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pillow talk

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Getting married to John Shelby definitely stands out as the best day of your life.

You’d met after the war, when John already had a litter of kids and a hole in his heart where Martha once lived. You’d lost a fiance to the war, and in your grief had fled home in favour of Small Heath, a place where it was easy to get lost in the dirt and the bustle of people too busy with work to bother with a new girl.

John had found you, had pulled you from your grief and into a shining new chapter of your life. Falling in love with him after that had been so easy that even to this day you can’t pinpoint the moment it happened. You just know that one day you woke up and knew you were going to spend the rest of your life with this man, and that thought had made you so happy you hadn’t stopped smiling for three full days.

Being married to John Shelby comes with it’s trials, of course, because he’s a Shelby, for one, and he’s a fucking idiot sometimes, for two.

John’s far from stupid, you know, but he often lets himself get caught up in things and doesn’t think about the consequences much later. It’s probably one of the only things you like about Tommy being in charge of the family business; at least that man thinks ahead, even if he only tends to think about himself.

John, though, he’s reckless and careless and so beautiful while he is that most of the time you don’t even have it in you to be mad about it, because he smirks and his eyes sparkle and it gets you a little weak in the knees. You normally decide there are much better things to be doing when he looks like that.

This time, though, this time you swear to God you are going to stay mad at him if it kills you.

He’s standing before you in your bedroom, hands spread out in surrender, cheeky smirk and glinting eyes already doing their best to melt you. “C’mon, love, what’s the problem?”

‘The problem’ is John’s incapability of saying no to Arthur when he coaxes him into going for a drink. Normally, this really wouldn’t bother you very much. You like Arthur, think him sweet and funny even if his temper is volatile. There are certainly worse brother-in-laws to have.

‘The problem’ tonight is that John had told you he’d be home right after his shift, had whispered filthy promises into your ear of what he’d do when he got home until you’d been so wound up you’d begged for him not to go at all. You’d coerced Polly into taking the kids, had slipped into John’s favourite lingerie set underneath your dress and had waited.

“You’re not seriously asking me what the problem is?” you hiss at him, eyes narrowing in your anger. “I’ve been hanging ‘round for fucking hours, John!”

“Aw, kitten,” he coos, slinking closer with that damnable smirk still on his face, toothpick poking from the corner of his mouth. You do your best to cover up the shiver that races down your spine — he only ever calls you kitten on the nights he truly plans on fucking your brains out — but from the way his cocky little smile widens you know he notices. “You been waiting for me, eh? All wound up, thinking ‘bout what I said this morning?”

“Yes!” you snap, arms crossing over your chest in an effort to hide your heaving chest. “If you’d been another five minutes I’d have fucking taken care of it myself—”

John cuts you off, eyes darkening with desire as he steps neatly into your space. “Yeah? You were gonna touch yourself thinking ‘bout me?” His voice drops in tenor, husky with want, and your breath hitches in response. He plucks the toothpick from his mouth and leans in close, so close that your mouths are nearly touching. “Bet you’ve been wound up all day, haven’t you girl? Bet you’ve been soaked since I woke you up this morning.”

“That’s— that’s not the point,” you insist, breathless as you fight against the urge to surge forward and kiss his smirk off his face. “You kept me waiting, John. After you promised.”

“I know, I know.” He sighs, one arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you into his chest. His other hand cups the back of your head, holding you in place. “I’m sorry, love. That was cruel of me, hmm? Leaving my little kitten here all alone, dreamin’ ‘bout my fingers and my cock?”

John.” You don’t know if his name is a protest or a plead, but it’s the only thing you can say as arousal sparks deep in your belly. You’d curse yourself for being so weak-willed as to let him this close despite your determination otherwise, but you have the creeping feeling that giving in to him will pay off spectacularly.

“Let me make it up to you.”

Before you can even answer either way, his mouth is on yours. He kisses you greedily, taking and taking until submit to him completely. You melt against him, hands tangling in his hair as you knock is cap to the ground, and John smirks against your lips as he grinds the hard line of his cock against you.

His fingers, deft and familiar as they are, dip to your dress, fisting in the material and pulling it up until you have to break apart for him to tug it over your head. As the material drops to the ground, leaving you in just your stockings and the lingerie you’d picked out earlier, John stares at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he murmurs worshipfully, stepping forward to kiss you fiercely.

You return the kiss with equal fervour, groaning into his mouth as you push at his jacket until it slips from his shoulders. His waistcoat and shirt follow next, your fingers fumbling with the buttons but determined to rid him of his clothes. John chuckles approvingly at your eagerness, hands stroking the smooth skin of your back before he unhooks your bra. You separate again as he pulls the straps from your shoulders, and you stand before him with your chest bare and flushed red, heaving as you pant.

He ducks down immediately, mouthing at your breasts, and you sigh out his name as his hands come up to caress them. He doesn’t linger long, though, trailing wet and sloppy kisses down your stomach until he falls to his knees when his mouth meets the line of your panties. He glances up at you, eyes shining playfully, as he rolls down your stockings until you’re stepping out of them.

He leaves you in just your panties as he kneels before you, cock tenting his trousers, and with a filthy grin he leans forwards and captures the material of your panties between his teeth. You whine, low in your throat, as he drags them down your legs with deliberate slowness. He kisses his way back up your leg, feather-light brushes of his mouth that set goosebumps rising, right until he reaches the apex of your thighs and he lets out a groan of appreciation.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he praises as he lifts your leg over his shoulder. You have no choice but to drop your hands to his hair to steady yourself, and he nips playfully at the skin of your thigh. “I get you this soaked, huh?”

“Yes,” you sigh, fingers flexing in his ear. You know you shouldn’t feed into his ego, but with his mouth so close to where you want it most you can’t help yourself. “John, please, need you so bad, please.”

“Well, since you asked so nicely, kitten.”

He smirks at you before diving in, licking a stripe along your pussy and groaning at the taste. Your hips buck in relief at finally being touched, and he needs no more encouragement before he spreads your folds and slides his tongue inside you. His hand grips your leg so tight you know it’ll bruise, but the other slides up so he can rub his thumb against your clit, sending shock-waves of pleasure shooting through you.

“John, John, more, please, need your fingers inside me, c’mon,” you pant out, grinding down against his thumb and his tongue, and John’s laugh sends delicious vibrations against you.

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” he observes, pulling away as he slides a finger inside of you. You’re so wet that you can hear it, and John’s cheeks flush at the sound. “And so fucking wet. Love how wet you get for me, kitten.”

He fucks his finger into you slowly as you keen, trying to roll your hips but his grip on your leg stops you. He watches with stormy eyes as you clench around him, desperate for more, and after a torturous moment he adds a second finger and starts picking up his pace. You let out a filthy moan at the feeling, head dropping back as your orgasm starts to build. You beg him for more more more but John fingers you steady, waiting until you’re right on the brink before slipping in a third finger at the exact moment he sucks on your clit.

“John, fuck, yes, just like that, feels so fucking good, don’t stop, don’t stop.” The litany falls from your mouth in harsh gasps as he starts finger fucking you rapidly, tongue ravishing your clit, and you can feel the knot of tension in your core finally, finally snap.

Your orgasm is loud, your husband’s name tearing from your throat as you shout your pleasure, and John’s movements are unrelenting until you try to squirm away, until it gets too good. He pulls back from you, mouth shining with your slick and fingers dragging against your walls before he frees them, and you tug him up until you can kiss him, open mouthed and filthy as you taste yourself on his tongue.

Your hand drops to his trousers, making quick work of unbuckling his belt and practically tearing his trousers down, and you’ve never been so thankful of your husband’s disdain for wearing underwear as you are in that moment. Your fingers curl around his cock, hard and already leaking, and you stroke him as he groans into your mouth.

“You keep doing that and I’m not gonna be able to fuck you like I promised, kitten,” he chides, sucking a mark into your neck as his hands grip your waist tight. “On the bed with you, now. Hands and knees, alright?”

You hum, thumb dragging against the head of his cock to catch a droplet of pre-cum, and it’s only then you release him. You keep your eyes fixed on him as you raise your thumb to your mouth, tongue flicking out to swipe at the liquid there, and you groan throatily at his taste. John’s eyes go so dark you can only see the pupil there, and it’s that sight that sends you scampering to the bed, positioning himself just as he asked you.

You glance at him over your shoulder, eyes half lidded and mouth swollen with his kisses. He watches you for a moment, hand stroking slowly over his cock, before he saunters over to you with all the arrogance he possesses. He kneels on the bed behind you, hand smoothing down your back and dragging over the curve of your arse. He spreads your cheeks, murmuring appreciatively of the view, as he presses the head of his cock at your entrance.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he tells you, sliding his cock against your pussy to slick himself. “Thinking about your tight cunt, ‘bout that noise you make when I finally slide inside you.” To prove his point, he thrusts inside you with no warning, causing a choked sound to escape you. He buries himself deep inside and pauses, hands stroking your hips as he leans over you until his chest touches your back. “Fuck, you feel incredible. So hot and wet and tight for me, kitten. So perfect.”

You whine his name, almost sobbing with the desire for him to move, and John finally starts rolling his hips, fucking into you slow and deep. He presses sloppy kisses to your neck as he slides into you, whispers filth into your ear as he pulls back, and your head is spinning with how fucking good he feels inside of you.  

“Gonna fill you up, girl,” John promises, voice rough in your ear, and you groan wantonly as you push back against him to meet each of his thrusts. You love it when he talks like this, all low and rumbling with his chest pressed tight to your back, and the words make your walls clench greedily around him. “Yeah, you want that, kitten? Want all my cum in your hot little cunt, is it? Want me to put a child in your belly?”

Fuck,” you hiss, a fresh wave of desire sparking hot in your core at his words. He’s never said anything like this before, but the idea has you panting with want. “Yes, yes, John, fuck, put a baby in me, wanna have your kid, please.”

John’s answering moan is guttural as he pulls out of you, forcefully rolling you onto your back and gripping your legs tightly as he presses your knees to your shoulders before sliding back in. He sets a brutal, animalistic pace and your eyes roll up into your head at the delicious stretch of him, nails digging into his shoulders.

“I’m gonna fuck you full of my cum, keep you filled until it takes, keep you stuffed with my cum and my cock till your belly swells with our baby.” His filthy words are accompanied by deep, hard thrusts to that sweet spot and the combination has you whining his name desperately. John swears loudly, hips stuttering as he teeters on the edge, and his hand drops to rub tight circles on your clit. “Cum for me, kitten, c’mon, wanna feel your pussy get nice and tight, want you to milk my cock for my cum.”

You chant his name like it’s a prayer, like it’s the only word you know, as your orgasm rushes over you in white-hot waves. Your body shakes with the force of it, pleasure blurring the rest of the world away. You’re distantly aware of John, mouthing praises into the skin of your neck as he follows you over the edge, and the sensation of him spilling inside of you has your walls clenching greedily even as you twitch with sensitivity.

The two of you breathe together for a long while, one hand dragging languidly up John’s back while the other runs absently through the length of his hair. John’s hands are preoccupied with rubbing circles where his grip on your legs had bruised, soothing the throbbing skin, and you sigh happily as you simply drink in being so close to your husband.

“Meant it, y’know,” he says eventually, pushing himself up so he can look down at your flushed and sweaty face. His eyes are soft, love shining through so strong it takes your breath away.

“Hmm?” is all you can manage to say, world still a little fuzzy from the orgasm he’s just pulled from you.

“Wanna have a baby with you, love.” His voice is so earnest, face open and wide, and you can’t help the slow smile that spreads across your face.

You use the hand in his hair to pull his face to yours, trading soft and sweet kisses. You love him so much you feel fit to burst with it, and the thought of having a child with him, a tiny little boy or girl that’s half him and half you, makes you feel a little like you’re floating.

“Yeah,” you murmur against his mouth, nodding minutely. “Yeah, me too.”

John pulls back again, huffing an amused laugh at your pout at the loss of him, but he looks so happy you can’t hold onto your faux-irritation. His joy at the idea practically radiates from him, and you feel yourself responding in kind when he beams at you.

“Yeah? We’re seriously gonna do this?” he checks, looking like he’s hoping against hope, and your laugh is breathless as you nod rapidly.

“Yes. Yes!” You laugh again, the simple delight of it spilling from you. “Let’s have a baby, John. I wanna have your baby.”

John’s eyes darken even as his smile widens, and your breathing hitches as you feel him start to harden again inside of you. Your laugh, this time, is breathless for a very different reason.