Video Chat Naughty

"I can't" I say breathlessly as Tristan's hand holds my cheek, his lips moving dangerously close to mine. "You're mine" he growls, his hands reaching around me crushing me against his body. I feel his manhood growing and pushing against me as I try to form coherent thoughts. The sparks light up my body as I feel my undies soak. Every part of me wants him to take me. "No" I yell. Letting my wolf Aurora give me strength. We both want him. We want Tristan & Nate to do all sorts of naughty things to us. "I will never be yours, I Armina Carter of the blood moon pack reje.." his hand covers my mouth. His eyes glowing orange as his wolf growls. "WE WILL NEVER ACCEPT YOUR REJECTION, YOU ARE OURS" Armina is a young wolf never accepted by her pack 'Blood Moon'. Left at an orphanage as a baby, she was taken in by the 'cruel' gamma Aiden. It is believed he only took her as he was told he needed to show the pack he had a compassionate side after the loss of his mate Elena. Losing her to the war with the pack Eclipse. In secret, Aiden trained her and showed her how to use the weaknesses of those around her to win every battle. He showed compassion, love, and support in secret. Around the pack was different. He had his mask on. He taught her that while love gave us strength, showing others who we love gave them a weakness to exploit. Aiden was the best warrior our pack had ever known, with Alpha Ethan knowing he could easily take his title. All of this changes on her 17th birthday when she meets her mates. The feared alpha twins of their rival pack 'Eclipse'.

During the holidays, my boss wants us to choose between a holiday bonus and tarts. I don't like tarts at all, so I'm the first one to vote for a bonus. But the intern, Davin Holt, who's in charge of gathering everyone's votes and opinions, is quick to pin me on the hall of shame in the company's group chat. "Fabian, we mainly celebrate the holidays just to experience the atmosphere, you know? Isn't it too materialistic of you to vote for a bonus instead?" The department head tags me in the group chat as well. "Fabian, our company prioritizes the team spirit even more." In the end, everyone except me chooses the tarts. On the day of our holiday team bonding event, Davin bought everyone nut tarts. He knows that I'm allergic to nuts, and yet he still forces me to eat the tart in front of my boss just to show that I have team spirit. "Fabian, I bought the tarts with everyone's bonus. You can't just rain on our parade by rejecting them, right?" The next thing I know, I begin having difficulties breathing. At the same time, patches of red rashes break out on my skin. But Davin shoots me a look of disgust. "Dude, must you really spoil the mood while everyone else is having fun?" Desperately, I rummage through my bag for my allergy medication, only to see more tarts in its place. The sight of me looking so wretched makes Davin roar in laughter. "Medicine can be harmful to you, you know! You should have more desserts instead! That's why I've changed all of your medication to tarts!" Already, I find it more and more difficult to breathe. So, I text the CEO of this company on the spot. "Mom, my allergy is acting up! I'm at…"

This is the story of a dying girl. Gracie. And just like every dying person, she had wishes. Infact she had a bucket list of things she wanted to do before she finally dies. * She had cancer of the blood and bone marrow. Chronic lymphocytic Leukaemia. It develops from a type of white blood cell called B cells and it progresses slowly. Symptoms may not show until maybe years for some patients. Her CLL was aggressive and needed chemotherapy treatment early. But it was a little late for her when they discovered. So wth no early treatment, She had just 5 years to live. The hospital became her home. She was given a room there to live indefinitely. She could still recall her dad’s gloomy face while decorating her room. She eventually recovered a little, just like every other days, she found herself retiring to her former routine. Her chats with him. But when she told him she was sick and was gonna die, he kind of took it differently than she expected. He asked her why. And her reply was probably the last message on their chat till this day. If he blocked her or something, she just doesn't know. she could never find him again on social media. She cried for weeks. He was supposed to be her best friend. She was never gonna make peace with Cancer or resign to fate. No way. Eventually she stopped treatment 2 yrs later when she got her independence. No matter the treatment, she would never be able to live as long as she wants anyway. So why prolong the torture? But that was a difficult decision to make nonetheless because she stopping the treatment meant she'd have to die earlier than 5 years. But she’d rather make peace with that as long as she could do whatever she wanted before dying. ..................... It's all about love, drama, regret.

On the day I decide to quit the game, multiple comments suddenly streak across my vision. "Great news! The female supporting lead is finally quitting the game!" "Stacy no longer has to worry about getting exposed for using the supporting lead's game account to get into online relationships with others!" "Stacy is really smart! Every time she uses the supporting leads account, she always uses the in-game voice chat function! That supporting lead has no idea that Stacy has been doing this behind her back!" "Wow, Stacy really is blessed to have reeled in such amazing men!" "I can't believe she used the female supporting lead's max-level account to flirt with four of the best players on the server!" "At 2:00 pm later, she'll be meeting her first target, Lewis Johnes, the cold and aloof campus heartthrob, at Riche Cafe!' "Tomorrow, Stacy will be meeting the best assassin in person. The day after that, she'll meet the rich scion who's also ranked second on the list! She really is amazing with her time management skills!" The "Stacy" that the comments mention is Stacy White, my roommate. She actually impersonated me to flirt with four top-tier players on the server, huh? More comments streak across my vision once again. "Why isn't Heather leaving right now? Lewis is already waiting for Stacy!" "This is their first sweet date as a couple! Oh gosh, I can't wait to see it unfold!" I turn to look at Stacy, who's touching up her makeup in front of the vanity mirror. Only then do I understand that I'm the female supporting lead the comments are talking about. A small smile appears on my face. Since Stacy is impersonating me to become a Casanova, then it's not wrong of me to attend those meetings and reap the reverse harem she has prepared for me, right?

The day my mom was beaten up for being a mistress, I slammed the family crest into my dad’s face. I had been studying abroad, and on my return flight, I came across a video. The title read, [Richest Family’s Heirs Defend Their Mom and Beat Up Mistress.] In the video, my mother was wearing coarse linen clothes while my brothers surrounded her. They were punching and kicking her. They even tore her clothes and cussed her out as a shameless mistress. Her eyes were teary as she desperately tried to explain. However, she was only met with mocking laughter. A stranger in haute couture stood shielded behind them, and she sweetly said, “Alright, I know you’re doing this for me, but we don’t need to waste our time on ungrateful people.” The surrounding guests showered her with birthday wishes and praised her for her graciousness. “This is the grace befitting Mrs. Roth! Do some people really not own a mirror at home?” “A mistress dares to call herself Mrs. Roth? Doesn’t she know the entire Roth family was built on her assets? Which part of her looks like a lady?” Hearing them call her “Mrs. Roth,” I clenched my phone, and the screen reflected my icy expression. I had only been away from home for three years. How did I not know that I had acquired such a despicable “mother”?

The day I announced I was quitting writing, the entire internet celebrated. Everyone except my girlfriend's rumored boyfriend, the famous mystery author, Bryan Vega. In a short video, he looked genuinely regretful. "This is all a misunderstanding. I’ve always admired Kobi’s work, and I hope he’ll come back for the sake of his readers." I turned off my phone and ignored him completely. In my previous life, the web novel I wrote was identical to the mystery novel he published. People online called me a plagiarist and wished death on my whole family. I tried to defend myself, posting my drafts, outlines, and timestamps. Yet, it didn't matter. The last edit timestamp on his document was ten minutes earlier than mine. Just those ten minutes destroyed me. The messages never stopped. Strangers flooded my inbox with insults. Some even showed up at my house and threw paint on the walls. Years of nonstop harassment dragged me into depression. My parents tried to clear my name, but obsessed fans hunted them down and murdered them using methods copied straight from his novel. In the end, on the very day his book won a major award, I sealed my windows and burned charcoal, ending my life. And then, I opened my eyes again. I had returned to the day my new book was supposed to be released.

I died... and then I died again. “Vale,” I moaned, my voice fractured. He met my gaze, his heart racing. “Yes, baby.” I whimpered softly, my breath hitching as his name escaped my lips once more. “V–Vale–!” “You want to make a mess in your pants again, don’t you?” He asked, locking his gaze with my watery eyes as he pulled my face down to meet his by my throat. “Such a naughty vampire, you were so messy and sticky all over your thighs just earlier, and now you want to do it again,” he murmured hoarsely, watching as I cried out in response. Where had all that macho boldness disappeared? He wondered. Just moments ago, I was ready to drive him insane with my teasing, and now I was a mess, a puddle melting away in his hands, completely at his mercy. The power dynamic shifted, and he reveled in my surrender, eager to push me further into this wild desire. **** Talon/Virgil faces an agonizing cycle of deaths. In his first life, his love was crushed, and he was murdered—only for fate to repeat its cruel game in his next existence. How many more deaths must he suffer before he can find the happiness he's been relentlessly pursuing? Just when Talon believes he’s finally found peace, fate spins him back into chaos, casting him into a void once again. This time, he awakens from a coma to discover he's inhabiting the body of a stepbrother he never knew existed until, of course, he awakened in his body—a married man with a family. As Talon grapples with his new reality, he must balance the façade of being a devoted stepbrother, husband, and father while yearning for the one true love that has haunted him through the ages.

This is the part 2 of "One Night Stand With The Unforgettable Stranger" Peyton Smith believed that perfection was just a few weeks away. She might finally have the future she had always imagined: the ideal partner, the ideal nuptials, the ideal suburban home. That was before her fiancé absconded and wed a showgirl from Las Vegas. It might have been an understatement to say she was a little irritated. Nevertheless, her life as she knew it shouldn't have ended because of a foolish video that was posted on Facebook. Thank you so much, Finn Devereaux enjoyed his life just the way it was. When his editor requested that he write a blog series on the lady whose breakdown went viral, he was not impressed at all. Trying to make her fall in love with him over some foolish wager made on national television was the last thing he needed or wanted. However, what could a man do? It was a challenge, after all, and perhaps he could lessen the shame that would undoubtedly befall them both in the aftermath of that challenge. She was over husbands, marriage, and white picket fences, and he didn't believe in happily ever after, so there was no prospect of them falling in love. Hello my beautiful and handsome readers, I would like to inform you all that this story is a series and I will be posting all of them here, I hope you all enjoy the story 🥰🥰🥰💖💖💖 thank you🙏💕 all so much for ur support.

My cousin, Myra Walsh, leaves a voice message in the family group chat in a mean and uncouth manner. "Mom, I'm not meeting that guy who drives a rundown car. One look at him tells me that he's a single pathetic loser." She then kicks my chair. "Hey Sam, that useless piece of shit is a good match for you. Why don't you take my place on the blind date?" I follow Myra's line of sight. There's an old-looking car parked outside, and the owner, Henry Quinton, is currently reclining against the car while smoking. My entire family thinks he's just an ex-convict who has just gotten released from prison and is unable to land a job yet. I'm the only one who knows that's not the truth. Last week, when I was carrying out my internship at a bank, I witnessed the bank manager inviting Henry into the vault. Apparently, the trail of numbers Henry has in his savings is as long as a phone number. After putting on some makeup on my face to make me pure and innocent, I put on an oversized shirt before heading out of the apartment. In the cold wind, I cower slightly from the cold as I hand a thermos flask over to Henry. "Sir, Maya said she's not a match for you, so I'm here in her place." Henry snuffs out his cigarette, his gaze fixing on my flapping hem for three seconds. "Lass, if you want to be with me, you'll have to suffer tremendously in life." "I'm willing to go through anything as long as I get to be with you." That night, Maya flaunts photos of the bag a rich scion has given her. As for me, I've gone over to Henry's apartment.

My mom is terrified of being laughed at by others the most. Whenever the holidays are here, she will keep repeating one sentence to me—"Don't go around embarrassing me." When my relatives gather around and chat with each other, I accidentally knock a fruit platter over. Mom drags me over and slaps me on the spot. At the holiday feast, I grab extra pieces of steak for myself. Mom responds by kicking my chair over. When it's time for the holiday gifts to be distributed, my aunt, Gabriella Hall, has miscalculated the number of children present among the family. So, she has prepared one less gift for the occasion. Mom doesn't hesitate to kick me out of the apartment, leaving me shivering in the cold corridor in just my indoor clothes. The icy winds chill me to the bone. I keep slamming my palms on the front door while screaming and crying my apologies at Mom, and yet she remains unmoved and silent. Instead, she turns to face Aunt Gabriella with an apologetic smile on her face. "I'm really sorry. I didn't raise my daughter well. It's only fair that you ridicule me." What Mom doesn't know is that I get triggered whenever I hear the word "ridicule" thanks to her so-called parenting lessons. Whenever I hear that word, I want nothing more than to hurt myself uncontrollably. So when I hear the word "ridicule" coming out of Mom's mouth through the front door, I turn on my heel quietly and begin making my way toward the bridge next to the neighborhood that's plunged into darkness. The moment I jump from the bridge, the only thought I have is, "Mom, no one will ridicule you because of me this time."