#Touch Screen Laptop Price

[deepakshukala65]

Best Touch Screen Laptop: Acer Aspire 3 Spin 14

The touchscreen laptop has revolutionized the way we interact with technology-a must have for the multitasker, creator, and professional. Among the many, Acer Aspire 3 Spin 14 is the versatile, powerful, and affordable touchscreen laptop that should top your radar today. Let's get into more of the exciting features of this laptop.

Why Choose a Touchscreen Laptop?

Best Touch Screen Laptop are not just a style statement-they have much more in store for one:

Productivity: will be enhanced-be swift to navigate, zoom and annotate.

Variety: It can switch back and forth between typing, swiping, and drawing.

Creativity Unleashed Perfect for artists, students, and designers with stylus support.

Convenience: Switch through the tablet for presentations, video streaming, or note taking.

Acer Aspire 3 Spin 14: Your Perfect Touchscreen Companion

The Aspire 3 Spin 14 is lightweight and portable, it only weighs 1.54 KG; the weight was so light that it becomes very portable and ideally suited for always-moving users, while its Pure Silver finish gives it sophistication.

14" WUXGA IPS Multi-Touch Display: Crisp display with 1920 x 1200 resolution Acer ComfyView Technology: Glare-free for hours.

16:10 Aspect Ratio. Wider the screen, wider is the productivity. Stylus Support. AES pen solutions provide anti-resistance drawing and effective inputs.

This line of product guarantees to you a seamless fusion of work and play with constant multitasking capabilities as well. The Aspire 3 Spin 14 will serve well for any or all needs of document editing or video streaming or presentation purposes with a smooth performance.

Memory: 8GB DDR4 RAM, multitask without a hitch

Storage: With a 512 GB PCIe Gen4 NVMe SSD, you can run programs as quick and fast as lightning with ample storage for everything you need.

Future-Ready Features

Windows 11 Home: Get the latest OS, plus all the multitasking and productivity functionality you need to take your work to the next level

Connectivity: With advanced ports and wireless technology, you will always be connected.

The Acer Aspire 3 Spin 14 is perfect for

Students: Take down notes, sketch ideas, and complete assignments with ease.

Professionals: Present with ease on the touchscreen and stylus support.

Creatives: It doesn't matter if you're the writer or an artist or a graphic designer, the multi-touch display and stylus opens up all your creativity.

Where to Buy

You can buy the Acer Aspire 3 Spin 14 directly from the Acer India Official Store. This one comes at a price of ₹51,999 and is a steal considering all that it offers.

[caterpillarinacave]

well this sucks

[yingreads]

i am in shambles .

— ☆ 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐋𝐘

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: when you fall ill, alhaitham takes care of you for the first time and you enjoy the gentle way he shows his love when he thinks you aren’t watching

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: alhaitham x gn!reader. sfw. fluff. sick reader (nothing serious). established relationship. i get a bit yappy about him, sorry! 1k wc. masterlist | byf/dni

this piece is a submission for a flufftober event by spookuna ♡

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

You lay on your side, feeling the warmth of Sumeru’s balmy sun kissing your skin as it cascaded through the windows. The faint ticking of a clock on the wall filled the quiet room while soft footsteps moved around you. 

Alhaitham. 

You could have sworn he told you he was going to leave once he readied your breakfast so you were surprised he was still here. He was careful as his feet shuffled on the floor, avoiding waking you, but his attempts at silence only made him more pronounced. 

The clink of a glass on your nightstand, the rustles of fabric that eventually dissolved to murmurs— these were the sounds you had become hyper-aware of in your pretend slumber. 

Truth is, you’d been awake for the last half hour but your eyes remained closed out of curiosity about what he would be up to when he thought you weren’t looking.

Your body felt heavy, and not just from the illness that plagued you, but from the weight of blankets he had tucked you in earlier. His attention was soothing, yet as he hovered around you, you sensed a bit of uncertainty in his movements that you found quite endearing.

Alhaitham was not one for overt displays of affection but this unspoken care was so entirely him. 

The bed dipped as he sat down and you heard a sigh escape him. It was foreign in its gentleness and spilled out of him like there was much on his mind. 

Was he… watching you? 

You were tempted to open your eyes and catch him in the act, but something told you to wait. For a moment, nothing happened until the sheets beneath you shifted.

Then, you felt it— a barely-there touch to your forehead. His fingers felt familiar and comforting while he checked your temperature, the pad of his thumb tracing light circles that made your heart ache in the sweetest way. How did it feel, you wondered, to be so utterly indifferent to the world and then to finally let his guard down around you?

It wasn’t long before you found your answer.

“You should take better care of yourself,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a hint of frustration in his tone but underneath it was also something softer, more protective. “It’s unsettling seeing you this way.”

You pictured what his expression would be— furrowed brows and narrowing eyes while he tries to make sense of the emotions he’s not used to always showing. But if he knew you were awake, you’d tell him that he didn’t need to hide.

The gentle touch on your forehead moved to your cheeks, then traced the outline of your jaw, deliberately highlighting all the little features he had grown to love over the many months. 

“It’s quieter without you,” he said, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Alhaitham knew it was a bit absurd to be talking to himself but without your voice there was nothing to fill the silence. There was a faint chuckle in his words— he was beginning to understand what you meant when you told him ‘everyone is foolish when they are in love’.

You heard him shift again, and then you felt something against your lips— a light, fleeting kiss so delicate you almost thought you imagined it. But the ghost of his touch lingerered and it took almost everything in you to not break the illusion of sleep. 

He held you as if you were something precious and fragile to him but, to your dismay, he pulled away just as quickly as he had leaned in, and his immediate absence left you internally pouting.

The bed suddenly felt lighter and soon the realisation of him retreating toward the door started creeping in. But just before he stepped out, he paused.

Unbeknownst to you, he cast a sideways glance in your direction, wondering how much longer he would have to wait before you stirred. Or how much longer he had to keep talking to himself despite your telltale flinches while he caressed you.

You weren’t as sneaky as you thought so, yes, he noticed.

“It would be a shame if you remained asleep so might I tempt to wake you up and spend time with me in another way?” He called from where he was standing.

Even in your poorly state, you broke into a smile and finally let your eyes flutter open. Without hesitation and with a little triumph in his stride, Alhaitham returned to your bed, resting his hand on the blanket cocoon he had left you in. 

Before he met you, Alhaitham believed that his simple life was full and complete. Then you came along and made him realise what he had been missing all that time. You have done a lot for him but more than that, you’ve undone a lot for him, like allowing him to let go of his rigid control and embrace vulnerability.

The man who once had given you no more than a small and polite ‘Hello’ when you were acquaintances was now tending to you with such warmth that you didn’t need to hear words to feel the depths of his care— it radiated from every quiet gesture. 

Sometimes you forget that people don’t see Alhaitham the same way you do. He is stubborn, unpredictable and speaks abstrusely but to you, he is a source of unwavering support. Always in the background with a stoic but reliable presence— like a testament for the patience you’ve nurtured him with.

However, at the end of the day, you cannot describe what is indescribable and you cannot explain what there is to love about him unless you love him yourself.

“You know,” you began as your fingers slipped into his hair, “You shouldn’t have kissed me. You’ll only end up getting sick.”

“I’ll survive,” he replied with a slight shrug, dipping his head towards your lips again, “It’s a small price I’ll pay.”

And in that moment you understood that this was his way of saying he loved and missed you. Not in grand declarations but in the way he stayed, the way he cared, and the way he was always there, silently holding your world together.

a/n: i kept getting distracted while writing this because i love him so much he makes me sick.

© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform.

affiliations: @houseofsolisoccasum & @nereidsrealm

divider by @/attxnt

[ms-demeanor]

So You Need To Buy A Computer But You Don't Know What Specs Are Good These Days

Hi.

This is literally my job.

Lots of people are buying computers for school right now or are replacing computers as their five-year-old college laptop craps out so here's the standard specs you should be looking for in a (windows) computer purchase in August 2023.

PROCESSOR

Intel i5 (no older than 10th Gen)

Ryzen 7

You can get away with a Ryzen 5 but an intel i3 should be an absolute last resort. You want at least an intel i5 or a Ryzen 7 processor. The current generation of intel processors is 13, but anything 10 or newer is perfectly fine. DO NOT get a higher performance line with an older generation; a 13th gen i5 is better than an 8th gen i7. (Unfortunately I don't know enough about ryzens to tell you which generation is the earliest you should get, but staying within 3 generations is a good rule of thumb)

RAM

8GB absolute minimum

If you don't have at least 8GB RAM on a modern computer it's going to be very, very slow. Ideally you want a computer with at least 16GB, and it's a good idea to get a computer that will let you add or swap RAM down the line (nearly all desktops will let you do this, for laptops you need to check the specs for Memory and see how many slots there are and how many slots are available; laptops with soldered RAM cannot have the memory upgraded - this is common in very slim laptops)

STORAGE

256GB SSD

Computers mostly come with SSDs these days; SSDs are faster than HDDs but typically have lower storage for the same price. That being said: SSDs are coming down in price and if you're installing your own drive you can easily upgrade the size for a low cost. Unfortunately that doesn't do anything for you for the initial purchase.

A lot of cheaper laptops will have a 128GB SSD and, because a lot of stuff is stored in the cloud these days, that can be functional. I still recommend getting a bit more storage than that because it's nice if you can store your music and documents and photos on your device instead of on the cloud. You want to be able to access your files even if you don't have internet access.

But don't get a computer with a big HDD instead of getting a computer with a small SSD. The difference in speed is noticeable.

SCREEN (laptop specific)

Personally I find that touchscreens have a negative impact on battery life and are easier to fuck up than standard screens. They are also harder to replace if they get broken. I do not recommend getting a touch screen unless you absolutely have to.

A lot of college students especially tend to look for the biggest laptop screen possible; don't do that. It's a pain in the ass to carry a 17" laptop around campus and with the way that everything is so thin these days it's easier to damage a 17" screen than a 14" screen.

On the other end of that: laptops with 13" screens tend to be very slim devices that are glued shut and impossible to work on or upgrade.

Your best bet (for both functionality and price) is either a 14" or a 15.6" screen. If you absolutely positively need to have a 10-key keyboard on your laptop, get the 15.6". If you need something portable more than you need 10-key, get a 14"

FORM FACTOR (desktop specific)

If you purchase an all-in-one desktop computer I will begin manifesting in your house physically. All-in-ones take away every advantage desktops have in terms of upgradeability and maintenance; they are expensive and difficult to repair and usually not worth the cost of disassembling to upgrade.

There are about four standard sizes of desktop PC: All-in-One (the size of a monitor with no other footprint), Tower (Big! probably at least two feet long in two directions), Small Form Factor Tower (Very moderate - about the size of a large shoebox), and Mini/Micro/Tiny (Small! about the size of a small hardcover book).

If you are concerned about space you are much better off getting a MicroPC and a bracket to put it on your monitor than you are getting an all-in-one. This will be about a million percent easier to work on than an all-in-one and this way if your monitor dies your computer is still functional.

Small form factor towers and towers are the easiest to work on and upgrade; if you need a burly graphics card you need to get a full size tower, but for everything else a small form factor tower will be fine. Most of our business sales are SFF towers and MicroPCs, the only time we get something larger is if we have to put a $700 graphics card in it. SFF towers will accept small graphics cards and can handle upgrades to the power supply; MicroPCs can only have the RAM and SSD upgraded and don't have room for any other components or their own internal power supply.

WARRANTY

Most desktops come with either a 1 or 3 year warranty; either of these is fine and if you want to upgrade a 1 year to a 3 year that is also fine. I've generally found that if something is going to do a warranty failure on desktop it's going to do it the first year, so you don't get a hell of a lot of added mileage out of an extended warranty but it doesn't hurt and sometimes pays off to do a 3-year.

Laptops are a different story. Laptops mostly come with a 1-year warranty and what I recommend everyone does for every laptop that will allow it is to upgrade that to the longest warranty you can get with added drop/damage protection. The most common question our customers have about laptops is if we can replace a screen and the answer is usually "yes, but it's going to be expensive." If you're purchasing a low-end laptop, the parts and labor for replacing a screen can easily cost more than half the price of a new laptop. HOWEVER, the way that most screens get broken is by getting dropped. So if you have a warranty with drop protection, you just send that sucker back to the factory and they fix it for you.

So, if it is at all possible, check if the manufacturer of a laptop you're looking at has a warranty option with drop protection. Then, within 30 days (though ideally on the first day you get it) of owning your laptop, go to the manufacturer site, register your serial number, and upgrade the warranty. If you can't afford a 3-year upgrade at once set a reminder for yourself to annually renew. But get that drop protection, especially if you are a college student or if you've got kids.

And never, ever put pens or pencils on your laptop keyboard. I've seen people ruin thousand dollar, brand-new laptops that they can't afford to fix because they closed the screen on a ten cent pencil. Keep liquids away from them too.

LIFESPAN

There's a reasonable chance that any computer you buy today will still be able to turn on and run a program or two in ten years. That does not mean that it is "functional."

At my office we estimate that the functional lifespan of desktops is 5-7 years and the functional lifespan of laptops is 3-5 years. Laptops get more wear and tear than desktops and desktops are easier to upgrade to keep them running. At 5 years for desktops and 3 years for laptops you should look at upgrading the RAM in the device and possibly consider replacing the SSD with a new (possibly larger) model, because SSDs and HDDs don't last forever.

COST

This means that you should think of your computers as an annual investment rather than as a one-time purchase. It is more worthwhile to pay $700 for a laptop that will work well for five years than it is to pay $300 for a laptop that will be outdated and slow in one year (which is what will happen if you get an 8th gen i3 with 8GB RAM). If you are going to get a $300 laptop try to get specs as close as possible to the minimums I've laid out here.

If you have to compromise on these specs, the one that is least fixable is the processor. If you get a laptop with an i3 processor you aren't going to be able to upgrade it even if you can add more RAM or a bigger SSD. If you have to get lower specs in order to afford the device put your money into the processor and make sure that the computer has available slots for upgrade and that neither the RAM nor the SSD is soldered to the motherboard. (one easy way to check this is to search "[computer model] RAM upgrade" on youtube and see if anyone has made a video showing what the inside of the laptop looks like and how much effort it takes to replace parts)

Computers are expensive right now. This is frustrating, because historically consumer computer prices have been on a downward trend but since 2020 that trend has been all over the place. Desktop computers are quite expensive at the moment (August 2023) and decent laptops are extremely variably priced.

If you are looking for a decent, upgradeable laptop that will last you a few years, here are a couple of options that you can purchase in August 2023 that have good prices for their specs:

14" Lenovo - $670 - 11th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, and 512GB SSD

15.6" HP - $540 - 11th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, and 256GB SSD

14" Dell - $710 - 12th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, and 256GB SSD

If you are looking for a decent, affordable desktop that will last you a few years, here are a couple of options that you can purchase in August 2023 that have good prices for their specs:

SFF HP - $620 - 10th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, 1TB SSD

SFF Lenovo - $560 - Ryzen 7 5000 series, 16GB RAM, 512GB SSD

Dell Tower - $800 - 10th-gen i7, 16GB RAM, 512GB SSD

If I were going to buy any of these I'd probably get the HP laptop or the Dell Tower. The HP Laptop is actually a really good price for what it is.

Anyway happy computering.

[evansbby]

you get a request from a mysterious viewer for a private chat…

❃▹or ❃▹

sugar daddy ari meets cute camgirl!reader and she doesn’t know how to act around him.

{18+, dd/lg overtones, daddy kink,minors dni}

A. Levinson has requested a private chat.

The message pops up on your screen the moment you’re about to shut your laptop and call it a night. It’s already past midnight and you’ve just ended a particularly wild livestream. Tonight, you’d done the whole innocent girl act that your subscribers loved so much. You’d asked them to suggest on the live chat all the different ways you could touch yourself. As expected, it had gone over a treat, and you’d done your highest numbers yet thanks to your loving fans.

Speaking of which, your laptop beeps again with another notification:

A. Levinson donated $500.

You recognise the name immediately. Of course, you have no clue what he looks like or who he is. But he’s a new regular on your livestreams. Thousands of people watch you but you recognise the names of those who donate frequently. A. Levinson is one of those people – and his donations are hefty, too. Oh, should you accept? You didn’t really do private chats…

The buzz of another notification snaps you out of your thoughts. Another five hundred dollars. And this time, there’s a message attached.

A. Levinson: I really enjoyed your show tonight. Could I possibly take up your time for just a little bit longer? You can name your price.

Well… he didn’t sound creepy. He was most likely an older gentleman, probably lonely with a bunch of wealth and nobody to spend it on – aka, your favourite type of customer. You hover over his name quickly – no profile picture, forty-two years old (practically double your age!), new profile. Yep, it all checked out. You’d been planning on calling it an early night tonight but perhaps you could stretch it out a little longer and give this lonely old soul a bit of an extra show… For the extra cash, of course.

You fix your hair and adjust the lingerie you’ve still got on. You hadn’t stripped nude on tonight’s livestream, and most of your viewers had been too enraptured watching you make yourself cum over and over again to really even notice. Plus, you always chose the best lingerie to wear for your cam-shows. Tonight, you had on a pretty lacy set in the softest, cutest shade of baby pink, with creamy white ribbons and detailing completing the look along with your signature pink pumps. This A. Levinson guy would be in for a treat and a half. You quickly accept his request for a private chat, easily slipping back into the character you play in your shows.

“Hello there,” you feign shyness and smile into the camera how you always do. “What’s your name?”

“Ari,” the stranger responds, his voice sounding like liquid chocolate pouring straight out of your laptop. Damn. He didn’t have his camera on but that was unsurprising – most of your fans were very shy. “I have to admit, I didn’t know if you’d accept my private chat request.”

“Well, how could I not?” You adjust the straps of your bra slowly, “I love my fans, you know.”

He chuckles, “And they sure do love you.” A pause. “You looked breathtaking tonight.”

You’re used to compliments from your fans. Comments ranging from: “you’re gorgeous” to fuck ur so hot xx” to “I wish my girlfriend looked like you” to “you made me cum so hard in my pants baby.” But the way this Ari guy says it… the way he says the word “breathtaking” – all soft, and slow and melodious and confident. Instantly, your heart thrums, leaving you feeling a tad embarrassed.

“Oh… why thank you! That’s super sweet of you to say.” You recover quickly, slipping back into your “innocent girl” character as you smile softly and avert your gaze and do that thing where you rub your arm and pretend to be all shy. It goes over great with all your other fans.

But this fan only chuckles, “You can call me Ari for now, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart?!?

You clear your throat, “Were you feeling lonely tonight, Ari?”

“You could say that. I try to tune in to your show whenever I have the time. You were beautiful tonight, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so sweet.” Oh, there was that liquid chocolate voice again – all velvety and smooth and deep! You vaguely wonder what he looks like…

“Thank you, Ari. What was your favourite part?”

And okay, so maybe you’re being a bit boring right now. Usually, on the rare occasion you did agree to a private chat, you’d be a lot more flirtatious. But this man’s voice was almost putting you in a trance, making you have to think your next words so you don’t stumble over them. Gosh, none of your other fans sounded like he did! All calm and self-assured, and…

“I really enjoyed the part when you were using your fingers. You had that lost look in your eye, as though you were on another planet. I thought it was really cute.”

You giggle, shuffling closer to your webcam so he has a good view of your cleavage. The ring-light behind your camera casts a flattering, bright hue over your body, accentuating the way your breasts spill out of your bra and bounce slightly as you move closer. You think you hear a rumble escape his throat, but you can’t be too sure. Either way, you lean into the camera, “You like it when I touch myself?”

“Honey, I don’t think there’s a man in this world who wouldn’t like that.”

Another spark flutters down your spine, and you wonder why his words are making you react like this. You’ve been on the receiving end of a bunch of different compliments from your fans day after day. So… why now? Why tonight? Why him? Why was it different now?

The buzz of your laptop knocks you out of your reverie.

A. Levinson donated $600.

“Do you think you could touch yourself for me again?” He asks, his voice all velvety smooth yet rugged at the same time. And it’s a request that he doesn’t even bother to veil as a question, and for some reason, you feel a jolt down there at his expectant tone. “I would really love to see that pretty look on your face again.”

You giggle nervously before remembering to put on your innocent girl act for the camera. “Touch myself? I dunno… It’s getting kind of late, sir.”

A. Levinson donated $800.

“I told you, please call me Ari for now.”

You don’t know whether you clench from the sheer amount of money he seems to be throwing at you as if it’s nothing, or the delicious hint of authority in his tone. None of your fans were like that – they all acted like you were very much the one on charge, the one with all the power, the one who could log out and end the chat and leave them hanging at any moment. Which you could – so then why was Ari acting like he was the one who held all the power?

And why did you not hate it at all?

Slowly, you slip your hand down your body, making sure to look demure and seductive in front of the camera.

“Play with your lingerie,” he commands, “Play with those cute little white ribbons.”

“Yeah, o-okay,” you breathe, inwardly wondering why the hell you’re not taking control of your own show like how you usually do. Why you’re so okay with letting him take the lead. Nevertheless, you twirl the ribbons of your panties around your fingers, stroking the satin softly as your core begins to pulse in need. But instead of going down to touch your pussy, you keep playing with your lingerie instead, imagining that your hands are not yours, but rather… someone else’s. Someone who’s rough, tough, masculine and rugged… And hell bent on teasing you.

“Use your other hand too,” Ari says, “Squeeze your pretty tits, baby girl. They look so pretty in that pink bra.”

“Th-Thank you, da–” You bite down on your tongue just in time, mortified that you almost let that word slip out. And you think you hear a smirk on the other end of the call, but you’re too preoccupied with listening to Ari to really pay any heed. With one hand still playing with your panties, you squeeze your breast with your other. Your nipple feels hard against your palm, and your eyes momentarily flutter shut as you knead your soft flesh at his orders.

“That’s so good, pretty girl. You look so pretty and cute like that.” Ari compliments. “In fact, your choice of lingerie is one of my favourite parts of your shows. You’re always wearing something cute and girly. It’s very charming, sweetheart.”

Oh, how was he being so calm right now? Usually, your fans got themselves worked up within the first few minutes of your private chats. It didn’t take much to get them to blow their loads and their money too, and the chat would be over in about five minutes. But right now? Right now, it seems you’re the one who’s getting worked up. Quickly, you clear your throat.

“Thanks. This set is one of my favourites.”

“Is that so? Well, you have to promise me you’ll buy yourself a few more sets as adorable as this one.” Ari responds, “Cute and pink and pretty, just like a princess. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you agree, cringing at how dumb you sound. He seems unperturbed, however, and you soon grow preoccupied with touching yourself again. Squeezing your other breast while you make direct eye contact with your camera.

“Good girl. Why don’t you touch your little pussy now? I’m sure she’s starting to feel a bit neglected.” He chuckles, and you marvel at how in control he sounds, how easily the words slip past his tongue. “After all, she’s the star of the show, isn’t she?”

“She is,” you agree softly, blinking at the camera, “She’s very wet.”

“Mm, I’m sure she is, baby girl. Push your panties aside and spread your legs so her daddy can take a look at her.”

You gasp when you hear him refer to himself as that, but he seems so damned unperturbed that you feel you have to act the same. Oh gosh, when had this all taken such a turn? Never before had you taken orders from a fan in a private chat, but it’s like he’s somehow programmed you to listen to him through that velvety voice of his.

You spread your legs like how you’d do on a regular livestream, angling the webcam to get the perfect shot. Your panties are soaked when you push them aside, and you bite your lip as you use two of your fingers to spread your folds. They glisten under the lighting, your wetness trailing down your thighs and staining the rug under you.

“Such a good girl,” Ari rewards you with a compliment. “Such a good little girl with a cute little baby pussy. You should be so proud, princess.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Now, do you want daddy to turn his camera on? And don’t worry, it’s alright if you’re too shy and you don’t want me to. You’re just a little girl after all, and I wouldn’t want to force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Your heart lurches. Ari? Turn his camera on? Oh, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t a bit curious to see what he looked like! To see the face that matched that insanely chocolatey voice… A nervous thrill ripples through you, but you try your hardest to remain cool.

“Y-Yes,” you manage to get out, hating how you stutter. You never stutter on your own livestreams and chats. Never. You clear your throat, “Yes. Yes, you can turn your camera on.”

A moment later you find yourself staring at a set of deep blue eyes. You blink several times. Now, you see a handsome face. A very handsome face. Bronzed skin, a thick beard. Striking eyes, high cheekbones. A gorgeous, sloped nose. Long brown hair that brushes over his eyes before he pushes it back and out of his face. Oh, he was hot! And fully dressed, too. In an expensive-looking suit with his tie loosened around his neck.

“Oh… wow, Ari… I–” You’re at a loss for words, but thankfully Ari takes the reins.

“Keep touching yourself, sweetheart. Yeah, just like that.” He licks his lips, long lashes fluttering across his cheekbones as he blinks, “And call me daddy, baby. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, daddy, that’s fine.”

“I thought so. Now, why don’t you tell daddy your favourite way of keeping your baby pussy happy.” He murmurs softly, slowly, hypnotically.

You watch as his own hand slips down, and it thrills you to think of what he’s doing, what his camera isn’t showing. Oh, none of your other fans were as handsome as him! Or as put together or as in control! No, Ari’s energy is completely different. So softly dominant that it sends chills up and down your spine as you clamber to obey him.

Suddenly, you remember he’d asked a question.

“My stuffie, I guess.” You answer hypnotically, staring into his blue eyes that look to be so deep, so soulful. Like he was a man who’d seen everyone and everything this world had to offer. A man who’d lived an entire lifetime, a man who was, well, a man in the purest sense of the word. So virile, so mature – someone you could look up to, follow, listen to.

“Your stuffie.” Ari repeats, savouring the word on his tongue, “You stuffie keeps your pussy happy, huh? I think I remember watching one of your livestreams where you did something like that. But I’d like you to show me again, baby. Will you do that for me?”

Luckily, your stuffed teddy bear is only a foot away from you, and you quickly grab it. And it was true, sometimes you’d ride your stuffies during your livestreams. Your fans loved to watch you writhe and moan and lose yourself in the moment, watch you go from cuddling your stuffed toys to humping them and making yourself cum. Clearly, Ari had been a fan of this routine too.

You get into position, placing your teddy bear between your legs, watching how its fur goes damp as soon as it makes contact with your soaking pussy. Biting your lip, you waste no time as you start rocking back and forth tentatively. Ari lets out a rumble of approval, and you see his arm flex as he leans forward.

“That’s so good, baby girl. You like using your little friend to make you feel good?”

“Y-Yeah, it’s one of my most viewed livestreams.”

He smirks, “But you’ll put on a better show for me right now, won’t you?”

“Yeah, daddy…”

Your breathing slowly goes shallow, mind clear of any thoughts except how sexy and manly Ari sounded on this call right now. And it feels so delicious already, your teddy’s fur catching on your throbbing clit, incensing you to grind down harder.

“You have a wishlist, babygirl?”

The question is posed so casually that it somehow almost winds you. Your hips slow down and you look up at your webcam. But Ari narrows his eyes, nodding his head as if commanding you to continue, which you do. God, it was so hot how nonchalant he was being — and yet he sounded so attentive too!

“A wishlist?” You squeak, voice going high-pitched as your hips pick up pace, and you wish it was Ari’s thigh you were grinding on instead of this stuffie. Your body’s doing that thing where it feels empty, craving something bigger, more substantial…

“Yes, sweetie. A wishlist. A list of things you want. Clothes or makeup or anything like that.” He’s pumping his dick now, you can tell with how his hand’s moving. But the rest of him looks so unperturbed and unbothered, as if he’s having a normal conversation and not jacking off with a camgirl while he watches her masturbate with a stuffed teddy.

“I—um—yeah, I do…” you somehow manage to get the words out, but you’re mostly focused on cumming now. Your mind conjures up images of you naked on top of a fully dressed Ari. Him big and powerful, guiding your hips with just one hand, dragging you back and forth on his muscular thigh. Or maybe picking you up and placing you on his bulge, letting you rub your soaking cunt on it while he calls you a good girl in that deep, sexy voice of his…

“Sweetheart? You with me?”

“I, yeah, sorry!” You pant, feeling so close and yet a part of you knows you have to answer him. “I d-do — I have a list but—”

“You’re going to send it to daddy after you cum,” he tells you. “A pretty little girl like you needs her daddy to reward her after she humps her pretty little princess cunt and gets off so nicely just like how I asked you to.”

Your orgasm hits you out of nowhere. And it’s his words that tip you over the edge. So dirty, yet he talks in such a sweet way! Oh, a man’s never spoken to you like that! So casually talked you through your orgasm, praising you so sweetly and telling you he’d buy you everything on your wish list?! Who was this man??

“Send it to me. Now.”

You’re weak and spent, legs shaking from cumming so hard. But you quickly send him your wish list on private chat. You doubted he’d buy everything on it — all the expensive jewellery, designer clothes, shoes — especially since he’d already showered you with so many cash donations. But you send it to him anyways, and he hums in approval.

“That’s such a good girl. I really enjoyed our chat, baby.”

Your heart sinks. Was this it?

“Why don’t you show daddy your pussy again, baby girl? I want to see how messy it is now.”

Again, you obey. Angling your webcam and opening your legs for him. A part of you imagines him doing it for you, gripping your soft thighs with his calloused, manly hands so he could inspect to his heart’s content. God, he just exuded dominant energy and it was making you lightheaded. Quickly, you spread your sopping folds with your fingers, letting him see everything.

“Fuck, you’re so messy, aren’t you?” Ari murmurs, and you watch him brush his long hair out of his face. His tanned skin glistens slightly, his lips pink and plump and you find yourself just staring at him in awe.

“I-I’m messy…” you repeat, feeling dumb and spaced out after your orgasm.

“Bet you need your daddy to clean up that baby pussy, don’t you?” He licks his lips, pumping himself faster. That’s when his camera lowers slightly, and your breath hitches at the sight of the angry red tip of his dick.

“I… I don’t know… I—”

He chuckles kind of breathlessly, “You’re all dumbed out, huh? That’s alright, sweet girl. Daddy understands.” Again, he runs a hand through his hair, leaning forward slightly to get a better look at you. “I understand that little girls like you get tired easily, especially after playing with your toy so naughtily like how you were just now. That’s why you need your daddy.”

“D-Daddy…” you whimper, incapable of saying anything else except repeating what he’s saying, but you’re able to press your thighs weakly together, as if his words are just too much and you need to get off again despite being so weak.

“You need me, don’t you? To hold you in my lap, clean you up, take care of you, think for you, buy you whatever you want. Lap at your little baby cunt till you cum in my mouth. Am I right?”

Ohfuck. You feel newfound thrill ripple down to your pussy, making you clench at his words.

“I… I don’t.. I just— daddy, I. —“

Ari chuckles breathlessly, and a lock of his hair falls over his forehead, but apart from that he still looks pristine. The complete opposite of fucked out, messy little you.

“You can’t even speak straight, can you, Princess? That’s alright, little girls like you aren’t meant to think or talk anyways. That’s your daddy’s job, that’s why I’m here. All you have to do is look cute and play with your little toy on my lap while daddy does all the thinking for you. Would you like that?”

“Yes!” You cry, feeling needy and vulnerable and still a little bit confused as to how this virtual stranger has reduced you to such a blubbering mess.

“Fuck. Say it, then. Tell me how badly you need me.”

“N-Need daddy,” you blubber, vaguely wondering what your viewers would think if they saw you now. Often, you acted all spaced out and whimpery in your livestreams. But this… oh, this wasn’t acting at all. Ari had well and truly reduced you to a whimpering mess — and you didn’t even know the guy!

“I know you need me,” he croons, “Little girls like you always need their daddy. And I want to take care of you too, sweet baby.”

“Please do!” You cry, “Need you to take care of me so bad! Can’t think, can’t… I can’t…”

You press your thighs together and cum again. And it’s a shock to you, you hadn’t expected to orgasm again so quickly. But you hear Ari groan, and a moment later you watch enraptured as he blows his load, spurts of his thick cum landing on his palm. And you wish so bad you were there in person to clean him up too.

“Both of you are quiet for a minute or so after that. All you can hear is his breathing - rapid at first before it goes steady. You, on the other hand, are beside yourself. Whimpering, crying, breathing hard. You just want him to hold you - and it’s crazy because you don’t even know who he is! Not really, anyways. But he looks so big and strong even on the laptop screen, and you really feel so small in front of his eyes, but in a good way… He had a way with words, so soft and dominant that it made you want him to take care of you, and-

"Thank you, baby girl,” Ari chuckles after a while, “thank you for indulging me.”

You clear your throat, “I…uh… I… okay.”

“You still dumbed out, honey?”

You lower your eyes and nod, feeling all kinds of shy now that you’ve cum twice and your senses are all coming back. Had you really gotten that submissive and vulnerable with a viewer on private chat? Oh gosh…

“Do you need daddy to tell you what to do next?”

You nod, embarrassed at how helpless you feel. Your legs are still shaking from the remnants of your orgasm, ears still buzzing from that smooth, gravelly voice of his as he’d coaxed you through those two orgasms.

“First, I want you to send me that wishlist of yours. Then, I want you to go and take a nice, hot bath to calm yourself down, alright?”

“O-Okay, daddy,” you agree quietly.

“Mm, that’s my good girl. Then, I want you to put on something comfy and tuck yourself into bed. I know little girls like you need your daddy to do that, but for now I need you to do it for yourself. Got that?”

You nod dumbly.

“Daddy needs you to use your words, sweet girl.”

“Yes, I - uh - I’ll take a bath and tuck myself in, daddy.”

“Good girl. But I’ll need you to take pictures as proof you’ve followed my instructions.”

“I will, I will!” You blurt out, wanting to make this virtual stranger proud. Oh, you didn’t even recognise yourself anymore but you didn’t care. Not in the least.

“Thank you, baby. And one last thing.”

“Y-Yes?”

“Would you like to talk to daddy again tomorrow night?”

“Yes! Please, yes!”

“I thought so. Why don’t you give me your number, sweetheart, and I’ll be sure to make that happen.”

THE END.

Honestly wrote this super quickly so it’s probably paced like shit and not that good but YOLO. also i tried something different with the layout heheehehe LMK WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT THE FIC PLSSS LOVE YOU GUYS

[bi-writes]

so idk where i got this idea but mercenary!ghost x fem!reader because he's scary and mean and dangerous but then he sees some girl's ass in light blue denim.

notes about reader: as always, i tend to write readers described as curvy because im curvy and we deserve attention from 6'4 beefcakes who are soft only for us. reader is a civilian.

mercenary!ghost (part 1/?)

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, dark!ghost, mentions of ghost's past canon trauma (domestic abuse + violence), mw3 spoilers, violence and gore + mentions of murder and extortion, mentions of reader + domestic abuse, protective!simon, size kink (reader is described as much smaller than simon, easily manhandled by him), pet names (luv, bunny + rabbit, puppy, angel face), reader learns she has a dark side and she likes it, nsfw thoughts about reader, suggestive touching (fem!receiving)

the sound of the burner phone pings on the desk in front of him. when he picks it up, he narrows his eyes as he reads the message displayed across the screen.

DEPOSITED.

when he opens his laptop, his eyes scan over the balance on an offshore account, and he relaxes when he sees the hefty balance climb just a little higher. he closes the device once he's satisfied with what he sees; and like always, he tastes the warmth of that satisfaction. it's a nice high, but it won't last, and then he'll need to feed the gaping hole that lives in him.

it remains hungry. he has never been able to close it--it has only ever gotten wider, ripped at the seams and torn at the edges every time another body close to him drops.

the high is poison. but even if it kills him, no one will miss him. so he picks up the handgun that lays haphazard on the bed, and he tucks it into the back of his jeans.

he passes by the mirror as he fits a dark denim jacket over his shoulders. he stares back at himself, a recognizable beast of a man staring right back. he pulls his hoodie up over him, and in the shadow of it, all he can see are his dark eyes, pale skin peeking through the eyeblack that has lightened up with the wear of it throughout the day.

he craves something strong and warm tonight. he itches for something soft, too, something that makes him forget the red on his ledger, even if for only a few hours.

there is nothing quite strong enough to wipe that kind of stain away. he is nothing if not a reaper, and he buries bodies with the same tenacity that he had when he wore his country's flag on his chest. this time, however, he does not take orders--he names his price.

he thinks something is wrong with him. some used to say that it was his courage that brought him back from the dead--that his heart is too strong, his will to live too much, and that is how he continues to open his eyes and live another day. but he doesn't agree with this thought, because he doesn't really think he feels anything at all.

he doesn't feel human. he doesn't feel alive. the only thing that makes him feel any sort of vulnerability is how red his own blood is when he bleeds. when his scars heal jagged and crooked, it is because there is something underneath the skin. but he feels nothing inside--no remorse, no guilt, he is not sorry.

he does not check to see if those men are innocent. he does not care about the names that end up on his list. he doesn't ask questions. and he thinks something is wrong with him because he sleeps at night just fine now; the nightmares have gone. he is alone, and it is peaceful.

there are no voices. there is only silence. and there is something wrong with him.

the pub is quiet. it is a weekday, and the only patrons are here after a long day's work, and they all look into the depths of their half-empty glasses hoping to find relief there. there is none, but they will finish their glasses hoping it might be dissolved in the alcohol.

he asks for two fingers of bourbon. it stings when it goes down, but then it settles warm. he is poured another two fingers of it, but before he can pick it up, someone else grips the glass and tips it back to swallow it down.

the glass hits the wood of the counter with an echoing thud, and you cough out a fuck as you settle into the seat beside him. you run a trembling hand over your face, and he notices immediately the red of your knuckles and the splitting of the skin there. they are fresh; the bruising is still new, and the blood is just barely beginning run down the back of your hand.

he leans over the bar, swiping the whole bottle of bourbon, and he silently pours more into the glass, hitting it towards you before picking up a new glass and filling it generously.

"who's the lucky bastard?" he asks, and your eyes flick to the cuts on the back of your hand before going back to the dark swirling colors of the drink.

"i'm sure he'll be coming in here any second to introduce himself."

the pub doors slam open, and there is a man coming in, chest heaving, dark hair falling over his forehead in sweaty curls that do nothing to hide the clear bruise on his face the split of his lip. his eyes move over the room before they settle on you, and his boots fall heavy as he makes his way over.

ghost sees his intentions clear immediately. the way his hand twitches at his side, the angry glare, the uncontrollable urge to hurt and to take and to control coming off of him like steam.

he has seen this kind of man before. this man was the one that kept him up at night as a child. this man was the one that scared his mum, that drove his brother to chase vices, that tore apart a house that should've been filled with something warm and sticky and kind into one marred with teeth, rotten and putrid and forgotten.

his hand goes for the back of your neck, and you close your eyes and tense in the anticipation, but it never comes. a strong hand grips his outstretched one, and the man cries out as ghost twists it behind his back and uses his other hand to slam his face into the wood of the bar, trapping him there.

the bartender does not even flinch, just continues to wipe down glasses. the patrons continue to stare into the abyss of their sorrow.

you jump a little, your head snapping to the side where the man squirms and sputters, his face going pale from the paw of a hand gripping him by the back of the neck and shoving his face into the counter. if he pushes any harder, you wonder if it'd splinter and fray, dig into the bones of his bruised cheek.

"this man botherin' ya, yeah?"

your eyes finally flick up. you do not know what you expect, but it isn't this. you can only see his eyes; they scare you. you do not lie because you aren't entirely sure how far his kindness will go.

"yes," you whisper, and when the man tries to spit at you, a rough gloved hand grips his curls and positions his head against the edge of the counter, forcing his mouth open until the top row of his teeth bite the wood.

"y'keep talkin' to her, n'it'll be the last time you talk, hear that, mate? y'talk to me, n'me only."

you swallow hard, and the man trembles. a strong boot hits the back of his knees, and then he's crumbling to the ground, his jaw straining as the counter is still forced against his mouth. hot, pained tears come down his face, and then he addresses you.

"what did he do?"

"bad first date," is all you can manage to sputter. he grips the man by the scruff of his neck before pulling him off to speak, tilting his head to the side as he observes the begging man on his knees.

"y'try to put your hands on'er?"

"i-it wasn't...like that! i-it was just a mis...a misunderstanding, please! please--please tell him--!"

"don't like fuckin' liars either," is the only warning given before his mouth is forced to bite the counter, and then a sharp elbow comes down on his head. you jump in surprise at the suddenness of it all, and you close your eyes when you hear the crunch of teeth being broken. his scream is enough to rattle the pub, but when you look around, it's as if nothing at all has happened. it is quiet, and all the bartender does is shake their head.

when you open your eyes, he's crawling on his hands and knees out of the pub, and what he leaves behind is a mess of blood and teeth and fluid that are splattered against the floor at your feet. you shake as you look up at him, stiff in your seat and soft tears coming down your face.

he towers over you. you have to tilt your head back between your shoulders to look at him face-to-face. you cannot see his face; he hides it behind dark fabric, but his eyes talk loud. they are dark, and they are dull, and you realize as you stare up at him that he is not phased in the slightest by what he had just done. in fact, he steps into your space, and the squelch of blood under his boot doesn't seem to bother him. he wears black, and you wonder, momentarily, if he wears such a color to hide the red hiding between the threads of the fabric. the red he can't wash away.

"let me look at ya, little rabbit."

you flinch when he knocks your knees apart, spreading them to make space for the width of him. he reaches up with one gloved hand and grips your chin, tilting your head to either side to see if you are hurt anywhere but your hand. when he is satisfied with his observations, he cups the expanse of your throat, smoothing those big fingers along the pulsing vein there and feeling the way you swallow.

so alive. so soft. a pretty little bunny, dropped into his waiting hands.

his eyes fall, and he takes you in. wide hips that take up the seat you're sitting in, hugged so nicely by light blue denim jeans. they curve over the swell of your ass, and he wonders how much of it would fit in his palm--he thinks about how it might feel to spread them apart and taste the succulent sweetness that he knows exists between your thighs and how your mouth might look slack jawed and wide open for him.

you look like a good girl, even with bloody knuckles.

then he follows the line of your shirt. it's a simple t-shirt tucked into your jeans, but the neckline gives a nice peek of you and the curve of your tits--they sit so nicely there, all perky, and ghost thinks they look lonely. they would be better off in his mouth or squeezing his cock between them or pebbling between his dirty gloved fingers.

filthy. disgusting. he is scarred all over, and you look so soft and sweet, with those tender puppy eyes and the way your lips tremble, and he bets you kiss all soft and slippery. he bets your cunt is tight and with enough coaxing, he could make you drench his skin with something decadent and slick, with whatever drools into your panties. he imagines it is there now, even as you tremble and shake and plead with your eyes for him to let go of your throat.

but ghost is not a good man. he does not feel; he is not a man at all. he is a beast in the shape of one, disguised, and he brings misery to everything he touches. he knows he will do it to you, too--touching pretty girls, he leaves them with burns. they are not the same after they are with him, and he wants to feel bad about it, he wants to feel something, but he does not. he feels nothing.

"you olright, luv?"

you nod frantically, putting a hand over his wrist that holds you, and he almost laughs. your hand is so much smaller than his own. if he squeezes his hand just a little harder, he figures it would not take much to break what lies beneath it. he leans in, and you gulp when your thighs trap his hips. he is warm, a furnace that burns, but you relax when the side of his mask nuzzles against your face.

he is a dog, and he is fond of you.

you should run. you should hit him like you hit your wretched date, and you should run, far, away from him, swear off men for good and never allow one in your space again lest they be as beastly as this. you should run while you can, but you are a bunny not yet in his trap, and you still have time to escape.

but then both of your eyes open at the same time, and his eyes meet your own, and then--oh.

the cage snaps shut. it rattles around you. it is small and confined, but you don't realize what it is yet because you can still breathe, and it is still warm, and you are still soft and alive and here.

your face softens, and his eyes flicker down to your lips as you lick them. maybe he was right. liars are bad. men like the one you were with before were scum. you had been with men like that before, you had seen the destruction they brought to those they thought they loved. when they wrought fear and made others bleed, they never got in trouble. no one cared to do to them what they deserved because they silenced their lambs and slaughtered the light out of them.

it is biblical--an eye for an eye. if they take from you, why can't you take from them?

it is brutish men like this one that do what others are too timid to. your thighs close around his hips, and you feel something digging into your leg, something metal and heavy tucked into his jeans. a weapon, but you imagine it is a mercy because you have an inkling that what he does with his hands is so much worse. bullets are clean and fast; his hands are not.

johnny would tell him to let you go. he does, over his shoulder, spitting at him to leave, to let you slip through his fingers and find your way out, to open the cage.

the wee lass--look at 'er angel face. let 'er go--not meant for this, LT. she scares. 's in 'er eyes. won't last.

but he does not feel. he is not human. there is something wrong with him, he knows it, but he doesn't care. he will ruin you, and he should feel bad, but he can't, he doesn't. and then there it is--your eyes are flickering low, eyeing the mask, and you are wondering how much effort it would take to push it up and lick into his mouth, taste him, suck the warmth of the bourbon from his mouth and replace it with your own.

he will kill again. the cage is shut, it is locked, and he is watching the bunny in its cage, watching as it becomes aware of its surroundings, takes in what is new. but just like he figures, just like he knows, this little bunny has no idea what this cage is. she has no idea she is even in one.

fuck what johnny says. if johnny was like him, if he was not skin and bone but steel and reptile, he would not have died. he would have come back. he would have moved his head, shaken the blood off, and gotten back up, but he didn't, and he's not here, and he's not real--so fuck what he thinks, fuck what he says, fuck him because he left me, and i'm all alone, and if i don't devour and eat and tear apart, i will wither away because i am not me, i am something else--

he smiles under the mask. you notice it, the slight movement there, and you smile, too, suddenly. his hand falls, and the back of his knuckles graze over the swell of your breast, down your stomach, and then he's gripping your waist. that hand slips behind you, and you brace yourself with both hands on his chest as he cups one side of your ass. possessive and suffocating--you think maybe you should run again, but you don't want to.

you want something more. you want something a little rough, something a little sharp. you want something to tell you that a little blood is good sometimes. that answering blood with a little more blood was exactly how it should be. that we don't have to be docile, to back down. you want to be told that it's okay to bite.

there is something wrong with you.

[lushrue]

there was something angry and dark festering inside of simon. (afab!reader, nsfw, mdni)

he noticed it for the first time when he went out with the rest of his team to the pub after a particularly difficult mission. everyone had their own way of coping with stress. price had his cigars, puffing away and coating his lungs with tar. gaz had alcohol, bourbon and tequila burning away in his stomach to soothe the cold grip of disappointment in himself. and johnny? johnny had women. birds of all different types, sizes, occupations. simon was convinced he didn’t even look at who it was he was snogging in the corner of the bar. as long as she was warm and willing, he was on her.

that’s when he felt it, watching johnny suck at some poor girl’s face like she held the nectar of the gods between her lips. simon had never paid much mind to getting a woman of his own. with his family life, he’d found it hard to put stock in anything akin to a committed relationship. too many things could go wrong. after all, as he reminded himself every time he came close to a woman, he had anger baked into his DNA. the desire to sink his claws into something and rip it apart until he was bloody was too tempting. he’d ruin whatever he touched, so why bother?

still, as much as he tried to deny it, he was a mere mortal. flesh and blood, hormones and urges. testosterone flooded through him the same as any other man. the sight of his sergeant indulging himself made the beast within him rear its ugly head. it was like a devil on his shoulder, whispering to him that he could have that too. he could dig his fingers into the soft plush of a woman, feel her curves and let her gentle caresses soothe the storm that never seemed to let up. ever detached, he weighed the consequences against the reward. sure, he could satisfy this hungry thing that ate at him every time johnny spoke of a new conquest. but it would mean corruption for whatever poor thing his eye landed on. he couldn’t do that to someone he knew, someone he’d have to face again.

a few nights after the incident at the bar, simon got a card for an escort company from price. “in case y’need it,” he’d said. unbeknownst to simon, his captain had noticed, seen the hunger that was building steadily in him. he remembered that same hunger building in him as a young man. lust for blood and lust for flesh was hard to distinguish in the civilian world. besides, he couldn’t have his best lieutenant unfocused. simon held onto it for a couple days, flipping it around in his fingers between rounds of paperwork. each time he skimmed over the phone number in pretty cursive writing, the beast inside him clawed at his bones, begging to be noticed. when he finally worked up the courage to dial the number, he hung up the moment someone answered the phone. it was too much, too fast. especially when he could just give himself the pleasure he was craving. so he set the phone down, grabbed his headphones, and opened his laptop.

moans and gasps echoed in his ears, a manufactured sex scene playing out on the screen in front of him. he’d barely paid attention to the setup; something about a pizza delivery guy and not having money, one of those cliches. his hand wrapped around his aching cock, thumbing at the tip as he watched the woman’s face. her expression was one of false bliss, played up for the camera and the enjoyment of spectators. simon could see right through it. he gritted his teeth, his calloused hand dragging painfully against the sensitive and dry skin. he tried to squeeze himself, milk any bit of moisture or pleasure out, but nothing came. it wasn’t the same, his hand no substitute for the sweet warmth of a woman wrapped around him.

after a few minutes of tugging at himself painfully, he slammed the laptop shut, tucking himself back into his cargos. this wouldn’t do, not at all. it didn’t feel the same anymore. the beast within growled, demanding sustenance. simon cursed under his breath and picked up the phone, dialing the escort company again. this time, he wouldn’t lose his nerve. he’d faced much scarier things than a phone call; he just had to remind himself of that. a woman who sounded like she smoked several packs a day answered the phone, rasping the name of the company and asking what she could do for him.

it was simpler than he imagined to book an escort. set a date and time, agree on a neutral location, put his list of boundaries on file, and sign a few forms to send back. easy enough. he was silent about his “date” to his teammates, not wanting the questions to flood in. this wasn’t a woman he was planning on keeping. hell, he figured she wouldn’t want to be kept anyway. all the better for him and the thing festering inside.

as much as he tried to deny it, nerves were building as the day of his appointment approached. it was one thing to see it done on a screen, it was another to make his body cooperate. simon had never experienced performance anxiety. if someone didn’t like his skills, fuck ‘em. his talent spoke for itself, the kill count in his file more than impressive. but this wasn’t killing. this wasn’t a battle, this involved no bloodshed. this was tender, intimate, gentle. this was letting someone see his soft underbelly, exposing the most vulnerable parts of himself and handing them over on a silver platter. he fought it down, swallowing it and forcing it back into the dark recesses of his mind to be dealt with later.

he showed up to the hotel, hoodie pulled up over his head and balaclava obscuring his face. this may be someone he’d never see again, but he wouldn’t take the risk. not when just seeing his face could damn someone to fates unimaginable. he stepped up to the front desk, muttering his last name and the room number they’d told him to request. he hated the way the girl behind the computer screen gave him a knowing smile as she handed over the key. strangers didn’t need to know his business, especially when it involved things as sensitive as this. he brushed it off with a gruff “thanks” and drug himself up the stairs towards the second floor.

he pulled out his phone to check the time, jaw clenching as he stared at the clock. he’d sat too long in the car trying to work up the courage to get out, and now it was his scheduled appointment time. he’d planned to give himself at least a few minutes to stand in front of the door and decide if he really wanted to go through with this. it was an out, a chance to tuck tail and run before anyone got hurt. he’d paid in advance anyways, so who would it hurt if he backed out now? himself. he’d just be hurting himself. two sharp raps on the door and a sweet voice called for him to come in.

that’s when he saw you, all dressed in his favorite color. a tight crushed velvet dress, heels sharp enough to kill a man, hair framing your face just so. the beast roared, clawing at his chest and begging to break free. it thumped at his ribcage, the bones prison bars containing the darkest parts of himself. he rubbed at his chest to soothe it, swallowing thickly as he shut the door behind him. you smiled, lips stretching to a thin red line over your teeth. “mr. riley?” you asked, pushing yourself off the mattress and standing to face him. “simon,” he muttered gruffly, feet planted firmly in front of the door. he was frozen, an utterly unfamiliar feeling to him. his next steps were always carefully planned. if he didn’t know exactly where he was going, someone who spoke in his earpiece did. this was all him, though. he was fully in control of his actions and it made him viscerally uncomfortable. no one to blame but himself.

“simon, then,” you say, taking a few steps closer to him. he tried to step back to keep the distance, but the door behind him stopped him in his tracks. nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. you looked so clueless, he thought, so oblivious to the fact that you were locked in a lion’s den. you stopped your advance, giving him a wide berth. he wasn’t the first man you’d booked that almost looked afraid of you. most of the time, the men you serviced were too shy or too awkward to find a woman to give them the time of day. “you can call me crystal.” not your real name, obviously. you were too cognizant of your safety for that.

“crystal,” he repeated slowly, trying the weight of it on his tongue. simon would’ve almost preferred not to put a name to your face at all. it would only make him more guilty for tainting you with his bloody hands. “you know the rules?” you asked, a bit more business than pleasure. he nodded curtly. they’d made him sign contracts and waivers, agreeing that he wouldn’t cause any bodily harm to whatever poor bird was assigned to him for an hour. he was legally bound to treat her nice, he reminded the beast. not very many pretty girls in prison. “good,” you reply, staying planted where you were until he made to move. “we can get started whenever you want. clock’s ticking, y’know.”

simon hesitated, taking in every inch of you that he could see. he tried to tell himself that it was threat assessment, an ingrained skill that everyone he met was subjected to. still, he couldn’t shake the sense that he wasn’t looking at you as a soldier. he was looking at you as a man. he was thinking about sinking his teeth into those supple curves, jowls dripping red. he wanted to dig his claws into the plush of your breasts, find the heart beating underneath all of it and take it for his own. mouth dry, he stepped forward, inching the smallest bit closer to you. you take it as an invitation and match his pace. you were close enough to touch now, dilated eyes looking up at him. prey, meat to be devoured.

slowly, simon reaches out, letting his bare hands brush against the skin of your arm. you shiver at the light touch. heavy petting was what you were used to, hands that sought to dominate you and bend you until you strained with the pressure. this felt exploratory, like he was testing the waters. he held his breath as his palms stroked over your elbows and forearms. if he looked too closely, he could see the blood from his hands staining your soft, pretty skin. this is why we couldn’t do what johnny did, he told the beast. trails of blood follow wherever we go.

“never done this before, huh?” you ask, keeping your tone even and light. no judgement, no pressure. simon grunted in reply, too mesmerized by the way your dress clung to your body. he could see the contours of you, the malleable skin across your stomach and the fat that clung to your hips. of course he’d never done this before. if he had, he wouldn’t be staring at you like a work of art and a piece of meat all at once. your hand snakes up, grabbing his and pulling it away from your arm. he tenses at your touch. he’s not exactly sure what he expected, but you touching him caught him off guard. your fingers close around his and you pull him towards the bed in the center of the room. it wasn’t the nicest; the sheets definitely needed a good deep clean and the mattress was likely stained with all manner of unmentionable things. but people didn’t do things like this in five star hotels.

you sat down on the bed and kicked your heels off, pulling your feet up and resting your weight on one hand. simon watched it all, eyes fixed on your every move. his hands flexed at his sides, aching to reach out and grab you. the beast was roaring for things to move faster, but simon tamed him. he didn’t want this to be over so quickly. the strap of your dress slipped off your shoulder, exposing more bare flesh to him. saliva pooled in his mouth, transfixed by the sight of you. he couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d seen clean skin in person, unmarked by scars or tattoos. the mirror gave him no reprieve from it, reminders of all the battles he’d won written across his skin.

“take it off,” he muttered, not even looking at your face. you tried not to feel slighted by it. some part of you had almost expected him to be different by how nervous he had seemed walking in. but there were some things that never changed, you supposed. you reached back and undid the zipper on your dress, adjusting yourself on the bed so that you could slip it off. you hadn’t worn a bra, just underwear and a very skimpy pair at that. simon’s eyes trailed your hands as they peeled the dress off, then snapped up to admire your body. it was just as beautiful as he’d imagined it’d be. all supple skin and soft curves, the occasional stretch mark here and there. signs that you were human, that you were a real, tangible thing that he could claim for the night.

he wasted no time putting his hands on you, standing over you and squishing you in his hands. he squeezed and prodded, testing what areas made your breath hitch. you felt like a science experiment, observed and appreciated but not admired. you existed because he willed it and for no other reason. finally, after squeezing every inch of skin he could grab at, he looked at your face. not once had he touched anything above your neck. his gaze roamed over you, his thoughts taken over by the beast. he recalled all of the faces he’d seen play out on his laptop screen, imagined what you might look like with those blissful expressions. could he really make you do that?

as he took a seat on the mattress beside you, his hands drifted up to your breasts, pressing at your nipples with his calloused thumbs. that earned him a gasp, your lips parted deliciously. when he brought his pointer fingers up to pinch, that got him a whine. the blood rushed to your cheeks, simon’s cock stiffening at the sight. your heart was beating, blood was pumping. he could feel it under his hand. even with your profession, he perceived you as a saint. the crimson in your veins wasn’t tainted like his was, spilled at the hands of dogs hungry for power and control. no, you were pure. poor thing, you didn’t even realize that he would corrupt you from the inside out.

he pulled at the hardened buds on your breasts, the slight sting of pain making you hiss. “gentle, simon,” you chided, putting a hand on his wrist. with great effort, his touches eased up. his hands roamed downwards, pupils blacking out the color of his eyes as he stared at you. his full attention was on your face now, watching your reactions to each touch and stroke. it wasn’t until he got between your legs that he found what he was looking for. it was a familiar expression on your face as his finger dragged up and down the folds of your pussy through your underwear. mouth slack and hanging open, eyes closed in bliss, head thrown back. he could feel your moisture soaking through the fabric. this time, though, it hit him differently.

this wasn’t manufactured, and he wasn’t detached from it. he was making this happen. he caused those little whimpers to fall from your lips, he caused your eyes to screw shut when he pressed his palm against your heat. it made the beast grumble in satisfaction, belly aching for a good meal. he clumsily pulled your underwear to the side, trying to find the sweet spot that would make you melt. he’d heard it spoken about, that it was notoriously hard to find, but he was sure he could do it. his thick fingers prodded around, pressing and stroking while watching your reactions. that was when you realized it; he was a virgin.

the nervousness, the impersonality, it all made sense now. he really hadn’t done this before, not at all. you gently grab his wrist, dragging it up towards the top of your folds and positioning his middle finger over your clit. “i think you’re looking for this,” you say, cheeks flushed an alluring shade of pink under the blush and foundation you wore. he looked down at his hand, as if committing the placement of it to memory, before stroking his finger over the damp skin. you shivered, pleasure easing over you. that seemed to spur him on, his pace speeding up and becoming rougher. the pressure was almost painful and you shook your head, reaching down to hold his wrist again.

“here, let me help you.” you drag his finger over your clit, moving it in small, slow circles. at first, simon had been frustrated with you stopping him. he wanted to drink in your bliss, roll around in the pride of causing you pleasure. but then he saw the way your face twisted, and he couldn’t be angry anymore. you were helping, making sure this happened with you instead of to you. the beast couldn’t get to you like this, and the thought of that soothed him.

he continued his motions, his focus switching between your face and the arousal seeping out of you. your noises were music to his ears, moans and breathy whines that had his cock twitching in his pants. he was fully hard now, tip leaking just at the sounds you were making. porn had nothing on this. nothing could compare to bringing those noises about by his own hand. his digits slipped down to your dripping slit, running his finger through your folds and gathering some of the wetness on his finger. he held it up to his face, studying it almost, before slipping the finger under the mask and into his mouth.

you were salty, just as he expected. but there was a sweetness under it, something uniquely you. he could drink it in forever and never be sated. the balaclava he wore suddenly felt constricting, like it was in the way of his pleasure. he wanted to dip down between your legs and drink you up until the well ran dry. grabbing the fabric under his chin, he rolled it up over his nose and laid flat on his stomach. his head positioned between your thighs, he looked up at you with feral eyes. he was begging wordlessly, his gaze conveying what his words couldn’t. i need this, i’m starved, let me taste the nectar of the gods if only for a moment. with a nod of your head, he dove in.

his tongue was uncoordinated, lapping at your pussy like a dog. still, the broad strokes and pressure against your folds felt nice and you gave him a moan as a reward. the saccharine taste of you coated his lips and chin, almost in tears whenever he let a drop fall to the sheets. it wasn’t to be wasted, liquid gold that he had the sole pleasure of enjoying in this moment. he suddenly understood the allure of keeping something like this caged up in a two story house with a white picket fence.

your gaze drifted to his head between your legs, watching the way his eyes screwed shut with the simple privilege of tasting you. you idly wondered if he’d ever even tasted a woman. all signs pointed to no as his tongue prodded at your entrance, testing the waters and waiting for some indication that this was the right thing to do. a gasp rises from your throat as the tip of his tongue slips into you. it was thick and rough, stretching your walls just enough to make you keen. your hips jerk towards his mouth and he takes it as an invitation.

the beast purrs, a rumble in his chest that vibrates against your sensitive skin. it finally got to feed, to devour, to consume. simon’s fingers grip your thighs tightly, tips digging into the soft flesh and turning you a pretty shade of purple. the pain didn’t even register as heat shot up your core and straight to your head. you let yourself fall back against the mattress, chest heaving as his tongue plunged in and out of you at a brutal pace. he didn’t know what he was doing, that much was certain. there was no artful flicking of the muscle, no eye contact to make you feel special. this was pure instinct, messy and animalistic.

simon wouldn’t be sated until he had gathered up every last drop on his tongue, but the flesh was weaker than the spirit. his jaw ached and the way you were shrinking away from his touch made him think you were growing tired of it too. he knew the pain all too well, the blisters he’d given himself on his sensitive shaft from tugging at himself too long. no matter how long he would stroke and pull, the beast still roared. now, it was deliciously quiet.

he pulled his mouth away from your glistening pussy, grunting with satisfaction at the way your skin glowed with his spit and your juices. he wondered how lovely his cock would look all shined up by your mouth, but he wouldn’t do that to you. it would be enough to corrupt your cunt, all pliant and ready for him. your precious mouth could be spared.

simon unzipped his jeans and pulled himself out, pumping his length in his thick hand like he’d seen the men on the computer do. he almost wished he’d talked to johnny before all this, asked a real person to tell him how to do this. maybe it was exactly like the scenes he watched in the dark of his room, or maybe it was completely different. not knowing made him hesitate, hand tightening around himself at the base. you lean forward and suddenly your soft hands are on him, emptying his head. “we’ll go slow,” you coo, stroking over the pulse point on his wrist. 

you lay back against the pillows, spreading yourself out for him. his eyes rake over every inch, his cock painfully hard and twitching at the sight. heat builds under his skin, sweat pricking at the back of his neck, but he can’t bring himself to get undressed. it was enough that he was pawing at you, letting himself be vulnerable and giving as much as he took. revealing scars, tattoos, things that had meaning so deep it was etched into his soul, that was just too much. you reach down and part your lips with your fingers, letting him see your arousal. a string of slick and spit stuck to your fingers, glistening in the warm light of the motel room.

simon’s chest heaved, his hand caressing himself without conscious thought. all he knew was that you were pretty, beautiful even. a bead of precum drips from his slit and he groans at the delicious moisture it provides. touching himself rarely felt this good anymore. you smile, reaching over into the nightstand and pulling out a condom. you tore open the package and looked at simon, asking silently for consent. when he nodded, you rolled it over his length, taking your time to stroke over the skin. the beast rumbled in disappointment at the latex separating skin from the warmth of you, but simon rubbed at his chest to soothe it.

you lean back once more, spreading your legs and planting your feet on the mattress. “whenever you’re ready.” simon leans forward to meet you, planting his hands on either side of your body. he bucked his hips, the thick tip sliding through your folds and gathering up your wetness. you moan and he answers it with a pleased rumble of his own. each press of him against your clit makes you keen. for once, you don’t play up your pleasure. it’s for his benefit, you tell yourself, so that he knows what feels nice to a woman and what doesn’t. it helps that despite his nervous movements, his fingers are incredibly precise once they know where to go. his cock is no different. “use your hand to guide it in, it helps.”

simon nods and follows your instruction. it’s like taking orders, and that’s something familiar. he prods at your hole, watching the way your eyes flutter shut at the pressure. it feels good for you too and that spurs him forward. he sinks into you, going slowly and letting himself enjoy each delicious inch. you’re warm and wet around him, hugging him so nicely. the sound you let out when he bottoms out in you makes him twitch, his whole body shuddering. he’s embarrassingly close to orgasm already, his core tightening as he tries to hold himself back.

as much as you want him to pound into you, to make you see stars and forget your own name, this isn’t about you. all your focus is on him, his pleasure, his enjoyment. you reach up and cup his cheeks, still half obscured by fabric. “let go,” you whisper, your thumbs stroking over his face. tears prick at the back of his eyes and shame bubbles up. his breath shudders, eyes glazed over with unshed tears and pure lust as he meets your gaze. “it’s alright, simon. let yourself feel good. you’ve earned it.” 

letting go was scary, and he hesitated, the thickness of him sitting heavily inside you. it was almost uncomfortable, so you rock your hips to get some friction. he hisses, the muscles in his neck tightening. his head shakes frantically. he can’t hold it back anymore; you’re too warm, too soft, too gentle. he has to corrupt, to paint you red with the blood he sees staining his hands in his nightmares. it’s in his blood, he tells himself. a primal urge, he can’t help it. his hands roam your body, squeezing and scratching and pulling as his hips begin to move just as quickly as his head.

words of warning start to form on your tongue, but before you can say anything, his hips are stuttering, muscles twitching with his release. your ears were ringing from the sudden intensity, but you saw the words “i’m sorry” form on his lips. you weren’t sure what had happened to him to fill him with so much self-hatred, but you pitied him all the same. he pulled away from you, peeling the condom from his length and tossing it in the trash bin. his hands flex as he stands from the bed, tucking himself back in his trousers.

simon hadn’t known peace like this in a while. his head was quiet, the beast wasn’t thumping at his chest anymore. he felt like a man, an imperfect human, rather than a monster. when he looked down at his hands, they looked like anyone else’s. he didn’t see red, didn’t feel the warm stickiness of blood that always seemed to be there. you’d cleansed him, and he wasn’t quite sure how you’d done it. he looked at you for a moment as if to speak, then pulled the balaclava back over his face. “thanks,” he muttered gruffly, rubbing at his chest to commit the lightness to memory. then he was gone as quickly as he’d come. just like a ghost.

you’d tried to call after him, tell him that he still had time left if he wanted it. he didn’t seem to hear you. you noted the clock, though, counting the minutes he still had left. and the next time he called, you blocked your calendar with the extra time. the two of you had plenty left to explore.

[scentedpeachlandcreator]

SUCCESS STORY!!

Okay here i am back with a success story 🙂✨! I was gone for a while cause i was kinda busy manifesting my desire.

And Guess what?? I MANIFESTED A NEW LAPTOP FOR MY MOM ! YAY!

Okay so here's the story:

My mom's old laptop was starting to get worse and i'm the one who use it every single day, this laptop just turned 10 years old, and the keyboard started not working so if i touch a Key it won't show up in the screen and that pissed me off so much! I told my mom about it and she told me that maybe she will take it to a repairer.

So i was like "what a minute-i Can just manifest that mom will buy a New laptop and she will find one with a low Price" so i started affirming "oh yeah, mom just found a New laptop with a low Price and she bought it!".

Then the next day i was just laying down on my bed and i Heard my mother talking to my aunt on the phone and my aunt told her that she found a laptop and with the exact same designe (i wanted for my mom) and plus the Price is not that high.

I was so freaking happy that there was movement in the 3d! Then i Heard my mom talking to my dad about it and she told him that she will buy it the next month in July and i was Like "no no that not true, she will buy it this month" Basically i persisted.

And today my mom bought it! I feel like i accomplished something Big lol.

That the power of persisting even if something show up the opposite in the 3d, so keep persisting and DON'T GIVE UP! It will be worth it!

Here's proof:

Sorry for the quality of my camera (i know i know it's worse🥲).

Anyways i Hope this motivated you all and good Luck everyone !💗🫶🏻.

Xoxo, Eli

[smuttyaf]

The Camster Couple

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰.

wc: 5k

spanking, choking, degradation and rough sex.

It all started on the blue app with the lowercase ‘t’ in the middle. Posting seductive selfies to revealing videos, you built quite the following from these appearances.

Admirers began requesting specific posts to ache their thirst. First it was particular lingerie sets, then prolonged videos touching yourself, soon it escalated into you role playing for the naughty viewers. Reciting everything the strangers would describe on how they’d like to use and abuse you.

But even after fulfilling all those demands, still came the bombarding questions of wanting more.

The requests to become a cam girl started to pour in. The constant debate down your feed about which website you should join. Maybe Chaturbate or Cherry.tv? No… Those weren’t good enough, but you still had time to ponder the idea.

Doing live shows had its advantages and drawbacks. For one, you’re getting paid to touch yourself, your revealing photos and videos will finally have a price on them. But, that doesn’t overshadow the dispute that your face could possibly be shown for everyone to see. You were fearful that maybe co-workers, friends, or even family might find out. However, the conflicting contrast that made you excited was the option to receive gifts. Followers had the ability of viewing your wishlist on certain cam-sites. It gave them the option to go beyond just tipping the model, but appreciating her even more… honestly that feature alone made you like the idea of doing it. But, the one major obstacle that really hinders your decision is your boyfriend; the one who doesn’t know about your second life.

That’s why you find yourself here right now, lounging together in your bedroom with your teeth grinding in your ear. Your eyes flick towards him when running your finger on the notepad; clicking on the search bar, you immediately type in the link to your blog. The familiar desktop background appears making you scroll through a few post till you turn your laptop towards Harry.

“Look at this.” His attention turns towards you placing it on his thighs.

You gaze at him while his fingers press down on the arrow key to move the screen further. “What do you think?” You ask. Warmth spreading throughout your cheeks as you let your hand rest along your stomach fiddling nervously with your tank top.

“I think you want me in trouble,” Harry smirks. He goes to pass the laptop back however you halt his movements.

With nervous smile adorning your lips, his expression transitions into one of confusing eyes, questioning your behaviour.

“I think you need to look closer.” You insist, finger dragging down the notepad. He scoffs, sight trailing back to the pictures on the fuzzy screen.

Harry doesn’t even listen at first, letting himself look over your unopened tabs that range from PrettyLittleThing to Xvideos. The glimpse of porn sites didn’t faze him, what does are the tabs that read “Most profitable webcams sites?” and “Best webcam site survey.” Bushy brows lock together, his attention going back to the revealing pictures of… hold on, that looks like your lingerie set… and that beauty mark right there belongs too.

His head snaps, mouth opening slightly with chest beginning to rise with nerves. He wants to be upset, wants to shut the laptop and demand answers but the growing bulge in his pants directs him otherwise, because as much as he should be angry right now that his girlfriend of eight months was taking provocative pictures of herself to upload on the internet, he was aroused.

“Since when?” Harry mutters, swallowing hesitantly. His gaze going between you and the picture of your chest displayed on the screen.

The look on his face is giving you anxiety. Heart pounding in its cage. You’re back to biting down on your bottom lip, diverting your attention to the highlighted keys.

“It’s been two years…” You mumble, finding the bottom of your laptop more interesting in this moment.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

You shrug your shoulders. You didn’t have a reason, you never thought your pictures would blow up and gain so much traction And you never thought you would get bombarding comments about wanting to see more of yourself. You groan, taking your finger away from the machine and running them through your hair, dramatically slouching your body into the bed frame.

“If you want to break up with me I totally understand.” You say, words muffled from your face burying into your crewneck. That makes a hearty laugh leave the brunette, the feeling of his hands gliding up your thigh stirs your head to peek up.

“Baby relax,” He reassures. Blinking at him you nestle deeper into his touch, shifting your body into him as the redness in your face begins to subside.

“You’re not mad?” You question, fiddling with your bottom lip. The thundering in your ear quiets down as you don’t see the angry face of your boyfriend appear. He lets out another light laugh, shaking his head and looking at you in a way that makes you sigh with utter relief.

“I —I’m definitely surprised… and a little upset… I mean you’re my girlfriend and you’ve been posting these but…” He looks between you and the laptop, his lips squeezing into his cheeks before breaking out into a sneaky grin. “You’re so sexy baby, I really can’t be mad.” He reveals, finger pinching your thigh.

The answer causes you to lean forward, arms linking around his shoulders as you press heartfelt kisses across his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry! I know, I know, I should’ve told you but… I was too scared and I’ve been doing this before I met you and… I just didn’t know what you would say,” You rant between kisses, his lips curling into amusement. The warmth of his hands run over your spine comforting you.

“Baby. Relax.” Harry replies, the tone of his voice settling your excited nerves. You quiet down, placing one last kiss on his cheek before looking up at him with shy eyes. “I’m not mad, just wish you told me earlier.” You nod at him pleasantly with smile set on your features.

Your breath draws in slowly with the quiet hum of the laptop sounding in the space. And just like before when you were nervous telling him about your promiscuous account online, you��re back to the bubbling feeling having to tell him the new escapade on your schedule. Clearing your throat, you raise up, licking over your bottom lip and locking your gaze with his.

“I do have one more thing though…”

Harry shakes his head playfully, smirk tugging along his features as he rubs your covered flesh in his palms.

“You want to be a cam girl?” He interjects. Stomach quivers with eyes fluttering in shock, you question were exactly he even got that idea or was it obvious. “It’s in your tabs babe.” Harry continues. Your cheeks go back to burning in embarrassment as you nod your head.

“Yes I want to do that but also…” His brows rise, surprised there is more to the story. “I want to do it with you.”

His features soon resemble yours with burning skin and body shifting under your weight. To your amazement he leans in, lips pressing against yours in a teasing kiss. The racing in your heart relaxes. You really had the best boyfriend in the world.

With the fondness of his lips against yours you pull away, cheerful smile shining as you hum with happiness.

“So… yes?”

Plaid pink skirt with embroidered bralette reflects across the screen as comments fill the message board.

You giggle at the viewers appreciating your half naked appearance. Thanking the many who are tuning in for your first show.

The sound of the sink cutting off in your adjoined bathroom rings through the space, it only makes you smirk at the events about to happen.

“I did say I have a surprise for my opening night.” Black letters roll in questioning the news. “I thought I would do it with a special someone.”

Harry’s footsteps sound through the room when he moves his way towards the bed. His hands going to your calves hanging off the frame and playfully tugging you down. It causes a smile to spread on your lips as you kick him away.

“Let’s start shall we.”

You adjust the frame of your laptop so it can hide Harry’s face as he slips in behind you. His fingers gracefully falling on your hip as you adjust to make space for him on the bed.

“I think they’re jealous.” Harry says, head leaning in to look at the comments reacting to him.

You watch his expression change as his eyes rake over the messages; jaw clenching with lips pressed tight together. You can tell he wasn’t pleased with whatever people were saying.

“I have to agree I’m mad too,” He responds to someone. Your face twists in confusion. “She’s been a bad little girl, hasn’t she?” His hand on your hip massages your skin roughly as you register his words.

“Not only deceiving you all, but me as well. So naughty not telling her boyfriend about what she does online.”

Biting down on your bottom lip you turn towards the screen with glint of happiness in your eyes. You know what mood Harry is in.

“She deserves a punishment, doesn’t she?” The hand on your hip leisurely glides into your scalp and grips it in his palm. Your head jerks back while his gaze is still caught on the computer; not even paying attention to what he’s doing.

“I think they’re starting to like me now.” Harry smirks, his other hand going to your breast and gripping it roughly.

The devious tone in his voice makes you whimper, eyes peering up at the ceiling as you let him grope your skin. Fingers transition from kneading it in his palms to twisting your nipples through the thin material.

“Yes, she’s been a very bad girl.” His digits pull away to slap your breast making you cry out. The sound you elect causing him to pull your head back once again, his body shifting from behind to gaze over your expression.

“Such a liar.” He says, eyes peering down as you look at him with pleasure written all over your face.

“You like being a liar, don’t you.” His hand meeting your skin again to pierce another smack against your tits. “Speak!” He orders, adding another blow.

“Yes sir.” You mutter, looking into his forest eyes and biting down on your bottom lip as he places one final slap to your skin.

“Tell me what you are.” Harry says, jerking your head, it makes you flutter your lashes up at him.

You’re too caught up between his freshly washed hair falling over his forehead and chest displaying his tattoos, that you don’t recall him demanding you to answer him again. His biceps flex when he lands another blow against your skin to knock you out of your daze.

“I’m a bad girl.” You tremble. His lips turn into a devilish grin. Hands roaming over your reddening skin.

“Mhm…” Harry hums with eyes searching your overwhelming appearance. “Across my legs.”

He relaxes his hold on your hair, letting you rise up on the bed to comfortably lay across his thighs. Your backside perched itself in the air. The ends of your skirt revealing your bare heat as his hand that once laid marks across your skin rubs against the material of your clothing.

“They’re calling you a dumb slut,” His hands go under your skirt to feel over your ass roughly. “I think I agree.” He smacks the flesh making you chew down on your bottom lip.

“Do you think you’re a dumb slut?” Harry taunts with another mark against your ass.

The atmosphere is influenced with pure lust from each swift, assertive motion of his palm lying roughly into your skin. Harry’s not even waiting for you to answer, he’s just placing blow after blow amongst your cheeks in pure arousal. The sheets underneath his hold ruffles against your body with each thrust.

You bite down harder into your bottom lip, fingers curling into the duvet as your eyes roll in hunger at the furious slaps causing hues of red blossoming under your skin.

“Dumb slut doesn’t know how to answer,” Harry cracks another heavy smack against your ass. High pitch whimper breaks through your lips when you jump at the action.

“Baby,” You cry but that only beckons another sharp slap.

“What’s my name?”

“S —Sir. I’m sorry sir.” You apologize for the mistake as his thundering smacks blaze across your skin.

“Dumb little fuck toy,” One hand leaves your cheeks and trails back into your hair. He’s tugging the strands so you can turn towards the laptop completely.

Catching sight of yourself in the camera your face is blazed red, lips bitten with tears brimming your eyes from the pain and pleasure coursing through your veins. The viewers are seeing you at your most vulnerable. Being taunted with bruises and degrading words, just for you to apologize to the one haunting your skin with waves of pain.

“Say it, say “I’m a dumb little fuck toy”,” Harry gloats. You can see in the view of the laptop his smirk as it’s the only feature that reveals his face. The palm of his hand makes another moan slip out of your mouth as it welcomes itself against your flesh.

He loves watching you wither and moan. He loves seeing your skin flourish with hues of pink from his finger prints leaving their marks, knowing that they will be there for days. He loves that with each smack of his hand you were getting off to it. He loves that if he were to move his position even lower he’ll feel your wet pussy ready for anything he has in store.

“I’m a dumb little fuck toy sir.” You whine, voice muffled from your face press into the sheets.

“Mhm…” Harry hums again, another painful slap burning your skin. “My dumb little fuck toy.” Smoothing his hand over your scorching flesh.

His grip on your hair jerks your head back, painful cry leaving your mouth as the straining sensation in your scalp makes your arms bend to pick your body off his thighs. He draws your head back even further, your legs flexing to move your position to now face him. The hand leaving heavy slaps against your ass sends one roughly across your face.

His jaw is still tense with eyes dilated in dominance. Your legs are now completely aching for his touch to spread over your pussy, just craving attention.

“Don’t you love being my fuck toy?”

You moan at the words, blinking up at him and nodding your head. “Yes sir.” You whimper, sucking on your bottom lip as he looks over your disheveled appearance.

Harry taps your face gently, lips flattening together as the hold he has on your hair pressures your face to meet his. Your tongues immediately exchange fluid as they dance against each other in passionate harmony, the feeling of his muscle running against yours has you moaning into the kiss.

The rough exchange of spit oozes between lips as you push yourself deeper into his embrace. His fingers curling into your hair welcoming your adventurous tongue as it glides against the wet expanse of his.

“I love being your fuck toy,” You mumble, pulling away and leaving string of saliva linked between you. His eyes glisten at your confession. It makes Harry smirk at you, his tongue escaping his mouth to sever the translucent connection.

The hand in your hair is breaking the sight between you both. His grip shoves your head directly into his lap, your nose digging into his crotch as his other hand goes back to rubbing your bruised skin.

“I think it’s time to put you to work.” Harry declares, his hold making you roam your face along his erection. Your breath rushing over his clothed shaft as he buries you into his lap.

The notifications of tips rings through the space. Audience entertained that you’re being degraded for their enjoyment. The thought alone arouses you, it made you moan against his cock. Followers and onlookers getting off to Harry completely doing anything that he wants to your body. Accepting the demeaning words that fuels your greed for pleasure, and letting him place as many smacks against your skin.

“Take my cock out.” He instructs, his grip relaxing as he lets you rise up to reach into his boxers.

Your hands glide over his member gracefully, fingers roaming over the thick expanse as your eyes look at him with pure adoration. Angry veins ranging in size roam under the stretched skin of him that has your mind completely hypnotized.

“Look at you,” Harry exaggerates with amusement. He gently slaps your cheeks in light taps, those motions making you smile with moan slipping out.

“Enjoying yourself like the slut you are,” He comments. His grip forcing the space between you and his dick to bring attention to pleasing him.

With fingers still lace in your hair, they effortlessly follow your movements when your head leans forward to pepper wet kisses along his shaft. Plump bitten lips smearing saliva messily over his erection, as they roam all along his length, tongue stretching around the girth.

Your hand goes to cup his balls, letting your mouth pick up motion with each descend down him. Tongue feeling over every inch, swallowing him down coating the expense of him in thick fluid from every stroke.

Your eyes flutter from the familiar feeling of him dragging down your throat. The way he fits so nicely like he was made to be there, it only makes you moan around him in pleasure. You love the way he stretches your throat blissfully, moving gracefully with the added slick. The sensation of him expending the flesh around him has your pussy throbbing for any form of treatment.

The quiver between your legs only increases when the grip Harry has in your hair is roughly forcing you back down his cock. Hips drawing slowly out of your mouth to push back in as he begins to fuck your throat. His nails curl into your scalp when he shoves your head all the way down to the point your nose is brushing against his groin, just letting you take his swift thrusts. His deep voice dripping in honey when satisfying groans pass through his lips.

“Take my dick like the good slut you are.”

Wet, obscure noise sounding throughout the atmosphere as he assaults your throat. His rough hands collecting your hair swiftly as he continues to drag your head up and down his cock. The aggressive lunges he makes with his own hips to meet your mouth causes your chest to burn for air.

Your palms tear away from his balls and run across his upper thighs, eyes barely open from the lack of oxygen running through your system. Your mind goes completely numb to the control he has over your movements.

And just as your nose brushes against his skin once more, he relaxes his grip in your locks, letting his fingers gently bring your head up. Heavy ragged breaths draw from your lips as your lungs ache in pain.

It’s only when you feel one of Harry’s hand leave from your hair to run across your face, that you feel wetness roam amongst your cheeks.

His other hand glides down your backside. Feeling over the bruised skin and slipping it between your legs to run his fingers down your folds. A hesitant breath escapes you with eyes blinking slowly at his dick glistening in your fluid.

“Always so wet for me, huh?” Index finger craving your clit around in circles.

You hum while nodding your head; your mind is in another dimension right now, you’re not even sure if you’re able to form coherent words. Your brain is in a cloudy daze, dancing between the raging sensations flowing through you.

It’s a mix between thrill and greed. You want more of Harry shoving himself down your throat till the point you pass out, you want him to push your face deeper down his cock and have your nails curling into his skin from the lack of oxygen. You want him to ruin you.

“So wet and ready to be used.” Harry states. Another finger occupying his movements, only causing your head to lean forward, broken whimper trailing out of your lips at the added pleasure you’ve been craving. “Be a good little slut for me. Won’t you baby.”

You nod your head, lashes fluttering against the hollows of your eyes while you lean forward and press lazy kisses along his dick. Harry motions continue to rub your clit around his two fingers, spreading your nectar along your folds with swiftness that you can’t help the moan that breaks through your lips.

“Say you’re gonna be a good slut for me.” His fingers continuing their fierce movements.

“I —I’m,” Voice coming out broken and damaged. Harry smirks at that. “I’m gonna be a good slut for you sir.” You manage to say, lips still roaming amongst his length.

“That’s my girl.”

His fingers leave your clit to dip between your folds and spread you open. Lengthy digits thrusting into your pussy slow. He feels the way your velvet walls sink around him, the sweet fluid that you’ve been producing since he’s been lying his hands on you, gliding down every inch of his skin as lets his fingers explore you.

You moan at the feeling of Harry slipping into your pussy provoking more filthy whimpers of pleasure, while your mouth drags down the expense of him.

You’re so turned on from the sensations coursing through you, you don’t even hear the constant pings of tips and comments coming through the chatroom. Viewers appreciate your tousled appearance and beg for more entertainment. They want more exposure of your skin being shown. They want more deafening slaps and disgraceful words, they want to see you wrecked.

Your lips wrap around Harry in a frenzy state, sucking him down your throat just the way you know he likes; tongue lying on the underside and feeling over every prominent blood vessel that blooms along his shaft, throat welcoming the thickness that buries itself deep in your throat till your nose is brushing up against his groin just like before.

As you continue to let pleasure course through you and roam down the span of him, Harry continues playing with your pussy. Lunging his fingers hungrily with your slick cascading down his fingers all the way to his knuckles, fucking his digits into your soiled box that you choke around him, only straining the burn in your throat.

“That’s my good slut.” Harry groans, his fingers curling into your heat as your eyes flutter. “Taking good care of my dick.” He continues to boast.

You hum from the gratitude, relishing in the compliment that’s given, you nod around him in acknowledgment with fingers curving gently into his skin while he continues his tantalizing motions.

“Wanna be an even better slut for me?” He questions. Your mouth drapes up the expense of him, saliva dripping from your lips as you turn to look up at him with swollen eyes and burning cheeks.

“Yes sir.” Nodding while blinking up at him. You’re sure the mascara that coated your lashes is all over your cheeks and streaked along the hollow of your eyes. You’re sure that Harry loves the damage he’s done to you.

“Gonna take my dick like the good girl you are? Huh? Don’t you want to be a good girl?” You moan at the words while nodding your head again at him. Whatever he wanted to do, you allowed. In the mind space your in, he could do no wrong.

“Yes sir.”

You let him push you off his lap and find his place behind you, handling you roughly as his hands leave your hair to position you better in the frame of your laptop. His fingers undo your bralette before pushing your back deeper into the duvet. His hands gliding down the smooth expense before tugging your skirt higher on your hips.

“Such a pretty pussy.” You hear behind you. Cock dragging down your aching heat.

“Please sir, I wanna feel you.” You moan, voice strained and raspy. Harry laughs behind you. Deep chuckle as if he’s amused by your comment. “Please sir, haven’t I’ve been good?” You beg, ass pressing deeper into his cock, that it only allows a smack to go across your cheeks.

“I don’t know, have you?” Pressing his cock between your folds to slide in effortlessly. Your walls expand around him, damaged voice moaning out swears from him filling you up completely as his hips meet your backside.

“Why did you lie to me?” Harry taunts, drawing back till his head is breached between your hole until he thrusts back in aggressively.

“Why did you lie to them?” He continues, his hand leaving your covered hips and bringing your wrist to hold behind your back.

You can only moan at the drastic strikes of his cock in you. He’s barreling down your walls aggressively that you’ve grown completely numb to the pleasure, just letting him manhandle you to the point you’re not even control of your emotions, he’s the one controlling them.

“Answer me!” He demands, his chest leaning in to grab your hair in his hands and twist your head to look directly into the camera.

“Tell them, tell me, why’d you lie.” Your eyes float over the colourful screen with black words darting up and down. There’s tears brimming your eyes at his thickness abusing your hole so roughly.

“I don’t know sir.” You whine, your free hand not in Harry’s grasp is curling into the duvet as he pounds away at your cervix.

“You don’t know?” He questions, continuing to bruise your pussy restlessly. You shake your head in his hold while whimpering at the pleasure. “You want me to give you the answer, will that make it easy for you? Hm?” He’s diving down your walls with such violation your mind is in a different place.

“Yes sir, tell me.” You moan into the sheets, the soft light from the laptop is blurry under your gaze.

“Because you’re a dirty slut. Say it, say “I lied because I’m a dirty slut.”” Nodding your head into the sheets you feel lonesome tears begin to run down your face as you let him degrade you for everyone and him to enjoy.

“I lied because I’m a dirty slut.” Crying into the sheets as he continues to stroke your walls dangerously.

“That’s right.” Harry husks, the grip he has in your hair releasing as it runs across your face wiping your tears. “But you’re my dirty slut. My dirty fuck toy.”

Shallow breaths draw in from your clit throbbing in arousal, your pussy continues to accept his thrusts that glide with ease from your nectar, walls enveloping him comfortably as he strides in with rough urgency.

He looks over your features; mascara smeared all over your cheeks, eyes trained dazzlingly at the screen beside you, chest heaving with ease as your backside sounds in the room with the fluid between your legs joining. He loves that he can push you to your limits and you still find pleasure in his devious ways. He loves that you accept his intensity with your own greed for wanting more.

“My pretty fuck toy. Only I can make you feel like this.” His hand coming between your thighs to toy with your clit. Heavy breath releasing from your chest as you dip your head in acknowledgment.

“Making you this needy over my cock. I know you love it.” You whine at the comment, knuckles going white against the bedsheets.

“Yes, fuck, sir, I love it.” Whimpering with gaze completely blurring with tears accepting his intense thrusts.

“My pretty slut.” Harry’s fingers rub your bundle of nerves in rough circles as he continues to drive your nerves up the wall.

The ringing from the laptop doesn’t overshadow the ones in your ears. Your eyes roll to the back of your head with it digging into the sheets. Your thighs quiver against his barreling ones, warm waves of euphoria coat your body in pure ecstasy from your climax overthrowing you.

Harry is grunting behind you, his movements never slowing just continuing their hungry paste. His hand that was wiping away your tears goes to land smacks against your backside to add to your electrifying orgasm coursing through you.

“Want me to make you even prettier? Want me to make you beautiful?” He insinuates, palm leaving another mark against your skin as he fucks you into the mattress.

The addicting sensation clouds over you from being completely disoriented at the assault between your legs. Brain in fuzzy whirlwinds of pleasure at the aftermath of your climax.

“Yes sir.” Whining with every jolt of your body.

“Gonna make you the prettiest toy.”

His hips lunge into you once more, thickness dragging down your walls enticingly before they pull out, his creamy seed runs down your folds in long spurts as he tugs himself off in front of your pussy.

Disappointing cry trails out of your mouth at the disappearance of his cock leaving your heat, but you can feel his cum running down your lips, and you can feel his hands roaming amongst your ass cheeks again.

“Look at you,” Harry smiles breathlessly, his grip over you making your backside face the laptop and display your ruined hole to the viewers.

“Look at how pretty you are.” His hands spreading your cheeks to showcase your pussy dripping in his cum.

There wasn’t much you could even do in the moment, continuing to let him present you as his fuck toy to your followers. The action had you actually smiling smugly into the sheets.

“My pretty girl.” Harry is leaving his place to lean over and press kisses along the side of your face.

And that is how your night ends, with the notifications blaring in the background with tips of your viewers thanking you for your first show.

[milf-murdock]

I See Red (Part 1)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x 141!Reader

Part 2 can be found here

Summary: A tech expert lends her expertise to the 141 for a mission. It’s not her fault that she’s tall, beautiful, and perfect. But it is her fault that she can’t keep her goddamn hands to herself. How else are you supposed to react when you walk in to find her lips on your Ghost?   Warnings: allusions to cheating (not Ghost’s fault!! Sweet man has never done anything wrong in his life), swearing, angst (does it make it better if I promise all the fluff in the next chapter?) A/N: Well this has been on my brain for a while. I’m so thrilled to finally have this out into the world! The OGs know that this was one of my first prompts I came up with when I was first writing for Simon Riley. I guess we’ve come full circle <3 Thank you for all your support. Remember, your comments, tags, and messages mean the world to us writers! 

It’s surprising that the harsh grinding of your teeth isn’t audible given how hard you’re clenching your jaw. You watch in irritated silence as a tall curvy redhead named Bex leans over Ghost’s shoulder to peer down at the encrypted computer. 

She’s always so fucking close to him, to your Ghost. 

You steady your growing impatience by taking a swig of water, the thin plastic crinkling under your touch. 

“Hmm.” She leans in closer and you could tell Ghost is on edge. He wasn’t exactly the sort who tolerated too many people encroaching on his personal space. 

Clearly he makes an exception when it comes to gorgeous redheads though, you think to yourself before mentally chastising the thought.

The rational side of your brain knows that he’s more than likely just putting on a brave face because Bex is new to the team. Technically, you correct yourself, not an actual part of the team. She’s more like a short term contractor. Even you had to begrudgingly admit that the 141 needed her level of expertise to crack through the firewalls and get the intel needed to ensure success for the next part of your mission. After all, you risked your life getting the damn laptop. What good is it if you can’t even get into it?

You knew all of this. Logically. It made sense. Your team needed a military-grade computer expert. She was the most qualified for the job—the “best of the best” Price had said. Done. Fin. 

Except…

Except you just couldn’t get over the way her eyes always seemed to linger on Ghost. The way she’d accidentally brush up against him as they walked side by side through the hallway. The way she laughed a little too loud at his terrible Army jokes. And right now, the way her hand rests on his shoulder as she studies the screen. 

Your fist unconsciously clenches around your water bottle causing the ice cold water to gush over the loosened cap, spilling all over your lap. 

You let out a shout, jumping to your feet as the cold water soaks through your layers. Bex jumps as well, surprised by the outburst, stepping back from the mess. 

Simon is on his feet in a heartbeat. 

“You okay?” But not even his deep baritone, usually instantly calming, could soothe your irritation, now at an all time high.

“I’m fine,” you snap, crossing the briefing room in strides to toss the empty bottle in the bin.  Ghost watches you with careful eyes. Though his face is covered by his signature skull balaclava, you didn’t miss his appraising gaze as he tries to assess the situation—ever the tactician. 

You take a deep breath. “I’m fine,” you try again, aiming for a more pleasant tone. “Really. Just a slip of the hand.” 

“Well,” Bex scoffs, “You really should be more careful. We are dealing with electronics here, you know.” Her snarky tone has you nearly seeing red again, but you clench your jaw tight and plaster the friendliest smile you could muster, though you’re certain it must look more like a grimace. 

“Noted,” you grit out before turning your attention back to Ghost. “I’m gonna head to the barracks and grab a shower. Catch you later?” 

Ghost’s head bobs in a subtle nod, but his eyes are still looking at you with that quizzical expression on his face. He knows something is wrong. 

You just subtly shake your head in response, doing your best to a convey a “not now. We’ll talk later” with just a glance. Turning back to the door, you leave the two of them behind to tackle the task at hand. The sooner you crack the encryption and figured out where your target is, the sooner Bex can get the fuck out of here.

Walking across the base, you pinched the bridge of your nose between your fingers, internally scolding yourself for letting your temper get the best of you. The fresh, cool evening air helps calm your sour mood, and you do your best to reassure yourself. 

I’m sure it’s nothing.

 It’s all in your head. 

He probably doesn’t even like redheads.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts you don’t even see where you were going, which is exactly how you find yourself running face first into the brick wall of Johnny. 

Oomph. The air whooshes out of your lungs as two broad hands reach up to steady you. 

“Easy there, lass,” the Scottsman chuckles. “Watch where yer goin’ bonnie.” 

“Sorry Soap,” your cheeks feel warm with embarrassment. “Didn’t see you there. Lost in my own head.” 

“I’ll say!” Johnny claps a hand on your shoulder, the other balancing a stack of folders. “Hey, while I have you here, have ye seen LT?” 

“Yeah, he’s with Bex in the briefing room. They’re trying to tackle that computer we lifted from the last mission.” 

Soap nods. “More power to her. That shite doesn’t make any fucking sense to me.” 

“Yeah. She’s a real blessing to the team,” you grumble, unable to withhold your eye roll. 

“There’s that fiery sergeant I love so much,” Soap teases. “Am I getting a whiff a jealousy, hen?” 

“Don’t even get me started Soap or I swear to god—“

“Alright, alright,” Soap laughs good naturally, his free hand coming up in mock surrender.  “But hey, would you mind dropping off these files to LT? He needs to review them before our meeting with Laswell in a couple hours and I’ve got to meet up with Price now, don’t have time to trek all the way to the briefing room.” 

“Sure,” you do manage to hold back your sigh this time. “Happy to help.” And you are happy to help Soap—he’s a great friend to both you and Simon—you just aren’t too happy at the thought of seeing your new BFF Bex again so soon. At least the short walk had served its purpose in cooling your temper a bit. 

“You’re a treat, bonnie, I owe you one,” Soap smiles, giving your shoulder a firm pat before taking off in the opposite direction towards price’s office. 

You adjust the stack of sealed papers in your hands as your turned back around towards the briefing room and head across base. 

You quick steps have you approaching the briefing room soon enough. Surprisingly, the door is  left slightly ajar—you must not have shut it all the way when you stormed out of the room earlier, you reason.

You approach silently, softening your footsteps to avoid any kind of noise, a small voice in the back of your mind goading you to surreptitiously see how Bex might behave without an audience. You peer in the room to find Bex and Simon standing at the table, the computer screen lighting up in front of them. 

“We’re in!” Bex exclaims, her voice high pitched with excitement. 

You watch the scene unfold before you and it feels like the world is moving in slow motion. Bex turns her radiant expression up to face Simon, her hands moving upwards and tucking up under his balaclava, and then—in the blink of an eye—she raises it above his chin and presses a kiss to his lips. Simon’s hands reach up to grasp her wrists, already beginning to pull away, but it’s too late. 

You see everything. 

The papers fall to the floor with a crash, and both Simon and Bex jump apart, eyes flashing to the door. 

Bex at least has the good sense to look embarrassed by her actions, her face flushing bright red, eyes cast to the ground. 

“It’s not what it looks like,” Simon urges, pulling his mask back down in place. “Wait—“ 

You turn and walked out the door, the scene playing on a loop in your head. 

Her lips. Pressed up against Simon. Your Simon. His lips…kissing her back? The memory already warps, tinged with shades of red matching the shades of anger running through you. 

The rage fuels your steps as you run from the briefing room, desperate to get away.

Simon blinks at the empty space in the doorway, the space where you stood just a second ago, before this colossal shit storm descended. 

“Well, sorry we got interrupted,” Bex’s sultry voice breaks the silence, her small hand reaching towards Ghost’s glove. “Should we continue where we left off?”

“Touch me again, and you lose the whole goddamn hand,” Simon’s hardened voice is laced with the threat of violence. “Keep your bloody hands to yourself.” 

The blood drains from Bex’s face. 

With that, he storms out the door, following your trail. One thought playing on repeat in his mind: I can’t lose her. 

Masterlist ✧ Ask Box

Read Part 2 here ❤️

[4sturns]

BREAK THE INTERNET

camboy!chris s. x fem!viewer!reader

genre: smut

synopsis: being chris' top tipper and most loyal viewer, you're gifted with a private one on one cyber call with your favorite camboy.

warnings: cyber sex, sub!chris (reader tells him what to do), whining and whimpering, use of vibrator, praise kink (4sturns knows what praise is ????? woah ...), orgasm denial, use of petnames (mamas, baby, etc.), not proofread!

wc: 1.822

a/n: sat there thinking about how kinky i am compared to others in the fandom and suddenly had the great idea of writing for camboy!chris because god he'd be such a pretty camboy .. thank you for 500 followers too this is for you guys ❤️‍🩹 also brace yourselves because this is probably the longest fic i have ever written in all my years of writing

you're sat at your desk, your laptop propped up at an angle which conceals your face, but shows off your breasts which are clad in a red lacy bra.

there's music playing lowly on a speaker somewhere on the other side of the room, something you put on to calm down your nerves.

you bounce your leg, waiting anxiously as you wait for chris' call notification to pop up on your screen.

you've been a viewer of chris' for a while. he was the first camboy you'd ever encountered and he was certainly your favorite. something about him and how he always gives in to his tippers made you cash in on his streams. he was just so good, so obedient, and so pretty.

unbeknownst to you, you had somehow became his top tipper in the span of a couple months. what you expected to be a cumulative amount of fifty dollars, maybe sixty, turned out to be close to ten times the price you assumed you had tipped him.

even with the initial shock, you still couldn't blame yourself for giving him so much money. he was just so good for you, giving you exactly what you wanted and asked of him every single time.

a sudden and loud tone rings from your laptop speakers making you jump from the unexpected noise. the screen flashes with chris' name and his provocative profile picture, your heart rate picking up at the sight. a shaky hand reaches up to the track pad to accept the call, not before a nervous breath leaves your body.

the call zooms in to show you a full view of chris' camera. his face is out of view, similar to you, but he's sporting a white tank top and plaid pajama pants in comparison to your red bra and black silk shorts.

through your little square screen in the corner, you can visibly see your chest heaving. your mouth feels dry, heart pounding uncontrollably. normally you'd feel fine, but that was when it was chris talking to his entire audience, not just you individually.

"hey mamas," chris greets you, he sounds just as breathless as you. "god, you look so good in that set."

you crack a faint smile although he can't see it. a hand goes up to play with the necklace around your neck, relieving some tension as you work up a response.

"not too bad yourself, chris." you can see him shift around, a muffled moan piercing through your speakers gains your attention.

"already worked up? is it because of my boobs on your screen or because you like my voice a little too much, baby?" you're almost shocked at your own words, you were just shaking a moment ago and now you're taunting the very guy you'd get off to almost nightly for the past three months.

"fuck, if you don't stop teasing me i might just cum in my pants." chris moves his camera back to reveal his face. you're stunned for a second, taking in his beauty. it's not the first time you've seen his face, but you swear he gets prettier every day.

based on chris' chuckle, you're sure he saw the way your chest spiked up with the silent gasp you let out when he showed his face.

"tell me what to do, mamas. you're in control of me tonight." his words are spoken quietly, but god do they do a number on you.

"can you— can you touch yourself, for me?" you stutter slightly. you're so used to giving him commands through his chat that giving him a verbal command one on one makes you lightheaded.

without a word, chris' hand inches towards the bulge in his pants. he starts palming himself through his pants as small whimpers leave his mouth. you're sitting back in your chair, your face from the nose down is now visible on the screen. your eyes are fixed to the screen as your entire body starts to heat up.

"can i take off my shirt? please, ma." he's still palming himself, but he stares right into the camera. you can't bring yourself to speak, so you nod your head, praying he gets the memo despite how little of your face is actually showing.

thankfully he does, his free hand gripping the bottom of his top before swiftly removing the garment. his soft, long hair bounces back into place, covering part of his eyes in a way that makes him look like an angel. a sinful angel.

suddenly, chris stops palming himself, his hand going to dip past the waistband of his pants. he quickly whips out his dick before hissing at the cold air which hits his tip.

you're in awe, no matter how many times you've seen his dick before, it'll never quite compare to how good it looks in this moment. but once the feeling subsides, you quickly remember something.

"i never told you you could take your dick out of your pants, did i?" you're now leaning forward, as if challenging chris through the screen. there's no battle however, as panic quickly flashes through chris' features.

his mouth springs open as floods of apologies and excuses leave his mouth, although you're not quite picking up what he's saying. your eyes are piercing your laptop screen as you notice his tip leaking a clear liquid. you watch as his entire cock twitches when you let out a low chuckle.

"i'm sorry, please, i'm a good boy! i swear i'm a good boy." chris pleads with you, causing a wave of heat to overtake your body. you say nothing as he continues to ramble. but you know you can't keep him waiting, you'd be torturing yourself more than him.

"show me how good you are and stroke yourself for me, hmm?" chris complies almost instantly, his head nodding frantically as he wraps a hand around his hard cock. whimpers and high pitched whines fill up your speakers as you instruct him to stroke himself faster. but just that isn't enough for you.

"can you do something for me, baby?" chris' eyes open, an eager smile crosses his face as he momentarily pauses his movements.

"anything for you, mamas." his hair flops around as he nods his head.

"grab that little black vibrator, the one you know i like." you remember the first time you stumbled onto chris' live broadcast. you remember how tightly he was gripping the base of his cock as he held a vibrator right under his angry, red tip. you remember how loud his whimpers were, how much he was begging for release. the image of his cum painting his stomach white as the buzzing continues in the back is something that will never fail to make you moan.

chris comes back into frame holding the toy, a devious smile makes it way onto your face. it's caught on your camera and you can tell chris knows your intentions aren't pure from the way he visibly gulps. regardless, he sits back down infront of his screen before positioning himself to face you again.

"use it on yourself, the same way you always do." the words leave your mouth sounding more like a command than you'd like, although it really is a command.

chris takes your words seriously as he quickly fumbled with the buttons on the little toy to turn it on. a breathy moan leaves his mouth as he finally lowers it down to circle around his tip. the sight is breathtaking. chris' head tipped back as his hand grips at the base of his cock so tightly you're surprised it's not turning a shade of purple. the vibrator soon finds home right under his tip, buzzing away at his sweet spot.

you bite your bottom lip to conceal your moans, a hand sneakily sliding into your silk bottoms as you feel your soaked folds. your fingers move quickly to collect your arousal before dipping into your throbbing cunt. a whine escapes your lips right as chris lets out a rather loud groan.

you know he's close, but you can't let him go yet. not before you do.

"you're such a good boy for me, so good." you lean back in your chair, propping a leg up on the table to get a better angle, maximizing your own pleasure.

chris' eyes flicker open to take a quick peak at his laptop screen. he nearly cums at the sight. your face is now fully in frame, except it's twisted in pleasure. your fingers moved fast, plunging in and out of your soaked cunt as strings of profanity leave your puffy lips. he thought your voice was pretty, but he never expected the voice to belong to a goddess like you.

"fuck, ma. i'm so close," your eyes open to watch chris' face as he turns the intensity of the vibrator up a level. his eyes are shut tight, but you can still see the tears pricking at his eyes as the pleasure builds up.

"hold it for me, baby. be my good boy and wait for me." an anguished cry leaves chris' throat, though he obeys you and holds himself back from his release.

on your end, you're working hard to reach your own release. you've long discarded your bottoms, having thrown them to the floor somewhere behind you. one hand works diligently to draw circles on your clit, while the other drills into your pussy relentlessly.

"i can't, please i need to come so badly. i've been a good boy, right? please, mamas. i need it." chris is in tears by now, the muscles in his stomach flexing with how much force he has put in so far to control himself for you.

you can feel yourself approaching your own climax, strained moans are pulled from your body as you find the energy in you to speak.

"go ahead, baby. paint your stomach white for me like the good boy you are." through your laptop speakers, you can hear chris' loud pants and whimpers as his orgasm washes over him, a cry of your name leaving his lips in such an erotic moan that you're sent over the edge.

your legs tremble and shake as you let your orgasm rip through your body. your body feels like it's on fire, little surges of electricity rage through your body even after the buzz of your orgasm fades.

you peer over at your laptop screen to see chris has discarded the vibrator, though his hand is still working to give his dick a few final strokes before going limp. his stomach is coated in thick ropes of cum, his skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat.

"did i do good for you, mamas?" chris asks, his voice barely above a whisper, clearly spent from all his whining.

"you did so good for me, such a good boy. you're my baby boy."

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Your Personal Ghost｡⋆.

Brahms Heelshire x plus size reader

As a writer, you need peace and quiet but it seems the ghost in your new home has some other ideas for you

Warnings: paranoia, sort of stalking, usual Brahms shenanigans, nudity, little bit of smut, m and f masturbation, voyeurism

WC: 861

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Halloween Celebration

That feeling was back, the feeling that you were being watched, like eyes were cutting into the back of your head, observing every move you made. A shiver rolled down your spine but you shook it off in favour of continuing your work.

The house was old, very fucking old, so it was bound to have a few ghosts. That is what you bought the place, you hoped that those spirits could help inspire you, your publisher was getting very pushy for a new book.

You had hoped that the manor in the picturesque English countryside, which was being sold for a very reasonable price, would give you some ideas and motivation for a new novel. But so far, your writer’s block had turned into a full on story dam and you had developed a pervasive feeling of paranoia. The old ass furniture that creaked when you so much as looked at it didn’t help much either.

The small cursor on your laptop screen seemed to mock you as it blinked away in your empty document. You had written about 30 story ideas since you moved in a month ago but you deleted all of them, or at least you assumed you deleted them because they would disappear when you woke up in the morning. None of the stories felt right, they were all either too overdone or not creative enough for a full length book and it was quickly driving you crazy.

“God!” You groaned and leaned back into your desk chair, covering your eyes with frustration. “How the fuck does Stephen King do this?” You whined as your fingertips dug into your temples in an attempt to massage away the tension headache that was beginning to form. 

Your shoulders sagged as you sat forwards again. “I need a break.” The legs of the chair scraped against the old hardwood, echoing through the otherwise silent office. A glance at the window revealed yet another cloudy day and you wondered if it was ever sunny here. 

The eyes of the creepy portraits in the hall followed you as you walked by, like they always did but you truly didn’t have the energy to deal with them today. Your bedroom was a complete mess but you told yourself it was a functional mess as you stepped around several piles of clothes and books on your way to the bathroom. 

A huge claw-foot tub rested beneath a large window overlooking the expansive grounds of the manor, providing you with literally the best baths you had ever taken. Soon enough, hot steam began to fill the room and the sound of running water overpowered the buzz of fear that almost constantly filled your head. A couple drops of lavender essential oils and some bubble bath completed your little ritual.

Shedding off your ratty writing clothes, you stepped into the tub. Immediately the hot water relaxed your tense muscles and you breathed out a sigh of relief. You sank further into the water, letting your tired eyes flutter shut as your hands travelled down the length of your soft body, coming to rest at the seam of your thighs.

“Maybe I need to properly relax. It has been a while.” You murmured to yourself as your fingertips began to explore your sensitive inner thighs. A quiet mewl slipped through your lips, stoking the fire that was beginning to blaze in your belly. Your hips bucked into your hand, keening for your own touch.

“Fuuuck.” You whined as you finally brushed against your clit, sending a ripple of pleasure through your body. Water light lapped at the edges of the porcelain tub as your body moved, chasing your end. But even through the sound of the water and your breathless moans, you heard something else.

A loud creak and the trembling of the wall. You froze and looked around the room, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise. There was a crack in the wallpaper on the wall opposite you and you swore that something moved behind it but as you waited, holding your breath in fear, nothing happened. 

You groaned before you let out a relieved laugh. “God, this place is haunted.” Your hands did not return to your previous activities, instead you shut your eyes and let the still warm water caress your body, unaware of the very real presence behind the wall.

His cooling cum coated Brahms’s hand and pants as he struggled to catch his breath through his pale mask. His eyes remained locked on your barely concealed body as his cock began to twitch back to life, he wished that you would play with yourself again but he was still content to see you completely bare to him, just as he had dozens of times before.

He so badly wished to reveal himself to you, to have you touch him instead of only imagining it while he used your stolen clothes to wrap around his cock. You would stay here forever with him, he would guarantee it but he had to be patient. At least today he didn’t have to sneak out of the wall and delete your manuscript again.

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[robo-writing]

So close, and yet so far

Aka: Johnny finds a new obsession in you.

Pairing: John “Soap” MacTavish/Reader

Rating: 18+

This was heavily inspired by this lovely ghost/reader camgirl fic, so I decided to throw my hat in the ring. I wrote this in two hours with no editing 🥴

You’re a sweet thing, honeysuckle, ambrosia. The kind of sweet that lingers in your mouth and leaves an aftertaste. He guesses that’s why he returns to your stream every day—like honey, and just as sticky. 

Johnny’s bored one day, absentmindedly palming his boxers as he browses for a good video. Not one to be picky, but something about today has him particularly on edge, not quite able to find his release. His usuals just aren’t doing it.

Then he finds an ad for a cam site and sees you on the front page. 

You catch his eye immediately, wondering what a cute lass like you is doing on a site like this. The link takes him to your stream and his cock hardens in his boxers, not quite believing what his eyes see.

You’re a dream in a pair of soft pink panties, the kind of girl he’d never believe would be working as a cam girl unless he saw it for himself. Legs spread, bright pink vibrator buzzing between your legs, nearly in tears as your back arches off the bed. A hoard of men throwing donations at the screen, hoping for your attention.

He watches for a while more, impossibly hard as your legs shake around the toy, writhing in pleasure. In the corner of the screen he sees a message that makes him throb in his hand.

Valentines special! Top donator of the day gets to hear me moan their name! <3

Thank fucking Christ he had his card number memorized.

Within a day he became your top donator, the emptiness of his wallet meaning nothing when it meant he got to see you spread open on camera, rubbing at your pretty cunt while moaning his name, shaking your hips and displaying your wet pussy for him to see.

“Johnny, Johnny—oh god—“

You sound like heaven in his ears, memorizing each and every sound you make when your fingers find your clit and rub. His hand matches your pace, thumb pressing against his leaking slit and nearly drooling when you grind yourself against your hand with his name on your lips.

You’re beautiful like this, makes him wish he could actually touch you. His cock twitches at the thought, groaning when he reaches down and plays with his balls in tandem.

A day to remember, he swears he’s never come that hard before. His head falls back, not giving a damn if his neighbors hear how loud he moans your name when his cum splashes on his stomach. It drips from his fingers, the slick of it echoing in the room as he vigorously strokes himself through his orgasm. His arm burns with exhaustion, the head of his cock blooming red, so sensitive it becomes damn near painful and yet he doesn’t stop, not until he sees your pretty cunt gush over your fingers. 

You make a mess of yourself, and so does Johnny. The cycle repeats the next day, when he returns for another session. This becomes a regular habit. 

You’re a constant in his life, the moment you go live he’s always the first to join. His pretty bird, his girl. There’s a possessiveness that seeps into every message he sends, lighting up when you read each one and get flustered at the sight. He can tell you’ve never been treated how you aught to be, can see it in the way your legs squeeze together with every donation. 

So he sends you a private message after a month, anxious for your response.

How much for a private session?

And when you give him a price, he’s over the fucking moon. The amount didn’t matter to him, just as long as he got to see you.

Truly a shame he thinks, his little bird going so long without a real man to take care of you. But it’s okay, because now he can lavish you with the attention you’ve needed for so long.

You seem so shy in private, so demure. He knows better of course, has an entire folder on his laptop of you being anything but a fucking angel, but it still shocks him how innocent you seem.

Hands adjusting your outfit, every detail fiddled with until it’s perfect, until you’re satisfied with how your lace fits on your body. A strap here, a crease there. He admires how well you get dolled up for him.

A message flashes on the screen, fifty dollars lighting up. Your eyes light up at the notification, looking over at the bold letters with a smile.

You look so hot today

Your laughter sounds as sweet as you look. “Thank you! I just bought this set.”

You press your tits closer, presenting them to the camera. “Bought it for you, actually. Do you think it looks nice?”

A siren call, he can’t help but be drawn to the view. Johnny licks his lips at the sight, the ambient light casting a soft glow on your exposed cleavage. It makes him want a closer look.

His fingers move quick as anything, not even looking at the screen, completely focused on your body.

$150: you look more than nice lass. let’s see some more.

Familiarity lights up on your features, groaning at the sight of that subtle little grin spreading across your face.

“Of course Johnny,” you whisper, the sound of his name like a melody between your lips. You adjust your camera closer, grabbing at your breasts. “Is this what you wanted?”

No, what he wants is to replace your hands with his own. What he wants is to bite at the supple flesh with his teeth and rip off the flimsy fabric that hides you away from him. 

His hand strokes against the bulge that grows in his boxers as he sends another donation.

$150: you don’t want to know what I want lass.

He loves the look in your eyes, how your pupils dilate when they read it over once, twice. Your lips caught between your teeth, you pull at your nipple through the fabric as you sigh in relief.

“Always a smooth talker…” you whisper.

He watches you from lidded eyes—makes him wonder how you got to this profession, knowing that some dirty talk is enough to have you squirming on camera.

Imagine if he was actually in the room with you, the things he’d say. The things he’d do.

The thought leaves him breathless. One day he’ll have you all to himself, but for now, he’ll settle for a screen.

[hotxcheeto]

OMG OMF REQUESTS R OPEN!! HI!! could u do a rachel X chloe X Fem!reader smut where both chloe & rachel want to dom the reader together? thank uuu

━ 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐎 𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐎𝐍

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Chloe Price x Fem!Reader x Rachel Amber ( poly )

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, porn with no plot, smut, threesome, oral ( r! receiving ), vaginal fingering ( r! receiving ), lots of pet names, praise kink, kissing, hickies, mention of alcohol and cigarettes ( not in story ), dom!chloe, dom!rachel, sub!reader

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - so sorry this took me months!!! so glad you requested ily so you much!!!

The evening was calm besides the light pitter patter of rain on Chloe's bedroom window. The house was quiet, no one else home besides the people in the room, David and Joyce having left for the week.

The sun was setting below the houses, peaking through the torn American flag and dancing along the closet that you were turned away from. The window above the desk being the only thing confirming to you that it was still daytime as you laid sideways on the mattress.

You were snug under your blankets, staring at the laptop in front of you that replayed the same movie that you'd watched earlier. Rachel laying right behind you with a hand on your bare waist.

She took full advantage of the fact that your shirt had ridden up on your hips, her touch slowly luring you to sleep.

Her painted nails trailed up and down your lower belly, face in the crook of your neck as her stare stayed focused on the screen.

Chloe sat not far on the bed, eyes closed but her body sitting up and a headphone in one ear and the other dangling allowing you to hear the muffled song she was listening to.

Rachel didn't seem to care though, just as you didn't. Instead she had different things in mind and it sure wasn't the movie.

She sat up slightly, taking her head away from your neck and peering down at your half lidded eyes. Reflecting the characters in your irises and lazily blinking every few seconds while your breathing stayed slow and steady.

Quietly, she laid her head back down, fingers slowly slipping down to your waistband. Beginning to mess with the strings of your shorts, she snuggled back into your warmth but never stopped.

After a moment of stillness from Rachel again you felt her hand slip underneath the fabric and right onto the hem of your underwear. Quitting her movements and waiting for your reaction which was only a slight twitch at first.

Just her hand resting there provoked you though, the image of her going further slipping into your mind like a bad thought. You bit the inside of your lip at the fantasy.

Moving your legs, you spread them apart just slightly making her smile against your skin. But it didn't stay long and Rachel let the grin slip away, sitting up again to watch your face while moving her fingers underneath your panties, but again she stopped.

Hovering.

Rachel looked over her shoulder at Chloe, quietly giggling to herself, a smirk appearing on her lips before she turned back to you.

"How long until she notices?" Rachel whispered right beside your ear as her finger ran along your wet slit, a tiny gasp heard between the talking of the characters on screen.

"I-" You shut your mouth when that same finger brushed over your clit causing you to spread your legs farther apart. Hoping silently for more. "I dunno- shouldn't we- oh-"

This made your girlfriend laugh, looking back at the other again.

"Guess we'll find out, huh?" You nodded, your eyes now on her instead of the laptop, noticing a familiar, blown out, hungry look in her eyes.

"She's a bit on the oblivious side, though." Rachel moved to kiss you, tasting her cherry Chapstick almost immediatley. Her one finger gathering your wetness while circling your bundle of nerves, the rest of her pulling away from your mouth only to return in less than a second.

"Rach.." "Shhh, I wanna see if she notices. Y'know how she gets.." You did in fact know, you knew all too well. Chloe's possessive want to make you feel good was a blessing and a curse, wanting so bad to be her best for you.

"I–" "Quiet babe.." Rachel lightly kissed your cheek, moving her finger down to your hole light circling it while watching your silent reactions. Choking back your noises to please her.

"Want it?" You expressly nodded, bring your hand up to hold onto her arm. "Mhm." "Good girl.." She teased, giving you a teasing smile while slipping two of her digits deep inside your warm cunt. Feeling your walls envelop her like your entire body needed her fingers.

You whimpered, hiding your face in the mattress as she began moving in and out at an agonizingly slow pace. Rachel's mouth against the flesh of your jaw, sucking and leaving marks up and down your skin for you to have to cover if you wanted to be seen in public.

"Another." A broken whisper left your lips only for her to hear, your girlfriend silently complying and entering another finger into your cunt.

At this your mouth dropped wide, shaky breaths being the only give away of what was happening just inches away from the other now fully awake girl in the room.

Her music was paused but neither you or Rachel noticed that she was listening to your little cries instead.

Chloe watched the blanket move, arm thrown over your waist and in-between your thighs the Chloe could just barely make out the shape of under the fabric.

"Rach..." She heard you whisper, just barely audible and almost unheard by her. "There you go pretty baby, that feel good?" Rachel moved faster, biting the sweet spot on your neck.

Chloe could tell just by how you shifted your body and stretched your other hand up to grab the sheets that Rachel had done something to add to it.

But your mind was so clouded you didn't realize the blue haired girl was watching, three fingers fucking into your warm hole again and again and it began to create a muffled, obnoxious wet sound that made you feel warm in the face.

The build up inside was going to break you though, unaware how much longer you could be quiet for her. Fingertips rubbing along your favorite spots that drove you crazy, again and again.

"You gonna make her come already Rach? Or..."

"Fuck off Chloe." Rachel looked back at her without missing a beat.

"If you wanted to join, could've just asked." She added, smirking at Chloe who sarcastically laughed, crawling towards you while setting her on the blanket, slowly pulling it away from your body.

"I-" Throughout the interaction though, her hand had only sped up with her lips meeting yours again.

In the haze of sitting right on the edge of pleasure you could feel Chloe taking away your pants and underwear letting your legs fall open farther finally tipping you over the edge.

Rachel reached impossible deep inside you as you came, groans and girly whines ripping out of your throat. Legs shaking as you clenched around her fingers, her other hand drawing circles on your clit.

"Good girl, look at her Chlo, isn't she adorable?" Chloe was sat in-between your thighs, holding your calves while watching your pouty eyes turn to look at her.

"When's she not?" Chloe knelt over your body, arm beside your head while she kissed you, her taste a lot different then Rachels. Cigarettes on her tongue and the faint taste of crappy beer lingering.

"Fuck, you havin' fun hot stuff?"

"Mhm.. please more.." Chloe kissed down the part of your neck Rachel didn't, sitting up again to position herself between your legs.

"Rach."

"I got her, come here pretty baby."

Rachel sat behind you, gathering you up into her arms and letting your entire body lay against hers. Your eyes watching her hands flip up your shirt while Chloe watched with a clenched jaw at the sight of your tits.

"Look how pretty you are." She muttered against your ear, lips brushing your skin. "Isn't she pretty, Chlo?" "Fuck yeah."

Her painted finger tips ran over your nipples, a small gasp heard in the room as she did so.

But immediatley it turned into more as you felt Chloe's lips wrap around your lip, warm tongue beginning it's assault on the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Oh! Oh - oh fuck Chloe!" You tried moving your hands to her hair only for Rachel to grab them holding her own over them before beginning to play with your boobs once more.

"Let her focus babe.." "But-" "No.. you wanna feel good?"

Slowly, she watched you nod your head.

"Look at her baby.. look at Chloe eating your pretty pussy."

You hesitated bashfully, finding Chloe's lustful gaze as she sucked hard on your clit, fingers creeping up to your aching hole.

"Isn't she doing a good job? Making you feel good?"

Chloe fed into Rachel's praise like it was the last thing she'd hear, beginning to fuck you with her two fingers before you got a chance to respond with any sort of coherent words.

You gripped at anything that you could reach, bucking your hips up into Chloe's face again and again in order to grind yourself against her tongue.

"Pl-plea-" Rachel just stared at you, love swirling around in her pupils while you tried your best to come on Chloe's tongue and fingers and almost screaming when a third was pushed in deep.

Her hand moved quickly but her tongue was slow and sensual, teasing you but bringing you oh so close to your release.

"I- can I? Please, please, please, please-"

"You heard her, Chloe."

Playfully glaring at her girlfriend, Chloe seemed to be motivated by this, free hand roughly grabbing the fat of your thigh as she fucked into you at an ungodly pace making a loud, wet squelching sound reach your ears.

You were embarrassed by your own noises but could nothing but let yourself be fingered by her. Hand knuckle deep and running along every spot that made your legs shake and push towards her.

"Come baby, come on Chloe's face."

And you did, feeling throughout every inch of while you trembled in Rachel's arms, grabbing the fabric of her shirt as your jaw went slack and your noises seemed to be the only thing that you could hear in the house.

Chloe's fingers beginning to slow while her mouth soon left your cunt, glistening with your own wetness when she did.

"You did so good baby." Rachel cooed, hand running along your forehead and over your hair, the girl giving you a comforting kiss right above your eyebrow.

"Didn't she Chlo?" "Always, right pretty baby?"

Chloe kissed you much softer this time and no longer did the alcohol or cigarettes linger, instead was the taste of yourself.

"Tha-thank you-" You spoke more to the both then to just one of them, both of them smiling warmly at your fucked out form.

"Don't worry, we're not done yet."

"Two for two?"

"I dunno Chlo, she's been listening so well, maybe a little more."

You looked between them both with nervous excitement, noticing their silent glance at one another before looking back at you.

"Sounds good to me."

[leclercsredhelmet]

Guilty as Sin ⚡︎ Max Verstappen

A/N: Hi! Back again with another one, this time it’s Max and guilty as sin! This is a little longer than the rest and it has a little crossover with the NFL, I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Arguing, a little smut. Joe being a jerk (no hate to Joe, he’s one of my faves but I needed a not so good boyfriend for this blurb)

Without ever touching his skin, how can I be guilty as sin?

Sitting cross-legged on the outdoor couch with your computer on the table you looked out at the Miami skyline with a smile. You and your boyfriend Joe had rented an apartment for the next week, Formula One was in town and you were trying to score some last-minute tickets. F1 Experiences had sent you a promotion email, the prices looked good and there were still tickets left, the offer was tempting and you were considering splurging on it. Thankfully, your job allowed you to pay for expenses such as these. You were about to buy the tickets when you received a message on Instagram. Upon opening it, you gasped and jumped off the couch screaming for Joe.

Joe ran out onto the balcony, looking bewildered, “Joe, Joe, Joe, oh my god, oh my god!” You shouted while slapping his chest. “Baby, are you okay?” he asked, concern flashing in his eyes. Unable to talk you showed him your screen, “Baby, this is huge! You better say yes!” he said hugging your waist. Grinning you typed a reply, “We’re going to the Miami Grand Prix!” You shouted and Joe whooped.

Panic set in and you started to pace around the living room, “I have nothing good to wear to a paddock club, this is going to be the end of me!” you exclaimed, “Baby, baby, hey, look at me” Joe said grabbing your shoulders to steady you. “We’re a short walk from the Brickell City Center let’s get changed and we’ll find something for you to wear,” he said. Smiling you kissed his cheek and ran out to get your laptop and into the bedroom, hastily grabbing some clothes and heading towards the bathroom.

Joe was laughing behind you and you heard him shuffle around the room. Things between you two had been rocky lately, he hadn’t had the best season with his calf injury and the wrist injury which forced him to sit out the remainder of the season. But things between you had shifted before all this, you had done your best to push the possibility that your relationship with Joe might be close to running its course. Dating him since the LSU days hadn’t been easy all the time, but you made it work throughout college, your internship in New York during his first-ever season in the NFL with the Bengals. Your careers had tested your relationship but you pulled through, and you were up to a few weeks ago convinced he was the man you wanted to marry. However, lately, this was not looking as clear as it had, Joe was distant with you most days.

Quality time between you was dwindling, you weren’t going out for dinner like you used to and had stopped doing many things together but you pushed the thoughts away for this week. Just one perfect week with Joe in Miami, and everything will be back on track. Your apartment was a short walk from the Brickell City Center mall so you made haste and got there in no time. A few hours later you walked out hand in hand with Joe who carried your bags full of outfits. You had insisted on paying for your own, but he refused and paid, which was why you had decided to buy him an outfit and some sunglasses you knew he had been on the hunt for.

With the bags on the bed, you started to plan your outfits and left them in the closet, Red Bull Racing had been in contact with you and your passes for the week would arrive tomorrow. They were nice enough to give you both access to media day and would send you a media pass with your journalist credentials. You figured you’d make the most out of the opportunity and take notes to report on the race week.

Excitement poured out of you and Joe took note of it, his stomach sank when he realized he hadn’t seen you like this in a while. Dawning on him, he started to see where he might’ve been faulty as of late and made a mental note to make this week the best and hopefully get back on track with you. Unbeknownst to Joe, he hadn’t stretched far back enough to realize he had been pulling away for months. You were sitting in the back of the car that was taking you both to the circuit.

Joe was scrolling on his phone and had barely paid attention to you, for most of the car ride, your driver followed the signs for the entrances assigned to the paddock club members and soon enough he had parked. “Joe we’re here!” you exclaimed and he snapped out of his daze to smile at you, he tipped the driver and informed him that he would call two hours in advance before leaving. With a smile, you thanked the driver and took Joe’s hand. “Hey Joey, do you think it would be weird if I ask Lewis for a picture with Red Bull passes on? You asked. “Don’t think so” he replied dryly. “Is everything okay?” you asked softly. “Yeah, why?” he asked. “Nothing, you were just a little dry, never mind,” you said quickly. Putting an arm around you, you walked and followed the signs for the paddock entrance and security greeted you.

There was a lane to get to the paddock so you walked through it and the entrance looked a thousand times bigger in your eyes due to your excitement. Scanning your passes you grinned as you stepped into the paddock. Joe reached for your hand and you walked past the photographers. A smile was plastered on your face and it got wider when you stepped into the football field. More photographers called out to you upon seeing you two enter. The official f1 cameras were filming your entrance and you did a little wave, while Joe smiled.

The cameras left you alone and you spotted the Red Bull hospitality, you pointed it out to Joe and walked towards it. Some members of the team’s staff were outside and they greeted you, the social media admin who had contacted you, introduced herself and welcomed you inside. “Max and Checo should come by soon, help yourself to any drinks if you want,” she said. Smiling and thanking her, you turned to Joe. “I never thought I’d see the inside of the paddock, much less meet Max,” you said. “Cool, hey some of the guys are here,” he said not acknowledging what you had said. Getting slightly angry, you steeled yourself by counting backward from five. “Okay, can it wait until after?” you asked trying to hide as much of your annoyance as possible.

Was this man serious right now?

Figures approached you and you noticed it was Max and Checo, poking Joe his attention turned to the approaching drivers. “Hey, nice to see you guys!” Checo said. Joe extended his hand and shook Checo’s you did the same but greeted him in Spanish. Max was greeting Joe and he turned to you, “You must be y/n, it’s great you finally meet you. I’ve read your articles and they’re great!” Max said politely. “The pleasure is mine trust me, it’s great to know you liked them,” you replied politely. “Please you write the most competent pieces I’ve read, they should hire you in F1 already, you’d ask non-bullshit questions in the press conferences and interviews,” he said candidly and you laughed.

“She’s trying not to fangirl so hard but she goes insane on race weekends, she’s also raving about you,” Joe said and you blushed. “He’s exaggerating, don’t pay him much attention” you added and Joe laughed. Max smiled, “Seems like we’re all fans of each other,” he said to you both. You complimented Checo’s helmet and expressed your support while Max and Joe chatted and the admins took pictures of them. When you were done talking the admins wanted pictures with the four of you and you with Max while Joe took some with Checo.

Part of going out with Joe to sporting events included this, but you didn’t mind it as a sports journalist because this was pretty much what happened to you, when you attended events for work. “Some of the fins guys are here, I’m going to meet with them for a bit,” Joe said. “Okay, just don’t leave me alone all day please” you whispered. Without replying he left and you were alone with Max since Checo had media duties to fulfill.

Max had been done with his, and he decided to chat with you while showing you the paddock. Joe still wasn’t back and it was starting to bug you, “Do you have any projects lined up?” Max asked. “NFL-related not really, but I’m covering a little bit of hockey and the formulas,” you said with a smile. “Starting with us?” Max asked with a grin, “Yeah, and F1 academy, I have been writing a separate space on my blog for it and I’m excited to see the girls race!” You enthusiastically said. “I’ll get you a pass to the garages next door,” Max offered. “Oh that would be so great, thank you,” you said gratefully. “Do you need one for Joe?” he asked. “No, he seems to be busy at the moment” you replied in a serious tone.

“Ah I see, it’s a little rocky?” he asked. “You could say that, is it that noticeable?” you asked. “Not really, it is to me because I’ve been there before,” he replied before changing the topic which you were grateful for. Max had cracked a few jokes and your cheeks were red from the sun and from laughing, as he promised he would, a pass was handed to you and you thanked him. Slipping the purple lanyard on you exited the F1 paddock and made your way to the F1 garages, making sure your journalist credentials were visible.

The reigning world champion couldn't help but look at your retreating figure, desperately he’d wanted to ask for your number but the more rational side of him was holding him back. She is off-limits, even for me. He could tell your relationship seemed rocky but he would settle for just friends, of course, that all depended on you being open to it. But you were so beautiful, and it pissed him off that your boyfriend was nowhere near you. If I was him, I would be worshipping the ground you walked on.

Charles Leclerc approached him outside of the hospitality before doing the little drill the Miami Dolphins had prepared for them. Noticing his sudden halt in conversation he followed Max’s gaze to see it trained on you and smiled knowingly. “Ah, she’s Burrow’s girlfriend right?” he asked and Max nodded, his speech coming back to him slowly. “Y-yeah, they’re Red Bull’s guests” he replied and Charles smiled. “You like her,” he whispered. “She has a boyfriend,” Max replied quickly. “Yet you didn’t deny it,” he said before patting his shoulder and leaving.

Spotting Braxton you greeted him, smiling he beckoned you over and you greeted his teammates. “Tell me have you seen my boyfriend around? He left me stranded” you whispered. Braxton looked at you apologetically, “He was with us in the paddock club, I think he’s still there” he said. “Okay, thanks Braxton,” you said and didn’t move. Max went over to you and introduced you to the other drivers.

Heading back to the Red Bull hospitality you stood on the balcony and watched the drivers go through the drill, it was funny to see them a little out of their element. Joe had miraculously deigned to appear and he put his arm around you, you leaned into his touch and talked in hushed tones, still, you couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach.

Days had passed after the Grand Prix and you guys were at Joe’s beach house in California, things hadn’t changed and you were feeling like it was time to call it quits. To distract yourself you had gone out to surf and had just come back, sitting on the porch with your feet on the railing you closed your eyes and listened to the ocean breeze. Joe was calling out to you and hadn’t heard him until now. “What?” you called back walking into the house. “Did you go to the beach and didn’t tell me?” he asked irritated. “Joe I told you I was going out for a surf, you didn’t reply because you were busy doing god knows what and I left” you replied crossing your arms. “Well, do you want to go back?” he asked. “No Joe, I’m tired,” you said flatly. “Whatever, I’m going out for a run,” he said with a sigh and turned around. The door slamming shut made you jump and you noticed a package addressed to you. Grabbing it you went upstairs and tossed it on your bed, before showering.

Sitting down you opened it and noticed it was a RedBull PR package with a note addressed to you from Max. With a smile you read the note and opened the box, taking a picture of it you posted it on social media and tagged Max and the team, thanking them. Feeling tired you set the box aside and decided to take a nap. Waking up in cold sweat you let out a sigh and ran your hands through your hair. You were feeling guilty for your dream, why am I dreaming of someone else and not Joe?

Shaking your head you decided to splash cold water on your face, and once again the image flashed in your brain. Max’s eyes were raking your body at an agonizingly slow pace, his hands were firm as they held you by the waist before he leaned in to give you the most teasing of kisses that left you wanting more. This is bad, stop thinking about him. Why hadn’t Joe touched me like this in months? Am I a bad girlfriend for thinking this? There’s no such as bad thoughts, only your actions talk

Joe had come back from his run and you had decided you needed to talk, “We need to talk” you said sternly. “About what?” Joe asked, “Us,” you said swallowing the lump in your throat. “I need you to be fucking honest Joe, no bullshit. Do you not want to be with me anymore?” you asked. Joe looked at you surprised, “Baby, why are you asking this shit?” he asked. “Answer the question please,” you said as your voice cracked a little and you cursed yourself. “I- y-yes,” he replied but he was hesitant and that told you all you needed to know. “Tell me, when was the last time we felt like a couple and not to people drifting away?” you responded. “Last week, we went out,” he said not answering the question.

“That was the Miami Grand Prix, and you left me alone the entire week Joe! Do you know what that felt like? It felt fucking awful” you said fighting back a sob. “It was just a slip-up, baby. We’ll get back on track. I promise” he said while reaching for you and his gaze hardened a little, your heart felt like it was being ripped out of your chest. “Joe, have you even realized that we’ve been pulling apart for months?” “I don’t think it’s been months, you’re being dramatic!” he said raising his voice a little. Scoffing you turned around and headed up the stairs, blinking tears away. Joe was behind you and followed you into the bedroom, you were blindly throwing things in your suitcases. “What the fuck are you doing?” he asked. “Packing,” you replied dryly. “We can work this out, we can go to couples therapy, I can be better. Don’t fucking do this” he pleaded. “Joe I’m tired! I’m tired of feeling like a fly on the wall, you haven’t treated me like your girlfriend in months and I thought that you needed space after recovering and I gave you space but you just feel a million miles apart and I can’t do this!” You exclaimed as you looked at him with tears spilling out of your eyes. His eyes landed on the box, “Is it because of him?” he asked.

You scoffed, “No it’s because of you, I’m done Joe,” you said tossing the box in your last suitcase and zipping it up. Grabbing them you refused his help and went downstairs. “You know what sucks most, I thought you were the man I wanted to marry one day,” you said and his head dropped. “For what it’s worth, I had the best years of my life with you and I will always wish you well,” you said softly. “Please, I’ll retrace my steps, and make it up to you” he pleaded. “Retrace them but we’re done Joe,” you said as you looked at him one last time. “Can we at least be friends?” he begged. You shook your head, “It would hurt us too much, goodbye Joe” you said as you opened the door. You hadn’t called a cab but you took your luggage to the end of the sidewalk and called for one.

Hanging up you couldn’t help but break into a sob, when the cab got there you asked to go to the airport and booked a ticket to the first flight out to France. This was how you had ended up in Nice hours later. Joe hadn’t made an effort to call you and that made you feel worse. Your relationship had run its course and you wanted to forget everything and just erase years worth of memories and feelings. Little did you know that something as silly as an Instagram story of your hotel room views would catch Max’s attention.

Messaging Max you told him you were in Nice and he asked if you had any plans, to which you replied you didn’t. You considered him your friend and decided to accept his proposition to meet him in Monaco. Looking like less of a mess, you put one of your favorite dresses on and got ready, taking the train you met him out of the station. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Nothing!” You exclaimed and faked a smile, he didn’t buy it. “You called it quits with Joe?” he asked. Not bothering to deny you nodded, “Come with me to the races, I’ll get you a pass. As your friend, I don’t want to leave you alone,” he said. “Max, I can’t,” you said. “Why?” he asked. “Because-” you said stopping in your tracks. “I have no place to stay, I packed all my life into suitcases what do I do with that? I can’t just jet-set and leave!” you said. “Stay with me then,” he said as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Noticing your hesitation he turned to you, “Please, I have a spare room. No one lives with me, I can help you get your things and when you don’t feel like coming with me you can stay. Just until you sort everything out” he said. Giving in you nodded.

Determined to help lift your spirits Max took you out to eat and for a walk around the principality. Afterwards, he drove to Nice and helped get your things and settle into his apartment. Weeks had passed and you had taken Max up on the offer to attend races with him as his friend. Certain gossip accounts had gotten wind of your split with Joe and your presence in the races alongside the Dutchman.

People had started to speculate but you ignored them, your friendship with Max had evolved and feelings had been developing but you never acted on them. You liked Max, and you were certain that he felt the same way. Tonight was your last night in Singapore, your hotel room was dark and you couldn’t sleep. Reaching for your phone you looked at the clock, it was 2:25 am. Sighing you sat up and headed towards the bathroom to splash water on your face. Debating knocking on Max’s door you pondered the option for a few minutes. Hesitant steps carried you next door, knocking once the door immediately swung open, revealing a shirtless Max. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice showing no hint of sleep. Suddenly, you felt self-conscious, “I can’t sleep,” you said, “Me neither” he replied. Leading you in he closed the door behind him and locked it.

Taking a seat on his bed, you fiddled with the hem of your oversized shirt, Max looked at you before taking a seat next to you, and motioning you to move closer to him. Both of you sat facing each other. Oh how badly he wanted to admit you had been plaguing his dreams, he didn’t mind it but he just wished they were no longer dreams. Forcing the thoughts away he talked to you in a soft voice, minutes had passed and he couldn’t help but look at your lips. You noticed and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“Fuck it,” his voice was hoarse and he reached out to you, kissing you as if his life depended on it. Your hands felt around in the darkness and found their way to his neck, you kissed him back and you pulled away breathless. His blue orbs were taking you in, a chill ran up your spine, this was starting to look like a familiar scene. Max initiated the second kiss and it was much rougher than the first, his hands were holding tightly onto your waist and you shifted to sit on his lap, you bit his lip and he groaned. Pulling apart his eyes slowly raked your body, his fingers slipped under your shirt and his touch sent shivers up your body.

“Max, Max” you said pulling apart and panting, he called out your name, and god, it felt so fucking right. “Don’t stop” you said in a low voice, he chuckled, “Only if you ask me to, Schat”. What if it feels like a vow, we’ll both uphold somehow? His kisses `never faltered, he was holding you ever so delicately, your back met his pillows, and your shirt was discarded on the floor. Heat rushed to your cheeks as his eyes raked over you, his hands hadn’t left your waist, reaching up you pulled him by the neck and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. Breaking away he started kissing your neck as his hands roamed your body, you sighed and he smiled while leaving wet kisses down your chest. You could tell he was testing the waters and you simply wanted him to dive in, “M-Max” you said. “I’m taking my time Schatz,” he said and you mentally cursed him. Bringing him up you kissed him and couldn’t stop the moan that left your lips when his hand found your thigh.

Max groaned, he had heard you once already and he was counting on hearing you again. Clothing was on the floor, his hand spread your legs apart and he looked at you, “Schatz” he breathed out. “Yes,” you replied, with a soft pant. That was all the reassurance he needed. It had been so long since you had felt like this and you welcomed every feeling, without holding back. Everything built up like waves and came crashing down. “What if he’s written mine on my upper thigh?”

(all photo credits go to the respective owners)

[sofasoap]

A quiet moment  – John Price 

Pairing :  John Price x f!reader.

Summary: Marriage, Baby and life. Fluff and domestic feels. 

This is part of the “Mini” MacTavish universe, but the reader isn’t “ Mini”. Continuation of Little secret and Learning to let go.

“masterlist” for prequel to this Mini MacTavish expanded verse.

Price knocked on the door gently, but there was no response.  Slowly he opens the door to the infirmary, finding you sleeping , curling up in the chair, head in a bizarre angle , in front of the desk. Piles of unfinished paperworks scattered on the side, laptop screen showing you were halfway through typing your report before you dozed off to sleep. The coffee he brought you this morning, untouched. Price is worried about you. You seem to be a bit off lately. Getting tired more easily, not sleeping well at all. Your appetite also changed. You were a big eater before, sometimes you can eat more than him. Now you tend to nibble on crackers and trail mixes, skipping main meals. 

He notices you tend to overwork yourself, no matter how much he nag you not to overexert. Your sense of duty and focus always overcomes your common sense of looking after yourself. 

You startled awake when Price touches your shoulder. “John?”

“ Love, you're gonna strain your neck if you sleep like that. .. and you are drooling.”

Wiping your mouth, embarrassed, “ I am not… and what are you doing here?” “ Wondering why my wife isn’t in bed with me.”

The two of you got married a few months ago after a long courtship. Both of you are pretty low key type of people, and none of you wanted a lavish wedding.: I have cut ties with my family,  you said to him once, and he doesn’t have any close family around anymore. So at the end, with your friends Doc and Ghost by the side as witnesses, Price and you got married in the registry office. The only other people who knew about the marriage was the HR team. 

“You are overworking yourself too much lately, are you sure you are Ok?”

“.... Never been better.” he can sense you are lying, hiding something from him. But he doesn’t press on. Until one day after he came back from a mission he couldn’t find you. Not in your shareroom, not in the infirmary, or anywhere on site. “Captain.”  Doc called out to him as they spotted Price storming down the corridor.  He takes a deep breath before turning around, trying not to show the panic that is slowly building up in his stomach. 

Doc looked left and right, making sure there were no other people in close proximity before they whispered, “She’s in hospital. Got sent there two days ago.”  Price threw a few words of gratitude over his shoulder as he turned around and rushed towards the address Doc provided.

“Oh hey darling, you are back.” You greet him lightly as you look up from your tablet, sitting in the hospital bed. 

How can you be so calm still while on a drip and looking so pale? Just as he was ready to launch another lecture, you seemed to be able to read his mind and interjected before he opened his mouth.

“ Before you tell me off…” you reach over to the side table, grabbing a little print out and handing it over to him. It’s a picture of an ultrasound.

“... John?” No reply. He pulled a chair in and sat down. Stunned. “Are you going to say something?” Voice wavered as your face crumbled a bit. He’s going to be a father. Something that he never thought of. Hell, he never expected to be married or even to be in a relationship with anyone years ago. And here he is,having the first glance of his future child. A soft smile grew on his face. He reached out and grabbed your hand. “Did you know?”

“... I had an inkling for a while.”

“ Why didn’t you tell me?”

“... I wanted to be sure first.” You look down at your finger, fidgeting away.” Plus, things have been so busy at work I… “ He sighed. “ You need to take better care of yourself. Not just for yourself,” He leans over and places his hand on your abdomen,” For the bub, and for me too. Please.” You nodded your head. After getting discharged from the hospital, you found out that you will no longer be staying on site at the base. John has signed a lease for a house nearby, more suitable for a growing family. What surprised you even more was, everything was moved and new furniture was already in place, even the nursery. Full of toys. “.... I might have gone a bit overboard.” Price admitted sheepishly. 

“We don’t even know if it's a boy or girl yet.” You chuckled. “ Hence why I bought both….” you rolled your eyes as he commented.” Plus it doesn’t matter. They can play with whatever they want.” He pulled you in from behind and rested his hand on your slightly growing stomach. “ Thought of the name for the bub yet?” You lean your head back into his neck. “ I was thinking of Grace for a girl… or Kyle if it’s a boy.” he kisses your head. “ I like that.” “ Well, little one, mummy and daddy can’t wait to meet you in a few months' time.”

“Sergeant Kyle Garrick reporting for duty, everyone calls me Gaz….. Something wrong Captain?”“No.. Nothing is wrong. You got a great name.”

“?????”