THE HOOD ABOUT TO GO INTO SHAMBLES AFTER THIS ONE

[HTTPS.] detective carisi using his cuffs on u!! [.ORG]

warning ! this url contains: unprotected $3X, drunk $3X, b0nd4ge, nd cussin! you've been warned!

at first, it was a passing joke after one (four) too many margaritas at a rooftop get together for the department. just something you thought was something your little group of girls (liv, amanda, kat and alex) and only them heard, something everyone giggled a bit and even agreed with (but liv, she complained that "getting taken control of is overrated").

at first, it was something you were almost 100% sure nobody else had heard, and even if they had, it wouldn't matter! everyone knew you and carisi were dating. and even if they didn't know for sure, the way you two lingered around each other, or the way you knew how the other liked their coffee, something was up, something.

at first, it was just that statement.

"i'd let carisi handcuff me."

and boooooy, did he plan to!

at first, when you hear the metal clinking tighter around your wrist, your blood runs a little cold. usually, you would be putting your cuffs on someone else. someone who did something foul. but now, in the comfort of your own home, your own bedroom, it felt good. it made that split second of freezing blood worth it when your boyfriend pecked your shoulder and your entire body warmed, your thighs rubbing together as you arched your back just a little bit more, enough for you to feel this tip (which was covered in pre) tap your clit ever so slightly.

when he slips inside your slick cunt, he groans just like always before gripping your restricted arms and pulling you flush against him.

"fuuuuuck, doll.. 's the shit.. fuck yeah." his accent is thicker, his voice low and sultry as he whispers into your ear. the room starts to smell like sweat and carisi's cologne as he keeps rutting into your wet pussy, not stopping until you cream around his cock and shake, begging him to let up, to give you a break.

once he unlocks your handcuffs, the brunette massages your wrists and kisses you. knowing that that little passing statement you made will now make a lasting affect in the bedroom 🫶🏾

im so obsessed with BMF rn so i made this concept fic.. should i write it and if so for who? i was thinking chan but i wanna lean away from skz after big barbie is done. anyways ya lmk

oh you hate me? you see my big beautiful sad brown eyes and you’re gonna hate me?

☆ connie who's had the worst day ever and seriously needs to unwind !!

☆ connie who comes into the bedroom to you, his unsuspecting pretty girlfriend reading a book and listening to music. bless your poor, poor soul.

☆ connie who just gives you that look. and you put down your book bc if you don't its getting ripped from you and you know it.

☆ connie who wastes no time roughly removing his work clothes and your hoodie but leaving your panties just because he wanted to rip them to shreds and watch your face drop.

☆ connie who doesn't even bother eating you out, he can do it after he's got his nut off. (nut eater connie fic cumming soon)

☆ connie who grabs the nape of your neck, leaning forward with his cock just touching your hole to ask you,

☆ "you know i love you, right?"

☆ you nod.

☆ "good, remember that. because im about to fuck you like i don't, mama."

gimm cod text requests im bored

𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞.

john price x fem reader.

18+ !!! possessive husband! john, penetrative sex, cum play, light choking, use of the word 'sir', king of dirty talk captain john price.

just something i had to get off my chest! reblogs and thoughts are appreciated!

You’re spread, face down, and ass up on the duvet.

John’s hands are warm on your hips, his calloused fingers are digging into your heated flesh, and grabbing fist fulls, as if he wants to take you apart. You squirm against the pressure. You’ve always liked it when John grabbed you like this.

Like it a lot more when you’re spread wide open for him, though.

He hums a smile from behind you.   “Gotta say it louder, sweetheart. I didn’t hear you.” You swallow down your drool. It’s pooling onto the sheets below your mouth, and you know that when this is all said and done, John will pull you against him and joke about the wet patches. Whisper heavily into your ear – look at the mess you’ve made, love, and you’ll blink at the sight, still sensitive from the daze he’d put you in. Melt against his chest. Say, it’s all your fault, and John would chuckle, kiss you sweetly, I’m such a bad guy, aren’t I?

Now, though, in the heat of the night, you couldn’t care less. You sink into your thighs, and the movement forces your pussy wider for him. John sighs at the sight. Grunting, as if he’s letting himself into temptation, he slides his thumb over your spread cheeks, and roughly drags it over your asshole.

You gasp, and buck forward, body throbbing. “Ah, John.” He lightly smacks your hip, “what did I say?” “You,” you loudly repeat, suddenly remembering what he asked earlier.

Who do you belong to? He’d grunted. You’d been far too dazed to respond clearly – coming twice from John’s thick fingers and tongue would do that.  

Your husband hums again, grabbing your ass cheek and spreading you wider. “Look at you,” he whispers to himself, gazing at the wet slick of your cunt.

You’re soaking. Slowly floating into the abyss. Drifting off into a world of non-verbal communication, dazed smiles, and incomprehensible words.

You’re familiar with it.

Familiar with John fucking you stupid. Familiar with John’s soothing hand on the back of your neck as he coaxes you out of your small space.

Your husband presses the head of his cock against your cunt, then gently slides it through your slick, rubbing against your clit and aching hole. You mouth at the duvet, eyes rolling back until all you see is the soothing black.

“This wet cunt. All for me?” Your belly tightens. Pussy clenches around the memory of his dick. “John,” you whine, begging for more, begging for him to stop. You’re not sure at this point.

There’s not a lot of clarity to moments like this, it’s only after, when John’s got you in his arms, that you realise how far gone you were. Reflect on the words you’d said – the dirty spiel you’d whimpered to get what you wanted.

Still, though, as John feeds his cock into your swollen pussy, and grunts, “I’ll come inside this pretty cunt, fill you with my babies, huh?” you still have enough clarity left to shake your head and whimper, “N-No.”

John laughs darkly. He sinks his cock as far as it’ll go, and you cream around him, slipping quickly. “You sure?” he grunts, voice strained. His hands are gripping your cheeks, spreading them wide so he can see just as far you can take him.

“You don’t want me to get you pregnant? Show everyone that I fuck you good and proper?”

His words make you dizzy. Mindlessly, you clench around his cock, coating him, and John laughs with a groan.

He knows you. Knows you better than you know yourself.

Knows you’re chewing on the duvet right now, stuffing it into your mouth to quiet your sobs. Knows that there’s a knot in your belly right now, and it’s tight enough that you’re throbbing all over.

He slides his slick cock out, and when he slowly stuffs you with it again, there’s a wet ring pushing to his base. He clenches his jaw, shakes his head in disbelief, then takes his cock from you again.

Your breath hitches, waiting for him to sink back in, but then he presses in quick and tight, bottoming deep, forcing you to cry out suddenly.

“John, John, John – fuck. Fuck!” He ignores you. Continues his previous dirty drawl.  

“Would look so good with my come leaking out of you, sweetheart,” he compliments. You beam. Jesus, you go blind with it. You would, fuck. You would look so good strung out, tangled in sheets with his come dribbling out of your swollen pussy.

You close your eyes to the thought of it.

Go to the sweet dark as John slides out, then buries in again. When he’s deep, and you think you’ve settled into the thick heat of it all, he hoists you against him – his chest to your back -- and presses his mouth to your ear, talking quickly, so you don’t have time to complain.

His voice is heavy. Haunting. Makes you cling to the hand he’s got tight around your belly.

“Pump you full of it, huh baby? then pull your underwear up.”

He begins to languidly fuck you. Rocks his hips up in deliberate strokes, setting a gentle, intoxicating rhythm that has your mouth hanging open and eyes rolling back. John breathes heavily in your ear, and you know it’s getting to him too.

“Make you sit in it all day. Go to work with your knickers smeared in my come. Your colleagues wouldn’t know that your pussy is all wet with me, but I would. I’d know.”

You sob his name. Lock your gummy walls to his thick cock, trying to milk him, and John near growls into your ear. “Fuck!” he snaps, and the sound echoes through you, and goes straight to your clit.

“You like that huh?” He drags his calloused hand between your trembling thighs and sloppily pushes his fingers over your clit. You double over in pleasure, but John keeps you pressed against him with the arm he’s got wrenched around you.

“Tightening around me. Shit. All this cause I threatened to punch a guy in the pub?”

You’re brought back to the memory: some guy grabbing your arm to try and dance with him, and John shoving him back, near pushing him into the slot machine.

He’d been shaking with rage. Went to get the guy's throat in his hands before you got involved.

“Like to pretend that it annoys you, but I know you love it when I’m possessive. When I keep you locked to my hip. We both know that it makes your cunt get all sticky when I fight someone for you.”  

He’s right and you know it. When John had shoved the guy, you’d gone hot all over. But you’d pulled your husband to the smoking area and told him to cool it.

He went to pay the tab, and you went to the toilet. Spent most of it with your forehead against the door, trying to steady your thumping heart.

John’s still rubbing your clit, trying to catch it in his wet fingers. It’s all sloppy. It’s John breathing shakily against your ear, his deep, hungry tempo forcing a pool of desire to settle at your lower back.

He continues his pace – fucks you the way he knows you like it, steady, but hard -- and all at once, that ache that had simmered threatens to burst, and you spasm around his cock, gasping with the desire to come.

You let out an unrestrained moan, whimpering mindlessly.

Through the blood rushing through your ears, you hear yourself plea with him – fuck me, please. John. John. Please. You take his hand from your belly and drag it to your throat, grinding down on his dick.

John curses. Pushes you to the duvet, takes your hips in one hand, and rubs your clit with the other.

The sensation of both his fingers and cock makes you mute against the sheets.

Your body is numb. It’s all electric heat, wrapped around you like a cloak. You try to talk, tell him to fuck you, but all that comes out is drool and his name. Please. Please. Um gonna come. Um gonna come so hard baby—he smacks your ass, and the sudden pressure goes straight to your cunt, sending you spinning, and you’re squeezing around him, tight as a vice, coming on his cock.

John all but growls as he fucks you through your orgasm. “Gooood girl!” he shouts, watching you struggle and spasm around his cock, fidgeting and whining as white heat seers through your pussy. “Come inside me,” you gasp, drunk, so fucked out that you’d let him do anything he wants, and John groans, your cunt tight and so so warm and wet. “Come,” you drawl, your orgasm tailing off, and you clutch the duvet, whining in your post-come state. John’s still fucking you and the feel of his hard cock sliding through your swollen and slick folds has you babbling.

“Come inside me I want you inside of me.” John huffs a laugh. “No, baby, that’s not what you want.” You shake your head, delirious. “It is, I promise.” “No, it’s not. I’ve just fucked all rational thought out of your head. Brain’s gone dumb on my cock, huh baby?”

He smooths his hand over your back, struggling to contain his strained grunts through his spiel. You can’t decide which you like more: when John’s so turned on that all he can do is bark filth at you, or when he’s so turned on that he can’t, just moan and grunt and fuck you silly.

“Good thing your husband thinks for you, though. Turn around.”

In your bleary state, you manage to fumble around onto your back, and John grabs hold of your leg and pulls you down the duvet, forcing you onto your knees in front of him.

You blink up at his looming body – at his heaving, hairy chest, and clenched neck. His face is red with sweat, and the heady, heavy gaze of his eyes has your belly swirling. Blinking down at his hand, you dreamily watch him tug at his wet, angrily hard cock, before muscle memory kicks in.

You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, and John groans deep in his throat, the sound twisting into a moan as he speeds up his tugging, and it's seconds before he’s pumping his come into your mouth.

Most of it lands on your tongue, or around your lips. But a smear of it shoots across your cheek. You don’t dare wipe it away; instead, once John’s finished, and he’s staring down at you with this wild, feverish look, you close your mouth and make a show of swallowing it down.

You’ve collected a lot of spit from having your mouth open for so long, and your mouth is too full to swallow it all in one go, so a trail of it slides down the corner of your mouth and throat.

John watches it drip.

Inhaling steadily, he reaches his thick hand out, and wipes the smear of it, along with the come on your cheek, away with his thumb.

“What was it you said?” he whispers. His eyes are black as he pushes his finger inside of your mouth. You close your eyes and mewl around his thumb, lazily sucking at it as if he’d pushed his cock between your lips.

Having something of his in your mouth makes your post-come delirium even worse.

The position makes you hazy, too – spread thighs and sensitive pussy brushing against the rug – and you’re just about to ask if you can blow him before he pulls his fingers away and clasps your jaw and throat in his huge hand.

Your eyes immediately roll back. Cunt clenches, desperate for him inside of you again, and when you blink up at him, your husband's face is a picture of love and possession.

“Mine,” he states, in his heavy, smoke-laden voice.

You lick your lips and taste the remnants of his come on your tongue. “Yes sir,” you whisper.

masterlist.

please reblog or comment i'll kiss u.

TWO TONE CARTIER MATCH THE NAILS, HO!

- @huunni

"ooo but if a white person said not to interact!!!" Suck my dick and BALLS eat my ass and swallow my nut I do not CARE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FUCK. LIKE FUUUUCK.

i need that man to spit in my mouth so bad it's not okay. like actually just absolutely destroy me. i need the nastiest, sloppiest, most right-revoking, sweaty, loud, breathtaking, ROUGH backshots from that man. i mean i need him to spread me open and SPIT on my (censored) and then slurp tha shi back up and them SPIT IT BACK OUT with extreme precision and then idc if im EXHAUSTED he needa take what he want from me like HE JUST I CANT I OMG JEHHHRHDHDJAJEBRBDBDH

content: nasty, spit kink, back shots, name tattoos, ‘branding’ kink, anal play, THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG MDNI

imagining showing him a new spine tattoo you got ,, n it’s small ,, but just where ur spine meets the base of your neck in red ink is just ‘carisi’ and it’s in his slightly sloppy scrawl n he can tell it’s from the other day when you asked him to write it down for you and and and

literally licks from ur clit all the way up your spine, drags u back by ur hair and spits in your mouth before shoving ur face into the pillows ,, only warming u up with a distinct spit directly onto your pulsing pussy before he’s pounding you from the back, thumb in your butt, face pressed into the pillows by your hair so he can see his name imprinted into your skin clearly

literally never ever ever fucks u while ur facing him ever again

n if he does he can’t cum unless he flips you over n sees his branding on you ♡

why is reading ur posts that might the n word in any different than having black friends that might say it in convos

I had a stroke reading this but I think what you're trying to say is, "why is reading your post bad when black people say the n-word in conversations?" the answer is, it's not a black friend saying it's 90% of the time, it's the reader. the POV that is supposed to represent you in the situation. if you're not black, you shouldn't be saying the n word. point blank, bottom line, whatever you want to call it