#armed forces rp

[jigsawscarred]

Look at my face. I hope it haunts you 'till the end. You left me here for dead when you walked away.

18+ ONLY. Indie, selective & mutuals only blog for Billy Russo. Main verses are Hannibal / The Boys / Crime / Armed Forces. Not directly affiliated with the M.arvel RPC, but will selectively write with M.arvel muses. Canon divergent & mixed media. Please read rules beforehand. Written by Vespertine. Mun & Muse 21+.

Verses include: The Boys, DC, Criminal Minds, Payday, Marvel + more!

carrd: here.

promo template: here.

[brainrot-stitch]

Doodles from a dw rp I was just in!!! Honestly the best one I've had so far lol

Out of character that vs in character chat😭

Omg crazyy...

😭😭😭random

[kneel-to-seto-kaiba]

I will surpass everything! I alone will be king of duelists, and rise to a higher plane of being! - Seto Kaiba, Battle City

(Yes RISE TO THE HIGHER PLANE and think you're better than everyone else because you have a machine on your head and call people inferior vessels like you're the terminator)

[polish-spirit]

Patrol konny WOT przy granicy wschodniej (2022).

Źródło: WCR Lublin.

[terengineer]

https://youtu.be/H5wj_SMYS8o New chick the link video!

[fioiswriting]

Reunion | oneshot

Summary : After the Battle Above the Gods Eye, Daemon returned victorious. Aemond was presumed dead, though his body was never found. Three years later, you've mourned your former husband and are ready to move on. But it seems that some ghosts from your past have come back to haunt you, and that the dead aren't really dead after all...

[Part 2]

Rating : Explicit 18+, MDNI

Pairing : Aemond x Velaryon/Strong!niece!Reader, implied Cregan Stark x Reader (you can interpret them as lovers or not). Reader is Rhaenyra and Harwin’s daughter so I imagined her with dark hair like Jace, Luke and Joffrey but feel free to imagine her as you want of course <3

TW : unprotected sex, breeding kink, mention of characters death, angst, possessiveness, p in v sex, oral m receiving, praising kink, dom/sub undertones, mention of war, AU where the Blacks won the war, Alys Rivers (but no cheating), Reader has a child, grief, light choking, not proofread.

Words count : 7600

Author's notes : Hi everyone !! Sooo I’m posting my first ever fanfic on here, my first x reader and my first fanfic for Aemond. I’m very anxious haha But well, this fanfic is heavily inspired by a RP that has been going on for months with my wonderful gf <3 She writes Aemond so well I swear and now she’s making me fall in love with Cregan too haha oops whatever. Some of Aemond’s lines in this fanfic are hers so of course the credits go to her 💕 Long story short the reader’s backstory is inspired by my OC! The plot doesn't make any sense but whatever

Also English is not my first language, so sorry for the grammar mistakes !!

Enjoy 🖤

I don't know what I'm supposed to do Haunted by the ghost of you Oh, take me back to the night we met The night we met - Lord Huron

The snow had covered the landscape of Winterfell in a thin white layer so similar to ash, and the image tugged at your heart for a moment. Ashes. Fire. War. It was strange, the stillness that had followed the fury of screams and blood, of fire and ash, the constant anguish and pain of loss. It was like a long howl and then sudden silence. Life had resumed its course, the earth and the grass nurtured in red, as if nothing had happened, and that still irritated you sometimes, three years later.

For this peacefulness was a constant reminder of your life before. Before the war, before your own family ripped itself apart from within, before you lost him. There was something bitter in the thought that, in an alternate reality, you would have been happy with him by your side. The night brought its share of sweet dreams, lulled by the embrace of his arms, and you closed your eyes with ease, hoping to see his face again, which was fading day by day, desperately clinging to the details that made him.

It had been the best solution, you knew. 

For there was no reality in which he could live as much as you wished for. And you had accepted your duty by straightening your shoulders, silencing your heart, digging your thumbnail into the inside of your wrist. Your stepfather had said he was dead; he had seen Vhaegar fall from the sky, wounded.  He had seen the huge dragon crash into the water with all its weight. He had waited, and no silver hair had returned to the surface. He had searched and no body had been found.

So, he had returned, triumphant, with the conclusion that Aemond Targaryen was dead.

The room had swayed around you, but your fingers on the hard, rough wood of the table had kept you grounded. You had nodded, unsure, your ears ringing, your teeth sinking into the flesh of your tongue to hold back the tears that were beading at the edges of your eyes.

You knew it was inevitable, perhaps even fair. But it still hurt.  It sill fucking hurt.

Daemon had reassured you by pointing out that you were now released from your marital obligation.  A marriage to him that you had hoped for, waited for, dreamed of in your younger years. A marriage you had despised, once forced into, once made captive, a prisoner to be used against your own mother. And then a marriage that you had loved, cherished even, when he had opened up to you, when he had changed, when he had revealed that soft side despite his rough edges.  And you loved him, truly. The childhood love, the shy love that had blossomed between laughter muffled behind the curtains, hand-in-hand runs through the Red Keep and reading session hidden under the library table, had been rekindled.  Raw, devouring, bruised by war, but more powerful than ever.

Out of the corner of your eye you had caught a glimpse of the comforting gaze of your mother, the Queen, her gentle eyes searching for clues that would betray what you were feeling. It was she who had stroked your hair that evening, her presence welcome and soothing.

During the war, events had made you more uncertain than ever; blood and cheese had broken something in you. Suddenly shaken by the horrific actions of someone you hardly recognised, by the actions of your own family and the father figure who had raised you as his own daughter. You questioned your loyalties more than ever. Of course, you'd been devastated by Luke's death, your beloved little brother, so innocent, so sweet, and the despair you'd felt, the sadness, had gradually turned to anger. 

Your desire for revenge had fed on your rage, on your anger.

And in your quest for revenge, you had grabbed the dagger hidden in your bodice when you had kissed him, when you had poisoned him with your lips and your body pressed against his. Perhaps it was cowardice to do it on your wedding night, right after the pitiful ceremony in which you had been forced to exchange your vows of fidelity, the humiliation of the white, blue, red and green cloak around your shoulders.  Perhaps it was cowardice to wait for him to surrender to your touch, hard with desire, before plunging the blade straight into his heart.

But you didn't do it, in the end, the humiliation of your failure burning in your cheeks, and you had seen the horrible reality in the icy eye fixed on you: he was expecting it.  He knew. He had anticipated you, as usual, one step ahead of you, ahead of your plans. And the humiliation was all the more bitter.

First he had defied you, knowing full well that you couldn't do it, despite your momentary hesitation. Then he had wiped away your tears, the sound of metal echoing off the floor as he captured your lips with his own. 

And both you and he had sought to release the accumulated tension in the comfort of your naked bodies, in the rough, demanding thrusts.

You weren't quite sure when your relationship had changed. When he had become more forgiving. When he had trusted you. When he had become gentle. When you had felt him slipping away, subtly, almost imperceptibly. When you had begun to seek comfort in his arms, to seek the warmth of his body, to seek his love on his lips.

You loved him.

So you spent the nights lying awake in fear. Fearing the moment when you would have to make a choice. Fearing the moment when you would have to betray.

Which side would you choose when both armies were coming towards you, carrying the same flags, the same weapons, both calling your name?

Anxiety had spread its roots in the pit of your stomach, crescent moons in the palms of your hands. You felt as if you were losing your mind.

But the choice had been forced upon you without you having to make it. You had accepted it, as your duty demanded, as your loyalty to your family demanded.

Life at Winterfell wasn't so bad, quite the opposite in fact, despite the cold and snow you weren't used to. Cregan Stark was a good man. He had given you time and space to grieve, and had opened the castle gates to you with kindness. You had decided that you could get used to the cold and the snow, to the stone and the rustic wood, so different from the refineries of the capital, but infinitely warmer.

It was your choice, your departure for Winterfell.  Dragonstone was still haunted by the ghost of Luke, by the ghosts of Joffrey and little Aegon and Viserys and Rhaenys and all the family members you had lost.  King's Landing was haunted, too. By your sweet aunt and her cries of despair, by Aegon's descent into madness, by the humiliations you had so gracefully endured, by the recurring announcements of deaths, by the smell of the innocents’ blood, by the pitiful looks of Alicent, who had seen in you the image of herself a few years earlier, powerless and manipulated.

But above all, it was haunted by him.

The weight of the memories had become unbearable and you needed to leave.

You chose Winterfell, hoping the cold would help you forget. And Jace had come with you, his thumb caressing the back of your hand with affection, always the protective, reassuring big brother he was to you.  Probably glad to see his friend again, too. Your friend, to both of you.

But forgetting was something you'd never really been able to do, even less with the last memory he'd left you.

Now, just over three years later, you felt ready to return to King's Landing to visit your parents, to face the demons of your past and to mourn once and for all. It was inexplicable, perhaps a little strange, but you felt the need to go back.

On his first dragon ride, Rhaegar clapped his hands along the way, nestled into your arms in front of you, closing his eyes as the wind ruffled his dark curls. Midnight, your dragon, as pleasant as ever, as easy and gentle as ever, took care to be careful with the two of you on his back.

When you arrived, Rhaenyra hugged you as tightly as she'd ever hugged you, her nose buried in your thick hair, before bending down to take her grandson in her arms.

"I've missed you, sweet girl." she said to you. You smiled and reached for her arm, glancing at your son who'd grabbed one of your mother's long silver curls: "Daemon has missed you too. You know he doesn't show his feelings, but... he missed you." 

You smile, your eyes dropping to the floor.  You missed them, too, terribly, despite the frequent letters.

"And of course... we’ve missed you too, little one!" Rhaenyra added, catching the child's nose with her thumb and forefinger, causing him to burst into laughter.

It felt good to be back.  It was good to have regained some sort of routine in your daily life with your family. It was good to see the walls of the Red Keep return to their original familiarity, chasing away the ghosts you feared you might see again.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Perhaps you should have listened to your stepfather and not stray under any circumstances from the knight who has been following your every step with concern, afraid to lose sight of you. 

Five years earlier, it was Sir Erryk's vigilance that you had deceived when you had carelessly followed your eldest uncle into the dangerous streets of the capital.

The streets of King's Landing offered you a freedom you had missed. But now you almost regret sneaking through the crowds to escape the vigilance of the knight who had escorted you. You decide to take a shortcut, the hood of your cloak pulled down over your forehead.  It must have been your imagination.  You aren’t on the worst side of the city, not like five years ago, and the streets have become safe, much safer now that your parents are in power.

Your footsteps led you to some stone steps, which you climb at full speed, your heart pounding in your chest.  Glancing behind you, you disappear like a shadow around the corner of an alley, but the feeling is still there. You feel as if you are being followed.

At the Red Keep you already had the unpleasant feeling of being observed. In the gardens, with your son. Along the ramparts, enjoying the sea breeze on your face.

But you blamed it on your body's automatic response to the anxiety that had built up in all the years you'd spent within the walls of the Keep.

You slow your pace as you spot the dome and towers of the Great Sept at the end of the alley. From there you can easily find your way back to the Red Keep. All you had to do is keep moving, staring ahead, pressing your pace, wrapped in the thick wool of your cloak.

One step after the other. Breathing deeply. Half-moons in your palms.

The Great Sept growing closer give you a strange kind of reassurance.

And then suddenly, one hand closes over your mouth, the other around your waist. Your back bangs painfully against the cold stone wall of the winding alley into which you have been dragged. Fuck. Fuck.

You are too paralysed to struggle, too paralysed to bite the hand of the stranger holding you prisoner between the wall and his own body.

"You obviously learned nothing from my advice, Lady Strong," the icy voice whispers in the hollow of your ear. Your eyes widen. 

That voice. It couldn't be.

Lady Strong. Lady Strong. Lady Strong.

It can’t be.

That is your sick mind playing tricks on you again.

"As reckless as ever, hm, aren't you? You could easily get yourself killed."

The stranger releases you and you look up again, tears forming at the corners of your eyes, searching for that icy blue, tinged with lilac, that have read through you so many times before.

It is impossible.

He has died three years before, falling from Vhaegar's back into the deep waters of the lake at Harrenhal.

Is it a ghost? Is it a hallucination?

"You are dead. You were dead," you whisper, more to yourself than to him, still in shock from the feel of his body against yours. You feel the tears that have formed at the corners of your eyes roll down your cheek, and your little fists pound his chest.

You have so much to say to him. So many things to reproach him for.

His hand cups your cheek to turn your head and force you to look at him, his thumb wiping away your tears. 

The way he looks at you hasn’t changed; it still makes you shiver. You still feel that your uncle could read through you, that he could discover your deepest secrets.  And there is still that hint of desire, too, that gleam in his one seeing eye.

You want to kiss him. You want to slap him.

He clenches his jaw as he pulls you against him, burying your face in his chest, his arms around you. He rests his chin on your head. One of his hands strokes your dark hair as you stifle sobs into the wool of his cloak.

The situation takes you back to your wedding night, when he had comforted you in the same way after you had told him that you couldn't hate him, even if you had tried.

"I know," you hear him whisper, the vocal cords vibrating from his throat against the top of your head.

He is standing there, in front of you. You cling to the fabric of his clothes with all your might, as if you're afraid he'll slip away again.

"How?" you ask, eyes closed, head against him. If he is to be taken from you again, you intend to enjoy every moment in his company. 

He clenches again. You step back to look into his eyes, to search his enigmatic gaze for answers, for clues, for signs that would explain how. Why.

He doesn't answer you, but he is filled with desire as he grips your chin between his middle and index fingers, as he captures your lips with his own. You rediscover the possessiveness you've been missing. He pushes you a little harder against the wall behind you, as if to remind you who you belong to. Who you were married to.

A familiar warmth blossoms between your thighs, a warmth you haven't felt for too long. You're trapped, right there, your uncle towering over you, trapped between the wall and his body. His fingers close around your jaw and you kiss him back hungrily, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

You're perfectly aware that the situation is surreal.  You're perfectly aware that you're making a mistake, that you shouldn't respond to the kiss of the man who used to be your husband, not when he's technically still your enemy, not when he's technically dead. 

But you shut out the voices in your head begging you to stop.

"I still want to hate you, you know," you breathe between his parted lips. He merely mutters hm in reply, trying to shut you up again, his hands wandering under your cape, tracing the ribs of the body he'd missed so much. He reaches for your waist, your hips, which he grabs meanly. 

There's no one in the alley around you, but the hood over his head hides his long silver hair anyway. 

"Three fucking years." Your lips leave his, a mixture of anger and desire bubbling up from your lower belly. Aemond stares at you, his jaw clenched. He knows you need to unleash your emotions when you don't read an ounce of regret in his gaze. "Three. Fucking. Years. And you've told me nothing. You never sought to -"

"I couldn't," he retorts harshly. He seems to be searching for words to explain something you could not possibly understand, but his gaze does not soften. You know he needs time, you've learned to know him.  You've waited three years, what's another moment? But you're tired, and your patience isn't as strong as it used to be.  You look away, a mocking laugh escaping your lips as you repeat his justification. "You couldn't." 

"And risk your mother executing me?" He forces you to look at him again, and you feel the lump form in your throat. You know you are perhaps being unfair, but you were alone for those three years while you mourned him, so alone, and in a way, you want to make him pay.

"You were dead to me, qybor." Uncle. You feel him twitch at the mention of your family tie, at the nickname he used to love to hear on your tongue. "I had to live with the idea that you would never come back."

The tears that had dried on your cheeks threaten to flow again, pooling at the corners of your eyes. Aemond sighs. 

"I thought I was dead too," he whispers. You can feel the tension in every one of his muscles. There's a moment of hesitation, a silence that hovers between you.  You have so many questions, but you don't know where to begin.  Not a sound leaves your lips.

"She tended to my wounds," he adds, and you frown in confusion. "Alys."

Alys. You try to wriggle out of his grip, but he keeps you pinned to the wall.  Alys, you remember the rumours whispered in your ear by that rat of Larys - those false rumours, you remind yourself -  but you can't help feeling your heart clench.  You don't trust your voice enough to speak, to say anything.

"There's no one left in Harrenhal but her," he adds, as if you need that clarification, as if you need to know where he's been all this time. 

You say nothing. Your throat is tight. If you speak, if you look at him, you'll cry again and betray your feelings all over again. You refuse to make a fool of yourself, not now.

"She's the one who saw you. In Winterfell." There's a hint of bitterness in his voice as he mentions the place where you've spent the last few years rebuilding yourself, trying to forget him.  A bit of anger, perhaps, too.

"Cregan Stark welcomed me indeed," you reply curtly.  Perhaps you want to hurt him as he hurt you, but you are deliberately vague in your answer. "I have mourned you, qybor."

Everything is so confused in your mind.  A paradoxical blend of desire, anger, sadness, jealousy.  Of love too.

You want to strangle him and melt on his lips at the same time, and you know that after all this time you should be used to feeling this paradox of emotions with Aemond. Your uncle was a set of contradictions all his own.

"I saw you. On Midnight. That's how I knew you were here."

You nod. Words don't work between you, you know that. It has always been like that; the habit of letting silence speak more than words. The habit of communicating through the carnal acts of your bodies against each other. *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

Aemond pushes you against the wooden door as soon as you enter the mediocre room of the inn. He is demanding, more than ever, as his hands run along your hips to your thighs to lift you up and press you against the door, your legs closing around him. He watches you with hungry eyes, like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. You can't stop a moan from escaping your lips. 

There's something feverish, passionate, urgent about the kiss. And when his tongue begs for an opening, your lips part to welcome him. There is only you in this room, an interlude where nothing else exists, where you don't have to worry about your duties and loyalties, where you are guided by nothing but passion.

His hand slams against the wall next to your head and with a movement of his hips he lifts you a little higher onto his waist, your legs locked tightly around him. He grunts into the crook of your neck at the friction of your crotch against his.

"Tell me to stop." His hand which isn't against the wall to support your weight slides up to your jaw. He lifts your chin, his gaze locked in yours, searching for clues, anything that would betray your desire to end whatever it is you're doing. "Tell me to stop now, or I won't be able to."

You don't want to stop. You should, you know you should, but you silence the little voice in your conscience that's begging you to pull yourself together, to end it all before you've even started, before you've even gone too far, and you kiss him with more vigour, with more fervour.

"I'm not going to tell you to stop, qybor," you whisper against his lips. "You know that."

His hardened member twitches beneath you at the mention of the High Valyrian, at the mention of that nickname he's so fond of. It's his weakness, you know, and despite the three years he's been away, he hasn't changed.

It's so good to feel him against you again, to feel his lips against yours, along your jawline to the junction with your neck. In one sharp movement, he rolls his hips to meet yours, pressing you a little harder against the wooden wall, and he catches your moan between his lips.

You know that tonight there will be no shy touches between you, no awkward explorations like in the early days of your love, when it wasn't tainted by war, blood, and death yet. You and he will both be consumed by the burning fire of passion.   You both need to release that tension and frustration, to make up for lost time, to drown, drunk with desire, in the most carnal of acts. All that matters now are his hands on your body to ease the pain pulsing between your thighs, the desperate need to feel him inside you. 

The barrier of your clothes frustrates you. You need to feel his skin against yours, to feel all of him, and your hand runs down his body to pull at the cord holding his breeches together. Immediately his fingers close around your wrist to hold you back. He wants to be in control, you know. But it has been three years and something about you just isn't the same.

"Let me worship you like I used to, qybor," you whisper against his lips, your forehead pressed against his, and you feel his jaw tighten. There's a moment of hesitation in his eyes, clouded by desire.

His thumb caresses your lips, pressing against your lower lip. You part them, just enough for the tip of your tongue to wet the top of his thumb. There are no further words exchanged between you, just silence, punctuated by your gasping breaths. His hand closes around your throat, not pressing too hard, just enough so you can feel the weight of his palm against your windpipe, just to remind you that he's in complete control of the situation.

Fuck, you've missed it; the adrenaline of his hand around your throat, the adrenaline of knowing he could do anything to you and you'd be defenceless.

"On your knees then."

The command echoes through the room and you feel the wetness seeping between your thighs as you slide to your knees in front of him. Your eyes shine with envy and you look up at him as you did years ago. You know he can't resist the angelic look on your face when you're between his thighs. You know he can't resist the dichotomy between the innocent look on your face and the sinful act you're about to commit.  He revels in your submission, and that's something you've learned to use against him.

Your uncle releases his cock from his breeches, his hand wrapped around the base, and the desire you feel between your thighs becomes more and more unbearable. The head is already glistening with anticipation, white pearls beading at the slit, and it takes all of Aemond's self-control not to grab you by the hair and force himself into your mouth entirely. 

Closing the distance, he rubs his member against your lips to spread the wetness before pushing into your mouth. Your lips close around him. He's warm and heavy on your tongue and the hand holding the base of his manhood is replaced by yours to cover what you can't take. Your tongue curls around the tip first, absorbing his salty taste, and you look up at him through your long lashes. He doesn't look away from you.

His hand cups your cheek, his thumb caresses your cheekbone before sliding to the corner of your lips, just where his length disappears between them. It's as if he's hypnotised by the spectacle, by the bobbing of your head, by your hollowed cheeks, by your application and devotion. 

His hands leave your jaw and sink into your thick curls, urging you to take him a little deeper, and he thrusts between your lips with more vigour. You close your eyes, concentrating on not choking as his member touches the back of your throat. You take it as diligently and assiduously as ever, ignoring the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes.

"That's it, just like that. Such a good girl, mandianna [niece], such a good wife," you hear him grunt, his movements more erratic, more jerky, and you revel in his praise, sending a new wave of heat between your thighs. "Only for me."

You feel him throb on your tongue. You know it won't be long now, and you prepare yourself to welcome him, to let the salty taste of his seed flood your tongue, but your uncle pulls back reluctantly. 

"I would rather not waste." he whispers, his eyes riveted on the thread of saliva that connects your lips, glistening with saliva and precum, to the tip of his cock. You shudder. Aemond definitely hasn't changed much, you realise.

His hand finds your cheek again and he caresses your lips to spread the mess you've made by sucking him. You know he isn't finished. This is just the beginning and you're both driven by the consuming hunger of passion. You know what's coming now, your core clenching around nothing, and you rub your thighs together, in an attempt to soothe the impatience. 

He urges you to stand. He has that predatory look in his eyes as he closes the distance between you with his determined steps. 

" Undress," he orders, and you do not take your eyes off him as you untie the linen dress you had put on to disguise yourself as a common girl.

The garment falls heavily to the floor, forming a grey puddle at your feet, and you take a step forward.

"Do you not like seeing me dressed in rags, qybor?" you ask in a playful tone, teasing, referring to the time, years ago, when he had rescued you during your adventurous walk along the grim Silk Road where your uncle Aegon had accidentally led you. 

The memory was so close and yet so far away.

Aemond takes a step towards you, his hand brushing aside the long hair that hides your breasts to tuck it behind your shoulder.

"Not when you are meant to be my Queen." His eye glow with desire. He studies your body in detail as his fingers slide down your collarbone to your breasts. His thumb traces their underside before moving up to your nipples, hardened by the cool evening air and desire. He plays with them, eliciting a moan that satisfies him.  He looks at you like one looking at a prize, a long-awaited gift.

"Three years away from my beautiful wife," he whispers, his good eye gleaming as he looks at your breasts.

"You did have pleasant company in Harrenhal though, didn't you?" you hiss through your teeth and Aemond's hand suddenly closes around your throat to make you swallow your insolence.  You're not afraid, not anymore, for you know he won't hurt you. You have this power over him and it's delicious. 

His face is so close to yours that your noses are touching. 

He doesn't let go of you. 

"It wasn't like that." He whispers. "With her." You know he's sincere because he's almost awkward with his words, his explanation. You can see in his eye that there are so many other things he would like to tell you, but you have learned not to rush him.  It has always been difficult for him to open up, to be vulnerable.

His fingers release you. Aemond is a good head taller than you, and as he puts a hand on your shoulder, moving forward to force you back until your knees hit the mattress, your eyes remain fixed on his. 

Your uncle lays you down on the mattress. It's not the comfort of the bed you once shared, but you don't care, you just need him inside you. 

You need him to make you feel whole again. Aemond was fire, and you were willing to burn for him.  You had always burned for him.

In the candlelight of the small bedroom where you spend the night, you see his thumbs slip under the waistband of his breeches. His clothes quickly join yours on the floor.

There's something soothing about the weight of his naked body on top of yours. Once under him, you know you can surrender completely to him and stop thinking, just stop thinking.

His lips on yours, his hands on your body, his broad torso eclipsing your smaller figure.

He places kisses down your neck to your collarbone, sucking your skin between his teeth to leave purple marks that will blossom tomorrow. 

He kisses your breast, his lips closing around an erect nipple which he sucks gently, then around the other.  Your hands are buried in his long silver hair.  You can feel how wet you are between your thighs. You need him desperately, right there.

The confidence with which his fingers slide down your waist, from your hips to your inner thighs, only emphasises his ravenous expression. His touch on your folds sends a wave of heat through your body, causing your hips to move against his hand. Softly tracing the curves of your crotch, his index and middle fingers finally part your folds to collect the wetness that has formed there.

"Is it sucking your husband's cock that has got you so wet? 

Yes, you want to answer, seeking more contact, but the words are stuck in your throat.

"Stay still," he orders in a hoarse voice as you move your hips, his hands gripping your hips to pin you back against the mattress. 

You comply, for once, because you know he won't give you what you want otherwise. And you can't wait any longer, not today, not when you thought you'd never feel his warmth against your body again, his hands on your hips, his cock inside you.

"You see, you can be a good girl." His voice is softer when you obey. And to reward you, his fingers slide to your entrance, where he applies a little pressure with the tip of his middle finger without actually penetrating you. "Now beg your husband to fill you."

"Please, qybor," you murmur, your hand taking his cheek to bring his face to yours. You want him to look at you. "Please, I need you inside."

Oh, the slowness and precision with which his finger plunges into you makes you throw your head back. He begins to move back and forth, his index finger joining his middle one, caressing your spongy walls, his thumb tracing circles around your bud. Curling his fingers, he strokes that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble and you clutch the sheets beneath you.

You feel your centre tighten around his fingers, the release you've been looking for so close, so very close. You shut your eyes, ready for the familiar wave of warmth to wash over your entire body, but your uncle pulls his fingers away. You grunt in frustration.

You open your eyes only to see Aemond bring his fingers to his lips indecently, spreading your wetness over his own lips. "You still taste so good," he purrs, and you feel the blush rise to your cheeks.

He leans over to kiss you and you taste yourself on his lips. It's indecent.

He pulls back and you see him wrap his hand around his hardened cock, the head angrily red and already drooling in anticipation. He guides himself to your core, rubbing his length between your folds, coating it with your glistening juices. 

The round tip of his member enters you, slowly at first, stretching your narrow entrance as if to give you time to adjust. Aemond pushes and he sinks easily into you until he's fully seated, your warm, wet walls feeling heavenly around him, squeezing him just right.

" You are so tight," he growls against you as your arms close around him, your legs bent and pressed to either side of his body. 

He gives you a moment to get used to having him inside you again, to feeling him so deeply. It's exactly what you need; he stretches you deliciously, with a perfect touch of controlled pain.

You feel whole again and you want to cry.  You never want to lose that feeling. You want to keep him, against you, inside you.

You close your eyes and bury your head in the hollow above his shoulder, clinging to him as if to feel him more deeply, more intimately.

"You can move," you reply, rolling your hips to support your words. Aemond's hand immediately presses down on your stomach to hold you against the mattress and you bite your lower lip, almost guilty of forgetting his earlier command. He always has that need to control. He's the one who decides, you should know it after all these years, and you should stop being so demanding, so desperate.

"I said stay still," he scolds you, and the waiting is unbearable. 

You need him. 

When he finally pulls out and thrusts into you again, you let out a whimper. Your nails dig into the pale skin of his back, leaving crescent marks that will probably still be there the next day.

Once under him, Aemond has the ability to make you vulnerable, and part of you hate him for it.

"You take me so well," he growls after a particularly brutal thrust. "You're such a good girl."

The praise is sweet music to your ears.  You have always needed it, to be praised, complimented.

You feel him hitting that special spot deep inside you, you feel him pressing in so deeply and your grip tightens around him.

"Did you miss me?" you whisper in a voice made weak by pleasure, but all you get in return are the hoarse grunts of his voice.

Aemond lowers his eyes to look at where you are joined, hypnotised by the sight of his cock disappearing inside you. The rhythm he imposes is powerful, deep, and his fingers find their way between your bodies, reaching your little bud at the top of your folds to trace circles on it. You won't last long and he knows it as he feels your walls tighten desperately around him. Your moans grow louder.

"Look at me." His voice barely brings you back to reality, even though your mind is already far away, even though you know you can't last much longer. Painfully, you open your eyes to meet your uncle's icy gaze. " I am going to fill you up." His pacing becomes more erratic, more sloppy, and you know he won't last much longer either. Leaning on his forearm, he continues to stroke your pearl in small circles. "I am going to fill you up and you're going to take it all."

The image of you, belly round with his child, haunts him.  It never stopped haunting him, even on the brink of death, even when he thought he'd exhaled his last breath as he fell into the icy waters of the lake, his heart clenched with regret and remorse. It still is a wonder that he has survived. Perhaps, just perhaps, the Gods still had plans for him.

I'm going to fill you up. Words like that shouldn't bring you to ecstasy, and yet they do. Aemond reaches deeper, and as he feels your whole body convulse with the spasms of your orgasm, he joins you in your release. He spills his seed deep inside you before remaining still, buried against your womb, enjoying your warmth, making sure he's pouring every last drop into you. 

He doesn't want to pull out, not yet, and you close your arms around his neck, your breast pressed against his chest as he softens inside you.

The weight of his body on yours is comforting.  For the first time in years, you feel alive. For the first time in years, the open wound he left seems to be healing.

When he pulls out, you wince at the sensation of his cock slipping between your still too sensitive folds. You immediately miss the feeling of fullness. 

You barely move, your whole body still sore from your lovemaking, but you can feel his cum leaking from your entrance onto the mattress below.

Again, Aemond's fingers are between your thighs that are glistening with the intimate essence of both of you, collecting his own seed and pushing it back into you.  You whimper, still too sensitive, your lips brushing against his, and he remains inside you for a brief moment. He wants to make sure nothing is wasted.

And when he withdraws his fingers, he presses them against your lips for you to clean them.

You snuggle up against him, your head against his chest. Your hand caresses his chest, the fine line of his muscles, and he rests his chin on the top of your head, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you close. You enjoy the warmth of his body while you still can. Between your thighs you feel the sticky sensation of his seed mixing with your wetness as it still flows out of you, but you don't want to leave the embrace of his arms.

"I saw you in the gardens. With the child."

When you feel his throat vibrate, you look up at him, your eyebrows furrowed. "It was you, then?" You swallow. "It was you watching me." It's more of an observation than a question, and you suddenly understand that constant, uncomfortable feeling of being watched. At least you weren't crazy. 

He lets out a hm and pauses.

"Is he yours?"

You know where this question is leading. You fear the moment of truth.  You'd deluded yourself into thinking you could avoid it, but you were naive; did you really think you could hide the truth from him for much longer, now that he was back?

"Yes." You answer, looking away. You're nervous, and he can feel it.

"He's Cregan Stark's son, isn't he?"

Your heart clenches. You hesitate for a moment. You should lie.  You know you should lie.  To protect your son and your family, as you've protected them for the past three years.  You only need one word.

You hear him sighing beneath you, taking your silence as confirmation.

"No, he's not." 

The words leave your lips before you can even stop them. You hold your breath. Beneath you, Aemond tenses. He straightens, puzzled, silent.

"A bastard, then?" His voice is dry, almost mocking, revealing a form of irritation. "I did not expect this from you, dear niece." Disappointment.

You feel anger boiling inside you at the thought of him insulting your son, your sweet boy you love so much. You swallow the lump that has formed in your throat and rise on your forearms, your eyebrows furrowed as you turn your hard gaze on him.

You don't know how to express the words that are desperately trying to escape your lips. 

" He has blue eyes," you add, and you can see the confusion on his face. A lock of hair slips from your shoulder and falls around your face. "Your blue eyes."

You feel him tense up. He says nothing, just stares at you with his one seeing eye.  It's rare to see Aemond Targaryen so unsure of himself, so full of doubt. He stares at you as if he's afraid he's heard you wrong, as if he's afraid he's invented the words that have come out of your mouth.

"What did you say?"

You look away. You bite your lower lip, regretting your words.  You want to bury your face in his chest. You breath. 

"He is your son, Aemond." You finally admit it.

It's true that Rhaegar's brown curls could easily make him look like a Stark. Cregan had offered to raise him as his own, and you had smiled at his kindness.

Rhaegar is so much like you. Like you, and like Luke, and especially like Jace as a child, of whom he is the spitting image. He has the soft features of your face, but his eyes make him undeniably Aemond's son.

Your uncle holds you close, his arm wrapped around your waist, his long nose buried in the hollow of your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair.

"My son," he repeats in awe.  It's rare to see Aemond smile with sincerity.  Especially after the war has worn him down, made him more ruthless than ever.

"His name is Rhaegar," you say. "Just as we discussed." There's shyness in your voice.

He straightens, you on top, straddling him, and he seeks your lips to kiss you fiercely. His desire awakens beneath you; you feel him harden against your core again.

And this time, he makes love to you.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** 

"I missed the best part." He purrs against you, his hand absently caressing your breast before sliding down your body to rest on your flat stomach, just above where your womb lies. He clenches his hand possessively over your flesh. His voice is almost tinged with regret. Your hand rests on his.

"You shouldn't have left me," you reply, bitter. Deep down, you're still angry with him. Your gaze falls on your stomach, where both your hands lie, yours on top of his, clasped together. "You shouldn't have let your anger dictate your actions," you add, looking away. "But you were blinded by your desire for revenge, by your desire to prove that you could be better than him.” You swallow.

It is his fault, after all, that he missed your son's birth, that he didn't see him grow through the tender years of his infancy.

Rhaegar needed a father, and it was Cregan who raised him.

"Does he even know who I am? Who his father is?"

The guilty look on your face betrays you, and you know immediately that you've hurt his feelings. It may be selfish of you, but he needs to understand.

"You were supposed to be dead. There's still a lot he doesn't know." 

He doesn't say anything. You don't have the courage to meet his hard, stern gaze, you don't have the courage to see the disappointment and pain on his face, because if you do, your heart will tighten and you will fall apart.

"He's still so young. Give him time." You add, your fingers tracing small circles on the back of his hand, in an attempt to soothe him. 

You know how much Aemond wanted a son, and you know it's cruel to take that from him.  You know he would have made a good father. You can picture him with Rhaegar on his knee, reading him stories, telling him about the adventures of Vhagar and Visenya, and you love the image that forms in your mind.

You told Rhaegar about Aemond, though he was still too young to understand. You told him that his father had once owned the greatest dragon in the world, that his father was a fearless man for it was true, and you saw his big eyes light up. 

Aemond pulls you closer to him. "I want to be there for him, you know."  Unlike Viserys, but he doesn't have to say it, you understand what he means in the undertone he leaves at the end of his sentence.  He has always suffered from his father's indifference.

You cuddle up to him and he runs his fingers through your long curls. For a moment, you imagine that everything is fine and you search for his touch. He plants a kiss on the top of your head.

"I've missed you," he admits, the words landing on the tips of his lips in the silence of the bedroom, but you're already dozing off.

You know that tomorrow will be made up of choices and decisions. 

But for now, you fall asleep in the embrace of his very real arms, for once, enjoying the illusion of the life you both could have had.

[guardianlegends64]

[Closed/ Valentines RP] “More power Vs True love”

One day On a very Dark, Saddened , and Hardened night of February… One Man by the Name Reaper infinite was Being Corrupted by the power he has been using for Far too long and way too much…

….As the demon inside was at the Brink of Breaking out as it wants to use the power to gain even more power and use the power to Terrorize all life…as Reaper has a Choice… Break out the demon inside him or Fight for True Love….

Reaper has been feeling so much pain and suffering from the Corruption that feeds on The Dark Power that he has Been using Since The Time that Time itself has Started…

…This is where it all Started In the Beginning of Reaper’s Life that has been Shattered and the Point where he started using the power of Darkness…

….He was Born in a Time where Time itself has even started and He had a Normal and Grateful and even Happy Life then he met someone who he loves deeply and Heart warming until that very Moment he was Severed…Disconnected…and Devastated…that the one he loved the most has her Soul and Love Taken away by the monsters who thought that they had the Power to do what they please…

….Until Reaper uses a forbidden power that if Used will Curse and or Give a Life long Consequence as he used the power to Brutally Kill his enemies One by One Relentlessly and Mercilessly in a Whole Year….

….Then at the very end he Buried the soul who will give him the Happiness and love and Care in the entire Universe and Space Time continuum…

as Many Millennials had passed…Reaper has Changed Drastically and was Having Nightmares of his past and Nightmares about his Lover and his Mother and Father….as He wanted to End his life but he knows he cannot because of His immortality that he had when he was born…

…Then a few years has passed… Until he Was Walking and wandering around the Earth… He Never Eats…Nor Ever drinks anything…. Until he sees Someone who is In need of Some kind of Help by Men who was Acting and Touching and harassing her Inappropriately as his eyes widen a little and he was surprised to see someone so familiar that she had Many Fox Tails, Fox ears, Blue Eyes, and A Familiar Symbol on her arm…

…As Reaper intervened the Men they try to push him back but didn’t do anything as Reaper is still standing and they felt the Force that Reaper has around him as they were shocked and try to fight him but was Easily defeated as Reaper used Non combatant skills and Strength to defeat them…

…Then after the Fight the men Ran away never Coming back and Never Going near the One who they were Harassing and Acting and touching inappropriately… as Reaper was wearing a Dirty, Scruffy, Scratched, and Ripped Black Coat and he even Reveals his very own face when the hood that he was wearing from the coat was pulled down by the wind…

….His eyes were Dark Red, His hair is Messy and Black, his Skin color was American White, and Was Much Taller almost as Nearly as taller than a Tree as he pulls out his hand to help the Lady to stand….

“Take my Hand….Let Me Help you up….” He says in a Tired, Exhausted, American English and British Accent as he speaks he awaits a response from the Lady…as she then speaks…

[bluemantics]

here’s a list of all my fics! i won’t be able to post and reblog much since I’m traveling the next week and a half, so I’ll compile all my works here in the meantime :-)

will also update this list as i write more!

klance:

midnight snacks don't exist in space

G | 1.7K | RP/BP dynamics

There are no rules about eating at 3:00 AM if you're in the far reaches of the universe.

In a bright kitchen while the team is asleep, Lance and Keith find each other, as they always do.

Why We Fight

T | 5.7K | truth-telling au

With the Rebels in need of resources, the team ventures to a planet known for its raw materials in hope that they'll join the coalition. Here's the thing: they need to prove that they can be trusted by telling the truth about why they fight.

Lance finds this more difficult to voice than the others. Unfortunately (thankfully), Keith has returned from the Blade and is more than willing to listen.

"This is bigger than any of us alone."

A Keith By Any Other Name

T | 8.2K | coffee shop rom-com AU

Lance McClain was dared to hit on Keith. Keith thought that’d be the first and last time they’d meet. However, Lance keeps coming back, charming Keith with his jokes and charisma.

Here’s the catch: Keith refuses to tell Lance his real name.

“I’m not telling you my name unless you order and move on.” Keith pointed to the register screen.

“Alright, I’ll do a cappuccino.” Lance pulled out his wallet from his jacket pocket and slid his card over to Keith. “Now will you tell me your name?”

“My name is Yorak.” Keith passed the card back to Lance, who looked shocked at that answer, his eyebrows raised to his hairline. Keith was beginning to realize how dramatic Lance could be.

“Really?!” Lance demanded. He looked pityingly at Keith, and irritation welled up in his gut.

“No!” Keith rolled his eyes.

“You’re the worst,” Lance huffed.

a billion light years from here

T | 8.5K | post-canon fix-it

Keith and Lance reconnect over letters. Through their writing, Keith learns to open up, and Lance learns what a home is.

"For all the game I talked on the castleship about missing home, now that I’m back on my family farm, I kind of feel like there’s something missing. Like, even surrounded by all of the juniberry flowers Allura gave us, and even with my parents, I still feel lonely. Or restless."

Or: A post s-8 fix-it AU told entirely through letters between Lance and Keith, both sent and unsent.

out of my head

G | 1.2K | high school au

Keith didn’t even want to watch the spring musical auditions. Forced by Pidge to accompany them, he finds himself surprised at the talent of a particular actor. He also finds himself surprised by his own response. 

OR:

Lance is ridiculously good at singing and Keith is a lovable, impulsive jock.

baptism by fire

T | 1.5K | canon-compliant angst

Prompt: write a private scene between two characters with no dialogue, of just them two alone.

Lance just witnessed the unthinkable. Keith offers his company in wake of the tragedy.

kiribaku:

unstoppably, immovably, unbreakably you

G | 651 | canon-compliant

A character study.

An unstoppable force meets an immovable object.

Katsuki Bakugou’s hand implodes against Eijirou Kirishima’s arm; a flurry of sparks surround them with a sound that rings between his skull.

This is something he knows how to do well. With every blow that Katsuki unleashes, he feels Kirishima retaliate with more, responding like a dance to his every movement. Katsuki is a fine-tuned instrument of destruction, every muscle on his body worked with the intention of winning.

as always please let me know what u think thru asks & comments on ao3!! ill answer asks between travel, but im going to frequently be in spotty service.

[milkamel]

Woooo I'm back- kinda? Drew some moments from the rp with my bbg @asotiaa (again)

Explanation under the cut:

Context to this whole thing bc why not (A LOT OF WORDS INCOMING I'M SORRY-): Nightmare and Killer are dating and Cross is jealous since he's in love with Nightmare. Nightmare is aware of Cross' feelings but doesn't acknowledge them and shows his affection only to Killer. Killer is constantly teasing Cross (playfully but it tends to get out of hand because of Cross' short temper) and actually is in love with him too (though he's not aware of these feelings yet). So in the last two pages Cross, Horror and Killer are cooking a pie and Killer accidentally triggers Cross causing him to blow up at Killer. Nightmare is in time to stop them and breaks Cross' arm as a result (to free Horror from his control), Cross is devastated since he wants any kind of praise or acknowledgment from Nightmare (thanks for the trauma, XGaster-) and it hurts because he completely ignored him in the end. After they calm down Nightmare tells Killer their punishment. He's now supposed to take care of Cross until the end of the month, Cross can't leave his room and Killer can't leave the house. Both Cross and Killer don't think that's a good idea but there's nothing they can do about it. Forced bonding time!! Anndddd Cross also likes Dream and at some point, Dream kisses Killer to shut him up without knowing that Killer is dating his brother so it's fun (Killercreammare will happen after all of this is sorted out. And Dream and Nm are platonic in this yup) I was planning to write a few sentences but, uh… got carried away. That's all!

Killer belongs to rahafwabas Cross belongs to jakei Nightmare belongs to jokublog Horror belongs to Sour-Apple-Studios

Designs belong to milkamel and asotiaa!!

[lookinghalfacorpse]

long overdue cdream seizure drabble for @icecreamvi. dream is finally healthy enough to fight again, but seizures still hit at inopportune times.

/dsmp /rp

It was good to see Dream fighting again.

In all fairness, this fight in particular was a bit annoying. Technoblade and Dream were on their way back home after some errands when they were ambushed in the forest. Techno learned over the years that people who got lost in that enchanted forest, designed by the Goddess of Death to disorient and confuse, grew desperate quickly. They were little more than petty thieves, but even stray dogs are dangerous when they're hungry.

And their archer was infuriating.

Dream raised his shield a bit above his head, stopping an arrow before it landed in Techno's shoulderblade. With his shield occupied, Dream held his opponent at bay while blocking with his axe. "You couldn't afford to watch your back a bit more?" He joked.

"Eh," Techno replied. He was more interested in tossing one of the swordsmen into a tree. Humans are too easy to throw around.

Dream wasn't anywhere close to his former strength, but he could hold his own in battle, and he still overpowered most opponents. It was impressive to watch. He was quick and clever, and he knew how to use his bodyweight as a source of power, even after all the weight he lost. He was quick to disarm the swordsman that opposed him, and while the poor soul scrambled back to his feet and scanned around him for options, Dream stepped forward and smoothly raised his axe above his head--

--when suddenly his shoulder shuddered, and the axe dropped to the snow.

Dream gasped as air was forced out of his lungs, a hand raising to his chest in panic. Techno was familiar with the warning signs of a seizure. He's helped Dream endure countless seizures, both in the Vault and outside of it. He heard the creak of the archer's bow and bolted over to Dream just in time to guard him from an arrow. Instead of landing in Dream's skull, it sunk deep into Techno's mid-back.

Techno tried not to react to the sting. "Hey, Dream--"

Dream made a pained sound as the seizure took hold, his knees giving out and his shoulders spasming. His right shoulder twisted backwards while the left trembled uncontrollably. He fell fully into Techno's arms, his moans giving way to silence as he ran out of breath.

A second arrow hit Techno's shoulder. A third near the base of his neck. The swordsman, seeing his opening, lunged towards his blade.

They needed to run.

Techno gathered Dream's body in his arms and sprinted for the forest. With any luck, its disorienting effects could lend them an advantage. Dream's hands clawed into the fabric of his shirt, pulling it at odd, uncomfortable angles. Techno had to keep adjusting his grip as the young man squirmed and seized, desperate not to hold him too tightly and risk hurting him.

As soon as he couldn't hear arrows fly anymore, Techno ducked behind a large tree and set Dream on the ground, hunching his body protectively over him. If that damn archer found them again, he'd see nothing but piglin.

"Breathe through it," Techno instructed, his own breath heavy from the exertion.

Dream met his eyes. Sometimes he seemed lucid throughout the seizure while other times he seemed more unconscious. This time, his gaze was watery and heartbroken, but intelligent. "Te-- Tech-- Tech--"

"I said breathe, not talk, nerd." Techno placed a hand on Dream's shoulder, rubbing along the fabric of his jacket slowly. "Relax."

Fully encompassed by Technoblade's body, half-buried in snow, and surrendering to a seizure, Dream looked so small.

"You're--bleeding--" Dream coughed, his voice strained as his jaw tightened.

"And you're seizin'. I'd say we're both doin' pretty great."

"I'm--"

"Dream. Hush."

"I'm--sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorr--"

Techno bowed his head until their foreheads touched, letting his eyes fall closed. They'd ride this out together, like they always did.

"--sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

[jigsawscarred]

Had your back because you needed me Now I'm standing here alone

Indie, selective, & private (mutuals only) blog for Billy Russo. Main verses are Hannibal / The Boys / crime / armed forces. Canon divergent & mixed media. Please read rules beforehand. Written by Vespertine. Mun & Muse 21+.

Not directly affiliated with the M.arvel RPC, but will selectively write with M.arvel muses.

🧩 >>> carrd.

[vamph00n]

idea, but idk if you take ideas

reader gets turned on by hoon’s vampire like features, and convinces him to rp as one while they’re fucking

mdni

tags: femreader, vampire kink, mentions of the twilight movies, hoon is jealous obv.

*not proofread will do later

wc: 1,2k

smut tags under the cut

i added my own lil spin on it annonie~ mainly cause i’ve been rewatching twilight rndjsoskdndknsla

smut tags: biting kink, implications of sex, dirty talk, chest groping, etc

he doesn’t know how many times you watched those stupid twilight movies. all he knew is that you fawned over some guy in those films with the most victorian name ever. he wasn’t your type and sunghoon was sure of it, why would he be your type when he; your boyfriend, was right there? nah, he didn’t like that you thought of any other men than him. even if he was fictional.

you had all the books too, along with whatever smutty literature he saw on that well dusted shelf in your house. you lived in those dirty fantasies when he was right there. the way you’d kick your feet and giggle while watching those movies. it really pissed him off, it was all imaginary, pretend. it was stupid for him to be so jealous, but god there was one thing he hated the most about your little hyper fixation…

well, the thing is sunghoon doesn’t want to come off as a pissy bitch. he’ll happily go along with whatever endeavors you put him through. it’s just when you make him watch the same few movies with you again, he felt his ego shrink every passing second spent staring at robert pattinson play a vampire. especially when your comments consisted of comparisons between him and edward whats-his-face’s character.

“look at him hoon, he’s like all sparkly in the sun, n’ he has like this mad gaze.” Your eyes pan over to your boyfriend, watching him stare at the tv blankly, in a boredom induced daze.

he’s tuning out what you’re saying, because well, it makes him feel somewhat inadequate. it’s so rare for him to feel this way. he’s so self assured, maybe even a little egotistical sometimes. how can he not be? you yourself loaded up his little brain with compliments and ideas. saying how he’s the man of your fucking dreams, or the way your body contorted in different ways, becoming helpless when he did so little as touching you. hell yeah, you made him feel so damn special.

with his brows furrowed at the screen, he sees your odd stare from the corner of his eye. why do anything to reassure you of what you were thinking in that moment? he knows you, he can practically read your mind. before diverting your attention back to the screen a scoff leaves your mouth. call him petty or whatever you want, he just wants to get through watching this god forsaken movie for the millionth time without his brain frying.

sunghoon is so ridged. his arms are crossed, and he’s like, all stiff. whatever, you can deal with it. although it’s frustrating that he’s so oblivious.

you find yourself scooting closer, leaning and commenting on the movie. with each sentence you say, you can feel his dreary attitude loom over. it’s given, you’ve forced him to death watch your silly little movies to the point where he himself can recite each word.

“he’s like, —i don’t know. like can you imagine? getting puncture wounds, and hickeys at the same—“

that’s where sunghoon draws the line.

“can you shut up?”

dang. he was livid. you have right to your own thoughts but to think like that? when he’s right there? when he can well rip off your panties and fuck you the way this guy can’t because it’s all speculative? all you had to do was let him, just ask and he’ll deliver. you know it.

but then again, you boyfriend is as dense as concrete and dumb as bricks sometimes. guess you’d have to give him a nudge, a hint too probably.

“i mean, can you imagine what’s it like to be a vampire?”

you’ve practically told him what you wanted, and he still has that red cloudy look of jealousy with somewhat of a frown on his face and his overgrown bangs shading his eyes. if he wasn’t upset, you’d tell him how cute he looks right now. how dumb he is, is also what you’d tell him. then again you weren’t exactly being straightforward.

with your question slipping in one ear and out the other, he just tunes you out. yeah it’s pathetic he feels so strongly about something so meaningless, could he help it though? he was insane about you.

your eyes darken as you grab the remote, and thank goodness you turned it off. sunghoon finds you sliding on of your legs over his thighs as you take a seat. you gaze into his eyes, he looks annoyed. he’s suppressing the urge to just fuck the stupid crush you had on that twilight vampire out of you. it makes you laugh at how blind he is. nevermind, you probably had to spell it out for him.

“you can do that. you can bite me here, and here-“

you drag your two fingers indicating where he could, and his breath hitches. it’s like all his senses are tingly, and piercing. his ears are ringing, with the rush of adrenaline and the newfound excitement he had. just hearing you describe what you wanted him to do.

you saw his jaw hang slack, as you merely told him what you wanted. tracing your fingers down your abdomen and to your thighs, you tap on the fleshy inner part.

“you can bite here too.”

his hands grab your hips, he gets it now. he slides a hand up your shirt holding your chest. your mind drives him crazy. his touch sends shivers down your spine.

“here too?” he asks asks, so politely.

it makes you heat up, and become more wet than your imagination allowed. when you thought of him like the cold blooded undead he resembled so much, it made you infatuated with the idea of it. the idea of him. how could he not see it? when you drew comparisons that surely pointed towards his own features that you loved so much.

his pretty skin glows in the dim light of your living room unlike of that portrayed in the movie. he’s real, and right here.

“didn’t you ever think, perhaps..” you say it so sweetly as you feel his hand roam around your body.

before you can finish your sentence, your breath is cut short. your back is now against the cushions of the couch, and his arms trap you beneath him. sunghoon wonders how he got so lucky, to have someone like you to show him all the ways he can make you wet. your so sick and twisted, not for your little fantasy you wanted him to indulge in, but the fact you didn’t just tell him straight up. he ought to punish you.

he’ll let it slide though. partially because he feels his cock twitch restrained by his pants, and because he’s so willing to do what you ask of him. he knows this is the just the beginning, and honestly he’ll have fun woh it. so with his lips ghosting your neck, and his hot breath up against your ear he asks you a question.

“tell me what else you want me to do as your vampire. sweetheart”

copyright @vamph00n 2024

[dreaisgrayte]

NSFW ReHEARsal | Sanemi Shinazugawa

Word count: 774

A/n: a little thingy I just whipped together :) I don't think I've ever written for Sanemi baby all by himself, though now that I'm thinking about it I did have an idea I need to get back to for him BECAUSE LOOK AT HIS FACE!! LOOK. AT. IT. Mans could be into MLP rp and there I'd be, princess Celestia and everything... anyway 🩷 Love youuuuu

You could hear the steady melody of a piano piece as Sanemi dug his nails into the meaty flesh of your waist. “Fuck, how come you always feel so,” His eyes roll shut, a gruff moan gliding from his mouth. “Perfect.” He hisses out. You’d answer him if you had rational thought. His cock was rubbing against your entrance and the way it made your skin vibrate with hungry sensations could make someone faint and, only to think of him while unconscious. He wouldn't allow that to happen though, not right before you had to get your pretty self on stage.

It was cramped in the costume closet, but he managed to position you perfectly behind a few racks of clothes. You were frightened the stench of sex would permeate the pretty dresses forever when Sanemi dragged you back here. There was no going back now – not after he’d stripped you of your short skirt, the one you’d worn just to rile him up. It had worked, maybe a little too well considering the moment the student director had told you both to go run lines, you ended up here. Sanemi was going to run, run his tongue through your pussy.

His rough hand grabs onto your chin, guiding your face toward his. “Don’t drift off on me just yet sweetheart.” His lips tick upward in a smirk and a whimper escapes from your throat. “I want you to feel every last drop.” He hums, letting go of you with so much force your head snaps the other way. 

Sanemi pretended to be impenetrable, but if there was one thing you learned from working with him – it was that he was the most gentle person you’d ever met. His hand glides up the plush skin of your stomach, pausing to pinch at your already stiff nipples. “Always so willing for me,” He kisses your shoulder blade and you can feel the smugness of his words bouncing off your back. His hand gropes and travels up to the base of your throat. Two fingers apply pressure – the feeling is almost too much. Your nerves feel shot from the amount of teasing he’d put you through. He must sense how restless you are because his free hand dips down to your clit – using his thumb to rub lazy circles around it. A loud broken moan shoots from your lips and before you can flush at the volume his fingers squeeze harder on your throat. “S’posed to be quiet.” 

Your head falls back to his firm chest, a breathy whine vibrating out. He chuckles darkly, releasing your throat to move your head gently to the side. His mouth works against your beating pulse, sucking where there weren’t marks already from him. “Don’t want your little friends to find out that you’re fucking your co-lead, hmm?” He coos against your skin, but whatever kindness remained for your plea of secrecy was gone as he pushes two fingers into your begging pussy. “You love it when I touch you, don’t you sweetheart?” When you don’t reply he pushes in deeper, his fingers curling against your walls. Your arms shake with the force of trying not to make a sound. “So quiet now,” He hums, delighted you’ve given him the challenge. 

Your head radiates with a dull throb as you bite down on your bottom lip. “There’s a reason the director gave you the lead role, why don’t you show everyone your beautiful vocals, pretty girl?” His fingers are pumping in and out – a rushing feeling stemming from your heart. His cock wasn’t even inside of you yet, but you were already a mess underneath his touch. 

He’s smirking against your neck, obviously happy with himself for rendering you a useless bundle of limbs. “S-Sanemi,” You whine. “I can’t – hngh – take it,” A sputtering moan interrupts your speech as the tips of his fingers brush against an all too familiar spot for him. 

His lips twist into a huge grin as his lilac eyes gleam. “Found it.” He whispers. Someone was bound to hear you – after all whines and moans were careening from your mouth as you let Sanemi support you with his own body. Your knees felt weak, they were surely going to buckle from the pleasure coursing through your system. “You were sayin’ somethin’ darling?” He purrs. “Too shy to put on a show?” He chuckles, pulling his fingers from your sloppy cunt – bringing them to your lips. With unsaid command your mouth parts, allowing him to run the taste of your arousal over your tongue. “No, that doesn’t sound like you.” He smirks as you suck his fingers greedily into your mouth. “You love the spotlight and I will always shine it on you.”

Of course, if you’d heard him you might’ve thought there was more to this show-mance, but his words were covered up by the hum in your brain. You were ready to let him fuck you against the wall, but the alarm on his phone signals it's time to go back to rehearsal. 

[minminyoonjii]

Hiii I have a request for a smut, something like ot8 X f!reader ,like Chan is her boyfriend and he wants to show his friends how good can his girlfriend be

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines 💙Series Masterlist

🕯Summary: You always found your boyfriend's members charming but it didn't occur in your mind that said boyfriend would have other plans to do with your body.

💛AN

This will be a mini-series 💛💛

🌹CW

Oral Sex|Sloppy Blowjob|Noona Used Once|Multiple Orgasms|Oral Fixation|Imaginary! Stray Kids|Praise Kink|Wet & Messy|Grinding|Frottage|Slow to Rough Sex|Pervy! Reader|Fingering|Cum Swallowing|Aftercare

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 1.5K

You cracked the joints in your sore neck, rubbing the base. "Welcome home, princess," Chan hummed, turning his head towards the door while his thighs stayed comfortably spread. You grumbled, setting your work bag aside before unceremoniously plopping yourself on his lap. Chan chuckled, "Rough day, hm?" he asked, holding you close, chin hooked over your head. 

"The worst," you mumbled, shifting to bury your face into the crook of his neck. "Aww, sweet girl. At least, you're back in my arms, yeah?" he teased, flexing his biceps slightly. You nodded, taking a deep breath, "Yeah," you responded, feeling the stress slowly lift off your shoulders. A smile made its way on Chan's lips, "That's good, princess," he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

"What were you up to?" you asked, noticing his laptop resting on the coffee table. Blood rushed up Chan's ears, "Research," he blurted out, pursing his lips. You raised an eyebrow, "Oh, yeah? On what?" you smirked, amused by his out-of-pocket answer. Chan hummed, lips mimicking your smirk, "Why don't you guess, angel?" he grinned, playing with the building tension.

You moved your head off his shoulder, "If I'm judging by that stupid ass look you have on your face. I place my bets on something frisky," you said, blunting, knowing your lover like the back of your palm. He gasped, a smirk growing wider, "I would never," he said, unable to hold back the stray chuckles that rumbled from his chest. 

You licked your lips, placing a soft peck on his plump lips, "Ahm. Did I guess right, Bang?" you asked, tucking his hair behind his ear. Chan sighed dramatically, "Unfortunately," he said, smug evident in his features. You rolled your eyes, scoffing lightly, "Thought so. What did you have in mind? Knives, Shibari, Watersports. Oh! A Mafia Rp?" you listed, tapping your fingers as you did. 

Chan laughed at your enthusiasm, "You're painting a beautiful picture, princess but it's nothing like that," he said, stroking your hair. Your shoulders slumped low, disappointment written all over your expression, "Damn," you said, sighing. Giggles escaped Chan's throat, "What made you think of a Mafia Rp?" he asked, curious as to how you came to that thought.

You swiped your lips, gesturing a zip, "That's another story for another day," you said, playing coy. Chan nodded, "Fine, keep your secrets, missy. To get back on topic, what I had in mind requires more of your consent than usual," he explained, kissing the top of your hands. "How so?" you whispered, tilting your head.

He straightened his back, trailing his up your plush thighs, "Do you know how stunning you are, princess? Normally, I would love to keep this sigh exclusively to myself," he praised, gripping a handful of your flesh. You bit your bottom lip, "Of course, 'Mister Stay Away from My Girl," you teased, pressing your thighs together.

Chan gruffed, "Didn't have to call me out like that, princess. But, yes. The things I would do to keep you out of sight from everyone, is more than toxic," he said, slipping his hand under your jaw. You gulped, "That's hot," you breathed out, making him chuckle. "If you think that's hot, princess. 

What about the idea of me showing you off, hm? Don't you want everyone to know how much of a good girl you are for me?" he whispered, leaning next to your ear, nipping the outer rim. A raw shudder, ran down your spine, "Fuck," you whimpered, pupils blown from the thought. Chan smiled, pressing his tongue against his inner cheek, "Such a dirty little girl," he rasped, stroking your cheek.

You parted your lips, biting on the tip of his thumb, "Yours," you preened, licking right after. "Mine," he growled, feeling your soft hands trail down his Adam's apple as it bobbed. "Who did you have in mind for this?" you asked, lifting yourself to straddle his thigh properly. Chan held your wrists, lazily bouncing his leg, "The boys, all seven of them," he said, eyeing the way your breath hitched. 

A breathy moan parted from your lips, "I thought they were off limits?" you questioned, whining at the vibrations from Chan's leg. "It was a precaution so that anyone we dated wouldn't hook up with the rest like a groupie," he grunted, feeling his cock swell up from beneath his shorts. "S-smart," you slurred, spreading your legs further, pressing your aching clit against the slick fabric of his shorts. 

Chan hummed, placing his palm on your clothed cunt, "You're sopping, princess," he groaned, teasing his fingers on the material. "Your friends are hot, Daddy," you babbled, rutting your hips from the melting arousal. Chan moaned, "Is that right, princess? Bet you're thinking about Changbin's swollen biceps or perhaps Hyunjin's thick long fingers curling further than you ever could," he rasped, cock throbbing hot from your reaction alone. 

A broken sob spilt down your cheeks, embarrassment burning under your skin, "Both. All. Everything, Daddy," you babbled, riding Chan's fingers that made their way past your panties. "Shh, shh, princess. Close your eyes and imagine them playing with your soft, gorgeous cunt, yeah?" he whispered, circling your aching clit.

"Please, please, please," you keened, head filled with fantasies of the boys having their way with you. Jisung's rough warm tongue, traced the folds of your pussy, lips wrapping perfectly around your lip. The thought itself made your skin burn hot. "That's a good girl, just give in," he encouraged, stretching his fingers apart. 

Changbin's thick hands gripping your thighs wide, making you unable to hide your pulsating cunt. Moans and whimpers dripped like honey, heavy and supple on your tongue. Minho's half-lidded eyes as he stared down at you before thrusting his long curved cock down your throat. Chan groaned, lust coursing through his nerves as you sucked his fingers sloppily. Your tummy swirled, heat pooling in your lower back. Felix's soft lips wrapped tight around your nipple, his other hand groping and twisting to his heart's content. The eye contact the boys make with you is ingrained in your mind like a photographic memory. Chan spiked his voice, impersonating Jeongin's voice, "Cum for me, noona," he moaned, licking down your neck. 

You felt yourself lose composure, gripping Chan's wrist harshly as you rode, "Ah, ah, fuck!" you squeaked,  arching your back as your orgasm broke. Chan growled, clenching his jaw, trying his hardest not to lose his mind at the sheer grip of your walls spasm and contracting around his fingers. Mewls escaped your lips. 

He cooed gravelly, "Good princess, take your time," Chan rasped, throwing his head back as his chest rose and fell. You blinked away the fog, "That was hotter than I thought," you slurred, hearing your heart pound within your ears. Chan chuckled, "Now imagine them playing with you," he teased, stretching his numb wrist. "I don't think I'll survive," you mumbled, sinking to your knees. 

Chan gulped, watching your hands brush against his v-line before briefly rubbing his dripping cockhead through his shorts. "Was I that attractive, Daddy?" you preened, pulling down his waistband. Chan hissed at the chill air, "More than attractive, princess," he grunted, man spreading his thighs for your pretty self to get comfortable. 

"So hard," you sighed, wrapping both of your hands around his length. Shockwaves sparked at the touch, "Holy fuck," he groaned, abs tensing with each full stroke you gave. You whimpered, tapping his precum throbbing cockhead on the tip of your tongue, kitten licking the musk of your lover. 

Chan growled low, grabbing a fistful of your hair, "Open, princess. Daddy let you have your fun long enough, obey before I accidentally use your throat like a sleeve," he threatened, forcing your head down his cock. Your throat tensed, eyes watering from the initial breach. Chan gritted his teeth, making eye contact with your ruined expression "Stroke what you can't take, princess," he groaned, easing his cock as far down your body could physically take. 

Loud squelch and chokes echoed within the room. You swirl your tongue, closing your eyes tight. Chan groaned, bliss at the wet heat of your mouth engulfing his cock. Saliva dripped down your chin, hitting your thigh below. You weakly played with his balls, head blank from the sheer girth of his cock spread your lips apart. 

Chan's hips jerked, getting close to his high, "Take it, princess. Mine. My good girl," he growled, letting out a shaking breath. You moaned around his length, relaxing your throat until an audible pop of his cockhead breaching your throat could be heard. "Fuck, fuck," Chan grunted, his eyebrows furrowed hard, hair matted against his forehead. 

With one last thrust, cum painted the sides of your throat. Chan felt his vision blur from the intensity of his orgasm, broken groans fell from his lips. You hummed, milking as much as you could before pulling off to cough. Heavy panting came from the both of you, Chan sank next to you, pulling him onto his lap. 

You nuzzled his heated-up skin, "Fuck, we're freaks," you rasped, throat sore and abused from Chan's ministrations. Chan laughed, pampering kisses all over your face, "And I wouldn't want to have it any other way, princess," he said, rocking your spent bodies, savouring the moment. 

[saphirafoxgirlspost1]

(Open Rp) Valentines day story in" The isle of Mermen"

(Warning, this contains NSFW, Muscle growth, transformation, Ect. If your a Minor please don't reply to this..Viewer disgression is advised)

It all Started In the small Town of Middleton and Saphira Threw Her Horrible, babykilling, Gold-digging Ex-boyfriend and her treacherous Ex bestfriend Out of her home..She was in tears of hatred and In pain and Then Ron said,

Ron: "Saph, Please I'm Sorry! Its just a Fling..Its just a mistake!"

Saph:" a Mistake!! After almost 7 years, And you call this a "Mistake" I don't thinks so, That "Mistake" is a choice and you Chose to cheat on me with my bestfriend. I Have never Felt so betrayed before In my entire Life…My own bestfriend…My own boyfriend..never in the million years…never!… What would my Daughter Serena would think…if she's alive right now, Seeing her own Father Betraying Her own mother with her own Godmother herself? She will be heartbroken just like I am. Turns to kim and you!..Messing with a Womans Man…Is Off limits..Period.. You betray me and my daughter…To both of ya… This is the last time..that i've been hurt for so long…I will see you two in court…"

And that, after graduations as saphira sued Ron and Kim for emotional distress..and charge for murder…after saphira won the case..she heard that Ron and Kim was sent away from Sweden after being Force to marry eachother after paying saphira Compensation as well.

2 years later, Saphira Decided to the cruise just to Forget Ronald stoppable For good, During the time when saphira began to Sing beautifully with her Siren voice…as the Ocean was echoing by her beautiful voice..and suddenly..after her singing, something Big was moving the ship back and forth..and then..she went outside and saw the Giant fin…was heading towards the ship…after it slice the ship in half as it began to sink..and saphira fell into the waters..as she passed out..but someone saved her Life and takes her to the Mysterious Island…Then..She woke up and Discovered that she's in the Lovely Lodge Hut..She comes out to the porch and saw a lovely View, She doesn't know How Did she got here and all. Then She began to Look around until she sees the lagoon and a lovely water fall..she sense something underwater..She had a weird feeling about it until She sees The Cave..She Comes in and saw the crystals began to glow like a star when her Birthmark on her right arm began to glow blue brightly and then began to walk throught the tunnel..and there..the Lair of the mermen was shown..it was nothing but beautiful Crystals and gems everywhere beyond her wildest dream..until..something big notice her as she hears someone said..

[clus444]

John Price vs H.O.A? More like H.O.E

The first part is the same as the snippet, and there will be an indication (RP) that the repeat part is done, but I recommend reading all of it. fair warning this is long to me.

Warning: Mature content, Despcritive words,

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John Price is a lot of things.

He is a captain of the 141. He's the man that people rely on to get home. Especially three men in particular. He has to be four steps ahead while you're at one. Not only are lives in his hands, blood, that cakes on his skin for however long it takes for them to evacuate. Every move he makes is calculated, not only for himself but for his team.

He is a friend when his boy's pride is too high to go to anyone else for help. They need someone to talk to but how can they when the aftermath of a mission is too much. He's the tough love, words of encouragement, or hell even drinks, whatever it takes to help them get up the next day. In some cases fight.

He is a husband to Y/n Price. He is her protector even when he's away. Call it obsessive but he'll be damned before his woman is left astray. But to focus more so on when he's home...Since the beginning of their relationship, he finds it easier to sleep with her around.

Whether he wraps her up in his arms to pass his warmth to her, as he knows his wife gets cold, or when she wraps him up when the world is too loud. Those were the days when the ringing was non-stop and he couldn't bear to get up. Though those were rare she still forced him to cut back on smoking.

He always thanks her when his body's personal alarm clock wakes him up before her. Like clockwork, John gets up at the ass crack of dawn. He takes that time to get important business matters out the way. But when the sun rises a light blue starts taking over as a sign for the rest of the world to wake up.

He slides the covers off you and pauses his movements as you shiver from the cold. He notices your nipples tense as a reaction as well. He licks his lips like a hungry beast looking at his prey. He takes the straps of your silk nightgown and slides them down to reveal your breasts. He leans down and lightly pecks both nipples. Soft whimpers come out of her mouth.

John pushes his tongue out and he circles his tongue around the pebble. He takes his left hand and circles his pointer finger around her other pebble before, lightly squeezing. He pushes himself away and makes his way down to her wet cavern. He slides the dress completely off and my god was it slow. His patience is on a thin line with it.

He opens her legs and takes a whiff. It sends tingles from his head down to his dick. He rolls his tongue out to let spit that piled up roll off his tongue and dribble down to her folds. Not a moment later he goes in for the kill. He laps at your clit like no tomorrow and you jolt awake," F-Fuck!"

Let's come back to the main point of this.

John Price is a lot of things, but someone's bitch?

I think the fuck not.

(RP)

Imagine this... John is pulling up in his drive-through after a tiring day of training recruits. It seems this batch of 'em are as hard-headed as they come. Between sticking their nose and sometimes dick in things they shouldn't (Quite literally), and trying to find loopholes in any and everything.

He sighs as he turns off the car and leans back in his seat. He closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face. Soft lines on his face show the hard work and dedication he's put forth to his job. At the very least his job has granted him a week off.

He's gonna use that time to bury himself into forgotten hobbies and maybe his sweet juicy wife if she's feeling up to it. He grunts and hauls himself out of his truck. John landed on his feet with a soft thud. As he's walking up his pavement to his door he sees a white paper taped to it. He takes a second to survey his surroundings, trying to find anything suspicious. He runs through different scenarios in his head.

He sure as shit pays his bills on time so his pretty wife can have a roof over her head. All loose ends were tied and cut off from his previous mission but god help anyone that tries to reattach. He walks closer to his door, inspecting it cautiously. Call him paranoid but when you make as many enemies as him, he's sure they wouldn't go above lacing the paper.

Red lettering that read ' H.O.A' catches his attention. He grasps the paper, slightly crumbling it as he opens it.

H.O.A of Shefield.

8/6/24 Type of complaint: Written Warning/ fined

We regret to inform you that we will be charging you for 3 violations that you or someone in your household have been found guilty of.

$100- Not using the H.O.A garbage disposal that we kindly provide.

$75- Excessive amount of cars in the driveway/Lots of guest.

$50- Grass is the embodiment of needs help.

Total: $225

Any questions or concerns please make a report and leave it at the committee office.

Now john wasn't a sensitive man. He didn't cry when watching the boy in the striped pajamas, hell! He doesn't even get mad when the protagonist does something stupid in a horror movie. But like stated before John is a protective man especially when it comes to his wife.

How was this person who wrote this supposed to know that, and that his wife cut the grass for him as a way to give him a break. When he found out, he nearly had a heart attack and spanked that attitude right out of her (All in good fun). It feels like his whole body has taken offense to this paper.

But honestly, 225 dollars is nothing to John. It was more of the fact that this H.O.A. person had the nerve to want to make his family their new victims. Johns heard talk of the power-tripping H.O.As that were newly elected in office. His wife even had a run-in with them and he had almost given them a piece of his mind then and there. But his oh-so-lovely wife always wanted to be the peacemaker. He knew that this bud should have been cut the first time.

But you know what they say... Happy wife, Happy life.

John grumbles as he heads inside and looks for his wifey. His footsteps are heavier than before as he finally spots her. "John? What wrong-," He walks closer to her and picks her up to take her to the bedroom. When she lands she uses her elbows to hold herself up. She sees the wild look that takes over his features. She bites her lip.

He grabs the end of his shirt and yanks it off before quickly disposing of his pants, leaving him in his boxers. "That oll of this off," He gives her a hard look as he yanks her down by her legs. She takes care of her clothes as fast as she can but I guess she was too slow because in the end, he ends up tearing her panties off.

He palms himself as he looks over her bare body. Her soft, plushy thighs stay raised and open. " John-" he slaps the fat of her cheek and she shrieks.

"Did I say speak," He questions leaning down and she quickly shakes her head no. He raises a brow as if daring her to defy. He'd be lying if he said he hoped so but knew his good girl wouldn't. John runs his pointer finger through her folds. Feeling her slick on his finger as he plays with her a little, she lets out a moan. " I see you did as I asked," He starts fingering her with two fingers," Stretched yourself out for me, huh?" Her muscles tense as she responds, "Y-yes Captain."

He stops and brings his fingers to his mouth and cleans them. Her mouth parts as she watches him, she puts her hand over her breasts and squeezes. Her nipples tingle and she pinches them to keep the feeling going. He slides his boxers down and pumps his cock. Spreading the precum to slicken him up, she feels her hole clench as she watches him.

Her walls moisten up more to prepare for the beating she knows her pussy is about to take. She can already feel the delicious and painful stretch which causes her to get more excited. He takes his tip and moves it against her clit a few times before pushing in. She feels the air gets punched out of her as John tries to pushes his way through. He grunts at the feel of her gripping him like a vice. " Let... Me... In"His words match his long and deep strokes as he tries to fit more.

It sometimes amazes her that even with all the natural lube they both produce she still has a hard time taking it sometimes. With no patience to wait, John circles her clit with his thumb as he pounds at her pussy.

*pat pat pat pat*

The bed rocks from the strength of John's thrust. Y/n cries out as her back arches, her toes tightly curl and her nails dig into his back. "Captain," she moans as it feels like John's harsh thrust is digging for gold. He grunts and groans as he starts moving to hit the spongy spot that makes her see stars. "oo ooo oooo," her breath comes out in pants as she throws her head back.

"W- why are youuu... f-fucking me l-like thissss," y/n tries to get out as coherently as she can. John grins as he fills her tighten around him. A couple moans slip past here and there as his balls begin to tighten.

He puts her into a deeper mating press. Her hands are around the backs of her knees and her ankles land where her ears are. Their moans and grunts become tangled as one as he fucks her. " They have the audacity," He stops to thrust into her deeper," to make fun of my wife," He says it like he cant believe it even as the words come out.

He pulls out and quickly manhandles her onto her stomach. He pins her hips to the bed and grabs his cock to slide it back into her. Her moans sound like music to his ears. He lifts a leg onto the bed to fuck at a better angle. " Whoooo," she whines out as her hole clenches again. The pressure quickly built up in her lower abdomen.

" The fucking H.O.As! I'll show them the embodiment of needs help," He grunts as he takes them closer to the edge. His head leans back as he gets lost in her pussy.

" Fuck! Captain, Im comingggg, please, please," She begins begging. He speeds up and her hand goes to her clit to draw herself closer.

*pat pat pat pat pat*

Y/n cums first and the hand that was gripping John's back draws his blood. He lets out a couple more grunts before releasing and pushing all the way forward to plug his wife. They breathe heavily in unison and Y/n can swear that her body is floating. She starts fighting to close her eyes as a wave of fatigue washes over her. She holds tight onto John as he moves to start his aftercare," Stay please."

He nods and kisses her before laying on her chest and plotting against the H.O.As. He doesn't care how crazy it is. They think they can run people with their fines and threats that scare others. But he's seen true terror. Things that regular people would try to get him sent to the loony bin for. He's been up close and personal with the things children would call monsters and adults would call murderers.

To others, it may be fines and words on paper about his grass, the garbage disposal, and guess parking. But to him it's so much more. His wife rightfully chose another garbage company because they care about the environment and won't just dump it anywhere. His wife needs her friends because it can get quite lonely and who are they to isolate her! His wife, although warned to not do it again, tried her best to take care of his chores on the week that he failed to do so. Plus he'll be damned if he employed another man to take his job.

So yes, maybe it wasn't a big deal to others but John always hated those who abused their power. He had no problem telling people to fuck off and mind theirs.

So if I had to add to the list of things john is and ask his wife to weigh in.

It would be that John fucking price is crazy.

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How good did I just cook right now?

anywayssss hope you enjoy!!! I honestly couldn;t stop thinking about writing this i had so much fun.

Requests are now open!

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