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the way john would be sooo obsessed with his pregnant wife. thinking about all the hovering, the manhandling, the spoiling. thinking about the way he wonât stop touching you, needing to always feel the soft pudge of your body under his roughened palms.
john needs to hold, to touch, to remind himself that this is real. that you are real. heâs always dreamt of this; doesnât matter if heâs way past his prime, heâs always dreamt of settling down and building a family. so when you came into his lifeâa putrid mistake; youâd begged him to choose someone elseâall he could think of is how youâd look so good cradled in the belly of his home and fat with his baby. the thought was an addictive fever so he made it real, forged it from bloodied hands, and look at you two now, huh? this is as real as it gets; as good as it goes.
thinking about the hunger; the way he cinches at his desires and smothers them so that he wonât bother you with them. thinking about you begging him to, anyway. thinking about the concessionâjohn strips at his cock with fast strokes, his eyes heavy as they stare into your fluttering ones. âyer fat with my baby, peanut. christ above, look at yââdid yâreally think that i could hold back?â
thinking about the way he makes you lick him clean, his body breaking out in goosebumps with every of your kittenish licks. thinking about the kiss, soon after, and how itâs so messy and needy and delicious.
thinking about the way john begs you to use himââgo on, baby. take what yâ need from me.â
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cw: fauxcest
someone tries to pick you up at the club while youâre at the bar, grabbing drinks for you and price. when you look up, you blink in disbelief because itâs the same fucking guy that tried rubbing himself on you while you were feeling yourself on the dance floor, greedy hands finding purchase on your hip. thank god for john who yanked him away by his collar and telling the asshole to beat it. youâre clearly very unavailable and very much uninterested so what the fuck is this dudeâs deal?
âcâmon, sweet thing,â he says, crooning. âwhy donât we go somewhere private?â
âare you serious?â you ask, crossing your arms in front of you, the anger now shadowed by self-consciousness. you know that the issue isnât you but you canât help but feel that way when someoneâs blatantly disrespecting your boundaries.
he shrugs, shooting a sleazy grin your way. âyeah, why not? âsides, you see anyone else out with their dad tonight?â
you pause, the anger and discomfort petering away for a moment of utter confusion becauseâ
âwhat?â
you think that you are sooo good at hiding the fact that you like missionary and prone bone because of the way that john is pressing against youâcrushing you with his weight, and rutting the two of you on the bed in a messy tangle of salt and warmth âuntil john finally croons at you about it. he praises you, says how you are so cute in the way that your body is anticipating the drop of john's weightâcunt clenching around him even tighter, your moans splintering into shattered rasps of john's name.
the denial comes quick. "no- john, i-"
john tells you that you don't have to deny it. that you don't have to lie.
"i love it," john murmurs, a satisfied preen coating his words. he nuzzles his scruff against your shoulder, nipping at his baby's flushed skin because vulnerability is closing in. "i love how you love my body, baby."
you cry, cumming weakly at john's confession and throughout the tremors overtaking you, john holds you tight. he humps into you shallowly, trying to coax one more orgasm, and you do give a weak squirt just as his cum fills you, and it is thick and hot and delicious.
he slides his hand down to cup your gut, fingers dimpling your skin. "there," he rumbles. "now you're full too."
i'm so gone for the idea that the first time that you tell john, "i love you," is during sex. maybe missionary, but i'm thinking during proneboneâwhen john's pressing all his weight onto you, gripping you by the back of your neck, rutting and humping like he's trying to impregnate you then and there (not yet, but soon; that's a promise). you are so drunk in your pleasure, all drooly and whiny, that the words just spill from kiss-swollen lips.
i love you, you hiccup. john stops just for a second before a litany of his own confession drop from his maw, unstopping and unwavering like now that the dam's been unlatched, everything just begins to pour out ceaselessly.
i love you too, baby, i love you so much. the light of my life, huh? look at you, such a pretty thing for me. want daddy to kiss here, this deep? yeah? oh sweetheart, such a lovely puppy for me.
