#i phone Price

[teczek01]

Iphone SE vs Iphone XS : Which is better?

In the ever-evolving international of smartphones, choosing the right iPhone can be a daunting challenge, specially whilst evaluating fashions from unique generations. The iPhone SE and iPhone XS are two top notch choices from Apple, each providing distinct capabilities and benefits. In this weblog, we’ll delve into the variations among those  fashions, helping you determine which one might be the excellent fit in your wishes. We’ll cover components like overall performance, layout, digicam talents, and charge to offer you a complete contrast.

iPhone SE:

Design: The iPhone SE sports a compact and traditional layout reminiscent of the iPhone 8. It features a four.7-inch Retina HD display with a domestic button and Touch ID fingerprint sensor. 

Its design is simple, appealing to individuals who decide on smaller, extra possible devices.

Build Quality: Constructed with aerospace-grade aluminum and glass, the iPhone SE is long lasting and water-resistant with an IP67 rating. Its layout might also sense a chunk dated as compared to more recent models however is strong and dependable.

IPhone XS:

Design: The iPhone XS boasts a greater current design with a five.Eight-inch Super Retina OLED show, imparting colors and deep blacks. It functions with a sleek glass returned and a chrome steel body, offering a top rate sense and aesthetics.

Build Quality: The iPhone XS also has an IP68 rating for water and dust resistance, making it extra resilient in opposition to environmental elements. Its construct quality reflects the better-end, premium nature of the tool.

Display

iPhone SE:

Size and Resolution: The 4.7-inch show on the iPhone SE gives a resolution of 1334 x 750 pixels. While ok for widespread use, it lacks the sharpness and shade depth discovered in greater current models.

Technology: The display makes use of Retina HD generation, which gives decent color accuracy and brightness, however it falls short of the more advanced displays visible in more recent iPhones.

IPhone XS:

Size and Resolution: The iPhone XS functions as a 5.8-inch Super Retina OLED show with a resolution of 2436 x 1125 pixels. This effects in a sharper, more immersive viewing revel in with advanced color accuracy and comparison.

Technology: The Super Retina OLED technology supplies deeper blacks, greater colorful shades, and higher brightness stages, improving media consumption and typical user enjoyment.

Performance

iPhone SE:

Processor: The iPhone SE is powered through the A13 Bionic chip, the equal processor used inside the iPhone eleven series. This chip affords fantastic overall performance and efficiency, ensuring that the SE can cope with maximum obligations and applications easily.

Performance: Despite its older design, the iPhone SE offers staggering performance for its class, able to go for walks cutting-edge apps and games successfully.

IPhone XS:

Processor: The iPhone XS is prepared with the A12 Bionic chip. While barely older than the A13, it still provides sturdy performance and efficiency. It handles multitasking, gaming, and annoying packages effectively.

Performance: The A12 chip, even though no longer as superior because the A13, stays distinctly capable and gives a clean consumer enjoyment for maximum obligations.

Camera Capabilities

iPhone SE:

Rear Camera: The iPhone SE capabilities a 12-megapixel rear digicam with an f/1.Eight aperture. While it lacks a number of the advanced features of newer iPhones, it nonetheless captures extraordinary pix with correct elements and coloration.

Front Camera: The 7-megapixel the front camera is appropriate for selfies and FaceTime, though it lacks the superior competencies of more modern fashions.

IPhone XS:

Rear Cameras: The iPhone XS boasts a dual-digicam system with a 12-megapixel wide and 12-megapixel telephoto lens. This setup offers extra versatility, inclusive of optical zoom and better low-light overall performance.

Front Camera: The 7-megapixel front digicam at the XS helps Portrait Mode and better facial popularity, improving selfie excellent and video calls.

Battery Life and Charging

iPhone SE:

Battery Life: The iPhone SE offers first rate battery existence, generally lasting via a complete day of normal use. However, it is able to require charging greater frequently underneath heavy use.

Charging: It supports wireless charging and fast charging with a well matched adapter, supplying flexibility and comfort.

IPhone XS:

Battery Life: The iPhone XS typically affords longer battery lifestyles in comparison to the iPhone SE, thanks to its larger battery and extra efficient strength management.

Charging: It additionally supports wi-fi charging and fast charging, offering comparable charging alternatives because the iPhone SE but with a longer-lasting battery.

Software and Features

iPhone SE:

Software: The iPhone SE runs the brand new iOS versions, making sure access to new features and safety updates. It benefits from Apple’s software atmosphere and toughness in software program aid.

Features: It consists of essential capabilities together with Touch ID, an excellent digital camera device, and strong overall performance, but lacks some of the superior functions determined in more modern models.

IPhone XS:

Software: The iPhone XS also runs the modern iOS versions and blessings from Apple's continuous updates and support.

Features: It includes Face ID for enhanced protection, an extra superior digicam gadget, and a larger, better-decision display, imparting a greater top class enjoyment.

Price

iPhone SE:

Price: The iPhone SE is positioned as a price range-friendly alternative, imparting excessive performance at a lower fee factor. It is good for users who want a modern iPhone experience without spending a top rate.

IPhone XS:

Price: The iPhone XS is a higher-end model, with a price reflecting its top rate capabilities and build first-class. It is extra high-priced than the iPhone SE but gives a more superior ordinary enjoyment.

Conclusion

Both the iPhone SE and iPhone XS are first-rate devices in their own right, catering to distinct consumer needs and possibilities. The iPhone SE gives incredible performance and price for the ones searching for a compact, price-effective alternative with present day hardware. In assessment, the iPhone XS offers a more top rate revel in with a bigger, better-resolution show, superior digicam skills, and extra functions like Face ID.

Choosing among the iPhone SE and iPhone XS in the end depends on your priorities—whether or not it's price range, performance, or superior functions. For the ones in search of the pleasant cost with a modern design, the iPhone SE is a compelling desire. However, in case you pick a greater premium enjoy with superior capabilities and greater performance, the iPhone XS is worth the funding.

At Teczek, we try to provide comprehensive records of the Best I phone, that will help you make informed choices. Whether you choose the iPhone SE or iPhone XS, both models deliver super first-class and overall performance, ensuring a satisfying consumer experience.

[meowpupp]

owner!price trying to teach puppy!soap restraint but he can’t stop humping puppy!reader all hours of the day :( <3

tw://hybrid smut, denial, noncon(?), electrostimulation, edited by someone with dyslexia

ghost who goes on deployment, forcing him to leave pup!soap with price. he has no other choice, after all, soap is known to be rather.... energetic.

the other hybrid practically sends you into an early heat. every opportunity he gets, johnny pushes you down, rutting his leaky cock against your ass.

he can't help it! johnny's never been exposed to something like you. you're so soft, sweet and submissive. he's never been allowed to bully something so pretty. it's not his fault that your cunt is always drooling for him, or that your back arches so pretty when he bites your neck.

he's relentless, always shoving his big hands under your shirt. if he's not grinding against your ass, he's groping your tits. face buried in your chest as he sucks and bites your nipples. he makes you cry and whine, trying desperately to escape while he holds you still. he won't stop until you cum just from him mouthing your tits.

price doesn't mind at first. he enjoys the way you become even more sensitive. how you whine and cry in his lap after johnny's been particularly rough. but that changes once he slips his fingers in your abused cunt, finding the other mutts cum stuffed deep inside.

it's the following morning that he calls simon, speaking lowly on the phone. not even two hours later, and johnny's sporting a brand new collar.

now each time he touches your pretty body, a jolt of electricity runs up his spine. it's painful. and what's even worse is that it leaves his poor cock flushed and red, pre leaking. all he wants is your pretty cunt wrapped around him, whimpering and whining at your feet.

but price isn't known for being merciful. he doesn't take the collar off, nor does he give the pup any toys. johnny ends up spending days trying to get off. rutting against his hands, the couch, your panties. but nothing helps.

and to make it worse, price fucks you hard each night. not even letting johnny see how your pretty cunt gets all swollen and flushed when price forces his cock in you, or how your tits bounce with each harsh thrust.

poor johnny can only listen as you whine and cry, the wet smacks from price hips slamming against your ass. all while he whimper on the other side of the door, rutting his neglected cock against one of your pillows.

[angel5ofp0rn]

unlike Ghost, Price does have a smartphone but he uses his index finger instead of his thumbs with his reading glasses low on his nose while he takes 45 minutes to reply to a text

[pfhwrittes]

you ever think about how price probably comes back off leave with his sweetheart with a telltale ginger moustache? because i damn well do.

(some 18+ john price x female reader thoughts under the cut)

like straight up cancel your plans and call in sick from work for the first two days john comes home because he is face down in your pussy from the moment he walks through the door. he’s dragging you to the bedroom and laying you out like a private meal on your shared bed (it used to be that he’d drop to his knees in front of the sofa and ask you to cradle this head with your thighs, but his knees aren’t what they used to be much to his eternal annoyance).

he doesn’t give a shit if you haven’t waxed/shaved/naired/whatever recently, in fact he’s delighted because he’s been trying to get you to embrace the bush for ages. forget trying to argue your case to “tidy up”, he’s been thinking about your pussy in every possible iteration for the last 3 days. he absolutely refuses to let you take it away from him now.

also i’d love to tell you that he calms down after spending two days making you come on his tongue (rip to your poor inner thighs and mons, that beard burn is no joke) but no. he’s waking you up every morning with his head buried between your thighs, he’ll coax you into riding his face as soon as you get home from work, he makes it his mission to get you to come on his face at least once a night before you roll over to go to sleep. (privately, you worry that john loves your pussy more than he loves you. but you can’t exactly complain about your partner spending hours a day going down on you to your friends without sounding like you’re utterly spoiled.)

anyway, all of this to say that when john’s leave is finally over and he’s back on base debriefing his team on the next threat to “world peace”, they’re all staring at his beard which has gone from it’s usual brunette to a bright fiery ginger around his mouth.

and if one of the lads (soap) makes a comment on it, he’ll get a smug, self satisfied glint in his eye as he tells them that he “had to give the missus my best” before moving on.

[moondirti]

there’s something so erotic about a man who grabs your jaw when you keep avoiding his gaze so he can force your eyes on his

featuring: SOAP, afab reader, oral, spitting, mild dubcon (i.e. boundary crossing)

soap has always been intense. a bullet shot off in a steel room, bound to ricochet until it makes contact with something that can absorb its impact. you're in the right place at the right time: a bar, the gym he frequents, perhaps even a football game he'd been anticipating for weeks. it doesn't really matter what context he first spots you in – all that energy, that orderless enthusiasm he seems to prescribe to everything, sharpens to focus solely on you. bonnie wee thing that keeps sliding him wily looks, instilling in him a mission he knows he won't back down from.

at first it's how to approach you. easy enough; you like him too, that much he can tell. so when you eventually agree to a farmers market date (where he intends to spoil you rotten with food from every stall), it becomes about opening you up. figuratively at first, you have a hard time keeping up with him without getting overwhelmed. startled at how forthcoming he is, stunned at the manner in which he treats you. like he's known you for years, a childhood best friend you only met last tuesday. he calls right after your first date, asks you to accompany him for coffee before his morning run. shows up at your door unannounced, carrying tools to fix the fan you briefly complained wasn't working. is bold enough to sneak his hand on your thigh while you're watching a movie later that evening, gradually moving higher as your breath begins to falter.

he spares no effort once things get sexual, either. if you expect him to go easy for your first time, you'll come to sorely regret the mistake. quick to slip out of his too-tight shirt, even quicker to spread your legs out on your couch. manages to get your joggers off but opts to merely shift your panties to the side, fingers hooked in the thin material (which he will pocket later). when he envelops your entire cunt with his mouth, his tongue digs into every fold, every hole if it means he can swallow down the smallest part of you.

taste s’good hen, bloody mad wae it

only you’re not looking at him. instead, you’ve thrown your head back, too lost in the pleasure to pay attention to the show he’s putting on for you. why exactly, he's not sure. he’s being good, isn’t he? giving you everything you need? his heart races a mile per minute and something needy, something dark twists within him. he laves his tongue over your hole once more, collecting the juices that pour for him and gathering it behind his teeth alongside a hefty glob of saliva.

when he moves up your body, he tucks your chin in his palm, pulling your head down to face him.

it's too much. too much. he doesn't seem to realise it, but you're breathing is still inconsistent and shallow, and you're about to cry from overstimulation. now he's forcing eye contact, nose kissing yours, and pressing down on either side of your jaw so you're forced to open your mouth wide. you know what's coming, see it from the way his cheeks move. it's all you can do to brace yourself for the inevitable, unable to voice your aversion to the kink. fisting your hands, tensing your throat. but it's as you close your eyes that his self-restraint snaps.

so, he spits. it's thick and messy and heady with the smell of your sex. he doesn't even aim it properly. a significant amount of it lands on your lip, some even on your nose. your tongue gets the brunt of it though, the new weight of fluid causing you to gag. yet his pupils are blown so wide they're barely blue anymore, a cerulean ring around bottomless black, fixated on the sloppy state of your mouth, and it's hard to deny him anything that boils him down to such a state. like a puppy. over-eager and exhilarated when you indulge him so.

you never learn to like it, though it becomes a routine thing.

[horsechestnut]

Anyway, if you're a fan of Bruce and Steph having a father/daughter relationship you should probably go read about Oliver and Mia.

[ghostlywhiskey]

price who cuddles with you in bed at 5am, long before you have to start getting ready for work at 7am. slightly propping himself against the headboard while you are clinging to his side, one leg draped over his to rest between his thighs. his arm is slung around your shoulder as his fingers play with the strap of your nightgown.

the sun is barely up yet, but the sky slowly changing from the dark of night to softer tones of blue. the sheer curtains allowing the faint light to start brightening the room, making it easier to see each other. price’s lips pressed to your temple before he grabs where your jaw meets your neck to turn your head to look up at him. instinctively you close your eyes, expecting to feel the scratching of his beard on your skin any moment. and when you do, your lips are quickly met with the warmth of his. both of yours dry from sleep but the sliding of tongues and him sucking on your bottom lip playfully changes it to a wet one.

his arm furthest from you reaches to grab the leg draped over him, pulling it gently to guide it over his lap completely - positioning you to straddle his lap. your hands gently hold his waist as you lean down and keep the kiss locked. his hand still holding the side of your neck, the other resting on your thigh as he inches his hand under the nightgown that has already started to push up your body from the position your in.

your hips rocking gently back and forth against his cock covered by his boxers. the only piece of fabric that separates any skin to skin contact. he pulls back from the kiss, fingers sliding to grasp your hair as he presses your foreheads together. his mouth parted as he lets out ragged breaths, eyes closed from the arousal building as you move your hips. his palm sliding from your thigh to grab your rear, pulling you forward and back at a increased rhythm. when his eyes opened, his pupils were completely dilated - lust taking over any rational thought in his brain. “‘gon drive me fuckin’ insane, y’know that?” he muttered, pulling your head back towards him to kiss you.

[bubuslutty]

I hate it when I'm giggling abt my fave dilf celebrity until reality hits me in the face. like that's just a guy. he's literally just a random guy. that's SOMEONE'S DAD!!!!!!! 😫

[imagine-shenanigans]

Hands on my knees.

Now I'm thinking of an au because of the nasty coworker soap hidden camera thing. AU where some prick you slept with left a hidden camera in your apartment for a live stream on the dark web (shut up i know its cliche let me live) and its a 24/7 stream of your bedroom with audio.

And one of the boys is a frequent viewer, watches a stupid amount of the time they're on leave. Eats dinner while watching their favorite show, etc etc.

(Dark stuff and NSFW ahead warning.)

Soap is the one who is the most impulsive about it. He's the one who feels guilty about it until he covers his own hand in his cum while watching you play a game on your phone. It's an insatiable need at this point. Can't cum without thinking of the bonnie little thing on his computer screen. You said the word Soap out loud once while talking to a friend on the phone or going through a list and he came so hard he saw stars. Went back and clipped the audio, he has it saved on his phone with other words, just so he can hear you say his callsign. He feels just a little guilty after he cums to you doing stretches.

But that's the allure of it, the taboo, knowing he's a fucking freak but doing it anyway. And god does he love it. Honestly the guilt fades REALLY quickly when he realizes how long the camera has been there, bordering on months. Such a poor thing you are, so vulnerable, so sweet. You just need someone to protect you from the nasty men in this world. Need someone even nastier to do it.

He makes the impulsive decision to go to the pub you mention on the phone with a friend. He waits until you're just a little drunk and "accidentally" bumps into you. Makes himself as charming as possible, smiles and laughs with you, until youre bringing him into your home. He positions you just right so the camera can see (he's recording the stream at home) and makes you as loud as possible, tongue laving over your inner thighs, leaving searing bites anywhere he can reach like he's claiming you.

(He is.)

He makes sure the camera gets a perfect shot of him cumming inside of you without protection. Hooks his fingers into your mouth so you can't stop the sounds you're making. He licks the drool from your chin and up into your mouth. Spends hours making you cum your brains out when he's not using you, well past the point of overstimulation by the time he settles, leaving you a hiccupping and sobbing mess as he rubs soothing cream over you, cuddling you to his chest so that this time, the camera can't see you at all.

He gives a peace sign to the camera after you fall asleep, and says "Alright ye bloody animals, shows over." before breaking the thing. Shoves it in the middle of your kitchen garbage before washing his hands and crawling back into bed with you. He sets up a new camera by the next morning, this one just for himself.

(and, if he releases clips of you two fucking online, that's between him and the rest of the god forsaken fucks on there.)

//

Price is shameless about watching you.

He knows he's going to hell, what's one more sin along the way? He indulges himself far more than any of the others. The silence gets to him when he's on leave, and what better way to fill it than with a pretty/handsome thing going about their life? He spends pretty much every waking and sleeping minute with his laptop open to your feed, watching you go about your day. It's mostly mundane, really, sick in nature but not a sexual thing for the most part. Of course, he gives his cock slow, languid strokes when he watches your hips eagerly buck into the vibrating toy you're using, whimpers falling from your pretty lips that John just wants to swallow whole. Too impatient for your own good, you need to be held down and edged for a good hour.

It's that thought that sends him spiraling.

How much better oof you'd be if you just had him to take care of you. Such a shame a nasty, terrible man put a camera in your room - he'll fix that.

He ends up moving into the flat/house next to yours when it mysteriously comes available. He really wants a cute little spouse to come home to - really wants to sit them on his cock until theyre crying and begging him to move. (And if he can get them to call him daddy, well, wouldn't that be a sight?)

He takes the longest out of all the boys, ends up being the model neighbor, coaxes you out like a feral little animal until you're spending more time in his place than your own. He hates that so many people (mainly men, his main issue is the men) can see you at any given time. Can take what should be his. So he waits until you're out for work one day and he uses the spare key you gave him (so trustingly, honey you shouldn't give things to strange men like him. He'll bend you over his knee until you learn your lesson.) and he sneaks into your room and moves the camera just a bit after disabling it. Just enough so its more noticeable in the light.

(If he steals a pair of panties, well... he does.)

And when you come crying and shaking to his doorstep later, he breaks the thing in his hand, and chucks it before he ushers you into his place and coos at you as he fingers you in his lap, edging you as you work through all those big emotions :( Poor baby, he's got you now, no need to be so scared, he'll get you nice and needy and then fuck you until you're brainlessly drooling into his pillow. He'll even be so kind as to slip his ring on your finger too, just to make sure you know he's not going to let anyone else have you anymore. That he'll make sure you're safe from now on, isn't that nice pumpkin?

//

Gaz I'm still trying to figure out how to write but I think he'd see the stream by accident, he's not gone looking for it, and he feels sharp revulsion when he figures out what it is while looking for some other information. And he's taking note of all of the things in the room, desperately trying to piece together where you live so he can do the right thing and figure out how to tell you about the stream. Definitely not because he's interested, and sure it's taking him a few days and repeated visits and- well, okay, you have this cute thing you do and- okay he's not... well he knows he's being a creep, but he's doing it for the right reasons. Totally. He's not... he's not being weird for no reason like some of these other creeps. And yeah, okay, he jacks off to you now and then, it's not that big of a deal, he's a little lonely and he's a little desperate okay?

He tells himself he's gonna quit, that he's not going to do anything, but then suddenly he's in your town on his leave, and he's putting himself in your path at every given opportunity. Of course, by then he's long since accepted he's being a real fucking freak by what he's doing, but doesn't he deserve something nice? Don't you?

And sure, okay, it's a huge ego boost when you do look at him and flush, when you try to collect your thoughts when you hear his voice. He smiles prettily at you and it all sort of spirals from there, until he's well and truly charmed you. He drops hints about the camera, but nothing directly implied. He finds a story on the news app on his phone about something similar and cringes, pretending like he isn't STILL watching the live feed of your apartment when he's in his own. Says something about how only a real freak would put a camera in someone's house. Good thing you've never done that to his place and he laughs, because he's never been to yours yet so you take it as a joke.

Weeks later, when you're doing a clean of your apartment, you find the camera and call him, and he comes over and hugs you, coos that it's probably not even plugged in, just some dick trying to scare you. He helps you run through who it could possibly be that did it, until he's given the dude's full name and address online.

He gives the camera a shit eating grin over your shoulder, looking directly into it even though you haven't pointed it out yet.

He presses a kiss to your forehead and offers you stay at his place for the night (when he really means forever.) He makes sure there's no cameras around you ever again.

//

Ghost is... the worst of them. In his own special way.

Assuming he isn't the one who put the damn thing in your room, he's definitely a regular on some of the grossest sites known to man, half out of sheer morbid curiosity, and half because he sometimes does end up finding things he likes. Your stream isn't the first he's watched, but it is the first he stays for. There's something about you that mesmerizes him. He ends up visiting the stream more and more until he's pieced together where you live and what your general schedule is. It takes a few months, but he wants you for himself - nothing else will do.

There's no preamble, no game that's played like the others. He forges a passport and documents and gets everything set up, and you don't even know that you're about to go tumbling into his net. He's quick about it, when he gets into your apartment. Ends up tying you up nice and neat, arms behind your back and ankles to your thighs while you sleep. Leaves the gag for last, just for the thrill of you screaming (so he can punish you) when you wake up. He blindfolds you, and moves the camera for a better view before flicking the lights on. He wakes you up with a slap to your ass, feeling himself grow hard as you panic. He cuts your clothes off with a knife, tells you not to squirm, and when you do and he knicks you, he just tuts and tells you that you shoulda known better.

Licks the blood from your skin with his mask rolled up before he pulls it back down (just a plain balaclava). He ends up hoisting you up so you're on your knees, positions you perfect for the camera to see, and fingerfucks you nice and fast, one hand on your throat to keep you upright, the other pitoning in and out of your hole. He makes sure to hit your g-spot/prostate every single time when he finds it, sets an absolutely brutal pace that has your tears leaking through the blindfold. When you get close, he bullies your clit/cock, moving fast and hard until you're screaming and you collapse. He tells you this is your fault, for trusting some prick and not even checking your own home.

Lines his cock up with you and doesn't prep you any further, only one orgasm and a little bit of finger fucking not nearly enough to prep you for what he's packing. He ends up fucking you hard, and fast, and brutal, still pumping your cock/rubbing your clit through the whole thing, not caring for anything but how you cry and squeeze so tight around his cock. He lets you heave sobs when he finally cums inside, no protection, and he pinches your nipples painfully hard to get your attention. When he's sure he's got it, he warns you not to let him drip out of you. Never tells you to stop crying, but tells you if you scream or try and get away, you will not like the punishment. He takes the gag out and you try to wriggle away, so he puts the gag back in while you try and apologize, ask for a second chance, and he just puts you on the floor, angles the camera just so, and takes the blindfold off. He tells you exactly how long he's been watching, how many people he sees in the stream at any given time, and then he ties a vibrator to your clit/cock and sets it on the highest setting it can go. He tells you to give the boys a good show before you retire from your acting career, and presses a kiss to your forehead through the mask.

He gives you an hour alone with your fans while he packs your stuff into the boot of his rental car.

[petricorah]

Hello!! I made some test sticker sheets. However, they didn't turn out exactly as I wanted, so I don't want to sell them for full price. And any less than that, given Et*y's fees, would have me in the red, so I'm giving them away as freebees with another purchase in my shop!

Please note that these are B-grade because they are transparent and there is color variation.

I hope to make some more, actual sticker sheets I can sell in the future!

see below the cut for other items currently in my shop!

[teczek01]

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[ganondoodle]

the company i work for decided that its switching from the german formal "You"(Sie) to the informal "you" (Du) in all of our websites so now we have to scour the entire database to change it and i quite frankly hate that, not just bc the unecessary extra work but especially bc its such a weird and unecessary change

i bet its bc everything here is getting englishfied (both literally and culturally it feels like, when my new boss talks its half in english bc every second german word is just replaced by an english one despite there being perfectly fine words for it in german too, its so annoying) and bc they want to sound more personal in hopes of getting more clients bc 'company is your fwiend uwu!!', i know this here is the amercian tm site so you wouldnt understand really but i do not want to be greeted with 'du' by companies, no, thats too personal, you dont know me and im not giving you my data, stay away!!

i guess thats how i would describe it .. the formal you is like a polite distance, like someone you dont know staying outside your personal space, but when its the informal 'you' it feels invasive unless i told you you can call me that, and that goes double for companies

maybe its a small thing that doesnt seem important but i cant stand it, im just a little part time worker doing data work so i got no say in it but the companies founder also announced hes giving his post to his kids some time ago so ...... since then theres been alot of changes and new projects that solely aim to imitate whats popular and whats done by other companies, despite ours being one that is, or used to be, intentionally different, like, that was the POINT, but i guess chasing trends is just too appealing for CEOs

[kirby-the-gorb]

[ray935sworld]

I think Marc died after seeing this picture the first time

[ivymarquis]

Blind Date

Me: “why the fuck is this fic taking so long to finish?”

The fic: *is the longest singular piece I’ve ever written for one chapter*

Pairing| John Price x F!Single Mom!Reader Rating| M Word Count| 8.4k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Drinking (everyone is clear headed), run ins with a shitty ex, mentions of abuse from prior relationship, these two are incredibly down bad for each other, oral (m! and f!receiving), protected piv, squirting

There is a certain catharsis in lamenting your dating horror stories with men to a married lesbian who’s over a decade older than you. Kate is always willing to lend an ear, and you’re positive that she gets a kick out of your misadventures in the way so many married people did while listening to their single friends.

“I swear I’m this close to just giving up all together and embracing spinsterhood,” you grouse with a drink in your hand after the work day had concluded.

You like to think your standards aren’t unreasonable. Someone kind, with their head on straight. It felt like finding a man who respects you as a person is becoming too big an ask and you very simply would rather be alone than deal with the endless hoard of men who seem hell bent on destroying any confidence you have in yourself.

“What about the guy you went out with yesterday?” Kate inquires with her head tilted. Must be fun, listening to your ramblings with a devoted partner at home.

“Oh did I not tell you? He was engaged!”

Kate pulls a face like her drink soured on her, matching how you’d felt at the time.

“Even better- guess how I found out he’s engaged.”

“She showed up at the restaurant?” Kate hits the nail on the head on the first try.

“Bingo,” you raise your glass in a gesture of affirmation before finishing it off. “Somehow I ended up being the one getting yelled at in that situation. Un-friggin-believable.”

You don’t abuse your work privileges to creep on people you meet in your personal life, but public record could have spared you if he’d been married. Harder to find out about an engagement from a total stranger who was determined to not let you find out about it and didn’t have social media.

“There’s always the other side,” Kate teases.

“Women scare me too much, I get all nervous.” You could appreciate an attractive woman as much as the next gal but good God you just could not help yourself when it came to men. The subtle way their breathing would change before they made their move, that low timber growling in your ear. The sheer weight of one on top of you as he manhandled you into the bedding-

Dear Lord, you need to get laid. Maybe you’re fixating on it too much because you’ve had an over 2 year dry spell. That tends to happen after a baby though. Especially with a pain in the ass ex who thinks he can pick and choose when to be around (and becomes absolutely incensed each time you remind him he could be consistent or he could stay home).

Kate is thoughtful for a moment, clearly kicking around an idea she hasn’t fully committed to in one direction or another. You can see the moment she decides to proceed with the thought. “Depending on what exactly you’re looking for, I might know someone.”

—

And here you are on a Saturday night, nerves clawing at your belly like a rabid dog.

Most (well, all) of the men you’ve dated you met online. There’s almost additional butterflies beyond the first-meet jitters knowing that the date is set up by a mutual friend.

There’s more at stake, even if the stakes are relatively low pressure. If the guys you met online did something incredibly out of pocket you never had to see them again, and held no qualms divulging the events to friends. Your romantic life has been full of misadventures but has given you a handful of stories, and as strangers you never have to consider any possible fallout in telling those stories.

Your son is with your mother for the night, allowing you the opportunity to focus solely on yourself this evening. No concern about keeping an eye on him while getting ready, worrying about what possible trouble he’ll get into when your back is turned.

It is hard at times- striking that balance between wanting to be a good mom and also wanting to be acknowledged as a desirable woman who has needs. A lot of men are shitty about it. You’d grilled Kate for every detail of his reaction when being informed of your young son. You don’t need another ambush regarding your disinterest in making it work with your son’s father.

She’d soothed your nerves- he hadn’t batted an eye, was about as worried about your reaction to how often his job pulled him away as you were about him having a poor reaction to being a single mom. You both have responsibilities that have to be placed above a relationship, now go play nice and have fun.

You tell yourself you can have one drink while waiting at the bar of the restaurant you’d agreed to meet at.

White wine ends up being your pick- not quite so easy to suck down as a tasty cocktail full of liquor, but gives you something to occupy yourself with.

You’ve only had the drink a handful of minutes before hearing someone clear their throat slightly behind you, and then your name.

Kate has shown you a photo of what he looks like so you’re not caught off guard when you turn around.

He’s handsome. You expect that but it’s different seeing him opposed to just the photo. Kind eyes, a warm smile on his face as he takes you in.

At least you both seem pleased with the big reveal.

“I’ve got a table waiting for us if you’re ready, love.”

He holds out a hand to let you balance yourself as you dismount from the bar seating, allowing you to steady yourself in your heels.

His hand is warm on your waist as he guides you and you’re already smitten by the time the pair of you sit down.

You’re fifteen minutes into dinner when you decide that so long as he a) is willing and b) doesn’t say or do anything completely deranged, you are going to ride Captain John Price like a mechanical bull at a shitty dive bar at the end of the night.

Perhaps the bar is in hell but either way you have been utterly deprived the past few years and he is checking plenty of boxes for you.

“So you work with Kate?” Starting off on the easy footing- the common ground that leads you both here.

“I do. Not directly- I work more on the tech side. I’m an independent contractor, I basically built the entire system she runs off of.”

“Beauty and brains,” his praise warms you, an impressed expression on his face. “Would explain how we’ve never crossed paths if you were hiding in a backroom surrounded by monitors,” he teases.

“You’re actually not that far off the mark,” not that you hide persay, but keeping that contract keeps a roof over your head and food in your child’s mouth. That keeps you busy. The fewer people who know how to work your program, the harder you are to get rid of.

You may or may not have hidden a few kill switches. Job security you call it. Though it’s not exactly first date material to talk about how you’ve got a government agency in a mutual understanding- keep extending your contract, and the program continues to work.

Either way, you don’t have much contact with the soldiers. Maybe you have passed each other in the halls but probably not- you’re certain a face like that wouldn’t have escaped your notice, introduction via a mutual friend or no. But you decide to utilize that mutual friend to shift the conversation. He’s hedged around talking about his work- on his end, sees that as the thing that might be a deal breaker for you. Probably wants to delay that until you've at least gotten your entrees.

So you go from business to hobbies. And it’s probably not entirely fair, but you’re about to see what his sense of humor is.

“Kate mentioned you’re a big soccer fan?” You make sure your expression is wide and doe eyed as you ask the question.

His eyebrow twitches- caught, no doubt, between wanting to leave a good first impression and biting back it’s football over here, love.

You crack far quicker than you initially plan, the wide grin on your face as you let him off the hook he’s good naturedly trying not to bite.

“Beauty, brains, and a comedian, lucky me.”

“I’m sorry, I had to. In fact, it was in her terms for this,” you make a vague gesture with your hand.

“Trust Kate to wheel and deal just to get my blood pressure up,” he muses as he takes a sip from his drink.

The conversation rolls easily enough- an ebb and flow as one of you poses a question, the other answering before allowing the first to say their contribution to the subject and moving on.

He’s charming, attentive, and a good storyteller. The way he carries himself screams military without being overbearing. He’s relaxed back into his chair and something about the scene in front of you makes you want to climb into his lap like a domesticated house cat.

Being the field captain to a specialized task force it’s no shock that he’s in incredible shape and you find yourself slightly distracted on more than one occasion by his hands and forearms.

The food is wonderful though the company is better- you end up moving back to the bar for fresh drinks and to free up the table for the server.

You spend a good length of time just talking with him at the bar.

John’s attention is on you but it’s clear he’s proverbially chewing on something the further on you go.

“That is the look of someone with a question they’re not entirely positive they want an answer to,” you’ve got a habit of being a touch direct at times. Amazing how it streamlines a conversation though.

“Observant one, aren’t you?” He pauses, takes another sip of his drink. “It’s probably none of my business, but ah- is your son’s father in the picture at all?”

It was your turn to take a drink. This was always such a fun topic of conversation. Frankly the number of men who took your ex’s side when the whole custody arrangement gets brought up alarms you.

But he has a right to his son.

Fuck that.

Your child is not property and you do not give a singular shit about your ex’s feelings- especially if it comes at the expense of your son’s safety. But it saves you a substantial amount of time not wasting energy on someone who could not understand the reason for your decisions.

“The short answer to the question is no. I had already left him by the time I found out I was pregnant, and given I left because he’s a raging alcoholic- with the emphasis on the rage-,” what a nice, polite way to say he is an abusive asshole. Your gaze shifts down towards the bartop, missing the way John’s expression softens as he reads between the lines of what you say. They’re not pleasant memories, but you’re not a wounded bird anymore- you’ve tended to your clipped wings and grown new feathers. “I didn’t want him involved.”

“He ended up finding out from a mutual acquaintance, and while he claims he wants to be around, he hasn’t done much other than blow my phone up at midnight trying to throw his weight around every time he gets a new girlfriend. So I get to be the cold blooded harpy that he gets to cry about- which is fine by me. On paper he says he wants to be involved, but he’s made absolutely no effort to arrange plans or anything while sober. I haven’t seen him in over 2 years. I can’t trust him to be a safe parent, and since he’s not on any official records I get final say unless he wants to go to court over it.”

Your whole little house of cards hinges on the fact that your ex wants everyone to bend over backwards for him while doing nothing for anyone else. All it would take would be one subpoena for a paternity test and your hands would be tied. He is an incredibly functional alcoholic, so there isn’t a criminal record or anything you can do to prove he would be unfit. There’s no proof of the abuse he inflicted on you.

Which means, if push comes to shove, you would be forced to relinquish sole custody and hand your child over for unsupervised visitation.

But that requires effort on his part. And that effort is the only thing keeping your little house of cards afloat.

“Sorry that’s probably way more information than you wanted-“ good job. Everything was going great until you laid out your drama.

“No apology necessary; I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”

And there’s no lecture about how you should give your ex a chance, that the opportunity to raise his son could make him change for the better. No dissertation on how you owe it to your son to do whatever it took to make things work with his father (that had been a weird way to end a date, and the only reason you hadn’t gotten up sooner and left was because it was such a bizarre conversation you’d half convinced yourself the whole thing had to be a bad dream).

You’re not a wounded bird and on the one hand it’s a good thing to get everything laid out on the table, but on the other you don’t want to sit and mope about your personal troubles. You’re actually enjoying John Price’s company, and don’t want to think about your problems.

And yes you are enjoying the time for what it is but part of you can’t help but also keep an eye out for… any opportunities for a transition.

As hot under the collar as you are, John’s gaze makes warmth coil in your gut in a way that has nothing to do with the wine- he’s being a gentleman.

It’s sweet. He’s being polite and respectful and showing sexual discipline while making it clear he’s interested.

And for all your bemoaning of prior dates with other men who aren’t captains of specialized task forces about how they were too pushy and too presumptuous and a nice dinner paired with drinks doesn’t entitle them to you dropping your panties—

Yet here you sit, hours into a conversation when you’d decided 15 minutes in you want to jump his bones. And you have to be patient otherwise you’re a total hypocrite.

You’re not entirely subtle. The pair of you are perched on barstools again, much closer than the table allowed you to be with the two of you angled towards each other.

Your dress looks good on you. A jewel toned blue that compliments your skin beautifully, the hemline stopping above your knees and loose enough to bounce tantalizingly when you hit your stride walking.

It’s not exactly an olive branch, but it is an offering of sorts when you carefully take the leg closest to John and cross it over the other. The hemline of your skirt slips up your thigh, exposing more of your leg. It stops just shy of exposing the top of your stockings and the clip to your garter. It does show just a hint of the darker border to your stockings, the lace peeking ever so slightly before transitioning to the sheer material that covers the rest of your legs.

You’re incredibly pleased with yourself when his eyes flick down for a split second and linger before snapping back to your face. Got you. He tries to hide behind being caught with a sheepish clearing of his throat. It’s adorable, really.

Your cheeks are starting to get sore from all the smiling and laughing that’s occurred over the past few hours. But he’s pleasant company so it’s a discomfort you’re happy to deal with.

You look past him for a split second- nothing in particular catching your attention but just taking in the scenery of the restaurant behind you. Your eyes are back on him in a moment only for your brain to process what it saw after a delay.

There’s no fucking way-

Yes. Yes there is. Your ex is mingling in the background, and you don’t even realize the smile on your face has fallen to a flat line like all the previous giddiness is draining out of you and pooling on the floor below.

It would not take a captain of an antiterrorism task force to see your sharp shift in disposition, so John notices immediately.

“Everything alright, love?”

Maybe he won’t see you. Maybe, if there is a God and he is merciful, your ex won’t look in your direction, won’t see you, and you can continue your cheerful plan of trying to seduce your date.

And whether there is not a God or he is just not merciful- either option remains with you having the same shit result. He turns his head and makes direct eye contact. God damn it.

You look back to John. You’d hoped you could move past talking about your ex for the evening. “Remember how I said I haven’t seen my ex in over 2 years?”

There’s a twinge of relief on his face- the look of a man grateful to not be the cause of your displeasure.

“Let me guess- he’s right behind me?”

“Not quite “right behind”, but yes. Hopefully he’ll just-“ a short huff off agitation leaves you as you cut yourself off.

So much for hoping he’d simply mind his business and stay with his group. He’s making his way towards the pair of you at the bar, and you can tell he’s had a good number of drinks in his system just looking at him.

You’d become extremely proficient at gauging how drunk your ex is at a glance. A skill you developed while still with him and one that doesn’t seem to have faded.

This is, you know without question, going to end up being absolutely humiliating for you. You just know it.

“I am going to go ahead and apologize now for whatever is going to come out of his mouth,” you inform John.

His hand finds your knee, giving a light, reassuring squeeze. “It’ll be alright, love.”

“Well what do we have here?” is the warning shot letting you know he’s not going to show any form of civility.

“Hello, Michael,” you greet cooly, mind spinning a hundred miles an hour trying to figure out how to end this conversation as quickly as possible.

“You don’t have time to answer my texts but you’ve got time to go out. That’s good. Good to know you’ve got your priorities in order,” he starts.

“Answering your texts isn’t even remotely on my priority list, you know that.” You’re trying incredibly hard to keep yourself from being outright nasty but a whole lot of old wounds float up to the surface at the sight of your ex.

Maybe your new feathers aren’t as filled out as you’d initially thought. You feel raw and exposed and it’s difficult to think. You know what you should do, how you should handle it- and there’s still that one little part in your brain that is keeping tabs on John and his response to all of this.

“Your priority should be my son-“ he starts,

“-who is with his perfectly capable grandmother for the evening, thank you,” you finish for him, jaw set tightly. “Why are you here?”

The direct question is aggressive but you know the cycle with him too well to allow him to steer the conversation. He’ll run you in circle after circle until you’re so frazzled you can’t discern left from right.

“Can’t say hello and introduce myself to your new fella? Come on now, where’s your manners?”

Your eyes widen as Michael reaches a hand out- there is no way this asshole is about to grab you in public.

Quick as a snake, John runs interference and drapes his arm across the back of your chair, his fingers holding the shoulder furthest from him lightly.

The entire length of your back and shoulders are blocked by the SAS captain, forcing Michael’s hand back as there was no easy place for it to land that wouldn’t also be touching John.

Up until now, John has been quiet and assessing the situation. Not bowing up or trying to assert himself- letting you deal with your ex and navigate the situation for yourself.

The look on his face is downright unpleasant to put lightly. This is the man in charge of an elite task force, who barks orders at soldiers who drop everything at once because he told them to-

-and you don’t feel so exposed anymore. You find yourself sitting up a bit straighter only for John to gently stroke his knuckles against your shoulder in a soothing gesture. The gesture isn’t a miraculously grand one, but one that makes you realize you’re not alone in this situation even as disorienting as it is. And if you’re being honest with yourself, the upright posture and shifting of your thighs isn’t so much a stress response to your ex as you keying in on John’s response to the whole situation.

“John, Michael- Michael, John. There, now you’re introduced.” Go away now please.

Your ex is too drunk and too full of himself to see the writing on the wall, and continues to poke the bear. “Well, since she doesn’t seem to want to give a proper introduction-“ he sticks an arm out, and you can’t help but notice how the simple gesture causes him to need to correct his balance. Good lord it was barely dark out and he’s already-

Well. Not your problem. Not anymore, at any rate.

John is sitting to your left, his right arm the one that’s draped across the back of your chair. The pair of you flash a quick look to each other, John lifting his arm from your chair to take Michael’s hand and-

God.

Damn.

It.

The exchange is actually as hilarious as it is embarrassing (You can’t quite decide if it’s all the second hand cringe variety, or first hand because Look, John! Here’s the father of my child! I sure know how to pick a partner! Is still coiling in the depths of your stomach). You’d prefer if it simply never occurred at all.

You can see your ex’s forearm flexing as he shakes John’s hand. The microexpression that flicks across your date’s face confirms your suspicion- Michael is (for some reason) trying to use an overexaggerated grip to establish some sort of dominance in the situation.

The quick really? that reads on John’s face rapidly turns to a bemused and subtle if that’s how you want to play then, a barely noticeable shift in his own grip resulting in Michael wincing.

“Captain John Price,” his tone is easy, betraying none of the pissing contest your ex instigated and is failing miserably to get one over on John.

Your ex mumbles his full name, clearly realizing that whatever his brilliant little plan is a) isn’t so brilliant to begin with b) he might just be alert enough to acknowledge the fact that he clearly has no true plan. He came over with the intention of being an asshole and has been flying blind the entire time.

There’s one woman from the group your ex split off from who is watching the three of you keenly. If you were to guess, she is probably his new girlfriend.

You can’t help but wonder- does she know enough to know that this is routine behavior for him? That he throws himself headfirst into a situation he hasn’t planned out- isn’t sober enough to plan out? Situations that don’t need to occur just so he can throw his weight around? Too petty to give a genuine “Hello, how are you? It’s been a while. I want to talk to you about Sam when we’ve both got some free time?”

Everything is vindictive. Constantly worrying about not being undermined and being respected to the point he gets in his own way. Actively sabotages his own opportunities. In dire need of therapy to work through his issues because you know the alcohol is how he copes and you’d sympathized at first but the reasons became excuses and then he’d started blaming you and-

-John places his arm on the back of your chair again and you pull yourself out of your mental spiral.

“I think your date is waiting for you, Michael. Best not to keep the lady waiting.” John observes, his tone neutral despite being a clear dismissal.

“You’ll be hearing from me later. I want to see my son.” Michael’s ignoring John’s presence but taking the hint.

You don’t fling a final barb at him. The venom has been drained out of you and you just want the interaction over and done with. Let him have the last word. You just want him gone.

You merely cast a look over at the woman who is Michael’s date for the evening and hope she’s got better sense than you did- that she leaves before he sinks his claws in her too.

The weight that settled in your stomach upon first seeing him is finally lightening up on you. You know you’ll wake up tomorrow to a barrage of phone calls and text messages that you won’t answer. It’s probably not good you’re so desensitized to the idea that it barely registers as a problem. Merely one of life’s many inconveniences.

“You alright, love?” John’s voice helps you shake the last of the tendrils that cling to you.

“Yes. Sorry. Wasn’t expecting to run into him of all people tonight, is all.”

“Never fun being ambushed, is it?”

You take a bit of a risk- you know enough about his job but he’s steered the conversation away from it every time the topic would naturally shift that direction. You know how Kate’s work can go and you assume his is very similar. “Well you’d certainly know more about that than I would.”

It works. The two of you break out in grins, and you find yourself no longer worrying about Michael and your focus readily settling back on John where it belongs.

At some point- long after the single cube in John’s drink has melted, and the condensation of your wine glass has soaked the bev nap underneath it, and more importantly long enough that you don’t feel that you’re fleeing the restaurant- the suggestion is made to go back to John’s. “No more surprises, hm?”

You gladly follow him. You’d taken an Uber to get to the restaurant, anticipating drinking and hoping to go home with him, so you have no worries about your own car.

You can easily see him being the type to give you a quick, chaste kiss on the doorstep after safely dropping you at home. In another universe you’d appreciate the restraint, enjoy fleeting touches over the course of a few dates that get more intense each time before finally finding yourself in his bed.

In this universe however, you don’t have to wait. Don’t want to, either. You get to indulge your earlier impulse of crawling into his lap, knees spread wide on either side of his waist. Lowering your hips allows you to feel him and what exactly he’s packing between his own legs. Your hips cant in short motions and heat coils heavy in your gut.

From the feel of things he’s proportional and John is not a small man. There’s a brief flicker that runs through your mind that you might be in over your head with him. The pent up lust and desire stifles that flicker. You’re more than game to see what a night with him ends up being like.

His hands are warm against your skin- one cupping the back of your head and keeping you close as the pair of you make out, the other settles on your hip and keeps you steady as you grind down on him.

You are possessed with the desire to get his cock in your mouth.

It’s cute how his face follows yours as you pull away from him.

“Help me with my dress?” Your question is perfectly innocent as you turn your back to him, presenting the zipper that runs down the length of your back.

His pleased laugh warms you, a shiver of desire and anticipation running down your spine as his breath fans across the back of your neck.

You’ve got a surprise waiting for him underneath your dress, partially revealed as one of his hands holds the top of the dress steady while the other draws the zipper down.

You gave him the hint you were wearing stockings when you’d baited him back at the restaurant, letting the heavy fabric of the dress fall to a heap around you before kicking it off to one side.

Turning back to face him, John seems quite enraptured with his surprise.

The lingerie set is a matching shade as your jewel toned dress, the garter belt clipping to the sheer black thigh high stockings.

There’s always that split second hesitation when revealing yourself to someone- the anxiety of if they’ll be pleased with what’s presented to them.

John is the first person you’ve been with since you’ve had your child, and the slight anxiety quells quickly at the look on his face.

John looks like he wants to eat you alive. Any insecurity is knocked firmly aside by desire quickly ramping back up.

Placing one hand on his thigh to steady yourself as you lift a leg to take your shoe off, John is quick to stop you. “Leave them on for now, love.”

It’s a request but it’s not. Really that doesn’t surprise you- he is someone who is likely used to having his whims accommodated to. You find yourself having no urge to defy him, nodding in compliance. If John wants your heels to stay on, then they’ll stay.

He guides you between his legs, enough space between his knees for you to slot yourself in. With him sitting on the bed he’s shorter than you standing straight up in your heels. Bending down to give a quick, teasing kiss you let yourself drop to your own knees.

“You don’t have to-“

“I want to,” you assure him with doe eyes and are rewarded with him settling into the bed as your hands go to work on his belt.

Unable to resist teasing him, you mouth at his bulge through the thick fabric of his pants. You’re rewarded with a soft cant of his hips, having his belt undone and working on the button and zip of his pants in record time.

Your earlier suspicions are correct. John is a big boy in more ways than one. You want him in your mouth- now.

While you’re occupying yourself with getting his pants off, John shucks his shirt and shoes.

He is, simply put, delicious to look at. From the broad muscling to the thick dark hair running from his chest down his abdomen. He doesn’t have the hard chiseled abs of a man who lives in the gym but the sturdy build that comes from having useful, functional muscle that’s put to work.

And that’s incredibly hot. He’s girthy as hell in your hand as you give a few strokes before putting your mouth on him.

You’re not entirely certain if deep throating him is going to be an option, but by God you’re going to try.

“Bloody hell, love.” John grunts while you bob your head up and down the length of him. You’re gauging just how much of him you can get in your mouth- where your threshold is before your gag reflex wants to kick in.

He’s petting you. Doubtless trying to fight the urge to fist your hair, his hips struggling to stay still on the bed.

You want him to. You feel feral, all the pent up sexual energy you’ve been storing for God-knows-how-long welling up all at once. You want this man carnally and your brain presently thinks having your hair held in place and your throat fucked is a fantastic idea.

John clearly has other plans, restraining himself and letting you work at your own pace. That low, deep breathing paired with his soft grunts and voiced encouragements stoke the flames of your arousal hotter.

Eventually you do need air, pulling off of him for a moment. Your hand works his shaft and teases the tip of him as you lean forward to run your tongue up and down the length of him, dropping a bit lower to lave at his heavy sac. He jolts which only encourages you to do it again.

You know your eyes are one of your better features- you’ve heard the compliment enough times both in and out of the bedroom, holding John’s gaze as you lick him back up the length of his shaft and circle the head once before having caught your breath enough to wrap your lips around him once more.

The second time around you’re able to get a bit more of him down your throat, but not all the way. What you can’t reach you stroke with one hand, the other resting on his thigh to help balance yourself as you work. You can feel the tension building in his thigh as he gets closer, pleased with yourself.

It’s a heady feeling. You don’t know exactly all the dirty details of his job but understand enough to know you’ve got a powerful man at your whim right now and that scratches a deep seated itch in you.

“Good girl,” his praise washes over you, warm and welcoming. “Just like that-“

You’re intent on sucking the soul out of him, all doe eyes and hollowed cheeks with those painted red lips. Eventually he gives into the urge to grab a fistful of your hair. He doesn’t do anything to interrupt the rhythm you’ve settled into, letting you move as you see fit.

He bites out your name and you feel the muscles in his leg drawn tight. “I’m getting close, love.”

It’s not quite a question. You give your not-answer by doubling down on him. You’re so close to having him in your mouth all the way to the base. You don’t want to back off. What you do want is for him to finish down your throat.

You get your wish. John’s fist tightens and you let out a grunt as his thrusting results in your nose pressed against his public bone.

The taste of him doesn’t really register as he spills inside your mouth, your focus on breathing through your nose and keeping your gag reflex down.

He’s petting your hair again, praises falling freely from him and soft apologizes. “Lost myself for a moment there, love. You alright?”

You keep your mouth hilted on him for a moment to prove a point- you’re fine, he didn’t push you past threshold- before finally releasing his softening cock.

He’s pulling you up to him after that, an open mouthed kiss that flusters you considering he just came in your mouth. “You’re just a treasure,” his voice purrs in your ear. “Only fair I return the favor, hm?”

He guides you to lay on the bed, knees hanging over the edge before he turns to settle between your legs.

He starts at your neck. You’re ticklish at one spot his lips, squirming in his hold with a giggle. “Sensitive, hm?”

You nod out a “mhm,” that breaks into a breathy moan as he works his way down your chest. Rather than removing your bra his hands work to pull your breasts free from the cups before paying particular attention to your nipples.

His hands are warm as they roam your ribcage, the heat of his body seeping through the lace of your outfit as his fingers trail across your skin and the delicate material.

“You’re so soft, love,” you don’t quite know how to respond to the compliment, mewling wordlessly in pleasure at the attention.

That seems to appease him as he kisses his way down your sternum and to your belly, the expanse of most of it covered by the fabric of the garter belt.

His eyes flick up to your own as his lips travel closer to the apex of your thighs. Where you’ve been lying patient and pliant in his grasp, the eye contact draws something tight in your core and you squirm again.

The next thing you feel is teeth as he nips you. “Be a good girl for me,” he tells you, soothing the soft throb of his bite with his tongue.

You force yourself to still as he moves lower, lower, lower- taking his time and having you thoroughly worked up before moving to the next patch of skin.

When he’s down far enough he slides one of your thighs over his shoulder, that arm looping under your arm and banding across your abdomen.

It’s his turn now to mouth at your clothed sex.

He pulls the gusset of your thong aside after a moment of teasing, his lips descending on you.

“Oh,” your hand immediately finds purchase in his hair, a pleased whimper escaping you at the feel of John’s tongue.

John feasts on you. There’s not much else that can be done to describe it. It’s lewd and wet as he laps at you, the flesh of his tongue doing little to soothe the burning ache inside you and only ramping it up.

Those eyes are wicked as he gazes up at you from between your thighs. The hand resting on your lower stomach is pressing ever so lightly, like John wants the pressure there but not too much yet and you’re once again struck with the idea you might be in over your head with him.

“John, please,” you beg. It feels good but you need more, lust clouding your brain as your hips rock against his face.

“You need to be patient, love. I’ll take care of you. Just relax, hm?”

It dawns on you that he’s probably running down the clock until his refractory period is up. That he doesn’t want to get you going too quick and then be stuck not quite ready to perform.

It’s an assumption, and you’re not 100% sure that you’re correct, but it’s a solid enough option that you move forward with that in mind.

The thought almost makes it easier to relax into the bed- the idea that John is going to pleasure you with his mouth until enough time has passed and he can get it up again. That he’s not just mindlessly toying with you with no end goal in mind.

It feels good you’re just stuck being greedy and wanting more stimulation despite knowing that won’t happen until John decides he’s ready to give you more.

You almost jump when the fingers you’ve been waiting for make their presence known. His mouth moves to focus on your clit, lips making a seal and sucking on it. You cry out, hips canting as his fingers gently rub at your labia.

He starts with one, gently sliding it in and out of you. Your back arches in satisfaction of having something to clench on and rub against. It’s more satisfying than just one of your own- that was for sure.

“That’s it love,” John praises you while easing a second one into you.

The second finger is what you were looking for, stimulation wise. John pets and strokes you, thumb gently working over your clit in soft circles before putting his mouth back on you.

He doesn’t just find your g-spot. John’s fingers are placed so they hone in on that spongy bit of tissue tucked inside you. He doesn’t let up on it, tongue working on your clit as you arch your back helplessly and moan.

That pressure is back on your abdomen, the hand not currently stroking you to nirvana pressing down on your belly.

You moan and buck against his hold. Your orgasm is creeping up on you and it’s like he’s determined to make you squirt.

“You keep that up and I’m gonna make a mess,” you warn him- not entirely certain how he’ll respond to the prospect of you squirting on his face.

John looks delighted and you realize that yes, you are in over your head with him.

There’s a mischievous glint in his eye as he pulls back from you, “You promise, love? Don’t tease me.”

Oh dear God- Next thing you know he’s reaching over you to pull a pillow from the top of the bed, wedging it underneath your hips before returning to his place between your thighs.

You’re flustered at how eager he is to see you squirt. His mouth is back on you, sucking on your clit and making your legs shake as two fingers go right back to abusing your g-spot, his free hand pressing on your belly increasing the pressure that is mounting by the second.

There’s nothing else for you to do but grab a fistful of his hair and hang on. “Please- oh! J-John! Right there,” at your encouragement he locks in on the spot that’s got you arching your back and your thighs trembling.

“That’s it, pretty girl. Show me,” he’s moaning encourments against your skin and you feel like a bow drawn tight and ready to snap. You’re so, so close.

The sounds he draws out of you- both from your mouth and between your legs- are filthy and vulgar and you don’t care at all as he gets you teetering just on the edge.

You’re practically gasping for breath, eyes screwing shut as the hand not buried in John’s hair fists the sheets next to you. You babble his name, chants of John all your brain can muster.

All that pressure coiling in you snaps and gushes out, literally and metaphorically.

“Good girl, making such a mess for me,” John’s praise has you flushing hot while his fingers work you like he’s making sure he can wring out every single last drop.

He stops when you have nothing left to give him, a trembling mess shivering in his hold.

Your brain at some point made the windows shut down noise, needing a moment to settle as you process what John just did to you.

This is the hardest you’ve cum in ages, certainly better than the orgasms you’ve given yourself during your little dry spell.

You return to the land of the living with his lips on yours, tasting yourself as he soothingly strokes your side. “You back with me?” He asks, eliciting a nod from you.

“Please tell me you have a condom,” your tone is pleading. You still want to ride him but you’ve learned your lesson about practicing safe sex. Once was, in fact, all it took for things to go off the rail.

“I do,” he stands, moving to the nightstand and opening a drawer.

Now that your legs feel somewhat compliant you sit yourself back up.

No sooner than John’s got the condom on then you’re guiding him back down, having him lay on the edge of the bed.

It takes a bit of maneuvering, getting yourself situated so your heels don’t catch on his sheets, but you’re straddling him with the leg closest to the edge of the bed hanging over the side as the opposite leg folds underneath you. You hover over him while getting everything lined up. The position of your legs allows you to alternate which one is supporting the brunt of your weight, a factor that is going to be fairly important once you’ve hilted yourself on John.

Even with how pliant your body is it takes a moment for the head of him to breach you.

“Oh,” you let out a breath as you sink down on him. You’re not able to get all the way to the base of him on the first go, getting your weight underneath yourself and lifting almost completely off of him before dropping down again. You get a little further this time, a moan escaping you.

“That’s it, love. Nice and easy,” his voice coos in your ear, that low timber having you liable to melt.

He’s thick. Not in a way that’s insurmountable to manage, but you have absolutely no complaints with how he fills you and anticipate being pleasantly sore in the morning.

Two more slow bounces have you sinking low enough to hilt yourself on him, taking a moment to enjoy the sensation of sitting fully on his lap.

One of his hands braces on your hip, the other his thumb circles your clit. You squirm at the stimuli, relishing in the feel of him before getting to work.

This is what you’ve been drooling over all night. Your reward is very well earned in your opinion. Moaning lowly as you bounce up and down, your movements are initially slow and languid but pick up speed as you get your bearings. John’s heavy exhales and grunts when you clench only serve to wind you tighter.

“You feel good, pretty girl? Hm? You like bouncing on my cock?”

You flush- a ridiculous notion given how you’re quite literally hilted on his dick-, face hot from the dirty talk.

The hand on your hip helps guide you to a pace that’s pleasurable for the both of you, eyes rolling as he thrusts his hips in a way that makes you see stars. “Yes! John- yes! Oh it feels so good,” your voice a low purr as he delivers on every fantasy you’ve had this evening.

The stretch of him in you feels absolutely incredible, knocking the air out of you on each bounce. It doesn’t take long until that knot begins to form again, growing steadily as you rise and fall in his lap. The press of his finger circling your clit draws staggered moans, bracing on him for support.

“Been thinking about this all night,” John grits out. “Wanted to flip you over the bar top and have my way with you right there on the dining room floor.”

You moan at the confession, feeling less like a rabid dog with no impulse control now you know you’re not alone in the intense desire that had struck once you’d laid eyes on him.

“Probably wouldn’t have- ah! st-stopped you,” you tell him. The grip on your hip tightens at that, another moan escaping you as you bounce on him.

Your eyes roll in pleasure, cunt practically fluttering from the way he keeps getting you to clench. The thickness of his girth doesn’t just let him keep hitting that spot in you with lift of your hips so much as the mushroom tipped head of his cock drags across it.

“Aren’t you just a fucking treasure,” he praises.

Your thighs are burning, eased by the position of your legs and John’s grip helping you but becoming more present with each wet clap of your sex against his lap. It almost helps you tip closer to another climax.

Your eyes squeeze shut, a staggered breath escaping you.

“Eyes on me,” he tells you and you comply immediately.

“John, please I’m so close,” your thighs are shaking again, threatening your already precarious balance.

“You need more, pretty girl?”

You shake your head. “No-no. Just don’t stop. Please don’t stop!”

And bless him, he doesn’t do anything to fuck up your rhythm. The fingers circling your clit keep the same tempo and pressure perfectly, his free hand still helping guide you up and out of his lap before sitting you back down.

You know you’re about to come but are caught off guard by how sharp it is as you squirt for a second time.

The sight of you spurting across his abdomen nearly severs any control John has left. The next thing you know John’s abandoned your overstimulated clit in favor of rolling you onto your back, your heels clattering to the floor from the motion. Your legs go instinctively to clamp around his waist for security- only one of them does, the other stopped by wet fingers gripping your thigh by your knee as he spreads you open. His weight is held on the forearm bracing next to your head by the time you process the shift in position.

“You alright, pretty girl?”

You can’t quite get your words out but manage a nod. “Ye-yeah,” you eventually stagger out as he waits for a verbal confirmation.

With the comfort that you were fine, that gives John the assurance he needs to seek his own pleasure.

More than satisfied with your two climaxes, you lay limp and pliant in his grasp while he chases his own end.

The wet squelch of his cock splitting you open with each thrust was loud and obscene although you were too far gone in the blissed out pleasure to care. Your whole body feels delightfully tingly, your head swimming pleasantly.

You clench down on him a few times, more for his benefit than anything else. You’re spent but more than willing to help him across the finish line as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, muttering praises that are punctured with short, sharp thrusts before he stiffens as his own climax hits.

The two of you have both broken into a light sheen of sweat by the end of things. After a moment to recuperate John stands with a “I’ll be right back.” (And you unabashedly enjoy the view of his ass while he retreats to the bathroom.)

True to his word he returns shortly, evidently having disposed of the condom with a towel in hand for you.

The pair of you get yourselves clean and sorted. Before you can decide how you want to ask, John seems to already know what the question is.

“You don’t need to leave, do you?”

Again it’s not entirely a question, but still gives you an out if you want to take it.

You don't want to take the out.

[uglyduckling339]

Happy 9th birthday of Life Is Strange !! Here's some memes to celebrate 🫶