summary: That time of the month and the timing couldn't be worse since you have to play happy hostess tonight. But maybe John can help release some of the tension.
notes: nsfw, discussion of menstruation, blood, but also genuine curiosity and love for the menstruating body 🥺
a/n: Um yeah. I like period sex and I hope you do too. It's also my birthday and while I was hoping to have the next bit of Wildflowers up, that didn't manifest so. Happy birthday to me 🥰
"I can’t believe I’ve never seen you like this."
You bury your head further into the pillow and tighten your knees up to your chest. Cramps don’t normally lay you so low, but today, you find yourself unable to think about anything else. It’s the aching in your legs that you can’t abide.
You climbed into bed an hour ago at John’s behest after he found you crumpled in the bathroom with your forehead pressed against the porcelain tub. At first, you protested; there was a laundry list of things that needed to be done and you only had so much time. You can’t afford to be down for a whole day. Tonight, of all nights, you’re having friends over for dinner to see the new house. But he was adamant, always is, and as soon as you slipped beneath the covers, you knew he was right.
The door creaks open and John peaks his head in, the grocery list you scribbled this morning at the kitchen table in hand. “Y/N?”
“Hm?”
“Are you feeling any better?”
You don’t reply with words, just groan.
“That’s not reassuring,” he chuckles and sits at the edge of the bed beside you. John pushes your hair back from your face, the pads of his fingers grazing your throbbing temple. “I’m going to go pick up the things on your list, but your shorthand is more like an enigma cipher.”
You can’t help but smile.
“I would hate to mistake baking powder for soda and ruin the evening,” he says.
You reach for the list and screw your eyes together to see through your haze.
“Would you like to cancel, darling?”
“No, we can’t, it’s too late for that,” you sigh. “Hand me that pen, will you?”
He does and you begin to rescript the list.
“Are you sure? They’d understand.”
They would, you’re sure of that. But you both have been looking forward to this for weeks, the house finally staged to your liking, the garden in full bloom, the two of you settled into a joyful domesticity. “I’ll be better by then.”
“You were muttering to yourself earlier, ‘I want to die, I want to die, I want to die,’” John quotes you somewhat melodramatically, but with a hint of worry in his voice.
You look to him; his lips are pursed together and watchful eyes trying to discern if you’re being honest about your state. “Don’t worry too much about me, I’ll…” you clear your throat, handing the list back. “I’ll be up and about by the time you get back.”
He takes the list, folds it, and slips it into his pocket gingerly. You are entranced by the way his fingers are so precise, even for pedestrian things. “I hate to tell you, but I’m not very convinced,” John says.
You aren’t really either. The cramps are aggressive, sending furious ache all the way down to your ankles. "If you could refill the hot water bottle on your way out.”
“Of course,” John answers. He knows he won’t change your mind on this, even if he wishes he could. He leans down and kisses you on the lips chastely, before leaving with the hot water bottle.
It’s only one kiss, one ordinary, habitual kiss, but it’s left your body confused. There’s a perversity to your time of the month always, the painful ache mixed with an intense level of desire you don’t normally seek to sate with John. Not when you’re so fresh into your period. You do so privately and quickly, which often alleviates some of the pain. Although, it has crossed your mind that with John’s assistance; perhaps you could get even more relief from both forms of ache.
You sit up in bed and press a hand to the outside of your underwear, giving yourself a gentle wave of pleasure. Once John leaves, you’ll delve your hands inside and scratch the itch, wash your hands, and be up and about by the time he’s back. He’ll probably look at you with raised eyebrows as if you’ve been resurrected from the dead.
John returns a bit later with the hot water bottle which you gratefully take from him and put into your lap. “Anything else? Before I go?” he asks with a smile.
There is something about him right now that you’re finding hard to resist. The way he provides his willing ministry is so genuine, so kind. You want him to destroy you.
“John…” you say and slip a hand against his slim waist.
“Yes?” his voice glides upward and his eyes narrow as if he knows where you’re going.
“Could I ask you for a big favor?”
John nods. A lock of his hair falls from behind his ear.
“You can say no.”
“You’re really selling this so far.”
You flush. “Well, you’re a very…you are very quick to please me and I don’t want you to feel pressured if – “
“What are you getting at, Y/N?” John asks with a crooked smile. It only makes you want him more.
“Would you maybe…” you trail off. “Could you…” You’re too afraid to say the words. You don’t want to sound stupid. You lean your face into the lower part of his belly and groan.
John laughs, “Love –”
“Could you fuck me?” you say, muffled into his shirt.
“What?” John asks confusedly, unable to hear you.
You take a deep breath and repeat, “Could you…fuck me?”
“Stop that, say what you need to say,” he mumbles and leans back to see your eyes.
You must rip off the bandage. “I said could you fuck me?!”
His eyes widen.
You recoil uneasily. “…please.”
“Um…”
“Like I said, it’s alright if –“
“No, no, I just didn’t expect that, I – “ John stops short. He looks away from you a moment, searching for the right thing to say. “That would make you feel better?”
You nod, “Yes, I think so.”
“You’re sure?” He’s skeptical. And you’re unsure if it’s resistance.
“Only if you –“
“No, no, Y/N,” John interrupts. The bridge of his nose goes red. “I’m embarrassed to say that that is something I’ve always really wanted to do.”
You notice that the fabric around his crotch has slightly tensed and you smile, “Don’t be embarrassed.”
“I don’t know why,” he half-laughs, “But there’s something about you this time of the month that makes me kind of…wild.”
Wild. Now that is a word you didn’t expect him to use in this context. You imagine that while you’ve been quietly pleasuring yourself beneath the sheets, he’s been hiding in the bathroom to try and quell his desire as well. You get to your knees before him on the bed and lean your front up against his. "Pheromones," you say with a devious smile.
"Is that what it is? Because it's powerful stuff," John replies dryly, all to aware of his erection and your awareness to his erection.
You tilt your head up so your lips are only a bit away from his jaw. “We’re idiots.”
John laughs, “Yes, we are.” He rakes his fingers through your hair, cradling your head in his hands. “But are you sure? I don’t want to hurt – “
“Just take good care,” you say and hang your hands on his wrists. “I just need you to take care of me.”
You knew that’s what he wanted to hear. A soft breath escapes him as his glassy blue eyes take in each of your features, one by one, before kissing you. The desire hefts forward again inside your aching middle, scattering the tension down the front of your thighs. Just the thought of him being inside is a relief in and of itself. You clutch at the front of his shirt and bring your groin to his. John’s erection is unrelenting and ready for you, but there are new strictures now. You pull back from him to his dismay, a dazed look in his eye from the pressure between your throbbing centers. “You’ll need to get a towel, love,” you instruct him gingerly.
“Mhm, right, right,” John agrees and flits away from you quickly to the bathroom, retrieving a light green towel. You regret the pastel scheme you chose for the bathroom linens now, but there isn’t time to lament that.
John unrolls the towel at the end of the bed. He pulls on the corners and smooths out any wrinkles in the towel and then looks to you eagerly. “Can I do anything else?”
You smile sweetly. He’s nervous, a combination of wanting to do things properly for you and the unflinching arousal that’s now built up in him. You crawl to the end of the bed before him and lift your arms. “You can take this off of me.”
“I can do that,” he grins, sliding the flowery fabric of your housedress up your thighs, to your waist, and up over your head. He drops it to the side of the bed and then brings his eyes to your nearly naked body. You’re suddenly feeling self-conscious, remembering how different you see yourself in the mirror this time of the month. But John’s admiring you in the same way he always does, a small crinkle between his brows and lips parted so slightly, like there are a million things he could say and he can’t pick out just one. He lets out a longing sigh, “You're positively, incredibly sure?”
“Stop asking me that and take off your clothes,” you laugh and lunge for his shirt. The two of you feverishly negotiate his clothes off, hands knocking together, hair falling in your eyes. Finally, he’s naked; his pale skin blemishes with chill and his ruby nipples harden. You caress his lips gingerly. “You are so good to me, John,” you whisper and run your hand up from his hip bone to his ribs to his clavicle. “You have no idea how much this means to me.”
John doesn’t respond with words. He takes your head in his hands and hungrily kisses you with his blushed and beautiful lips. Wilting, you follow his lead, slow, graceful, until you’re on your back and John is eagerly thrumming against your entrance. His hands glom onto your breasts; he drags them down your front to your waist to the top of your underwear. He pauses. “I’ve never done this.”
You look at him incredulously. “Yes you have.”
“Not with extenuating circumstances such as these,” he mutters.
“Extenuating circumstances? What do you expect is going to happen?” you laugh. “Barbarism?”
John blushes. He’s a good man, but there are things that good men don’t go out of their way to understand until they must. “Look, I just don’t want to make a mess.”
“Let me do it then,” you offer and try to pry his hand off your underwear.
But John stands firm. “No, no, I should do it. I need to know how to do it.”
“You don’t need to know, it’s –”
“You’re making me nervous, Y/N,” John says manically, his smile betrayed by his jumpy eyes.
You throw your arms up over your head and sigh, “John, just do it, I want you inside me now.”
John’s going red. “You’re just adding to the pressure, god –“
“My eyes are closed. I’m not looking,” you laugh and scrunch your eyes closed. “Christ, you’d think you’re a virgin the way you’re trembling.”
John huffs with slight umbrage at the comment. You feel him dragging the panties down your legs. “Okay. I think I did it.”
You blink your eyes open and find him fixated on your sanguine center.
“Huh.”
“What did you expect?”
“Don’t know really. Is it – I can’t believe I’ve never seen you like this. You get one every month after all.”
You consider John's contrast a moment. His brow is threaded together and his eyes are curiously examining you, yet his cock is firm and angrily swollen as it waits to be enveloped. And you feel just as frustrated as his lower, eager parts. You wrap your legs around him and give him a gentle pull toward you. “John, you’re going to make me feel so good.”
“Really, because this is –“ his eyes widen a bit, still on your center. “I mean, barbarism, you were right.”
“John!” you whine.
“Every month, hm? Dear god, now I understand so much. Thank you for the englightenme…” he can’t finish his sentence as you lift your hips up to meet the tip of his cock and it rushes through your dripping core. John doubles over slightly. “Okay, okay.”
You drop your hips. “I’m in need, John. Need.”
“Need,” he repeats, shaken back onto task. John rests his hand on your knees and positions himself at your entrance, ready. He doesn’t expect how easily he slides in, gasps when he’s entirely inside you without even trying. “Oh my god.”
You smile at the relief of fullness and let out a moan. “There. Was that so bad?”
John shakes his head, mouth agape as he watches his small undulation in and out of you. “Is that alright?”
“Can go faster if you want,” you reassure him, resting your hand on his.
He follows your instruction; your extra slickness gives him an ease of speed that he isn’t totally in control of. You relish the wet sounds as his pelvis meets yours again and again and again. You feel like you’re soaring. It’s an easier feeling than ever before, the gentleness that your body is granting you with release. A joy, a true euphoria of letting go. Tensions slip away through your fingertips as you let John take control.
“Your eyes are…”
Rolling into the back of your head. Your tits bounce with each pulse inside of you.
“God, you look amazing.”
“Keep going.”
John takes your legs and positions them onto his shoulders. He pauses to catch his breath, eyes not leaving yours. He leans a kiss into the inside of your ankle and his hands slide down the length of your legs to your soft backside; he caresses it gently. “You alright?”
“More than.”
“You feel incredible,” he murmurs, a thrusting pattern returning. “Oh, Christ.”
Your angry garbled center has dissipated into fluttering exhilaration. You realize now that on the bathroom floor, this was the kind of death you were begging for and you start to laugh. The oncoming release creeps over you, heat all the way into your cheeks, fixing to burst. You reach as best you can to hook your hands around his thighs and moan out his name. You can see how it singes down his spine, electricity, hearing his name raggedly shunting from your mouth. His eyes squeeze shut, and he bares his teeth, tucking his chin to his chest. Oh, he’s close.
“Whatever you want, do it,” you say; your stomach muscles start to shudder. “Whatever you need.”
John’s eyes shoot open, and he stops, only long enough to sling both your legs over his right shoulder. You’re tighter now than before, gripping onto him, and this tightness sends both of you reeling into a groan. Your name, his name, god’s name, a curse, a prayer, it’s all right there in the way you’re convening at this sacred time in your cycle.
It’s the way John’s fingers curl around your thighs, clenching you even tighter around him, that joins you together into a shared, heaving and thunderous orgasm. John’s eyes go wide; his hips spasm forward as he spills into you, the groan of a fresh bruise from his lips. And you gladly accept each errant drop with your tight, wet warmth. You whimper with the angelic release.
John watches you, unwound and unburdened, so opposite how you’ve stalked around the house since you awoke this morning, and puts a gentle hand where the two of you meet. His thumb brushes through your sweated pubic hair. “Did that feel good, darling?”
You nod wordlessly.
“Did it help?”
You nod harder with a loopy sort of grin.
John chuckles. “Why have we waited so long? For this?”
“Because you’re scared of me,” you drone softly, your eyes shuttering to rest in the glow.
“What?! I’m not scared of you.”
You smile. “Yes, you are. ‘Oh, oh, what do I do with your panties? Am I going to hurt you? Are you s-s-sure?’”
“That’s not ‘scared’, that’s –“
You interrupt him. “I’m not fragile or delicate this time of month, John. I just need extra love even when I don’t deserve it.”
John goes silent and cocks his head against your feet. “Well, you’re always deserving of love.”
You flush and hide your face in the sheets. “You know what I mean.”
“You can be difficult," he concedes.
“That’s a kind way of putting it.”
“Downright mental, sometimes.”
You snap up to sitting and nudge at his cheek with your toes. “Would you like to remain celibate indefinitely?”
John laughs, “You’re proving my point!”
The two of you jab and rib a bit longer before John collapses beside you and pulls you into him entirely, his lips hovering right in the crook of your neck. "Even when you're driving me mad, I love you, darling."
You sigh contentedly and let him languish on your neck with soft, chaste kisses before you are both reminded that the time is ticking and the afternoon will be the evening in the blink of an eye if you aren't careful.
After you disentangle, you help clean John off; he watches, intrigued by the rusting redness that sheathes him (“Welcome to the barbarism,” you tease). Then, you leap up off the bed with a stretch. “Well, I feel much, much better.”
“Yeah?” John says with an adoring look in his eyes.
“Oh, yes, I could do the shopping even,” you shrug and find his pants on the floor, pulling the list from his pocket. “Let you take a rest.”
John sits nakedly, casually on the towel with an ironic sigh, “Thank you.”
You go to him and cup his chin in your hand. “I owe you the world, John, I really do.” You kiss his forehead and then begin to flit around the room to pull an outfit together.
John sits, lost in thought and quiet, as you rummage through the dresser drawers for another pair of clean and comfortable underwear.
“Y/N?”
You give him a look over your shoulder. “Yes?”
“What if we cancelled dinner tonight?”
You frown, “But I’m feeling much better.”
“I know, I know, I just wonder if that energy could be used…” John trails off and then clears his throat. His looks to his feet. “For different matters.”
You pause and a smile cracks onto your face despite yourself. “Are you suggesting –“
“I told you,” he sighs. His eyes laze onto you with a hungry, lip-biting smirk. “You’re making me feel wild.”
Meg awoke as she always did when she slept over at Lymantria’s, well before her partner and recently to the very familiar feeling of Ash prodding her awake with jabby little kitty paws. Why she was the target, she had no idea. But essentially she glared at the cat and sighed, turning over and letting the cat purr loudly and jab her some more as she wrapped her arms around the sleeping woman more snugly, her face burying into dark hair.
The paws kept on coming and the meows began and at this point, wanting Ly to sleep and rest longer she groaned a bit and pulled herself from the mass of limbs and sheets, tugging on an oversized sweatshirt to go feed the cat and start the tea and coffee for the morning.
This morning, they aimed to get their festive decorations in order. They’d spotted a small little tree by the market being sold, only about 3-4ft tall that they brought home with them along with various bobbles and things they found at thrift stores and Whosits to decorate the tree with. Most of all, they’d bought one of those ready to go gingerbread house kits to practice their skills on so someone from Pixie’s would actually know what they were doing during the contest.
She placed Ash’s food down on the floor, and rustled through the cupboard for Ly’s tea bags and the coffee she’d brought over last time and left because they never seemed to have any and she couldn’t always run off to Hatter’s.
She heard the door open wider and looked back to the room to see her partner emerging from it and gave her own tired half-smile, voice still laced with sleep and lack of caffeine as she rasped out, “Morning.”
She huff, well guess there's nothing she can do about it for now. As she made her way back to the hallway and finish off her dusting. While moving onto to going to every bedroom and starting to make the beds in them.
You quickly get through your work and when you get to Anne's room you see Axe in there looking after the house cats.
