeping caress from her ribs down over the plane of her stomach, to the crest of her hip. I slip my fingers under the hem of her shirt, seeking skin. She’s so warm. So impossibly soft. A sleepy, contented sound vibrates in her throat, and it goes straight to my cock, which is already hard and pressing insistently against the small of her back.

“That’s it, love,” I coax, my hand sliding back up, this time cupping her breast through her shirt. My thumb finds her nipple, already a tight peak in her sleep, and circles it slowly. She shifts, a subtle arching into my touch, a whispered sigh. A bolt of pure heat shoots through me. She’s enjoying it, even in her dreams. The thought is intoxicating.

I need more.

With infinite care, I ease her onto her back. She goes pliantly, her head lolling to the side, lips slightly parted. I lean down and kiss her forehead, her closed eyelids, the tip of her nose.

“My pretty, pretty girl,” I breathe, the words soaked in reverence. My hands are everywhere now, mapping her. I push her shirt up, baring her stomach, and press my mouth to her skin, kissing a slow, wet trail from her navel up between her breasts. I take a nipple into my mouth, sucking gently, and her back arches off the mattress with a soft, broken moan.

The sound is my undoing.

I hook my fingers into the waistband of her shorts and panties, and in one smooth, gentle motion, I draw them down her legs. She helps without waking, lifting her hips just enough. I toss them aside, and now she’s bare before me, bathed in silver and shadow. She’s breathtaking. All gentle curves and vulnerable flesh.

I settle between her legs, spreading her knees apart with my shoulders. The scent of her, warm and musky and sweet, fills my head. I’m dizzy with it. With her. I press a kiss to the inside of her thigh, feeling the fine tremor there.

“Shush, my love,” I whisper, my breath ghosting over her core. “Just sleep. Let me take care of you.”

And then I lower my mouth to her.

She is wet already, her body responding to my touches even in slumber. I groan against her, the taste of her like a drug. I worship her with my tongue, slow, languid strokes that have her hips making tiny, unconscious circles. I find her clit, that perfect, swollen pearl, and circle it with the very tip of my tongue, feather-light.

“So sweet,” I moan into her, my voice thick. “Taste so good, baby. Always so good for me.”

Her breathing changes. It hitches, grows shallow. A soft, continuous stream of sighs and whimpers falls from her lips. Her hands come up, tangling loosely in my hair, not pushing or pulling, just holding. As if I’m her anchor in the sea of sleep. I could spend an eternity here.

I increase the pressure, flicking my tongue faster, sucking gently. Her thighs tense around my head. I can feel the coil tightening in her, the gathering storm.

“Come on, pretty girl,” I urge, my words muffled against her flesh. “Let go. Just let it happen. I’ve got you.”

And she does. With a soft moan, her body trembles with her climax. I hold her through it, lapping gently at her, drinking every pulse and shudder, whispering praise against her soaked skin. “That’s it… beautiful… so beautiful for me…”

As the last tremors subside, she sinks back into the mattress, boneless and spent. Her eyes are still closed, her face flushed and serene. The possessiveness in me swells, a dark, tender tide. I like this, knowing that her body and I share a secret but her mind has no idea.

I shift up her body, my own need a painful, urgent throb. I position myself at her entrance, slick with her release and my saliva. I look down at her face, so peaceful in the aftermath. I don’t want to wake her. I want to keep her in this soft, pleasurable haze forever.

But I can’t wait.

With a slow, relentless push, I sink into her.

The heat, the tight, velvet clutch of her… I see stars. I bury my face in her neck, groaning. “Fuck… love… you feel like heaven.”

The intrusion, the fullness, finally pierces the veil of her sleep. Her eyes flutter open, blurry and disoriented in the dark. She blinks up at me, confusion smoothing into a dazed recognition.

“Wha…?” she slurs, her voice thick with sleep.

I freeze, my whole body coiled. I press a frantic kiss to her lips. “Shh, shh, sweetheart. It’s just me. It’s okay.”

Her brow furrows. She’s waking up, the reality of the situation seeping in—my weight on her, the deep, intimate join of our bodies. A flicker of something crosses her face.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, raining kisses on her cheeks, her eyelids. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. You were just… you were so perfect. I couldn’t help it.” I pull back just enough to look into her eyes, my own pleading. “You can go back to sleep if you want, baby. Just close your eyes. Feel me. Let me love you. You don’t have to do a thing.”

I begin to move, a slow, deep roll of my hips. Her breath catches, her eyes drifting shut again, not in sleep now, but in overwhelmed sensation. Her arms come up to wrap around my neck.

“That’s it,” I breathe, my pace gradually increasing. “My good girl. My love. You take me so well. Always so perfect for me.” Every thrust is a prayer, a claim. “Mine. All mine. This sweet cunt is mine. This pretty body is mine.” I kiss her, swallowing her soft moans. “You’re so trusting. Letting me have you like this… it kills me. You have no idea what you do to me.”

Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper. She’s fully awake now, meeting my rhythm, her hips lifting.

“Look at me,” I plead, my voice breaking. She opens her eyes, hazy with pleasure. “See who’s loving you. See who’s obsessed with you. It’s me. It’s always me.”

I’m close. The sight of her beneath me, pliant and accepting, her body welcoming mine, is too much. “I’m gonna come inside you, pretty girl. Gonna fill you up. Okay? Tell me it’s okay.”

She nods, a quick, desperate little motion. “Yours,” she whispers, and that one word is my end.

With a guttural groan, I drive into her one last time and spill, pulsing deep inside her warmth. I collapse on top of her, careful to keep my weight on my elbows, shuddering through the aftershocks. I’m babbling into her skin. “My love, my heart, my everything. I’m sorry I woke you up, I love you, I love you so much, pretty girl.”

Long moments pass, our harsh breaths the only sound. I don’t pull out, I can’t bear to yet. I gather her into my arms, turning us onto our sides, holding her tightly against my chest. I kiss her hair, her temples, peppering every surface with soft kisses.

She nestles into me, her hand coming to rest over my pounding heart. Then, her voice is a sleepy murmur against my skin.

“You’re early.”

A wave of affection washes over me. I hold her tighter. “I know,” I whisper back, my lips against her hair. “Missed you too much.”

She answers me in a soft giggle. “Missed you too.”

Her breathing evens out once more, slipping back into sleep within the circle of my arms, and finally, my body relaxes in the way it only does with her.