#but absolutely fucking scrumptious
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
definitely-medic · 11 months ago
Text
squeal
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
speedingbullet dump bc yeah.
170 notes · View notes
your-thighness · 8 months ago
Text
..........do y'all dream of eatin pussy? 👀👀
10 notes · View notes
krakrac · 1 month ago
Text
i cooked with my kirjan playlist me thinks
2 notes · View notes
bugintheruins · 7 months ago
Text
5/4 is objectively the best time sig
2 notes · View notes
downtherabbitholewithlucy · 2 years ago
Photo
Tumblr media
“They ain’t even ready for what’s comin’ when I hit that stage. They don’t even know.”
13 notes · View notes
narwhalandchill · 9 months ago
Text
started watching dark im half an ep in and i feel like someones stuck a spoon in my brain and is just fucking swirling it around like its soup. What the hell is going on whats going to happen my neurons are firing so fast rn and i have such an ominous fucking feeling like my skin is lowkey crawling . What
2 notes · View notes
caffeinatedcutie3 · 1 year ago
Text
AAAAAAA THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS REFERENCE!!!!!
oof! ouch! hang on there's something stuck in my shoe *I remove my shoe and turn it over and a small wooden structure tumbles out* well fuck. looks like someone built a little birdhouse in my sole
92K notes · View notes
ignaciwhore · 10 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
hey do you ever- you ever- y you ev ever you ev hej
0 notes
sun-kissy · 3 months ago
Text
chocolate-coated hearts | r.l.
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
୨ৎ series masterlist
barista!remus x shy!reader
summary: you go to a new cafe to order donuts for your friend, immediately enamoured with the barista
tw: nothing? reader takes literature as a major, also kind of has social anxiety
a/n: might make this a series! i’ve got a few ideas <3
An anxious sigh escapes you as you stand idly outside the cafe, peering inside through the mosaicked windows. It was jam-packed, people pushing past each other and snake-like queues forming throughout the space. You wriggle your phone out of your coat pocket and glance at the message that your friend, Madison, had sent in a half hour ago.
hey gorgeous!! mind picking up a few donuts for me at Beanie’s before you come over? a few of the pbj ones, and some chocolate ones too. thanks xx
She was expecting, and you went by whenever you could to help her out after her asshole of a boyfriend left.
Normally, you wouldn’t bother. You hated crowded places, and Beanie’s was the definition of crowded – an old-style cafe which had blown up overnight because of its scrumptious donuts and vintage aesthetic. But who were you to deny the cravings of the woman bearing your goddaughter?
You take a deep breath and push the creaky wooden door open, cringing at how the bell rang and signalled the whole cafe to your presence. But no one so much as looked up, busy trying to buy or sell food, or find a table.
You push your way through the sea of people, joining the queue in front of the counter. It was long, you noted, and would probably take another fifteen minutes or so until it was your turn to place an order. You fish out your crumpled book from your bag and turn it to the page you had stopped on yesterday. It was the second classic of the term – Pride and Prejudice. Taking literature as a major meant you spent more time reading than anything else, but you weren’t complaining.
As you read, you scribbled down plot points to take note of and quotes which meant something worth writing about. Your eyes stayed glued to the page, trying to work out hidden meanings and flowery language. Once you were back home, you’d have to compile all your analysis onto that worksheet Professor Ragnarsson had given out, write the 10-page long review, and then –
“Hey! Shut the damn book and order, will you?”
Your heart jumps in your chest at the sudden harsh tone. You close your book and whip your head around to see a middle-aged man glaring at you before peering down at his watch. “There’s a long queue, and we don’t have all day.”
The heat rushes to your cheeks as you open your mouth to apologise – but before you can say anything, you hear an oddly soothing voice from behind you. “Hey, don’t be a jerk. She didn’t know the counter was open.”
You glance back towards the counter, and you swear your heart stopped beating for a second. Angelic was an understatement to describe the man standing in front of you, tall and lanky and absolutely fucking beautiful.
His chestnut brown hair perfectly framed his pale face, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as he glanced at the rude customer behind you. There were pinkish scars tracing from above his eyebrows to right below his lips, but they looked golden under the orange light – he looked like some kind of heavenly being.
When his eyes dart back to you, his expression instantly softened, lips tilting upwards in a smile. You thought you would melt into a puddle right there and then just by gazing into his warm, honeyed eyes. “Hi, gorgeous. What can I get you?”
You blink, your mouth involuntarily falling open slightly. Gorgeous? Was he talking to you? Maybe he was referring to the man behind you.
His smile widens, and that does absolutely nothing to calm the feeling of your heart bouncing around in your stomach. “It’s okay if you can’t choose just yet, I know the number of options can be…” he chuckles, “overwhelming. Take all the time you need to decide.”
Oh my god, you thought. His laugh sounded musical, like the tender feeling of being enveloped in a warm embrace. You’d put it on a record player and play it on loop for hours if you could.
“Hurry the fuck up –”
“One more word from you and you won’t be getting your coffee today, buddy,” the godly-looking barista snapped in a slightly louder tone at the man behind you, face contorted in irritation.
You hear silent cursing behind you, a twinge of embarrassment turning you red. You quickly glance back up. “Sorry, hi, hello. I’ll um… I…” the words were on the tip of your tongue, but seemed to dissolve when he glanced at you with those agonisingly pretty eyes and kind smile.
Snap out of it, you internally curse as you open your mouth again. “I’ll get three peanut butter-jelly donuts, and four chocolate donuts.”
“Okay. Which chocolate ones?” he asks, tapping his tongs against the display dome with stacks of donuts. There really were a lot of options – chocolate sprinkles, belgian chocolate, chocolate glazed, double chocolate – your mind seemed to freeze up for a second. Which one would Madison want?
You quickly look behind you, seeing the man’s face twisted up in what looked like rage. It seemed to be taking him all his willpower not to lash out at you, and the customers behind him didn’t look much far off.
You turn back to the counter, eyes wide with panic as you feel the blood rush to your head. You had never been good at this; thinking and choosing on the spot. That’s why Subway was always a no-go for you, that’s why Madison had specifically told you what to get her – just that she hadn’t been specific enough. “I… I’m not sure. I think, um…”
“Hey, take it easy,” you look back up to see Remus giving you a reassuring smile, a slight hint of concern on his face. Your despair must have been embarrassingly evident, then. “It’s alright if you can’t choose. Do you want me to pick for you?”
You ought to have been humiliated, the way you immediately nodded and gave in to his offer. But he just gave you an easy smile and nodded, picking up one of each type and placing them in the box.
“Thank you,” you mumble sheepishly as you move to the payment counter, fishing in your bag for a wad of notes.
“Of course,” he grins, and it was so bright you thought it could probably light up the whole cafe. “That’ll be $15.90.”
As he waits for you to pay, he takes a quick look down and begins to brush crumbs off his apron. You look up at the wrong moment, eyes immediately fixing on the curves of his biceps visible through his T-shirt, and his slender fingers.
He glances back up at you, catching a glimpse of your flustered look and instantly smirking. You look away abashedly, counting the money and handing it to him.
The brush of your fingers against his calloused palm sent a jolting shock through you as you quickly pull back, not missing the way his smile widened as he cashed the money into the register.
“Thanks for visiting, sweetheart. Hope to see you again soon.”
You don’t reply, afraid you’d crumble into a blushing, gooey mess. Flashing him a brief, nervous smile, you pick up the box of donuts before turning around and heading straight for the exit. Sweetheart.
You huff as you open the door and step outside, pulling out your phone to complain to Madison all about the stupidly handsome barista at her favourite cafe. God, he really knew what he was doing.
939 notes · View notes
xoluvx · 1 month ago
Text
in her hoodie; b.eilish
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
smut
it looked better on you than it did on her. those were her words. not yours. she went absolutely feral when she saw you wearing her hoodies. quite literally foaming at the mouth. rabid. didn't matter what you were doing. if you were innocently passing by. if you were sitting on the couch watching tv. her mind always wandered to the same scene. her hoodie. your legs spread. her strap. her cock in your pussy. she couldn't contain herself. you always looked scrumptious.
"you're so hot," she groaned fisting the bottom of her hoodie as she fucked into you. you were whimpering. biting your lower lip trying to muffle your moans. her friends were somewhere down a hall, in a guest room, upstairs. you didn't actually fucking know. all you knew was that during movie night she couldn't keep her hands off your thighs. she couldn't help but let her hand wander under the hoodie. she couldn't stop herself from sighing in your ear and whispering how much she wanted you. no. how much she needed you.
as soon as everyone left the room, she held your hand. her lips attacked yours. you moaned in her mouth and wrapped your arms around her shoulder feeling a twinge in your pussy. her relentless teasing had done something to you. of course it had. neither of you had the patience to make it back to your room. she did have enough patience to retrieve the strap she kept in this room for .. personal reasons.
she pried off your sweats and your tiny slutty thong as she watched your writhing body spread across the giant couch. couch that previously held all her friends and was now about the witness the dirtiest acts. not for the first time ever.
she was fucking into you at an ungodly speed. you couldn't hold your moans anymore. they were pornographic and erotic. you attempted to hide your face in her hoodie too shy but too fucking horny to tell her something. billie pushed up the hoodie revealing your bare breasts. they bounced with each trust as your face filled with pure bliss when she hit all the right places. every single time. every single thrust. every single moan and groan and sound was pushing you so close to the edge.
she always fucked you so good but there was something about wearing her hoodie while she did it that drove the two of you absolutely wild.
diaween 2024 🧡
805 notes · View notes
seiwas · 10 months ago
Note
@soumies
Megumi for knife to the throat but the blade can't seem to cut this weird sexual tension we've got going on
you're the only one that's holding me down, megumi fushiguro ;
Tumblr media Tumblr media
pairing megumi fushiguro x f!reader word count 1.3k synopsis pressing a blade to your ex-fiance's throat, and other loving, tender moments content contains exes still in love, slight angst
Tumblr media
Staring directly into someone’s face is such an intimate act. 
You don’t realize this fact until you’re straddling Megumi’s annoyingly slim waist, the glint of your blade against his throat causing the sunlight to beam right into your eye. 
Everyone claims that Megumi Fushiguro is the ultimate pretty boy. Mai claims that his bone structure is undefeated and that any sane girl would commit atrocious crimes against humanity to get lashes as nice as his natural ones. Momo says that she’s never seen a shade of blue eyes as pretty as Megumi’s (her only frame of reference, by the way, happen to be her own bug-eyes and Satoru Gojo’s, whose eyes are so freakishly, eerily icy blue that you’re thankful he wears the blindfold twenty-four/seven). Even Miwa, who is too busy trying to earn a living, can take the time to admit that Megumi Fushiguro is the exact type of person the ancient Greeks model gods after. 
You want to blame their admiration of Megumi on the fact that thanks to their attendance at the Kyoto school, interactions with cute boys were few and far between. Todo’s fine, if you’re into loudmouths who could also pose as the poster boy for steroids — or, even better, those clickbait ads on shady websites that tell you if you take this magical pill, in three days, you can be as shredded as him! Noritoshi is so stiff and aloof that no one can view him as hot. Mechamaru is a fucking robot. 
So, the bar for the Kyoto girls’ rating of attractiveness is damn near hell. You examine Megumi’s face and eagerly search for a flaw to hold against him. There’s a faint, barely noticeable scar above his lips. It blends into his skin seamlessly, and you think your eyes could be tricking you. However, you latch onto this scar. Megumi Fushiguro is not the perfect specimen, you think smugly. 
“Let me go,” he snaps. “If anyone’s acting under the effects of the curse, it’s you.”
“You’re not exactly in the position to be ordering me around,” you point out. You have one hand pressed against his chest to steady yourself, the other gripping the knife. 
“Clearly you still consider me a threat.” His eyes flicker downwards, even though he can’t possibly see his hands. They’re bound behind his back, his cursed energy sealed from the specialized handcuffs you managed to lock on him. The last thing you needed was for him to sic his wild animals on you. 
“Maybe I just like this position.” 
A momentary truce forms when you don’t tease him for his cheeks turning pink, and he pretends not to notice that when you realize your accidental underlying innuendo, your grip on the dagger loosens considerably. 
Megumi is fully aware that your bark and your bite are on the same level of batshit insane. He figures this is just how all women sorcerers have to be in order to survive this environment. If you say you’re going to slit his throat at the first sign of him being compromised by a curse, he can trust that you would keep your word. 
You didn’t threaten him, though. Instead, when the curse nearly got a good touch on him, you had screamed out his name. You let the curse get away in favor of tackling him to the ground, and the frenzied look on your face as you searched him for any sign of possession makes his insides twist and heat rise to his cheeks and paint the tips of his ears a flushed pink. 
For a second, it still felt like you cared about him. 
Then, you slapped those restrictive cuffs on him and got on top, as a means to restrain him. He had frozen up when he realized how close your bodies are, how he can feel the warmth from you traveling and enveloping his own body. 
This is bad, Megumi realizes. Not because the curse got to him — it didn’t. It’s bad that his heart still goes pitter-patter every time you’re near, and that he’s hyper aware of the way your body fits nicely and neatly against his own. He knows that it’s wrong to be feeling this way, to want to savor every last scrap of you that he can get. The jujutsu world is small. Nearly everyone knows about the broken engagement between you two. Having the both of you paired up for a mission, especially since your territories are so far from each other, is a sick and twisted joke. 
The curse thrives on couples, intertwining itself with its victim and twisting their host’s love into hatred. There’s been a recurring theme of lovers murdering their significant others. The more love in their heart, the stronger the curse’s manipulation. 
It just goes to show that too much love is a fucking burden, a curse in and of itself. You know that it is, because if it came down to it, if Megumi were truly compromised and wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t have it in you to kill him first. 
“I told you, I haven’t been hit by the curse.” 
“How can I know that this isn't just a trick? You’ve always been good at self-restraint and hiding yourself from me.” The comment is petty, all things considered. In the end, when Megumi asked you if breaking off the engagement was what you truly wanted, you remained expressionless and impassive. We can’t ever go back to the way things were. There’s no point in not breaking it off. 
He scoffs. “Don’t you think I’d kill myself the minute I felt something in me shift?”
You know Megumi. He doesn’t say things just to say them. He means it, every word, and you don’t know why, but it makes the part of you that longs for him — the part of you that is always in a constant state of wanting him, needing him — intensify. Multiply. Takes over your whole entire system until you are reduced to a being whose hunger can only be satiated by Megumi. 
“Idiot. You always go to the extremes.” You opt for saying this, instead of commenting on the fact that Megumi is very much implying that he would rather end his own life rather than take yours. 
“Do you really think I’d ever want to hurt you?” And suddenly, you realize that the two of you are no longer discussing the current matter at hand. Like with all things that involve the both of you, the root of the problem always leads back to your engagement. He was meant to be the one you married, and then he refused the Zenin name, refused most of the traditional jujutsu society, and when it came down to his freedom or you, he—
—gave you the option to choose. 
Him or comfort. Him or safety. Him or family. 
You didn’t realize it at the time, but all choices lead to him. He is the one you are most comfortable with, he is the one who would die to keep you safe, he is the one who you could see yourself creating a happy family with. As happy as a family can be in this fucked up society. 
He hurt you, but it was you who handed him the blade. You, who took his wrist and guided it straight to your heart. Just looking at him right now reopens that old wound. 
“The curse can only change you if there’s love to destroy.” You point out.
“I know.” He says. “Lucky that it didn’t get to me. It would have ended badly for the both of us.”
#PULLING AT MY HAIR THIS WAS SO GOOD oh my god. SCRUMPTIOUS. DELICIOUS. JUST. OH MY GOD.#pls read this#jjk#megumi#all the claims of him being a pretty boy are so absolutely true#'any sane girl would commit atrocious crimes against humanity to get lashes as nice as his natural ones' <- SO REAL#and gojo having freaky eyes omg i agree asfbasfbasjhf#i loooove all the descriptions of all the other students pls fbas todo as the posterboy for steroids like CMON HGFVGHAS and the clickbait a#mechamaru is a fucking robot 😭😭😭 PLEASE#i am also SUCH a sucker for sparring/fighting positions omfg#i think the tension is at an ALL TIME HIGH and extremely AMPLIFIED lol#and when his cheeks turn pink!! and ur grip loosens!! ooUUUGH i am SUCH a sucker for subtle actions like that#It’s bad that his heart still goes pitter-patter every time you’re near#and that he’s hyper aware of the way your body fits nicely and neatly against his own.#<- SO JUICY I AM SOOOOO in love with an exes to lover trope and w megs too?? sign me UP#adn this line omg: if Megumi were truly compromised and wanted to kill you you wouldn’t have it in you to kill him first.#ABSOLUTELY GUTTED ME SADFBA they're still so in love with eachother i feel SIKDSCNHDFSG#and i CANNOTTT BELIEVE HE SAID THIS: “Don’t you think I’d kill myself the minute I felt something in me shift?”#OH MY GOD the read on megumi is SO GOOD: He doesn’t say things just to say them. <- SO TRUE SO REAL#HE IS SOOOOO: “Do you really think I’d ever want to hurt you?” <- how can he just say that oh my god#him giving you the option to choose literally put HIS freedom into your hands oh my god i am aaching i cant believe this#megumi is such a dEVOTED boy i think#all choices lead to him. & “Lucky that it didn’t get to me. It would have ended badly for the both of us.” <- mY GOD#SO MANY BANGER LINES#im obsessed with this#it's one scene but theres so much context interwoven in everything!!! i could bite into the angst of it omfg#and the witty writing style!!! UGH im obsessed#loved this!!!!!
375 notes · View notes
squinch-depraved · 2 months ago
Note
idea: schlatt and you trying some special sex chocolate and accidentally take way more than you mean to and the effects r starting to take place 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫
-🐏 anon
oh this is yuMMy. delicious. scrumptious, even. thank u to 🐏 anon for being my first ever ask ily mwah i hope this is good i've never used these chocolates before but i might have to 🫣
coming home from a long day to your boyfriend's empty apartment was not what you were hoping for. you were hoping to come home to him watching something on the tv, rotting on the couch in his usual comfy clothes, playing with his two sweet cats, and just waiting for you to get home. in your mind, he would have sprung up to greet you the second the door opened, gliding through the apartment to place a tender kiss on your lips as he picks you up and twirls you around. but the unnerving silence you actually did come home to rips you from your daydream before he can place you back down on the ground and gush about how much he missed you. the cats finally skitter up to you, meowing and trilling in a way that lets you know they're absolutely starved for attention (he's been gone maybe 20 minutes, probably). cooing at the sweet babies as they butt their heads into your legs, you pet them and settle in for the night.
after having changed into one of his shirts and deciding pants weren't worth the effort, you stumble into the kitchen to grab a snack. lucky you, your perfect boyfriend had left a plain gold box of 12 wrapped chocolates on the counter! no labels, other than a little logo in the corner, but a small note was stuck onto the top of the box, reading: "take ONE - be back soon toots" along with a heart. you sigh contentedly and tear into the box. you hadn't had much time to eat today, and you were sure your boyfriend who loved to spoil you would be fine with you having more than the allotted amount of mysterious chocolates. what's the worst that could happen, they're edibles? at least then you'll have a story to contend with ted's!
the first chocolate melts on your tongue, leaving an almost rosy flavor behind that you can't quite get enough of. you debate if this'll be worth the punishment, but the chocolate was impossibly good, so you decide to go in for one two three more before dancing yourself down the hallway and into your shared bedroom. feeling slightly warm, you lay down in the middle of your bed and put some random video on the tv, dozing off a few minutes later. your job was exhausting, he'll get the hint you're sleeping and come find you when he gets home to a silent apartment. see how he likes it.
but he doesn't come home to a silent apartment. whimpers and moans bounce off the walls, echoing down the hall from your bedroom's open door. his eyes immediately dart to the little gold box on the counter, eyebrows shooting up in an oh, fuck motion when he sees the four wrappers littering the surface. he quickly drops his stuff where it needs to go and pops two chocolates in his mouth himself, figuring he'll need help keeping up with you after how many you've had, before quickly walking to the bedroom. the sight that awaits him leaves him standing in the doorway for a while until he finally decides to wake you up.
you lay there, babbling in your sleep, random phrases about how good something feels and how close you were. mostly incoherent horny gibberish. your (his) shirt has ridden up a bit, panties visible and soaked as you writhe unconsciously, desperately trying to get friction from a pillow, the blanket, something, anything. it makes him smirk, and he watches you for a moment before sitting down and gently stroking your cheek.
"y/n," you hear. "doll, c'mon, i gotta take care of you." you slowly come to, and once you process that he's here, he's back, you jump him. pulling him down to kiss you before attacking his neck with little nibbles until he pulls away, a stern (yet amused) look on his face. "i told you one. ONE. piece of chocolate."
you hide your face in your hands. "what the fuck did you do to me, j?? i thought maybe they were edibles or something, but this doesn't feel like a normal high? i'm sorry, i know i shouldn't have eaten them now but oh my god, what did you DO to me? i feel like a feral, ovulating, cavewoman or some shit!!" you whine, earning a laugh from him.
"they're sex chocolates."
you move your hands and look at him. "sex chocolates," you repeat.
he nods.
"why the fuck wouldn't you say that??" you smack his arm.
he grins and replies, "thought the mystery would be sexy."
"i mean, inadvertently, yeah!" you sigh, amused and frustrated all at the same time.
he strokes your hair and kisses your forehead. "i took two to keep up with you," he breathes into your ear.
you hook your legs around him and pull him as close to you as you can. "then let's go! c'mon, c'mon, c'mon," you pant as you grind up against him, groans spilling from his lips. "fuck me! touch me! something, j, please, i'm begging you," you plead, kissing him frantically all over his chest and neck. hands exploring under his sweater and dragging nails down his back, arching your back and moaning without him having to even do anything, he swears he's never been this hard.
the first time you cum, it's from his head between your thighs, tongue lapping at your clit and sopping pussy like a man deprived of water for days. he keeps going until you're crying, begging him for another kind of stimulation besides his thick fingers ramming in and out of you and his chops brushing against your purple-marked thighs. the second time you cum is also from his masterful mouth, and this time he listens when you say you can't take it anymore. he drags himself up to look at you, kisses you in a way that leaves you breathless, and slowly pushes himself into you as you whine and squirm.
round one, he starts gentle, slowly working his way up to a medium pace, where he starts fondling your chest. once he really gets going, though, he's spitting on you, choking you, and rubbing your clit with his thumb all while pounding into you at an incredible pace. "so good for me, toots," he growls, fucking into you almost inhumanely now. all you can manage is a whimper. you cum once more before he pulls out and makes you suck him off til he finishes, grabbing your hair and guiding you up and down, and then really far down before cumming down your throat.
ten minutes of making out later and round two starts with him shoving you down, hands and knees, so he can shove himself into you from behind. something about the recoil of your ass makes his brain short circuit. he brings his hand around to your clit again and it's not long before you're screaming that you're about to cum again, and he smacks your ass so hard you know it's going to leave a mark and says, "fuckin' cum for me, you stupid slut. can't listen to directions but i bet you'll follow that one, huh?" through gritted teeth. you cry out and collapse as your fourth orgasm rips through you. he holds you up long enough for him to somehow speed up before filling you up with his pearlescent seed.
you both lay there for a second before he kisses the back of your head and pulls out, leaving to go get you some water and then help you to the bathroom. you make a mental note to always eat more than one of those chocolates and sigh, finally feeling satisfied.
564 notes · View notes
jyoongim · 10 months ago
Note
Your hate fuck fic was absolutely SCRUMPTIOUS. Anything else with that mean ole’ radio demon degrading the reader would be greatly appreciated 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️ maybe like the reader was angels friend- it’s a given she’s well versed in sex n such but has given up that life and he’s determined to see just what made her so popular 👹
themes: 18+! Fem!reader, creampies, fingering, begging, retired pornstar? Nudity, implied drunk sex (reader goes get sober), kissing, dick-riding, blowjob, long tongue, implied pussyeating,
Alastor x retired!pornstar reader
When you came to the hotel you were rather embarrassed to show up looking a hot mess, but regardless Charlie took you in.
You smiled when you saw a familiar face, Angel. Th two of you worked under Valentino until you ‘retired’.
“Toots here was the best in the business! She always knew how to bring in the big bucks” Angel had said during your introduction to the others, causing Husker to groan at the thought of another Angel in their midst and the others to be surprised. You really didn’t match the description.
You were the epitome of sex appeal before calling it quits. But the industry wasn’t like it use to be and Val wanted you to be more…willing to venture out of your comfort zone.
You weren’t really a pornstar per say, but you knew how to get the job done.
But you wanted to turn a new leaf. You ditched the tight and revealing outfits for more loose and modest clothing. It felt good to be your actual self.
But that didn’t mean that your sexual appetite just disappeared.
Alastor was the first to notice when you ditched the slutty attire to more conservative wears. You carried yourself like a well-mannered lady, but he always saw how you looked at him.
So he took it upon himself to see just how far you go when you couldnt contain your desires any longer.
You had been drinking with Angel, discussing how dumb Val’s scripts were and wondering how people enjoyed horribly written porn plots.
Angel had passed out on the couch and you stumbled your way to your room.
You giggled as you crashed into stuff and sighed in relief when you found what you thought was your bedroom.
You began undressing and in your drunken state, you caught sight of a full mirror. You took in your form and admired how you looked.
maybe you should have dibbled into porn. Your body was killer.
You pitted around to try and find a nightie for bed, but frowned as you came up empty.
”What are you doing in my room my Dear?” A voice asked, causing you to yelp and turn around to fins Alastor standing in the door.
You blinked slowly “y-your room? no this is…” you finally took in your surroundings and realized that you were indeed NOT in your room.
Instead, it was Alastor’s room.
You rubbed your neck, embarrassed “O-oh I’m sorry Alastor” you staggered to the door and went to move past him, but he shut the door.
”now now my dear a lady shouldn’t be walking the halls in your state, why dont you rest here for a while” his smile wide.
It had to be the alcohol in your system, because you smiled back and leaned your body into his, arms circling his neck “Oh Alastor youre so kind”
You had completely forgot you were practically naked.
Now that you were up close, you took in his features.
Angel was right. He was hot.
You always had thought Alastor was attractive. He oozed dominance and carried himself with such a prideful way.
You oftened imagined him having his way with you at night, resulting in many panties needing to be changed in the morning.
”something the matter my dear?” Alastor asked as he saw you stared at him, cheeks turning a rosy pink.
”H-has anyone every told you that you’re sexy?”
Alastor blinked and let out a laugh
”Oh my dear! Please this is Hell, I hear a lot of things. That pesky spider is always making depraved jokes of a sexual nature”
He grimaced with a shudder
You frowned ”then what about me?” You asked softly.
 You suddenly became aware that you were in the nude…in alastor’s room…and he was just conversing like he hadn’t noticed.
He tilted his head, grinning at the pout on your lip
“What about you my dear?”
”You have the best piece of ass that ever graced the pentagram and you’re doing nothing. I’ve had guys kill to get this close to me” 
That liquid courage must have been working double in your system, because you nuzzled your nose under his jaw, whining “Don’t you want to touch me?”
Alastor hummed as you trailed your lips up his neck
what a tempting little thing you were
”why don’t you show me what makes you the best doll?”
You had sobered up after the second orgasm.
Alastor had made you cum by his fingers and mouth. The tongue on that one
You were currently bobbing your head p and down on his cock. Eyes locked on his glowing red eyes as you deep throated him. Alastor had a lazy smile on his face as you sucked to your heart content.
You released him with a pop, keeping your tongue wrapped around his length. Happpy with your work you let him go and turned your attention to his balls.
Back in your hay day, you would have never let a man get this far with you, but you wanted this. You wanted to treat Alastor to what made you so appealing.
You climbed your way back onto his lap, slamming your lips on his as you Lined him up to your entrance.
Fuck you were soaking.
A throaty whine escaped you as you lowered yourself on his cock
Alastor’s hands found purchase on your plush ass, helping you set a steady pace.
You were riding him like you’ll never get this chance again.
His cock felt so good. Hitting spots that had you mewling in his mouth.
You were sure his cock was coated white with how soppy your cunt was.
Breaking from his mouth, you moaned as he thrusted up into you, meeting your downward thrust. You were about to cum again. That sweet tingle shot through your core as you bounced on him.
”A-Alastor! Ah! P-please…I-I’m I’m gonna cum” you moaned quickening your pace.
You leaned back, one hand bracing his thigh, the other found your clit and you rubbed tight, fast circles as you rode him.
Alastor watched as you fell apart on his cock, he sped up his thrusts and growled when your cunt started to squeeze him.
”Go on dear. Cum. I want to feel that cunt cum on my cock.”
you whimpered, throwing your head back, a silent scream on your lips as your orgasm ripped through you.
Alastor braced your hips and rutted into you until he tensed; spilling his cum deep into your cunt.
You collapsed into his chest, grinning on him to ride out your orgasm.
panting, you sighed as he peppered your shoulder and neck with kisses.
”Finest cunt to grace Hell indeed my dear”
2K notes · View notes
jwnzlvr · 5 months ago
Text
just take it
pairing : boxer!nishimura riki x reporter!fem reader
summary : you asks stupid questions, you get very interesting answers! or, riki gets sick of your shit and he definitely lets you know.
wc : 2.4k
warnings : SMUT (mdni), noncon/dubcon themes, p in v, pwp (very light plot tbh), unprotected sex (don’t do that folks!), light edging and overstim, choking, light slapping, squirting, fingering, (slight) degradation, not proofread!, DON’T LIKE, DON’T READ (i will be promptly blocking anyone who doesn’t like and does read.)
notes : everyone say thank you ash (@gyaruoriki go read her fics !) for the idea love ur big sexy brain mmmm !!! i wrote this at midnight while thinking abt this cute guy i saw at work who had just come out of the gym wearing bandages MHMM scrumptious. anyways, yall enjoy <3
Tumblr media
seeing riki high off his adrenaline, eyes filled with pure determination and rage did something to you. you’d heard from other sources that riki was competitive and winning his matches was always something important for him. however, you never really understood just how strong this competitiveness was until you saw him in the ring.
sweat mixed with blood dripped down his face. the bruises on his torso were indicators of how well this round was going. not good at all. according to riki, this was all YOUR fault. every time that you were a part of the audience of a match always ended in him losing. it’s been loss after loss for him lately.
‘how important could that stupid article be for her to ruin my fucking matches?’ riki would ask himself. definitely not important enough to cause him yet another loss tonight. his opponent managed to catch him off guard, throwing a punch straight to his gut. the impact made riki fold over, his hand on his stomach and a bit of blood being coughed up.
“fuck this…” he mumbled as he tried to get back up but his body decided to give out on him completely. you watched in disappointment as riki fell to the floor of the ring. the referee counted to ten, officially making riki the loser of this round and the match.
white noise filled riki’s ears and only one thing was on his mind: you. you, the one who seems to be like bad luck to him. you, the one who can’t seem to shut the fuck up. you, who always asks the worst questions at the worst times. like now. because for some reason, you thought it’d be real smart to follow him into the locker room and ask an angry, upset riki “so, how do you feel about this being your fourth loss this season?”
the simple sound of your voice made him want to punch you in the face. or stick his dick into it. he wasn’t too sure yet.
riki stared at you in disbelief. he scoffed before turning to look at anything else but you. “are you serious right now?” he asked, his fatigue dripping into his voice. “well, it’s an actual question i need to make.” you retorted, notepad and pen in your lap.
“it’s an actual question? okay. i’m pissed off. i never lose but it seems ever since you started showing up here, you just ruined shit for me. what are you even writing about on that stupid fucking notepad? are your articles even important? what do you even write about?” his frustration was absolutely evident. you thought for a second before answering him. “illegal boxing. underground boxing. and no, it’s not my fault you’ve been losing. that’s very much your problem. i’m just doing my job. it’s really not my fault you can’t handle a simple loss.”
your words set something off inside of riki. something beyond anger, beyond wanting to rock your shit. something dark. you’d really fucked up by now.
‘fuck it.’ he thought to himself before he grabbed you by the arm. “what are you-“ “shut the fuck up.” he cut you off as he threw you to the floor, immediately caging you between him and the cement under you. you couldn’t even react from how fast everything had happened. one second you were on a chair and the other you were on the floor with riki’s breath against your lips.
being in this position made riki realize how attractive you really were. sure, he hated your guts but he admitted from the start that you were hot. he knew eventually he’d try to get you alone to fuck you but he didn’t think it would be right now. or that it’d be under these circumstances.
you shook under him, you didn’t know from what. fear? shock? one look into his eyes told you everything you needed to know of his intentions with you. they held an eerie darkness to them. it shook you to your core. riki didn’t give you more time to think but hiking up your skirt, revealing your plush thighs to him. he grinned at the sight of your stockings and your panties. how cute.
“fuck, you have no idea how long i’ve been wanting to do this to you… coming into my space just to ruin shit. just made me wanna fuck that stupid smile off your face. want me to do that? actually, who cares what you want. i think i deserve at least this as a reward for you ruining my winning streak.” he smirked as he ripped your stockings off of you along with your panties.
you whimpered at how aggressive he was being. your hands immediately tried to wrap around his forearms. it seemed you forgot riki was probably ten times stronger than you, and he showed this by promptly releasing your grip on him and using one hand to push both your arms above you.
“really? do you actually think you can get me off of you?” riki’s grin widened. you felt a shock of fear down your spine. he was having fun. he was about to do something disgusting, yet he was having fun.
you couldn’t even move around as he was on top of you, his weight holding you down. “what do you want?” your voice came out in a tremble. riki only looked you up and down before answering.
“revenge. and a little fun.”
revenge? for making him lose? this was a new level of petty for you. and the way he was getting his revenge was definitely not your favorite. riki used his hands to pry apart your thighs, immediately getting a negative response from you. you didn’t even get to say anything to him before he reached his hand back up and slapped you across the face.
“don’t fucking complain. just take it.”
his thigh was slotted in between yours, putting some pressure on you with it. you tried your best to not show an expression of pleasure to him. you couldn’t let him know you enjoyed the slight pressure on you. your clit twitched at the feeling of his shorts against you.
he slotted his hand in between where his thigh was and your heat. his fingers traced around for a bit before finding your clit. he smirked as he rolled it between his fingers. he had fun watching you try to not whine at the feeling of him playing around with you.
he gave a dark chuckle at the sight before him. “i know you’re enjoying this, baby. i can feel you getting wet.” and he was right, your pussy beginning to get damp. you refused to give into his actions thought. “fuck you!” you yelled, trying to move but only making it worse for yourself.
riki decided he had enough of your brattiness and pinched your clit as punishment. you yelped at the bit of pain followed by some pleasure. your pleasure was promptly taken away when riki gave another pinch, this time hard enough to make you almost tear up.
“fuck me? gladly.” he gave a fake smile as he took his thigh back from between you. his hand immediately made its way back to between your thighs. you didn’t even get to do or say anything before two of his long fingers slipped inside of you. you couldn’t bite back that moan, letting riki know that felt good to you.
no. no, it shouldn’t feel good. but with each curl of riki’s fingers you felt your defense falling some more. his thumb grazed over your clit occasionally, making you clench on his fingers. riki knew you were starting to enjoy it and it was evident on how his fingers started to thrust in and out of you with more force than you’ve felt.
he watched as you whined, trying to deny it felt good but your body couldn’t lie. you were gushing on him and you knew it. you felt your high getting close. your hips moved on his fingers automatically as you got closer and closer.
you could taste your orgasm coming, just a few more thrusts from riki and you’d come undone. unfortunately for you, riki decided to torture you a bit. he slipped his fingers out of you just as you were about to cum. you let out a pathetic whine at the loss of contact, riki only grinning before sticking his fingers in his mouth to taste you. he hummed at your taste.
“what’s wrong? i thought you didn’t want me to touch you?” his voice dripped of fake sympathy. now he was acting like he gave a damn what you wanted. you shook your head. your head was so hazy, you didn’t even know what you wanted anymore. all you knew is you needed to cum. no matter what.
you whined at his words. “i changed my mind…” you wanted to cry at how he edged you. “just let me cum, please.” you almost begged him. that was more than enough for riki. he finally properly lifted your skirt, getting a good look at you. he then pushed his shorts and boxers down, revealing his hard cock. precum dripped from it, making your pussy clench.
he saw as your hole clenched and grinned ever so bigger. he let his middle finger graze over your wet hole. “you like looking at my dick, baby? want it in you?” he teasingly asked. you could only nod at him. you needed him in you. riki sighed exaggeratedly at your reaction. “well, i guess i can’t leave you hanging… if you’re good for me, i’ll even cum in you. you want that?”
you felt yourself drool at the idea of being stuffed with cum. it was crazy how you went from wanting riki off of you to making him cum inside you. you felt insatiable. “yes, cum in me. want you all in me!” you cried.
he silently gave his cock a few strokes before sliding into you. your jaw dropped at the feeling of you being stretched on his dick. it was so thick with a good length, it felt perfect. he went slowly as to let you feel every inch of him. after what felt like an eternity, you felt his hips press against you.
he let out a low groan at how tight and warm you were. “god, this pussy feels so good. you like having my cock in you, hm?” he moaned at the feeling of you clenching around him. there’s his answer. you let out whimpers at the feeling of him being so deep. his tip was hitting straight into your spot, the slightest movement making you want to scream in pleasure.
his hips began to slowly thrust in and out of you. the drag of his cock in your walls made you see stars and you couldn’t help but grind on him. he felt satisfaction at seeing you be a hot mess for him. “yeah, you like that…” his thrusts gradually got a bit faster, a continuous fap fap fap being heard across the locker room.
“nghh riki…” you whined as his cock was digging into you. it was heaven on earth for you. riki finally let go of your arms after a while. you moved them to wrap around his neck, your hands tugging on his hair. a low groan escaped his throat at your actions. his now free hand made its way to your neck, wrapping around it and giving a small squeeze.
you gasped at his hand around your neck. “you’re such a good girl for me, ya know? can just fuck you whenever i want and how i like. so good…” he praised as his thrusts got harsher. and for the first time that night, he leaned in to give you a kiss. it was so messy, teeth clashing and tongues dancing but it was perfect.
his hand squeezed your throat a bit tighter, making you feel woozy. his other hand went to squeeze your left tit, satisfied at how soft it felt even when you still had your shirt and bra on. the lack of oxygen made you needier and more desperate to cum. riki knew this when you began to clench around him.
“fuck, gonna cum? cum whenever you want, i said i couldn’t leave you hanging.” he gave you a hazy smile. his brain was completely fogged up. he couldn’t formulate a thought other than fucking you. he was just as out of it as you.
you felt your pleasure from before building up, trying to give riki a warning. “cu- ‘m cumming!” your words sounded choked but he knew exactly what you were trying to say. he didn’t give you a verbal response. he only gave your throat the hardest squeeze he could without hurting you. “cum for me, baby.”
that was enough for you to release all over him, your release hitting his thighs. he kept fucking you as you came, watching in awe as you squirted all over him. he finally let go of your throat and let you catch your breath as you came down from your high.
“did i fuck you that good? such a dirty girl f’ me.” he groaned as he felt himself get close to his release. he ignored your cries of overstimulation as he kept fucking you. “since you were so good, you get my cum. are you happy, baby?” he asked.
you gave him an eager nod, trying to ignore how overstimulated you were for him. “so happy, want you to cum in me. please, riki!” you moaned loudly. that was enough for riki to start painting your walls white. his head was thrown back as he released into you. you enjoyed the feeling of riki cumming in you, moaning softly at the sensation. you clenched around him to try and milk him for everything he had.
you laid on the floor with riki flopping next to you, both of you guys’s chests heaving. you were trying to catch your breath but it felt almost impossible. riki finally turned to look at you.
“you make me lose again and i’ll only be meaner to you.” he warned.
you took it as a challenge to distract him in his next match.
912 notes · View notes
sweet-as-an-angel · 1 year ago
Text
Miguel’s Reaction to You Calling Him a DILF
Tumblr media
Warnings: Implied Smut, Dominant Miguel, Profanity, Use of ‘Daddy’, Lyla Trying Her Best <3, Fem Reader.
Despite spending every day with Lyla, an absolutely chronically online AI, Miguel knows little in the way of internet jargon.
Thus, this term - DILF - is one he’s never come across before. Namely because Lyla has never seen it fit to implement it into a conversation.
But, when Miguel overheard you calling him your “Favourite DILF; just a gorgeous, scrumptious specimen,” he had to ask Lyla to translate for him.
Miguel swore he could see her eyes widen, her brow stiffen and crease.
“It’s…it’s — uh — well…”
Lyla scratched the back of her head, her stare sloping off to the side — away from Miguel’s cattish stare. Her teeth gritted, a gateway, a preventative measure to ensure your safety and wellbeing. The only barrier between your open secret and miguel’s discovery of it.
“Oh, come on, Lyla,” Miguel crossed his arms over his chest, as if to inhibit the anxiety starting to bloom there. He doubted that you’d ever bad-mouth him, especially given how close the two of you were, but Lyla’s apprehension was starting to spark some doubts. Regardless, he persevered, kept his stare hard and neutral. “It can’t be that bad.”
“It..it means…” Lyla sighed, pinched the bridge of her nose beneath her glasses. She didn’t look up at Miguel, instead finding you in her mind’s eye and cursing you. And wishing the best for your safety.
“Dad I’d like to fuck.”
She came out with it, the words almost poisonous and sour on her tongue as they passed through. And the fact that she’d had to say them to Miguel of all people didn’t help.
At first, Miguel didn’t think he’d heard Lyla correctly, his posture and face remaining unchanged in the fallout of his discovery.
It was only after three seconds passed, four, five, that he truly heard — understood — what Lyla had said.
“Oh.”
A warmth bled across Miguel’s face, a creeping blush hidden only by the console’s yellow hue. Without another word, Mifuel turned tail, unfurling his arms, unravelling to his broadest potential. He began his descent, his destination clear as day in his mind’s eye.
Lyla’s’s eyes widened further, almost bulging from her head. She called, stammering: “(Y-Y/N) probably didn’t mean it! Not like that! So-so don’t go too hard on ‘er, okay?”
Miguel searched the entire facility for you, his face a concoction of emotions nobody (save for yourself) had ever seen before, thus making his mood indecipherable to all that were not you.
He eventually found you, isolated, in a room. Practically begging for what was to come next. He slipped inside, closed the door behind him.
You turned and smiled, sensing Miguel’s presence; the impression of authority.
“Hey, Miggy!” you chimed, eyes crescents. You turned back to checking off your stock list, paying little heed to the shadow advancing on you.
“Playing innocent, I see,” Miguel’s voice swooped and glided as the greatest bird of prey does, coming to stand mere centimetres behind you, his warmth at your back; a dark sun.
“I thought you’d be at home, caring for our child.” His hands came to sit on your shoulders, heavy and large. For a second, you were befuddled, believing Miguel to be spinning you a riddle. Then, realisation. Your heart dropped; you knew Miguel could feel it. Oh my God, Lyla.
“We…don’t have a child, Miguel,” you laughed, humourless and breathy. You knew you had to play your cards right. Carefully. Miguel gave a heavy, brief chuckle.
“Not yet,” he squeezed your shoulders, hands slipping down the length of your arms, the feeling of spiders creeping along your skin. “But seeing as you’re so keen on calling me daddy, I see no harm in pretending.”
His lips came to your neck, pressing deceptively soft kisses there. 
You were frozen, though a fire stoked within you. One you couldn’t bring yourself to put out.
“After all, I am your DILF, aren’t I?”
You bit your lip, eyes squeezing shut as Miguel’s hands slid to your waist, pulling your back to his front where you felt something thick and large and bulging against your tailbone.
“A baseless accusation, don’t you think ?”
Your breath shuttered. “I didn’t mean it as a bad thing—“
“It doesn’t matter how you meant it. What matters is it’s inaccurate,” Miguel spoke with a stoic logic you’d seen one too many times. He pulled you to him, tighter, closer, his heart pounding against your back.
“But, luckily for you, I’m in a giving mood. I’m not going to punish you for your little transgression. Instead, I’m going to give you an out.” He descended upon your skin again, nipping it between his blunted teeth, the threat of his fangs in your periphery.
“What…what’s that?” You almost didn’t want to ask, your heart creeping up your throat as if to muffle your words.
Miguel’s hand slipped from your waist, sliding sharp fingers down the expanse of your back, leaving trails of goosebumps. You felt his hand come between where the most prominent part of himself and you connected, his knuckles digging into the small of your back. He ran a hand over himself through his suit, palmed himself. His eye twitched. “You just have to be a good girl and lay down and take whatever I give you until I say we’re done.”
His grip on you tightened. You could feel how dark his gaze had become, weighing heavy on you like a robe.
You said nothing – could say nothing.
“Now, you wanna say that again,” his voice was muffled by your skin, his kisses becoming wetter, languid. He pushed himself against you, taking you by the hips and pulling you so he caught you just right. You spied his eye twitch in the reflection of the filing cabinet across from you as you cracked an eye open, a steady redness overtaking Miguel’s stare, his lips turning up at the corners, revealing his fangs.
“Or are you gonna keep that pretty little mouth shut and make me into a real daddy ?”
Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)
Masterlist Masterpost
Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3
3K notes · View notes
ivymarquis · 6 months ago
Text
Happiness is a Butterfly
It's been literal months since I read @ceilidho's divorce AU and guess what it is still rattling around in my brain because it is just scrumptious.
This is what I vanished to work on lol
Pairing| John Price x F!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 10.6k Kinks/Content/Warnings| 3rd person reader, Post Divorce John Price x Wife!Reader, Attempting to co parent, John is obnoxiously agreeable until he no longer wants to be, there is the s l i g h t e s t mention where reader is worried John might snap but he doesn't scout's honor, squirting, unprotected PiV, blow job, face sitting, unplanned pregnancy, childbirth, reproductive coercion if you squint, baby trapping if you squint, it is a lil dubby because John doesn't do anything behind Reader's back but he steamrolls the fuck out of her into getting what he wants lmao
Tumblr media
The words choke in her throat like they don’t want to leave. 
Maybe that’s a higher power giving her just one last out to change her mind- to not say the four words that will upend the lives of everyone in the household.
She can barely bring herself to look at him. 
In the decade they’ve been married his temper has never been something she’s been afraid of, but in that moment it is all she can think about; every headline she’s ever read of a soldier snapping and killing his wife and children floating in her mind like a neon sign flashing danger. 
She’s never feared his temper but she’s also never croaked out the words I want a divorce to him before either. 
Her arms cross over her body as her gaze settles a bit off to the side of him. Everything about her body language is closed off and cagey as he looks up from his desk- no doubt having been mentally preparing for another round of come to bed, love - in a minute darling, almost done only to be caught off guard by the actual request.
He doesn’t answer her as he sits back in his chair, looking at her.
She chooses now to choke out the words because she really doesn’t think she has it in her to say the words with him standing. He’s sitting- still imposing as ever even if he’s always been magnanimous around the house- and she’s on the other side of the room avoiding eye contact.
He stands, still silent as the grave, before walking towards her in slow, measured steps and coming to a halt right in front of her. The ground has become absolutely fascinating as she refuses to meet his gaze.
As his hand raises she imperceptibly starts to shift, but absolutely nothing escapes John’s notice. “Don’t,” he starts before clearing his throat, his tone softer as he speaks again, “Don’t do that. You know me better than that.”
This time she doesn’t move as he goes to cup her face- takes her chin in hand and forces her head up. “Look me in the eye and say it again.”
It takes a moment for her to scrape together her nerves, eyes picking up off the floor to meet his. She’s not sure entirely what she expected but she thinks she assumed there’d be more of a reaction. He’s watching her- thinking- as she stumbles over the words.
Doubt twists in her gut as once again she squeaks out “I want a divorce.”
“Is there someone else?” he asks evenly.
“No! John I’d never-” It’s true; ever since he’d turned her head all those years ago she’s been blind where other men are concerned.
“Okay,” he soothes with his thumb against her cheek and she’s suddenly aware that this is probably not how this conversation should be going. “I believe you. Are you sure this is what you want?”
She’s been agonizing over this for months. She’s not even sure what gauntlet was thrown down to make her say enough is enough and have today be the day. Nothing spectacular has happened.
Maybe that’s reason enough. His job is always just the higher priority. While he always ensures his family is cared for while away, he drops everything for work in a way that simply isn’t reciprocated at home. Even when he’s physically here he spends so much time locked in this damn office he might as well be back at base.
Nothing has changed after begging and pleading and she is tired with a bone weary ache.
Are you sure this is what you want? Echos in her head while he awaits an answer.
“Yes.” No. “I’m so tired of being alone,” she confesses. “I’m tired of constantly having to beg you to be here even when you’re home. If I am going to be by myself raising the boys then I just need to be by myself.”
He doesn’t seem surprised by the words in the slightest. Probably because they’ve been having the same argument for years. This is not the first time she’s been frustrated with his job.
“Okay,” she can’t believe her ears with his easy acceptance. “If this is what you want, then okay.”
She sobs- alone- in their bed like the entire situation isn’t her fault, burying her face in the bedding to stifle herself from the kids. John’s gone.
Everything goes about as smoothly as it can. John doesn’t fight her on anything. With his schedule there’s no point in ironing out a visitation schedule through the courts. They agree to just work it out when they can, given how he can be called away at a moment’s notice.
They’re adults. They can handle this.
Once her nerves settle from the initial shock of actually saying the words to him, and she’s had a few days to think on his reaction, she decides she’s pissed.
The easy acceptance ruffles her feathers in a way she can’t put to words. She gave him a decade of her life, a home, three children- has kept everything running seamlessly while he jumped in and out of their lives to answer the call of duty and he didn’t even try to fight for her.
If he was being sullen or grouchy with her it would be easier to process everything- all the things set into motion that she started.
Perhaps she’s projecting. But he just acts like nothing is amiss as he comes by to pick up the boys or drop them off or just stop by to spend time with them.
She wakes up on the 15th and right on time she is awoken by a ding from her phone.
Perhaps, she thinks, it is a lapse in judgment to kick him out for not being around, given that she’s now cut into what already little time he has to spend with them. Isn’t that the focus of her argument? That it’s too difficult for the boys?
Their boys- three of them, each one a head taller than the last- are understandably devastated and struggling to deal with very big, very complex feelings that result in major meltdowns and fights. They blame her and they’re not wrong.
Then one day, when old habits die hard and she confides in John tearfully one day as he’s returned from his latest deployment to see them, while she can’t say it stops all together she can say there’s a marked improvement when they come back. 
What did he tell them?
Her phone dings on the 1st like it always does every other week and her agitation is palpable.
She doesn’t even need to look at the notification. 
John isn’t missing a beat this entire time and he’s driving her crazy. 
The notification is from the bank, of an entirely too large deposit to an account that only she has access to. John’s name is not on it and he can’t touch anything in it. 
He can however put money in it.
He is as steadfast and agreeable as always while stubborn enough to just bulldoze into getting his way.
She knows she should be grateful. That so many ex husbands abandon their children and former wives in favor of some shiny new girlfriend. That it would be so easy for him to throw her “if I'm going to be by myself then I'm going to be by myself” back in her face. 
Her career had been put on hold with the boys. When everyone was older and in school and didn’t need her so much the plan had been to go back. And then John had kept putting babies in her and the timeline got pushed further back with the subsequent births of their two youngest children. 
It would have been so easy for him to tell her to just figure it out herself, that this is what she wants and she can navigate life on her own just fine. 
Instead he deposits entirely too much money into an account he can’t access. 
She’s not sure why today is different, but she hits her limit and calls him. They’ve never actually spoken about his little transactions.
“You alright, then, love?” She remembers deciding to pick her battles and not harp that she’s not his love anymore. 
“What are you doing?”
There’s a brief pause.
“…I’m on base? About to take my lunch, actually. Maybe you can -“ she cuts him off before he can get any further. 
“I’m not calling to ask about your day and you know it,” she snaps irritably. “I’m asking about the deposit. What are you doing?”
John, once upon a time, used to tease about his spoiled, hot headed wife. She knows she is being the epitome of spoiled and ungrateful but come on- no one is this agreeable about a divorce. She doesn’t trust it. 
“I have no idea what you mean, love.” He assures her good naturedly. 
“You have no idea how several thousands have been deposited into my account?”
She wants to reach through the phone to strangle him when she hears that even tempered laugh of his. 
“I know how the money got deposited, love- I did it myself. I don’t know why you’re questioning my motives. We both know you haven’t worked outside the home in years- you need money to keep everything going.”
“John, it's too much. I know you know how much I spend in a month!”
He sighs. She can picture him sitting at his desk on base. Sprawled out in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I don’t want you making decisions out of desperation.” He responds evenly. “The plan wasn’t for you to go to work until the youngest one’s in school next year. You’ve been out of the market for years, I can only imagine an employer trying to use that to short change you.”
He lets out a sigh, and she feels something akin to guilt for freaking out on him.
John’s always been the one to make the best out of a shit situation. To try to steady the boat in the storm. Even when his own wife (ex wife) is the one making waves. 
“I don’t want you making decisions out of desperation,” he repeats. “I just want you to be able to raise the boys comfortably without worrying about making ends meet.”
The something coils tighter in her gut. 
“I’m sorry,” she apologizes.
“You’re alright, sweetheart,” he assures her and once again she has to bite back a not your sweetheart anymore. 
“Now,” there’s the slightest shift to his tone and feels herself falling back into old habits again. As keyed in to him as a dog awaiting her master’s command. “What I was going to say earlier- I’m about to take my lunch. I would appreciate it if you could bring me the boys. I’d like to see them today.”
She can’t very well tell him no now can she?
The boys are her heart and soul but she sees them for exactly who they are- three rambunctious little spitfires always up to something. Good boys, but curious and mischievous. The curse of having smart children. 
Until they’re on base at least. All three are quiet as church mice, gathered behind their mother and peering at the soldiers from behind her skirt. 
She can’t truly correct the guards at the gate when they greet her as Mrs. Price- she hasn’t changed her name and isn’t sure if she’s going to. 
It’s not hers anymore, but it’s still her boys’ name and things are easier. She’d likely have to retrain herself to respond to her maiden name. 
The boys are hot on her heels until they stumble across John- as soon as he sees them, dropping a knee with open arms the trio are off like a shot as peals of “Daddy!!” fill the air. 
“You can just call me after you’ve finished lunch and I can come get them,” she states amicably, watching John as he wrangles the three of them. The sooner she can get out of here, the better off she’ll be (because God help her, watching him with their oldest two was how she ended up pregnant with the third, and watching him with them now just makes her yearn for something she no longer has any claim to).
Immediately the three boys are protesting, albeit not quite as vocally as they normally would.
“Mummy, no!” “Mum!” “But it’ll be fun!” the trio state their cases to varying degrees.
John shushes the three of them gently to keep them from winding up too much before turning to her. “Come on now, sweetheart, for old time’s sake, hm?”
Their little three stooges voice their approval of that idea, chiming in with various degrees of “Yeah!”
Ultimately it’s the desire to keep her children complacent that has her agreeing. She doesn’t want a scene.
Unfortunately, a (albeit mild) scene is what she ends up having anyway.
She knows (is hopeful, at least) that her oldest doesn’t mean anything by it while they’re waiting for their food and asks “So what time are we going to nana’s later?”
Her eyes snap to him about the same moment as John’s snaps to her, and she’s deliberately trying to avoid his gaze.
Why, oh why, could he not have asked either before or after lunch?
“We’ll probably get ready after we go back home.” she’s careful to keep her tone neutral.
“How fun,” Ah shit, she can hear the suspicion in John’s voice. “Any reason in particular, or just a fun weekend?”
“Just for the night. Mum’s picking us up tomorrow. Right Mum?”
The server chooses that moment to bring their food, which gives her a moment to figure out how the fuck she’s gonna weasle out of this conversation.
“Yes, I’ll come get you after breakfast.”
“Could have called me.”
“That didn’t seem appropriate. They’ll be fine with my mum.” Her gaze drops to her plate, knowing full well if she looks up that his eyes will lock on hers.
“Don’t see what’s inappropriate about me watching my own kids.”
It’s not that she’s happy to squabble with John where the kids have a front row seat, but there is a dark part of her that delights in watching him. He has been obnoxiously agreeable this entire time and the cracks are showing. It makes her feel like she’s dealing with another human being, because she knows she’s got her moments where she loses her mind during all of this and it’s beyond frustrating that he is so dauntless no matter the circumstances in every situation.
“It’s not-” Jesus, does she tell him? What does that conversation look like? “I have plans tonight.”
John is not a stupid man and she can see the moment he realizes she’s not planning a girl’s night out for herself.
That she hadn’t thought it appropriate to ask him to take the kids so she can go on a date with another man.
“I’m watching them,” he asserts before returning to his plate. 
“John-”
“I said I’m watching them,” his tone is softer, but leaves no room for argument. Conversation over.
There’s nothing wrong with her date. He is well mannered and polite, attentive when she speaks. No obvious red flags- he doesn’t dismiss her stories, doesn’t shirk back at the mention of her three children, isn’t rude to the server and isn’t texting on his phone opposed to actually engaging with her. 
There is nothing wrong with him and for an idle moment she pictures what her could have been like had she married a man like him instead of John. The 9-5, the set routine, the security and reliability of knowing that he is coming home at his regular time and he’ll be there for the boys various sports and activities. 
And yet all she can think of is John, who is sitting in their home, watching their children. Of the late night returns from deployment where they’d have their stolen alone time- quiet as church mice so as not to wake the boys who most assuredly would not be going back to sleep if they knew their father was home. 
Of the delighted squeals of their children when they come into the room to wake her for breakfast only to find him in bed like nothing was amiss. 
(And yes there was always the heartbreak that followed him walking out the door, the anxiety between phone calls that would brew until she once again could assess that he is alive and not dying blown to bits on the other side of the world)
There is nothing wrong with her date but he is not John, and that is an obstacle he will never be able to overcome.
She is safely deposited on her doorstep with polite pleasantries. She thinks he knows, has a kind smile and understanding eyes as she carefully tells him I’m sorry, I thought I was ready but I don’t think I am.
Someone will recognize him as a catch but John never let go of the hold on her heart. Someone will want this man but all she wants is John. 
It’s not as late as she thought it would be when she comes home- a fact that John immediately comments on when her eyes land on him while searching for him.
“Well that didn’t last long.” The air feels different from before she left home, and she stands stock still as he rises off the couch and strides towards her.
“I,” she starts and stops, choking on the words. Why the hell did she ever agree to letting him babysit again?
Yes he’s the father of her children and yes she wants him to spend time with them whenever possible but this is just so incredibly awkward for her. 
“I don’t think I’ll be seeing him again,” she finishes lamely. 
“I would imagine not, if the date ended that quickly. We were always out for hours, weren’t we sweetheart?”
She can’t quite get a read on him but the entire tone of the conversation is… odd. Hell, the entire conversation is odd. 
John is not one of her girlfriends for her to cheekily report back how her date went. He’s her ex husband for God’s sake. 
“We were,” she agrees amicably- mind spinning with memories of the various times they had stumbled into bed early in the morning, or crawled into the backseat of John’s car like horny teenagers or-
One moment her thoughts are full of the various times John had folded her up like a piece of paper, and the next she’s aware that he’s closed the distance between them while she’s distracted.
“Makes me wonder if that was your plan all along,” he ponders out loud. She squeaks in protest, rooted to the ground and not even attempting to put more space between them.
“Was it? Having me home with the kids while you were out with another man?” His tone holds far more warmth than one would expect of a man all but accusing his (ex) wife of being a hotwife. 
John’s hands grip at either side of her hips, thumbs rubbing in affectionate circles. She doesn’t quite know what to do with her own- she can feel the shift in the room. She hasn’t been with anyone since the last time they slept together, and there’s only so much fucking herself can due to take the edge off.
She can’t mimic the weight of a man’s body on top of hers- of his voice rumbling in her ears, the body heat radiating off of him as he coaxes one orgasm after another out of her.
She doesn’t want just a man though, in the broad scope of the term. It’s John. 
He stops stroking at her before making a few deliberate swipes. It dawns on her that he’s feeling at the seam of her lingerie set underneath her dress. 
“What’s this?” He asks, hands roaming and squeezing at her sides- possibly seeing if he can gauge which set is hidden away by feeling how the fabric wraps around her. 
It’s a new one. While she hadn’t been sure about sleeping with her date, the thought of wearing lingerie that at one point had been meant for John felt wrong. 
There’s a part of her willing to admit that at the rate things are going, he’s likely going to be christening this one also by the end of the night. 
“Were you planning on showing this to him?” John’s enjoying torturing her- dangling the man she wasn’t ever all that interested in just to bait her.
“No, I-,” she hadn’t really thought about it. There was no plan. She was going on a date, so she put on lingerie like she always has. 
Like she always did- for him. John would make a game of figuring out which set she had on.
“I just want you,” the truth bubbles out of her throat unbidden. 
John descends on her like a man starved- fingers digging into her hips with a grip that she knows is going to leave bruises later.
“Bed,” she mumbles between kisses. Given how John immediately starts herding her backwards towards the bedroom, he’s clearly on board with this plan. 
Once the door is shut, the pair cross the room before collapsing against the bed. 
Clothes are shed in a hurry, pried off with little regard as they’re shucked to the floor.
“This one looks lovely on you,” John murmurs in praise against her skin as he gropes at the lace adorning her body, dropping to his knees on the side of the bed. 
God has she missed this- missed him. The feeling is clearly mutual from the way he busies himself between her legs, lips peppering kisses across her inner thighs quickly while he makes his way towards the spot she wants him most, the gusset of her thong pulled aside.
Just as his breath is fanning over the core of her he pulls back slightly. Her thigh twitches in frustration, so close to finally having the nirvana of his tongue lapping at her only for him to have to be a tease.
“Has anyone else gotten a taste of this sweet cunt?” He asks, eyes on her with an intensity that has her squirming. 
“No! There hasn’t been- John, I swear I haven’t-“ she protests.
“I believe you,” he assures her. 
She probably should ask if the same could be said for him- for her own sake if nothing else. But she’s already made a slew of questionable decisions that haven’t gone the way she wants, and she errs on the side of not asking questions she doesn’t want an answer to.
Her eyes roll immediately once his mouth is on her. His hands grip at the underside of her thigh, holding them apart to give him unfettered access.
“John,” somehow she can’t quite wrap her mind around the fact that he’s got her back in their bed. Everything is novel and familiar at the same time, and she is overwhelmed by how easy it is to fall back into old habits. 
He pulls away just long enough to speak, “I missed you so much,” before going back to eating her out.
John is a man on a mission, and he is familiar enough with her body to know exactly how to get her where he wants her. He also knows all of her tells- God damn him. No sooner has he dragged her to the precipice of her orgasm does he sit back, content to let her dangle but stopping just shy of letting her finally topple over.
“Wh-why?” She whimpers, lust, anticipation and disappointment curling in her gut.
He’s so gentle with her when he takes her left hand in his own, thumb running over her knuckles in soothing movements.
“Where’s your ring, sweetheart?” his question is a non sequitur if she’s ever heard one, head spinning trying to catch up through the haze of pleasure she’d been drowning in just a moment ago.
“My ring?” She mimics more on reflex than anything else, mind still reeling to catch up.
“Yes, sweetheart, your ring.” He repeats, eyeline following hers as her gaze shifts to the jewelry box sitting on the vanity.
There’s no written standard on how long to keep your ring before getting rid of it, and she hadn’t been sure about it. Figured she could always get rid of it later- when it’s never a question of if she’s making the right decision. Even with the ink dried on the paperwork finalizing their divorce, the ring feels like the final nail in the coffin for their marriage.
So she put it in her jewelry box, where it is safe but out of mind and she could worry about it later.
She never thought for a second that ‘later’ would arrive in the form of her ex husband telling her “Go get it and bring it here.”
It’s a beautiful ring; everything she ever wanted growing up. The cut, the size, the setting- John did a lovely job when he picked it out all those years ago.
Gonna be an officer’s wife, sweetheart he’d told her after she’d accepted his proposal. Gotta look the part.
Surely no one can blame her for not gnashing at the bit to part with it?
She hesitates for a moment before ultimately deciding to just do as she’s told- John didn’t tell her to put it back on. So she holds it pinched between her thumb and pointer.
In an alternate dimension, where she’d gone back with her date and let him charm her out of her new lingerie, there would be some insecurity over her body. Bringing three tiny lives into the world takes its toll in the form of stretch marks and loose skin and some extra weight that just clings to her like a needy toddler- but any time John has seen her naked, he is as moon eyed as he was the first time all those years ago. Like he can’t quite believe his luck and he’s not entirely sure she’s real.
Tonight is no exception. As soon as she’s in arms reach his hands settle on her hips, pulling her closer to him.
“We’re going to lay some ground rules, and then I’m going to fuck you into the mattress. Am I clear, pet?” Warmth and affection roll off of his tone in waves despite his words. All she can do is nod dumbly.
“This,” John takes the ring from her before sliding it back on her finger,” stays where it belongs. Right here.”
He pulls her even closer- she has to crane her neck to look up at him. “There’s no more dates with other men. That stops tonight.”
Another easy acquiescence. She nods in agreement.
He spins her slowly, facing away from him and then pulling at her hips so she’s sitting on him. She starts to hover, holding herself up until he swats at the side of her ass. “Now is not the time to play with me,” he warns.
She settles, feeling the mattress dip underneath their combined weight. John clearly has a plan in mind as he guides her to spread her legs, a chill running up her spine as the air laps at her wet cunt. His erection presses heavy at her ass, trapped between his body and her own.
His left middle and ring finger tap at her lower lip and she opens her mouth on reflex. John doesn’t even need to tell her to suck, tongue laving over the thick digits automatically, the same way she would his cock.
“I’m not mad,” he whispers in her ear, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You tried and tried to tell me, and I didn’t take you seriously, did I?”
She can only assume that this is all rhetorical- that there’s no way he can expect an answer out of her considering she’s gagging on his fingers.
“As soon as you told me you wanted a divorce in my office, I knew what it was. You needed my attention, and I wasn’t listening. I don’t blame you. Hell, I practically forced your hand. So I’m not mad,” he reiterates.
“But you’ve got my full attention now, lovely- I can promise you that.” 
She twists as much as she’s able, watching John out of the corner of her eye while still sucking; her tongue tasting the metal of his ring as it ran along the base of it.
“We,” he pulls his fingers from her mouth, grinning when she chases his hand slightly, “are going to work this out. I love you, and I have no intention of letting another man raise my children.”
It would be easy to say the arousal dripping from her is left from when John’s mouth was on her, but that would be a lie. Him taking her in hand- literally-  and telling her he has no intention of letting her go is definitely doing it for her.
Wet fingers grab at her jaw and turn her head, making her melt into his hold as he kisses her. “There’s my good girl,” his voice is a rumbling timber purring in her ear.
She whines when those two fingers trace down her body- an appreciative squeeze of her breasts trailing to grope at her ass before finally slipping between her legs.
“John,” his name is a whimper against his lips as she wiggles in anticipation.
“So impatient,” he admonishes gently as he works his fingers inside of her.
Warmed by their body heat, his ring isn’t cold against her skin by any stretch of the imagination. If anything, it feels like a white hot branding iron everywhere he touches. That tonight is a reclamation as much as a reunion as he crooks his fingers inside of her.
It was easy to ignore the need that burned in her at night. She’d run herself ragged during the day chasing after children and keeping all her ducks in a row. With John gone, it was easy to shove the desire down and ignore it.
But oh now that he has her in his arms, fingers buried in her as he works her closer to her peak? She feels like she’s on fire. Greed burns at her insides, needing more. Nothing short of climbing inside of him would abate the desire roaring in her body.
Her hips cant in short motions, following the movement of his hand eagerly.
As reluctant as she is to stop kissing him, she can feel a crick in her neck starting to form from keeping her head turned for so long.
Her head lulls against his shoulder when his free hand slips under the lace of her bra and grips one nipple between his middle finger and thumb, his pointer finger teasing the hardened nub in a way he knows drives her absolutely insane.
“Oh my God,” she squeaks just a breath too loud, her hand immediately clamping over her mouth as John pinches her nipple just shy of pain in reprimand. “Not too loud,” he reminds her, mollified when she nods in acknowledgement.
He’s got her panting in need in record time, a small part of her suspicious that he’s going to stop her short of her climax again. The anxiety only serves to fuel the fire burning in her gut, giving the final push to tip her over the edge.
Apparently neither trust her ability to be quiet when her climax hits, because John’s hand abandons teasing her breast in favor of also making sure her cries are muffled. The other is soaked as she squirts, twitching and bucking in his hold.
“Need to shove your face in a pillow,” he comments dryly, a shit eating grin on his face as he takes in her blissed out expression.
He knows her inside and out; knows exactly how long she needs to recover before he’s tapping at her side and prompting her up. “Get on the bed and lay on your back.”
She complies immediately on shaky legs, standing to turn and crawling to the middle of the bed.
John is just as delicious now as he was over a decade ago, and her brain threatens to short circuit watching him crawl over top of her. There’s more grey hairs and fine lines creasing around his eyes, and her heart still thrums in her ribcage like a hummingbird.
She relaxes against the mattress, trusting entirely that John has everything handled. He positions her how he wants, settling between her legs and rubbing the tip of her cock against her wet entrance. 
“Please, John, I can’t wait anymore,” she begs, feeling like she’s about to lose her mind. The edge should be taken off considering John’s rather patiently gotten her off already once, and yet if anything it just makes her more frantic. As much as each swipe of his cock against her swollen clit sends tingles of pleasure up her spine, she’s gagging for him and running out of patience.
“You are a spoiled thing,” he admonishes good naturedly like he hasn’t made a habit of indulging her every whim and desire in the past decade up to and including getting a divorce.
“We might have our problems, sweetheart, but being able to fuck you right was never one of them, was it?” John teases as he lines himself up with her. She shakes her head in agreement. If she’s being truthful, that’s partially what had stayed her hand for as long as she had. The frustration with his work being so all consuming it was like his mistress had been a slow boil for quite some time. For years John would mollify her by fucking her into submission- and she has a sinking suspicion that their youngest was an attempt to get her to let up on the subject.
His generosity in the bedroom stems from equal parts wanting to please, and the pragmatic aspect that he is not a small man, and it’s usually easier for everyone involved if he gets her off before attempting penetration.
It’s like they haven’t missed a day- it takes a few thrusts to get her body to spread for him and then all the blood on John’s body dives south for the wet, warm cunt wrapping around his cock.
“This pretty cunt’s got me like a vice, sweetheart,” he praises, leaning down to kiss her.
“I missed you so much,” she whines into the kiss. “It feels so good.”
“I’m not gonna last,” he grunts against her neck, each clap of his hips against hers earning a whine. “You divine creature- got me wrapped around your finger, don’t you?”
An entire relationship’s worth of orgasms makes it so she doesn’t begrudge him that he’s going to be a quick shot tonight. His earlier statement is correct- if there is one thing the man knows how to do, it’s fuck her within an inch of her life. He’s proven that time and time again.
If anything, given their time apart, it appeases some of her anxiety- he must not be getting any from anyone else if he’s already this close to finishing.
“Look at me,” he instructs and she complies immediately. One of his hands strokes her face while his other arm braces his weight above her. “Tell me you love me.”
Her answer is immediate. “I do! John, I love you. I love you so much!”
His hips come to a halt against hers as he grunts against her neck in pleasure. “My perfect girl,” he praises, hands stroking at her sides as he comes down from his high.
She’s so caught up in the lust of the situation that it takes a second for reality to come knocking on her door. “Shit! Pull out!” she tells him, trying to scramble out from underneath him.
“What?” In all their years, ‘pull out’ has never been one of the instructions. He complies even as his brows knit in confusion.
“I haven’t been keeping up with my birth control!” Despite John’s easy assurance that he can just stroll in and assert that they are going to work through things (and she does want to)- adding a new baby on top of their mess will not help get shit sorted out.
Once again, his unflappable attitude has its way of driving her absolutely insane. “Bit late for that, innit? You’ve already had 3 of mine, what’s one more at this point?”
“One more at this point is exactly the point!” she tries to reason.
“We did say a girl would be nice,” he reminds her.
“That was before we got a divorce!” she hisses, trying to be mindful of her volume lest she wake their children.
“That’s nothing but paperwork, pet. We can have it sorted by the time you’re due.” John can tell he’s truly gone and wound her up more than he meant with that, immediately shifting gears to try and settle her back down. 
“Okay, too much. I’m sorry. Come here,” he guides her to lay down, which she does albeit with a fair amount of suspicion. 
John wisely chooses not to agitate her further or do anything that could be considered pushing in his luck (like, say, pointing out that despite her protests about another baby, she’s not said a peep about the cum dripping from her).
Instead he draws her up into his arms, sticking his nose firmly in her hair.
For a long moment it’s quiet, nothing but the sound of their breathing in the late night.
It catches her off guard when the tears come unbidden. One moment she’s happily lazing in her (ex-turned-hopeful-once-more?) husband’s arms, and the next she’s sobbing uncontrollably.
They’ve been through enough that it shouldn’t embarrass her. For fuck’s sake, she’d vomited all over him during the birth of their second son. But she feels like an exposed livewire sobbing over nothing and without warning.
“What’s wrong?” John mumbles as he wakes half-way, pulling her closer to him and stroking her back to console her.
“I mucked everything up,” she chokes out, burrowing her face against his neck. “I didn’t even want this, I just didn’t know what else to do!”
He shushes her gently, petting at her in an attempt to calm her down. “I meant what I said, pet. I know things have to change, but at the end of the day it’s just papers. We’ll get everything fixed back in its proper place.”
She doesn’t remove herself from the spot on his neck she’s nestling against, but quiets down and eventually they both fall asleep once again.
When she wakes again, she feels far more level headed- although neediness eats away at her. It’s like her body is craving to make up for lost time for the months they’ve been apart.
She can’t help herself as one hand trails down the thick hair dusting his torso, pressing kisses against his neck. Even in his sleep John responds to her touch- pulls at her to be closer to him, huffing as his dick twitches in interest. 
It only takes a quick lick of her palm and a few strokes to have him stiffening in her hand.
The dried spend on the inside of her thighs is enough of a reminder, even if she’s feeling affectionate this morning, that she’s going to have to figure something out for her birth control. 
For the morning at least the answer to that is easy- still working her hand in slow motion up and down on his shaft she kisses a trail down his neck and working her way south.
The movement is enough to have John stirring with a sinful groan in the back of his throat.
“Well good morning, gorgeous,” he greets, voice clouding in sleep in a way that makes her just want to sit on his face.
Humming out an acknowledgement, she continues to work her way down his abdomen. She does give in to the impulse to nip at the base of his happy trail, delighting in how he sucks back away from her teeth only to push at her head immediately after.
“Bad girl,” he admonishes with no true venom in his voice “Keep those teeth to yourself, hm?” he advises with an affectionate swat to her ass.
Rather than crawling down him, she’s got herself angled perpendicular to him. All the better for him to pet her with one hand while the other encourages her to take him in her mouth.
The moan he makes as she bobs her head is sinful, and she presses her thighs together and shifts her hips to get whatever little bit of friction she can- an action that doesn’t go unnoticed by John.
“That pretty pussy of yours needs some attention, doesn’t it sweetheart?” he asks, a warm hand running down her spine and trailing across her ass until he starts to tease her.
She works with a sense of urgency, even with John taking his time playing with her. They should have another hour or so to themselves before the boys wake up, but they’re also no strangers to a mad scramble under the covers with an unplanned interruption.
“Fuck,” he bites out a curse, hips flexing underneath her. That’s all the encouragement she needs to redouble her efforts, the hand not supporting her weight wrapping around him and stroking to help get him there faster. Despite their years together she’d never quite been able to take all of him down her throat.
“Look at me,” and the eye contact is all it takes for her to feel him stiffening beneath her. “Gonna swallow for me, sweetheart? Yeah, that’s my good girl- keep those eyes on- fuck,” he grunts, his climax hitting.
She’s well versed in swallowing his seed as he cums- keeps up the suction even as his orgasm tapers off just to see how long it takes him to grab her by the hair and pry her off of him.
“Sit on my face. And don’t even think about fucking hovering,” John orders and she complies immediately. His teasing while she’d blown him leaves her a horribly needy mess- None of the pent up lust releasing yet, although anticipation has her scrambling back up the bed and straddling his face.
He pulls at her hips, locking a forearm around her like he wants to make sure she isn’t going to change her mind and start teasing him back.
And fuck does that man know exactly where to lick and suck to make her eyes roll. One of her hands gripping the headboard for dear life, the other one buries itself in John’s hair. He takes direction like a champ, following the not-so-subtle cues from her as she pulls him where she wants him.
“Please, please, please,” she babbles breathlessly as he gets her teetering over the edge, only to release his hair in favor of clamping her hand over her mouth as her orgasm washes over her.
Her legs are weak as he guides her back down before getting her on her back and kissing her until she’s breathless. As engrossing as their make out session is, neither one particularly cares that they can taste themself on the other.
Eventually the pair wear themselves out, calming down from their earlier romp and managing to get into the shower and cleaning up.
It’s only after they’ve escaped the pull of their marital bed, as the water washes the lust out of her system that the reality of the situation comes knocking again, insistent.
“I want this to work, John.” She wants to melt at the way his expression softens at her.
“I do too, sweetheart- you have no idea how much.” A sigh escapes her, already fearing that they’re back on their loop that’s been the routine for the past decade. “What’s that for, hm?” he inquires.
“I want this to work, John,” she repeats “but things have to change. I mean it.”
“ I know you do,” he assures her, reaching down to kiss her temple. “I believe you.”
She’s uncertain if her refusal to be mollified is her winding herself into a snit again, or because she’s justified in the knowledge that this isn’t the first time they’ve had this conversation.
Especially when his palm drops to hover over her belly.
“You can’t try to get me pregnant if you’re not retiring from the field, John,” she asserts. “I can handle the boys, I cannot handle a fourth baby by myself.”
And much like a kind stranger trying to lure a skittish stray dog into their car, John hums in agreement.
Retirement from the military as a whole, she knows, is far too much of an ask. John has spent his entire adult life serving and it will probably take a career ending injury to get him to agree to retire outright. However she’ll happily settle for him promoting high enough that he’s not one of the first people contacted when they need boots on the ground. She just wants her husband home. She’s paid her dues being the sweet housewife raising the kids alone while he plays hero on the other side of the world. He’s beyond capable of climbing the ranks to one that involves less clandestine missions and more paperwork, and it’s absolutely infuriating that he hasn’t.
(She knows it’s not entirely a blind devotion to country and crown and preventing acts of terrorism, and the fact that he enjoys fucking off to who-knows-where at the drop of a hat- never knowing where he’ll be 24 hours from now at any given time, and he doesn’t want to give that up yet. She tries not to think about it too hard though, otherwise she’ll melt down like chernobyl.)
The hot water runs out before John’s refractory period, which is a good thing for her sake because she’s a scatter brained mess right now. The man’s not 20 and she doesn’t begrudge him the time it takes to recuperate, but she’s swinging wildly between being sappy and sentimental and wanting back what she had, and knowing full well she needs to get a grip before she does something stupid like letting John talk her into trying for a girl.
By the time they dry off and dress there are three hungry boys who are in for quite the surprise to see their dad come morning. No doubt there had been a reasonable expectation that John would leave in the middle of the night after they went to bed.
John keeps the boys distracted and out of her hair as she gets their breakfast sorted. 
Before the divorce, the pair of them would go about their separate routines; making their morning caffeinated beverages of choice, idly commenting on the latest news headline, alternating getting things sorted for their children. 
Now John hovers. Like he’s not entirely certain if he wants her out of his sight. He wrangles the boys to their seats as she gets their food, but it’s like one eye is kept trained on her. 
Before the divorce, her children would make their protests- high pitch peals of ew! (The youngest, she suspects, merely imitating his older brothers who get a kick out of their parents' displeased stares) if they witnessed any displays of overt affection. While of course anything where they could see was kept G rated, once the boys thought something was funny they committed to the bit entirely. 
Now, while she’s distracted by John giving a chaste kiss to her temple and running his hands up and down the sides of her arm, she realizes that the boys are as silent as the grave. Three sets of owlish eyes watch them intently before comically making a big show of going back to their breakfast as they realize they’re caught.
“John,” she starts quietly, eyes watching the boys before shifting her attention back to her husba- ex-husband. “We really need to talk about this. Actually talk.” Not just fuck each other silly - she knows they’ll just slip back into old habits. They need ground rules. 
She knows how her husband works. If she can wrangle him into actually agreeing with a discussion, that is workable. John’s got his quirks and idiosyncrasies that she’s learned over the years. He won’t outright lie to her, he won’t go back on his word if he commits to something. But he will push and widdle and chip away at her to keep her compliant and happy enough to get off his dick (usually by putting her on his dick. Or mouth. Or hands. Or-
Anyway.)
“We will, sweetheart. Let’s just get through breakfast, hm?”
It is so familiar and yet still so different. The boys are running a mile a minute, eagerly soaking up the additional time with their father (the guilt gnaws at her- knows this could just be a normal morning. Had she either never divorced him, or kept him firmly away. This hemming and hawing that feels inevitable can not be good for the boys).
Screentime is a bit of a hot topic, but they need the boys content and quiet long enough for them to speak without interruptions. 
The eldest is a bit too old for the target demographic for Bluey, but his handheld console is enough to keep him entertained.
She can’t help but feel like her oldest boy and John are conspiring- John firmly telling him “Your mother and I need to have a little talk with no interuptions. You keep an eye on your brothers, got it?” only for the oldest to salute him with a “Yes, sir!” that has John grinning as he herds her towards his office with a hand low on her back.
The click of the door sliding shut is as loud as a gunshot.
“I know I pushed too far,” John begins. The pair of them stand in front of each other. “You kept asking for the same thing over and over again. I never thought you would actually leave, but I can’t say I was surprised when you asked for a divorce. You were trying, and I wasn’t listening. I meant what I said last night. I’m not mad.”
It…. stings. Knowing the truth the whole time- John thinking he can just wait her out. That he can lean on her despite her protests and eventually she’ll give up. But it’s a dull pain, considering it’s something she’s lived with for years. She’s well familiar with it. 
“So why? Why let it get that far. I know what you do is important. I know it’s selfish to ask you to give that up, but we’ve got three kids, John. You want a fourth! It is so hard to be the one who stays with them when you leave. They don’t grasp the situation. They just know that their dad’s gone and they miss you. And I cannot breathe when you are deployed and sent off to fuck-knows-where dealing with some of the most violent, dangerous groups on the planet. What if you don’t come home? How am I supposed to raise them without you?”
Sharp words coming from the same woman who kicked John out. But it’s the same story he’s been hearing for the better part of decade ever since their first was born. He can likely recite her speech from the heart at this point.
Like always, John is steadfast in the storm no matter how far into orbit she flies. He’s well acquainted with her whims, and knows just how easy it is to rile her up and yet also knows exactly how to bring her back down. 
At the moment her expression is similar to that of a wet hen’s.
“I didn’t think you’d leave.” It’s the truth and she knows it and it pisses her off. “I knew you weren’t happy with it, but overall we were happy with each other. I wasn’t cheating on you. I’m not a mean drunk. I might be absent at times but I’m not cruel. I keep you happy in bed. You want for nothing. The boys know I adore them. Every marriage has its problems. I thought we both understood that the nature of my job is ours.” He sighs, rubbing a hand down his face. 
“I didn’t know what else to do,” she reiterates, and she’s not sure if her voice warbles from how angry she is at the confirmation that he thought he could wait her out until he felt like retiring (or, more likely- she buries him), or at herself because she picked him and how mad can she be when he’s been honest about his work from the start.
There’s no clear cut villain. John is right. His job has weighed down on them since the beginning. In the beginning she thought she could handle it. But three children later and she’s begun to realize- far too late- that it’s so much. Subjecting them to something they never asked for because they were born into this schedule where John is beholden to Kate fucking Laswell more than his own family (peace and love to her- she’s great but she is the walking representation of everything they are struggling with in their marriage).
Her mind is a jumbling mess, like twine that’s interlocking and needing to unravel. There’s no clear cut path forward. She will go absolutely insane if things continue on the way they have been, but the time apart has shown her that she doesn’t really want to separate from John. No other man can even come close to him.
“So now what do we do?” she asks.
John steps closer to her, reaching to run his knuckles across her cheek in affection. “I want to come home, sweetheart.”
“It’s not that easy.”
She expects some sort of protest. Some sort of Yes it can be, and she’s not sure if she’s got the mental fortitude to continue holding her ground. But she knows that nothing will change if she lets up now. This is the moment where she either needs to throw in the towel, or maybe- just maybe there’s a chance.
They’ve made it this far. But she is so tired. She can’t go back but she’s got no idea what’s ahead or how long it will take to get there.
“I know. All I’m asking for is a chance.”
“It is your last one John, I swea-” She’s always hated that stupid fucking movie trope where the man shuts the woman up by kissing her. Yet here she is, her (fragile) attempt at a stern warning cut off as John snatches her up and pulls her to him.
After last night, one would think they’d gotten enough of each other to not be groping at each other like animals in heat.
Mother fucker he’s doing it again. He doesn’t fight as she pulls away, though those pretty blue eyes are blown showing where he would have been heading had she not stopped him.
“I mean it, John. You said you want this to work, but I need to see changes. You need to be home and not fucking off half away across the world at the drop of a hat. I need to be able to make plans and know that you will be here.”
“Anything, sweetheart. I just want my family back. I swear, I’m listening this time. I’ll figure it out.”
The lust has calmed from his eyes as he approaches again, making her look up at him. “You remember our little conversation from last night?” 
He looks as serious as a heart attack, and there was a lot said last night.
She’s taking too long to answer, as he continues unprompted. “I know you’re not going to sign the papers overnight, and I’m fine with that. But your ring stays on, and there are no more dates with other men. You are mine. You are not single, and I expect you to act like it, hm?”
The chaste kiss to her temple is a sharp juxtaposition to the severity of his tone. He certainly doesn’t need to tell her twice.
“I promise,” she assures him, seeing how the intensity drains out of him as he’s mollified by her words. “I know I don’t have a right to ask, but did you- was there-” the words choke as she stumbles over them. She can’t be mad. She’s got no right to- they are divorced, and he (was) single and free to do as he pleases. But the idea of John drowning his sorrows in another woman’s body makes her want to claw someone’s eyes out.
And she really should have asked before he fucked her without a condom, but hindsight is 20/20.
Despite her inability to get the words together in the right order, John seems to know her question. He pulls her close to him, tucking her under his chin.
“No, sweetheart. There was never anyone else.”
The knot in her gut unwinds a little bit. “I love you, John. I’m sorry it came to this.”
“We’ll fix it, sweetheart.”
For a moment they stand there in the quiet, but there was no telling what sort of trouble their little trio might get into if left alone for too long. When John unlocks and opens the door, they both raise an eyebrow at the sight of their youngest dashing off around the corner.
Like the three little troublemakers had tried to listen through the door (which they would not be able to do- because she has tried once or twice), and the youngest was too slow to keep up with his brothers who are perched on the couch for all the world like they never left it.
The older two try to play their hand at staying cool, although the youngest boy is giggling- enjoying his “game” of teaming up with his brothers to try and pull a fast one on their parents.
“Do you have to leave?” The question from their oldest is deliberate, and succeeds in distracting them from the fact that their kids were definitely trying to eavesdrop on a conversation not meant for young ears.
“Not today,” John answers, ignoring the sharp look she shoots his way.
It’s a delicate balancing act as they stumble through picking up the broken pieces of their marriage. John can’t prove that he’s controlling his work hours unless she lets him in the house, but does give him shit about not moving in too soon. She doesn’t want him getting comfortable or complacent and back sliding on his promise.
Of course, John gets his lick back. There had been a stern conversation about condoms until her birth control is in hand.
Only to find out at her appointment that they can’t give it to her because she’s pregnant.
Mother fucker. Damn that “one shot, one kill” motherfucker. Their one slip up was the only discrepancy since they have gotten back together- that has to be when she conceived. Why did she fall in love with a sniper?
John is ecstatic with the news, as are the boys. She feels like a wet, disgruntled hen.
The new baby throws a wrench in her plans, but she can’t quite find it in her to be too disappointed once the shock wears off. John had been set on another baby, chattering on and on about how he hopes it’s a girl. They would have had another baby at some point, it’s just a bit sooner than she was anticipating.
No doubt for the boys, the new baby is an assurance that their parents aren’t staying separated. In their simplistic view, that’s as good as ink drying on paper that they’re staying together.
At her scan when it’s revealed she’s carrying boy #4, John kisses her temple and tells her how happy he is.
The youngest daughter that he’s got his sights set on is shelved for the duration of her pregnancy, not another peep of it mentioned.
A girl would have been nice, but she’s well experienced with wrangling John Price’s sons, and no doubt this one will fall into the group just fine.
John’s got quite the track record of giving her pretty babies, which everyone praises and compliments when the little man finally makes his arrival.
When he is home (which has been substantially more, she has to admit), he’s an active and involved father who’s besotted by his children and happily splits night duty with his exhausted wife. Keeps the older boys in line and behaving.
She doesn’t sign anything until John has a signed transfer request. While he’ll still be working in counter terrorism, and still be very close with the 141, his job no longer mandates he ups and leaves at the drop of a hat.
They celebrate quietly. Friends and family have made their opinions known about the back and forth tentative future of their marriage (mostly a well intended shit or get off the pot), and they elect to drop the boys with John’s parents to have a weekend for themselves.
There are no lusty slip ups and everything is followed to the letter but she wants to kill John when he grins at her positive pregnancy test.
Everything can fail, it seems. John merely commenting “Maybe this one will be a girl”, showing his hand that he hasn’t quite given up his dreams of a youngest girl to round out their gaggle of boys.
She doesn’t want to know the gender this time around, which John grouses about but ultimately accepts.
When Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley promotes to a new rank, John is the one the man calls to ask him to participate in his ceremony.
She’s still in her second trimester, not quite teetering into her third just yet. John wants to bring the kids. If the third trimester exhaustion had stuck yet, she likely could have begged to be left out and he likely would have acquiesced. And the boys usually know better than to try anything when on base with John.
The day comes and she feels like a walking stereotype of an officer’s wife- gaggle of kids clinging to her skirt, the newest baby still clinging to her, and an unmistakable pregnancy bump.
“Cookin’ another boy in there, Mrs. Price?” Soap asks good naturedly while they’re waiting.
“Not quite sure,” she answers, eyes on her three more mobile kids making sure they’re settling in and behaving. “John’s been itching for a girl since before this one came,” she gestures to their youngest in her arms.
“Well, hopefully it’a girl then for yer sake- man’s gonna give ya a football team at this rate!” the Scot laughs, chortling at his own joke. There are times when she sometimes wonders how someone as charming as Johnny Mactavish got wrangled into clandestine counter terrorism missions, but then she remembers that as much as he can charm a bird from a tree, it’s comments like that that skirt just too comfortable that yes, he’s probably got a few screws loose. (She sometimes wonders about Kyle too, who is giving Johnny a “fucking really??” look, but can’t quite pin anything. The man is perfectly mild mannered and respectable, and she knows that their work can warp someone given enough time.)
“Hopefully so,” she answers amicably. While her pregnancy has been blessedly uneventful, she’s already over it and will be perfectly happy with this being her last.
Something tells her that John is going to get his wish, one way or another though.
Age in bio/pinned or I will block you ♡
669 notes · View notes