Your phone rang, interrupting your inventory, and you smiled when you saw Fizz's name on the screen.

"Hey," you answered, climbing down from the step stool. "You guys done already?"

"Almost!" Fizz's voice came through with that manic energy that meant he was still riding the high from performing. "Ozzie's wrapping up some paperwork, but I'm freeee! Which means I get to make important executive decisions!"

"Executive decisions about what?" you asked, already smiling at his enthusiasm.

"Dinner! Well, late dinner. Very late dinner. Post-show snacks? Whatever, semantics!" You could hear him moving, probably bouncing around backstage. "I have been authorized by Big Daddy himself to acquire sustenance using his magical plastic rectangle of infinite money!"

"You stole his credit card again, didn't you?"

"Borrowed! I borrowed it! With implied permission! He said, and I quote, 'Get whatever you want, just make sure she eats something,' so really, I'm following orders!" There was a pause. "Okay he actually said 'grab food on the way home' but I'm choosing to interpret that as carte blanche to order everything!"

"Fizzy—"

"So! What does my beautiful, wonderful, amazing cutie want for dinner? And before you say 'I don't mind,' I will remind you that's not an acceptable answer! Pick something! Anything! The Seven Rings are your oyster! Well, not literally, unless you want oysters? Do you want oysters?"

You laughed, settling onto one of the kitchen stools. "I don't know what I want. What are the options?"

"Everything! Anything! I'm looking at Hellber-Eats right now and there are approximately one million restaurants! We could get that barbecue place from Wrath! Or the noodle place from Gluttony! Oh, or there's this new place that does those little dumpling things you liked!"

"Those were good," you admitted.

"See? Progress! We're narrowing it down! Dumplings are on the maybe list!" You could hear tapping, probably Fizz scrolling through options. "Ooh, or sushi! There's a place that is supposed to be amazing! The reviews say it's 'to die for' which, given that we're in hell, is a significant endorsement!"

"Sushi does sound good," you said, and you could practically hear Fizz's grin through the phone.

"Sushi it is! I'm ordering everything! All of it! Every single roll!"

"Fizz, that's too much—"

"Nonsense! There's no such thing as too much! We'll have leftovers! Leftovers are a gift to future us! Future us will be so grateful to past us for this abundance!" More tapping sounds. "Okay, I'm getting the rainbow roll, the dragon roll, the volcano roll—is that a weird name for sushi? That seems weird—the California roll even though we're not in California, some sashimi because I'm fancy, those little fried things—"

"Tempura?"

"Yes! Those! Tempura everything! Shrimp, vegetables, probably some things I can't identify! Oh, and edamame because that's healthy and Ozzie will appreciate that I'm making responsible choices!"

"Ordering thirty sushi rolls is not a responsible choice."

"It's a delicious choice! There's a difference!" Fizz paused. "Okay, I'm also getting that miso soup you like and some of those little rice ball things. Onigiri! That's the word! I'm culturally educated!"

"You're something," you said fondly.

"I'm delightful!" Fizz corrected. "Okay, order placed! It'll be delivered to the palace in like thirty minutes! I'm gonna finish up here and head home. Ozzie's probably gonna take another twenty minutes because he's fussy about his paperwork—"

"I can hear you!" Ozzie's voice came faintly through the phone.

"I said you were thorough and detail-oriented!" Fizz called back. Then, to you "See you soon, cutie! Don't start trouble without me!"

"Wouldn't dream of it," you said, smiling.

"See you soon! Bye!" He hung up before you could respond.

You were just finishing up your grocery list when you heard the front door open. Your heart did that little flutter it always did when either of them came home, and you hopped off the stool to go greet whoever it was.

Ozzie was in the entryway, already in the process of removing his accessories—the extra decorative elements he wore for public appearances. He looked tired but content.

"Hey Big Guy." you said softly, and his entire face lit up when he saw.

"Little one," he rumbled warmly. "There you are."

He crossed the space between you in just a few strides, and you found yourself looking way, way up at him. Sometimes you forgot just how massive he was until moments like this, when his presence filled the entire room.

His hand came up, and one enormous finger very gently brushed your hair back from your forehead. The gesture was so tender, so careful, and then his finger moved to stroke your cheek. His touch was warm, gentle, mindful of the size difference.

"How was your day?" he asked, his voice soft in that way it only got in private, when the persona fell away.

"Good," you said, leaning into his touch. "Quiet. I've been making a grocery list. And cleaning a bit."

Ozzie's expression shifted immediately, his face flickering with what looked like concern mixed with exasperation. "Cleaning? Little one, we have staff for that. Multiple staff members whose literal job is cleaning."

"I know," you said. "But I don't mind. It's not like I deep cleaned or anything. Just... tidied up a bit. Organized some things."

"You don't need to do that," Ozzie said, and there was something almost distressed in his tone. "You're not here to work. You're here because—" He paused, seeming to struggle with the words. "Because we want you here. Because you're important to us. Not because we need a housekeeper."

"I know that," you assured him quickly. "I wasn't cleaning because I thought I had to. I was cleaning because I wanted to. Because it helps me feel useful. And because..." You hesitated. "It saves you money? On cleaning staff?"

Ozzie stared at you for a long moment, and then he started laughing. Not a mean laugh, but genuine, warm amusement that made his eyes dance.

"Little one," he said once he'd recovered. "Money is not a problem. At all. Even remotely. I am the Sin of Lust. I run the most successful club in the Lust Ring. I manufacture products that are sold across all Seven Rings. Money is quite possibly the least of my concerns."

"Oh," you said, feeling your face heat. "Right. I knew that. Intellectually. But I still don't want to be... wasteful? Or take advantage?"

Ozzie's expression softened, and he very carefully cupped your face in his hand—or rather, you fit in his palm like he was holding something precious. "You could never take advantage. If anything, Fizz and I are trying very hard not to overwhelm you with how much we want to spoil you."

"Spoil me? You know I dont need that." you repeated.

"Mmhmm," Ozzie confirmed. "Fizz already has a list of things he wants to buy you. I've had to talk him down from some of the more extravagant options at least three times this week."

"What kind of extravagant options?"

"He wanted to commission a custom wardrobe from one of the Lust Ring's top designers," Ozzie said dryly. "The entire consultation alone was going to cost more than most demons make in a year."

"Ozzie, thats far far too much!" you said, scandalized.

"I know. I told him we should start smaller. Maybe just a few nice pieces instead of an entire wardrobe." Ozzie's grin was slightly sheepish. "He's currently compromising by secretly ordering things online and having them delivered when he thinks I'm not paying attention."

"You know he does that?"

"I get notifications every time my credit card is used," Ozzie said. "I'm choosing to allow it because watching him try to be sneaky is adorable, and because he has excellent taste. Everything he's ordered for you has been beautiful, besides its a joint account."

You didn't know what to say to that. The idea that they wanted to spoil you, that they were actively trying to buy you things and make you happy, was overwhelming in the best way.

"You don't have to buy me things," you said quietly. "I'm happy just being here. With both of you."

"We know," Ozzie said gently. "But we want to. Because taking care of the people we—" He paused. "—the people we care about makes us happy. So let us spoil you a little bit. Please?"

The way he said it, like it was important to him, like he needed you to accept it—you couldn't say no.

"Okay," you said. "A little bit. But nothing too extravagant."

"Fizz is going to be so disappointed," Ozzie said, but he was smiling. "He already has a jewelry consultation scheduled for next week."

"Ozzie!"

"I'm kidding!" Ozzie said, though his expression suggested he might not be entirely kidding. "Mostly kidding. Sixty percent kidding."

Before you could respond, you heard the front door open again, followed by Fizz's voice calling out "Food has arrived! I come bearing gifts of fish and rice! Prepare to be amazed by my ability to spend obscene amounts of money on raw fish!"

The dining room table was quickly covered in an truly absurd amount of sushi. Fizz hadn't been exaggerating when he said he'd ordered everything—there were at least fifteen different rolls, several orders of sashimi, tempura that was still steaming, miso soup, edamame, onigiri, and several items you couldn't immediately identify.

"Froggie," Ozzie said, looking at the spread with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "This is enough food for twenty people."

"Or three very hungry people!" Fizz countered, already settling at the table with his usual chaotic energy. "Plus leftovers! I told cutie, future us will thank present us!"

"Future us is going to be eating sushi for a week," Ozzie said, but he was already sitting down, carefully arranging himself at the table.

You settled between them, looking at the variety of options. "I don't even know where to start."

"Start here!" Fizz said, immediately putting several pieces on your plate. "This is the rainbow roll—it's got like seven different fish on it, very aesthetic, very delicious. And this one is the dragon roll, which has eel and is topped with avocado and looks cool. And this one—"

"Fizz, let her choose," Ozzie said gently.

"I'm helping her choose!" Fizz protested. "There are too many options! This is a guidance service I'm providing! Very valuable!"

Despite his protests, he did stop adding to your plate, instead turning his attention to his own food. You watched with amusement as he tried to use chopsticks with his mechanical hands—the precision was there, but he kept adjusting his grip like he wasn't quite sure how much pressure to use.

"These are harder than they look," Fizz muttered, successfully picking up a piece of sushi only to have it fall apart halfway to his mouth. "Who invented these? Chopsticks are a conspiracy to make eating difficult!"

"You juggle flaming pins for a living," Ozzie pointed out.

"That's different! Flaming pins are designed to be thrown! Chopsticks are designed by sadists!"

You giggled, successfully managing your own chopsticks to eat a piece of the rainbow roll. It was delicious—fresh and flavorful and nothing like any sushi you'd had on Earth.

"Good?" Fizz asked, watching you with bright, attentive eyes.

"Really good," you confirmed. "You did good with the order."

"See?" Fizz said to Ozzie. "I made excellent choices! I'm a decision-making genius!"

"You ordered enough food to feed a small army," Ozzie said dryly.

"A well-fed small army!" Fizz corrected.

The meal continued with easy conversation, the three of you sharing food and stories from your day. Fizz recounted a moment during his performance where he'd nearly dropped a juggling pin and had to improvise an entire bit around it. Ozzie talked about some new product designs his factory was developing. You told them about your grocery list project, which led to a fifteen-minute discussion about snack preferences.

You were reaching for another piece of sushi when you noticed movement from the corner of your eye. One of the Quevies—the troublemaker one, you'd learned to recognize them all by now—had crept up to the table and was staring at Fizz with big, pleading eyes.

Fizz, without even pausing his conversation with Ozzie, picked up a piece of sashimi and dropped it down to the Quevy, who caught it with a happy little chirp.

"Babe" Ozzie said warningly.

"What?" Fizz asked innocently, even as another Quevy approached and he handed over another piece.

"You're feeding them table scraps again."

"It's fish! Fish is healthy! I'm promoting good nutrition for the babies!"

"They have their own food," Ozzie pointed out.

"But this fish is fancy!" Fizz argued. "I paid good money for this fish! The babies deserve fancy fish too!"

More Quevies were appearing now, drawn by the promise of treats. Soon there were five of them clustered around Fizz's chair, all looking up with varying degrees of desperation.

"You're creating a pack of monsters," Ozzie said, but there was no real heat in it. "They're going to expect fancy sushi every night now."

"Good! They should have high standards! I'm teaching them self-worth!" Fizz dropped several more pieces to the increasingly excited Quevies.

Even Precious had wheeled over in her little wheelchair, positioning herself hopefully near the table. Fizz immediately gave her two pieces, which she accepted with regal dignity.

"You're spoiling them," you said, amused.

"I spoil everyone I care about!" Fizz declared. "It's my love language! Excessive gift-giving and feeding behavior!"

"Your love language is chaos," Ozzie corrected.

"Chaotic gift-giving!" Fizz amended. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to distribute fish to my adoring fans."

By the time the meal was finished, the Quevies had eaten almost as much as you had, and Fizz looked enormously pleased with himself despite Ozzie's long-suffering sighs.

Later, after the sushi had been packed away, there were indeed enough leftovers for several days, after the Quevies had been corralled back to their sleeping area, after you'd all gotten ready for bed—you found yourself in the massive round bed.

It had become routine now, this nighttime ritual. You'd change into sleep clothes, brush your teeth, go through all the normal bedtime motions. And then you'd all settle into bed together—usually with you somewhere in the middle, Ozzie taking up a significant portion of the space, and Fizz sprawling wherever he could find room.

You were already under the covers, settled in the pillows, when Fizz's head emerged from under the mass of blankets with his usual energetic chaos.

"Okay, so I've been thinking—dangerous, I know, what if we got a Quevy-sized obstacle course? Like, tiny hoops and tunnels and—" He stopped mid-sentence when his eyes landed on you. "—and I just forgot what I was talking about because you look really cute right now."

Your face immediately heated. "I'm just... in bed. Like normal."

"Yeah, but you're in our bed," Fizz said, and there was something in his tone that made your stomach flip. "In that shirt that's definitely mine, by the way. I noticed. I notice everything. Very observant, that's me."

He settled next to you, and you could feel the heat radiating from him. One of his mechanical hands reached out to touch your arm, the movement casual but deliberate.

Ozzie was already in bed on your other side, propped up against the headboard, his expression a soft, intimate glow. He wasn't saying anything, just watching with those knowing eyes, and somehow that made you feel bashful.

"So!" Fizz continued, his voice taking on that rapid-fire quality that could have been excitement or nerves or both. "This is cozy! Very cozy! You comfortable, cutie?"

"I'm comfortable," you managed, though your voice came out quieter than intended.

"Good! Great! Fantastic!" Fizz's hand moved from your arm to your waist, and you felt your breath hitch at the touch. "I'm comfortable too. Very comfortable. So comfortable I might just—" He shifted closer, his face now inches from yours. "—stay right here."

You could see the way his eyes kept darting down to your lips, then back up to meet your gaze. The nervous energy was still there, but there was something else now too. Something heated and wanting that made you swallow thickly.

"You're staring," you whispered.

"You're really pretty," Fizz said immediately. "I'm allowed to stare. It's in the handbook. Staring at your gorgeous girl is not only allowed but encouraged.'"

"I don't think that's a real handbook," you said, but you were smiling despite yourself.

You turned your head slightly and Fizz met you halfway. The kiss started soft—tentative on your part—but he responded with that familiar chaotic enthusiasm tempered by care. Fizz's raspy voice humming approval against your lips as his tongue brushed yours playfully, tasting faintly of sour candy and smoke.

The kiss lingered, growing slower and more intent, mouths moving together in a warm, unhurried rhythm that made everything else fade.

While the kiss stretched on, your fingers brushed against his. Slowly, almost shyly at first, you traced the lines of his mechanical fingers—feeling the smooth metal joints. Fizz made a soft, surprised sound into the kiss, then mirrored you.

His fingertips danced lightly over yours, tracing each knuckle and the delicate skin between them with surprising gentleness, as if committing every detail to memory. The slow exploration sent little sparks through you both.

Gradually, your fingers slid together and intertwined, squeezing gently.

Fizz’s grip tightened just enough to feel secure, his thumb brushing back and forth over the back of your hand in a soothing rhythm that matched the slow slide of his tongue against yours.

When you finally pulled back for air, cheeks burning, Fizz grinned wide, pink eyes sparkling even as a tiny nervous twitch flicked through his tail.

“I've been thinking about this for so long Cutie.” he said, One of his hands came up to cup your face, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the mechanical nature of his prosthetics, while the other hand on your waist, pressed in slightly like he needed to confirm you were real.

He kissed you again, this time deeper, exploratory, and you found yourself pressing closer to him, your hands coming up to grip his shirt.

Fizz made a small sound against your mouth, something between a moan and a whimper, and his hand on your waist slid slightly lower, fingers spreading across your hip. Even through the fabric of your shirt and sleep shorts, his touch felt electric.

When you broke apart this time, you were both flushed and breathing hard. Fizz's eyes were dark, his usual manic energy channeled into something more focused, more intense.

"You're so—" He stopped, seeming to struggle for words. "I want—can I—" His hand on your hip tightened slightly. "There's so much I want to do right now. So many things I've been thinking about. You have no idea how many things."

Your hand came up to touch his face, and he immediately leaned into the contact, his eyes fluttering closed for just a moment.

"I'm a little nervous," you admitted quietly.

Fizz's eyes opened, something vulnerable flickering across his face before his expression shifted to concern. "Hey, we don't have to—look just because i said—if you're not ready cutie, we can just—"

"I didn't say I didn't want to," you interrupted, your face heating. "I just... You're both so... experienced, and I don't want to mess up or—"

"Cutie," Fizz said, and his voice had gone soft in a way it rarely did. "You couldn't mess this up if you tried. Trust me. Just being here with you is—" He seemed to struggle with the words again. "Everything."

Ozzie's hand came to rest on your back, warm and grounding. "He's right, little one. There's no wrong way to do any of this."

Encouraged by their words, you let yourself relax slightly. Fizz took that as permission to continue, his hand sliding under your shirt to trace patterns on your side.

"Is this okay?" he asked, his fingers dancing along your ribs.

"Yes," you breathed, and Fizz's grin returned, sharper now.

"Good. Because I've got a lot of ground to cover." His hand slid higher, thumb brushing just under the curve of your breast. "And I'm very thorough. Very detail-oriented when I want to be. Which I definitely want to be right now."

He leaned in to kiss you again, this time trailing his lips from your mouth to your jaw, then down to your neck. The sensation made you gasp, your hands tightening in his shirt, and you felt him smile against your skin.

"You make the best sounds," Fizz murmured against your neck. "Been wondering what you'd sound like. Thought about it a lot. Like, a concerning amount. Ozzie can confirm."

"I can," Ozzie said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement mixed with heat. "He's been quite distracted lately."

"Can you blame me?" Fizz asked, pulling back to look at you, his expression intense. "Look at her, Oz. She's—" His hand slid back down to your waist, then tentatively to your thigh, his touch feather-light, his eyes searching your face.

"Too much?" he asked softly.

Your face was burning, but you shook your head, and Fizz's hand settled more firmly on your thigh, his mechanical fingers warm through the thin fabric of your shorts.

"You're so soft," he said, something like awe in his voice. "Everything about you is so soft and—" His hand squeezed gently, and you felt his breath hitch. "Fuck, you're really ...you're really letting me touch you."

"Where else do you want to touch?" you asked, your face flushing at the boldness of the words.

Fizz's eyes went wide, then darkened. "Everywhere," he said honestly. "I want to touch everywhere. Want to learn every part of you. Want to know what makes you gasp, what makes you moan, what makes you—"

His hand started sliding higher on your thigh, and you felt yourself tense—not from fear, but from anticipation mixed with nervousness.

"Fizz—" You struggled for words. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do... Well ok no I kinda do... I just ... My hands are just... here." You gestured awkwardly with your hands that were still gripping his shirt

"You can touch me," Fizz said, his voice going rough as he unbuttoned the little heart buttons on his pajama top. "Please ... I'm like dying here, cutie. Touch me anywhere. Everywhere. I'm not picky."

Tentatively, you let your hands settle on his chest. His skin was warm under your palms, you could feel his heartbeat, rapid and strong, matching your own frantic rhythm.

"Is this okay?" you asked, your fingers tracing the lines where red and white intersected, where scars met skin.

"Better than okay," Fizz said, his voice strained. "That's—yeah. Keep doing that."

Encouraged, you let your hands explore more freely, mapping the planes of his chest, the dip of his waist, feeling the way he shivered under your touch. When your fingers brushed over one of his shoulders, where flesh met metal, Fizz made a sound that was definitely a moan.

"Too sensitive?" you asked, jerking you hand back between you.

When you glanced sideways you caught Ozzie watching the two of you with that heated, indulgent gaze, your nerves spiked. You buried your head against Fizz’s shoulder, hiding your burning face in the crook of his neck, a small embarrassed whimper escaping you.

Fizz let out a soft, surprised laugh that vibrated against your cheek, though you could feel the faint tremble in his frame too. “Hey … where’d you go, cutie?” he teased gently, voice cracking even as he tried to sound confident. “Don’t hide that pretty face. Oz is just enjoying the show — aren’t you, big daddy?”

Ozzie chuckled low and warm, the sound rich and reassuring as his large hand stroked slowly down Fizz’s back. “I am,” he rumbled, voice like velvet. “You two look beautiful together. So shy and sweet… Look at her hiding, Fizzy — she’s so adorable when she gets flustered.”

When you pulled back Fizz’s eyes searched yours for a long moment, that intense, wanting look still flickering with a hint of his usual chaotic energy. “Can I…?” he asked again, voice dropping lower, almost reverent.

His thumb brushed slow circles over your hip, waiting, always waiting for your answer even when his tail was lashing with barely-contained excitement behind him.

You nodded, breath shallow. “Yes.”

The grin that broke across his face was bright and a little shaky. “Fuck yeah— I mean, good! Great choice, cutie. Best choice.”

He shifted so he was leaning over you more fully, careful not to crowd you too fast. One mechanical hand stayed at your waist while his fingers hooked gently under the waistband of your sleep shorts. He paused there, eyes flicking up to meet yours again.

“Gonna take this off now, okay?” he murmured, voice raspy and soft. “Nice and slow. Tell me if you want me to stop.”

You whispered your agreement, and Fizz let out a small, delighted sound. he peeled them down your legs slowly, kissing every bit of skin he uncovered—your hip, the top of your thigh, the inside of your knee. Once they were gone, he settled between your parted legs, his mechanical hands sliding up your thighs with feather-light pressure, his gaze locked on you like you were the most mesmerizing thing he’d ever seen.

“Shit… look at you,” he breathed, voice cracking just a little. “So pretty. So fucking pretty it hurts.”

His hands returned, both of them now, tracing the newly bared skin with surprising patience. He watched every reaction, cataloguing it—your little gasps, the way your back arched, the way your thighs pressed together.

Ozzie remained quiet on your other side, but you could feel the weight of his warm gaze. One of his large fingers rested lightly on your arm, a steady, grounding presence, offering silent approval as he watched Fizz explore you with such care.

Fizz’s tail curled around your ankle, the spade tip stroking gently up and down your calf as he moved. eyes flicking up to yours once more.

One of his hands moved with aching slowness, fingertips brushing along your inner thigh before finally reaching their destination. He traced gently, reverently—first with just the pads of two fingers, gliding through warmth, learning the shape of you, watching your face the whole time, attuned to every hitch in your breath and every small twitch of your hips.

"Amazing... your amazing Cutie” he murmured, voice low and raspy. His touch stayed careful, exploratory, never rushing. His thumb joined in, pressing soft, lazy circles. Every movement was deliberate, almost tender, as if he was memorizing you by touch alone.

You could feel Ozzie shift slightly beside you, his hand sliding to your thigh, thumb brushing just beside where Fizz was touching you, adding another layer of warmth and sensation without taking over.

Fizz leaned in again, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss. This one was slower than before—gentle and unhurried, his mouth moving against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache. His mechanical fingers never stopped, circling in slow, lazy loops that sent warm sparks through your body.

Ozzie’s finger gently carded through your hair, brushing the strands back from your face with surprising delicacy. The gesture was soothing, grounding—his touch full of quiet affection as he watched the two of you with those warm glowing eyes.

Fizz didn’t look away from your face, his pink gaze stayed fixed on you. “You’re shaking,” he murmured, voice thick with concern.

You laced your fingers through his and lifted your joined hands into his field of vision. “So are you Fizzy—see?” Your fingers gliding down to his wrist and rubbing soothing circles.

Fizz gave a small, nervous laugh that came out more like a whimper. “I just… I want this to feel perfect for you. Every single touch. If I do anything that doesn’t feel right, you gotta tell me right away, okay? I’ll stop. I swear.”

He leaned in and pressed another soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, then to your cheek, all while his fingers continued their tender exploration—never rushing, never pressing too hard, just learning you with that same loving focus. Ozzie’s finger moved back to gentle stroke your hair, offering silent reassurance as Fizz watched your every reaction like it was the most important thing in the world.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he shifted his hips forward, lining himself up against you. The blunt head of him pressed ever so slightly against you, a gentle nudge that made you gasp at the intimate contact.

He froze instantly.

Every muscle in his body locked up, tail going rigid behind him. “Shit—sorry, sorry,” he whispered, voice cracking with worry. His pink eyes were wide, searching your face frantically. “Was that too much? I can stop, we can—”

“Froggie,” Ozzie’s deep, velvety voice rumbled from your side, calm and reassuring. His hand slid from your hair down to rest gently on Fizz’s lower back, offering steady guidance. “She gasped for the same reasons I do. Breathe Fizzy Frog. You’re doing beautifully.”

Fizz swallowed hard, nodding quickly, the nervous twitch in his tail easing just a fraction under Ozzie’s touch and words. “Okay… okay, yeah. Got it.” He leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, then another to the tip of your nose, murmuring praise into your skin.

With Ozzie’s quiet encouragement guiding him, Fizz pressed forward again—agonizingly slow, inch by careful inch. His mechanical hand moved to your hip, thumb stroking soothing circles, while the other braced beside your head. Every tiny movement was accompanied by more soft kisses, to your mouth, your jaw, the sensitive spot just below your ear.

“Your—nghh—fucking incredible,” he whispered between kisses, voice hoarse with emotion. “So warm… so… fuck.”

Ozzie continued murmuring low praise from beside you, his deep tone wrapping around both of you like a warm blanket. “That's it babe. Nice and easy. Listen to her breathing… Keep going just like that.”

When Fizz was finally fully seated inside you, buried to the hilt in that tight, fluttering heat, he let out a shaky, broken moan against your mouth. Both of you were trembling, bodies pressed close, hearts racing in sync.

You shyly nuzzled into the crook of his neck, hiding your flushed face again, breathing in his familiar scent of smoke and sour candy mixed with the clean warmth of his skin. Your arms came up to wrap around his neck, holding him close as you pressed soft, almost timid kisses along the side of his throat.

Fizz made a soft, overwhelmed sound and buried his face in your hair, one mechanical arm sliding under your back to pull you even closer while the other hand gently cupped the back of your head. “Oh, cutie… you’re so ... so much better then i imagined.” he whispered, voice thick and adoring. “I love this… just ... OH SATAN ... just this.”

Ozzie leaned in to press a slow, tender kiss to your temple. “That’s it, Little one,” he murmured warmly. “There’s nothing sweeter than this, you look like a masterpiece.”

Fizz stayed perfectly still for a long moment, savoring the closeness, peppering your neck and shoulder with the gentlest kisses while his tail stroked lovingly along your thigh. The trembling slowly eased into a shared, contented warmth as you remained nuzzled against him, safe and cherished between your two men.

Your thumbs stroked Fizz’s cheeks in wide, gentle arches, tracing the smooth lines of his face as your breath came out in soft little pants and quiet groans. “You’re beautiful,” you managed between shaky breaths, voice breathy and full of feeling. “So beautiful Fizzy.”

Fizz’s pink eyes fluttered at your words, a soft, overwhelmed sound escaping him as he leaned into your touch. “Me? Beautiful?” he rasped, voice cracking with a mix of disbelief and delight. “Cutie, stoppppp, you’re gonna make me cry.”

Ozzie’s deep, velvety voice rolled beside you like warm honey. “Look at you two… so sweet together. Such artistry” With infinite care he used one of his fingers to gently hook your leg, the one closest to him outward, easing it a little closer toward his body. Your leg spreading just that bit further beneath Fizz, opening you up further while keeping everything slow and intimate.

“There we go… nice and easy. You ok babe ?”

"Yea.. M'ok" You nodded, eyes half-lidded.

Fizz carefully cupped your cheek with one mechanical hand and gently guided your head back and down to the pillows below. His glowing pink eyes searched yours with adoring intensity before he nuzzled his face softly against your nose—an affectionate little rub, warm and playful.

“Our gorgeous little cutie,” he whispered, voice raspy and thick with emotion. “Wanna see your face, gotta make sure I’m doing this jussstttt right.”

He started moving then—very shallow, careful rolls of his hips. Barely pulling out before pressing back in, keeping himself nestled deep inside you with gentle, thrusts that rocked you both together.

Ozzie leaned in closer from your other side, his massive frame radiating warmth. His deep, velvety voice dropped to a low, intimate whisper meant only for Fizz—something soft and encouraging that you can't make out.

Whatever it was, Fizz’s expression lit up instantly, the nervous tension melting from his shoulders as a grateful little smile tugged at his lips. He nodded once, eyes never leaving your face.

“Got it, Oz,” Fizz murmured back, voice thick with affection.

One of his mechanical hands slid between your bodies. His fingertips found your sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbing slow, gentle circles. The added stimulation sent a fresh wave of heat building low in your belly—warm, coiling pleasure that made you flutter around him.

Fizz groaned softly, forehead resting against yours as he kept up those tender thrusts and the steady rub of his fingers. “That feel good, cutie?" His voice was raspy and adoring, full of that rapid-fire warmth even when he was trying to stay gentle.

"So good—ahh—So fucking good" you groaned, arching into Fizz as the heat in your belly tightening deliciously with every rock of his hips and every careful circle of his fingers.

Ozzie’s finger stayed on your thigh, holding you gently while he pressing slow kisses to your shoulder, cheek, forehead and Fizz's mouth, murmuring low words of praise that wrapped around both of you.

“Beautiful indeed,” Ozzie rumbled softly, his tone full of sensual approval. “Froggie is taking such good care of you…You’re a marvel little one.”

Fizz nuzzled his nose against yours, breath mingling in warm little puffs as his fingers kept up their gentle rhythm and his hips continued rolling into you in waves. “Hear that? Oz thinks we’re beautiful too,” he whispered, voice trembling with pleasure. “But you — you’re the most beautiful thing in any ring. Our cutie…We’ve got you babe.”

The pleasure continued to build low in your belly, sweet and steady, fueled by Fizz’s careful touches, his soft praises, and the reassuring presence of Ozzie beside you.

Ozzie’s massive finger gently brushed along your cheek, warm and grounding. “That’s it, little one,” he murmured, voice deep and velvety with affection. “You’re doing so well.”

You leaned into his touch with a soft sigh, eyes half-lidded and hazy with pleasure. Little sounds spilled from your mouth without control—as your hips rocked up to meet Fizz’s thrusts.

“Ah— nghhh… Fizzy…”

Fizz’s pink eyes were locked on your face, drinking in every flutter of your lashes and every little sound you made. “Fuck, cutie— those sounds… you’re making the prettiest noises for me,” he panted, voice raspy and full of wonder. “Keep going, please. I’ve got you. I’ve got you right here.”

Your hands slid to his mechanical ones. You laced your fingers with his, holding on tight as the pleasure crested higher. The slow drag of Fizz inside you, the steady rub of his fingers, Ozzie’s warm praise and gentle touch on your cheek—everything was building together to a perfect crescendo.

Until your vision suddenly went white a powerful wave of pleasure crashed through you, your body clenching tight around Fizz as those sounds peaked into a broken, breathless moan. Your back arched, fingers squeezing his hands hard while the orgasm rolled through you in long, shuddering waves.

Fizz followed right after you with a choked, ecstatic whimper. His hips stuttered in a few final thrusts as he spilled deep inside you, warm and pulsing. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, trembling hard against you, mechanical arms wrapping tight around your body as he rode out his own release.

For a long moment the three of you stayed locked together, breathing hard in the warm, quiet afterglow.

Ozzie’s deep voice rumbled with pride and affection. “There we go… you did so good froggie,” he cooed softly to Fizz, his large hand stroking gently down Fizz’s back. “So attentive, so careful with our little one. You made her feel so loved and safe. You did everything just right.”

Fizz let out a shaky, happy laugh against your neck, still buried inside you. “Yeah? Cutie you sounded so pretty when you—wait…” He pulled back slightly, blinking down at your face when he realized you weren’t responding. Your eyes were closed, body limp and relaxed in his arms.

“Cutie?” Fizz’s voice turned worried. He gently squeezed your hand, then brushed his mechanical fingers over your cheek. “Hey… you okay? Come on, open those eyes for us?”

When you didn’t stir, Fizz’s tail flicked anxiously.

“Oz? She’s not waking up. OZZIE, SHIT— shit, did I go too far? She was making all those cute sounds and then she just…”

Ozzie’s expression flickered with worry, his glowing eyes narrowing for half a second as he leaned in closer. One large hand came up to rest lightly on your forehead, checking your temperature and breathing.

“Easy, froggie,” he said, voice still mostly calm but with a protective edge. “She’s breathing fine. Just—give her a second. You were so gentle with her… she’s...she'll be ok."

Fizz nodded quickly, still looking anxious as he pressed soft kisses to your temple and cheeks. “Okay… okay, yeah. Come on, cutie. Wake up for me? I need to see those eyes. Please I I—don’t scare me like this…”

"Little one," Ozzie said, his voice closer now, his large finger brushing hair back from your forehead. "Can you hear us?"

You tried to respond, tried to open your eyes, but your body felt like it was made of lead, refusing to let you respond.

"She's not responding," Fizz said, the worry ramping up in his voice. "Oz, what if I—what if we did too much? What if I hurt her somehow? What if—"

"Fizz, breathe," Ozzie interrupted firmly. "Look at her face. Does she look distressed?"

There was a pause. "No," Fizz admitted. "She looks... peaceful. Happy, even."

"Exactly," Ozzie said. "Humans need more rest than demons do, especially after intense experiences. She's fine. Just give her a moment."

You felt Fizz's hand on your face again, gentle and worried. "Cutie? Can you wake up for us? Just for a second? Just so I know you're okay?"

With monumental effort, you managed to crack your eyes open slightly. The world was blurry, and you felt boneless, completely wrung out. "Mmph," you managed eloquently.

"Oh thank fuck," Fizz breathed, and you felt him press a kiss to your forehead. "You scared me, cutie. You were so out of it."

"Tired," you mumbled, your words slurring together. "So tired. Happy though. Very happy."

"That's good," Ozzie said warmly, his finger still stroking your hair. "That's very good, little one. But we should get you cleaned up before you fall asleep properly. Think you can stay awake for a bath?"

"Bath?" you repeated, trying to process the word through the fog in your brain.

"Yeah, bath," Fizz said, and you could hear the smile in his voice now that his panic was fading. "Get you all clean and comfortable. Then you can sleep as much as you want."

"'Kay," you agreed, though you made no move to actually get up.

Fizz laughed softly. "I don't think she's capable of walking right now, Oz."

"I can carry her," Ozzie said, and you felt yourself being carefully lifted, cradled against his warm chest. "Come on, little one. Bath time."

The bathroom was as excessive as everything else in the palace—enormous, with a tub that could easily fit Ozzie's massive frame. The tub was large and heart-shaped you found it both ridiculous and charming.

Fizz was already moving ahead, turning on the water and adjusting the temperature. "Not too hot," he muttered to himself. "Our cutie can't handle the same temperatures we can. Warm but not scalding. OoOOoooh maybe some of these bath oils? And these little bath thingy's they smell like butterscotch!"

You watched him through half-closed eyes, touched by how attentive he was being, Ozzie set you down carefully on the edge of the tub, keeping one hand on you to make sure you didn't topple over. "Think you can manage from here, Froggie, or do you need help?"

"Help," you slurred, too tired to be embarrassed. "Please."

"I've got her," Fizz said, moving to your side. "You go get snacks or something, Oz. We're gonna be a minute."

Ozzie hesitated, clearly torn between wanting to help and wanting to feed you both "Alright," Ozzie said finally. "I'll be right back. Fizz, if you need anything—"

"I'll yell," Fizz promised. "Now go. We're fine."

Once Ozzie left, Fizz turned his full attention to you. "Into the tub, cutie," he said softly, helping you step into the warm water. "There we go. Careful."

The water was perfect—warm enough to soothe your tired muscles but not so hot it was uncomfortable. You sank into it with a grateful sigh, feeling the tension drain from your body.

Fizz climbed in after you, settling so you were facing each other. The scars that covered his body were still visible in the soft light, along with the seems where his mechanical limbs connected.

"Gonna get you cleaned up," Fizz said, reaching for a soft washcloth and soap. "Just relax, okay? Let me take care of you."

He started with your shoulders, the cloth moving in gentle circles, washing away the sweat and evidence of your affections.

"You were so beautiful tonight," Fizz said quietly as he worked. "So responsive and trusting and perfect. I can't believe I get to have this. Get to have you."

You felt more alert now, the warm water and Fizz's gentle ministrations bringing you back to fuller consciousness. And with that awareness came a desire—to care for him the way he was caring for you.

"Fizzy?" you said softly.

"Yeah, cutie?"

"Can I... can I help? With you?" Your face felt hot despite the bath water. "I want to take care of you too."

Fizz's hands stilled for a moment, and when you looked at his face, his expression was soft and a little surprised. "You want to?"

"Yes," you said. "Please?"

"Okay," Fizz said, his voice rough with emotion. "Yeah, okay."

You reached for the washcloth, adding more soap with slightly shaking hands. Fizz watched you, his eyes following your every movement.

Starting with his shoulders—careful around the parts where metal met flesh—you began to wash him with the same gentle care he'd shown you. His skin was warm under your touch, scarred but alive, and you felt him shiver slightly as you worked.

"Is this okay?" you asked.

"More than okay," Fizz breathed. "Nobody's ever... I mean, Ozzie helps sometimes, but you're..." He trailed off, seeming unable to find the words.

You moved the cloth lower, washing his chest, being extra careful around the more damaged areas. Fizz watched you the whole time, his expression open and vulnerable in a way you'd rarely seen.

"You don't have to be that careful around the scars," Fizz said quietly. "They don't hurt. I can't feel that much there, actually."

"I know," you said. "But I want to be gentle anyway. Because you deserve gentleness."

Fizz made a small, choked sound, and when you looked up, his eyes were bright with unshed tears.

"You're determined to make me cry tonight," he said, his voice wavering. "That's not fair, cutie."

"Sorry," you said, continuing your gentle ministrations.

"Don't be," Fizz said. "I just—I'm not used to being taken care of like this, by anyone other then Ozzie. Being treated like I'm worth being careful with."

"You are," you said firmly. "You're worth all the care in the world, Fizzy."

He leaned forward, pressing his lips to your forehead and you stayed like that for a long moment, the water warm around you both, sharing breath and space and something that felt too big to name.

Eventually, you finished washing him, and he finished washing you, and you both just sat there in the water, facing each other, hands loosely clasped between you.

"Thank you," Fizz said softly. "For tonight. For trusting me. For letting me be close to you."

"Thank you for being gentle," you replied. "For being patient with me. For letting Ozzie help guide you."

"Couldn't have done it without him," Fizz admitted. "Or you."

Before you could respond, the bathroom door opened and Ozzie returned, carrying a tray laden with snacks and drinks. His eyes took in the scene—you and Fizz in the bath, facing each other, clearly having shared something tender—and his expression went impossibly soft.

"Well," Ozzie said, his voice warm with approval. "Don't you two look like a picture."

"We're pruning," Fizz said, but he was smiling.

"Beautifully pruning," Ozzie corrected, setting the tray down on the counter. "That was quite the show earlier. Both of you were magnificent."

You felt your face heat up, and Fizz laughed.

"She's blushing," Fizz observed. "Even after everything we just did, she's blushing."

"It's endearing," Ozzie said, moving closer to the tub. "And I mean what I said. You were both wonderful. Fizz, you were attentive and communicative. And little one, you were responsive and trusting and absolutely radiant."

"Stop," you protested weakly, covering your face with your hands.

"Never," Ozzie said, clearly amused. "You're going to have to get used to being praised, little one. Because both Froggie and I plan to do it frequently."

"So frequently," Fizz agreed, grinning. "Like, all the time. It's going to be annoying how much we tell you how amazing you are."

"I think I'll find a way to live with that," you admitted, lowering your hands.

"Good," Ozzie said, satisfaction clear in his voice. "Now, are you two going to stay in there until you turn into raisins, or would you like to get out and have some snacks?"

"Snacks sound good," Fizz said, already moving to help you stand. "Come on, cutie. Let's get dried off."

Ozzie helped too, producing impossibly soft towels that he wrapped around both of you. Fizz's mechanical limbs made quick work of drying himself, and then he helped you, his touches still gentle and careful.

Once you were both dry and wrapped in comfortable robes, Ozzie guided you both back to the bedroom, where he set the snacks on a low table near the bed.

The snacks were perfect—light enough not to be heavy on your stomach. You and Fizz settled on the bed, Ozzie joining you, and the three of you shared food and quiet conversation, the intimacy of earlier shifting into something softer, more domestic.

"This is nice," you said, already feeling your eyes getting heavy again.

"Sleep, little one," Ozzie said gently, noticing. "You've had a long day. A good day, but long."

The height difference makes him feral. He is at least a couple feet taller than you. So he likes to use this to his advantage. By manhandling you. he will pick you up, grab your waist, literally rip your legs off of its hinges when he pulls them apart, etc. So, he likes when you are shorter than him. It gives him a power influx, and it makes him feel supreme to you. So he will basically use you like a glorified sex doll.

He will purposely make himself transform into a couple feet taller. Like a big, scary spider. So he can intimidate you, and get you riled up. He wont have actual penetrative sex with you in his big spider form, but he will eat you out.

And he delivers very well. His tongue is huge. You feel like your in cloud 9 whenever he eats your pussy, especially because he does not do it very often.

his favorite position, especially due to his size, is Full Nelson. He likes how in this position, he has complete control over you. With his upper hands behind your knees, his hips under your own, and his lower arms circling your sensitive clit, and his other hand pussy slapping you. Sometimes, he will place you in front of a big mirror, while hammering his hips into your vice, little pussy. Also making you look at yourself, being utterly destroyed by his large cock. He will tie your ankles together with his webs when he does this.

His other favorite is picking you up, and putting his hands under your legs and throwing them over his shoulders. He enjoys listening to the skin slapping sounds, and how lude they sound. And seeing your reactions to his every harsh thrust to your G-spot. And how especially cramped you are between his body, his cock, and his arms, with a tight grip on your ass. This position makes you more sensitive and vulnerable, which is just where he wants you.

Belly Bulge. Need I say more? It makes him laugh, and chuckle about how 'your gonna take it- fuck, yeah, you like that don't you- little fuckin' slut-'

It makes him realize just how large he is compared to you. How much he effects you and your body. He craves this kind of dominance over you.

He is a little bastard. When he sees you have a belly bulge from his constant plummeting, he will press down onto it. This, as he is well aware of, makes you see stars. You become a moaning, drooling, babbling mess under his large self. Which is what he wants, of course.

The sheer size of his dick. He cant help but feel aroused, when he compares you and his cock side by side. Every now and then, he will have you sat right behind it, while he holds you, and just admire how small you are. He has to prep you for your first time together, and even every single time you guys do have sex. Simply because of the size of it. And its not just long, its girthy too. So if you dont have some prep, he might end up abominating your poor womb.

He especially likes seeing you struggle, especially when you give him head. you can barely fit your mouth around it. Your jaw gets sore within literal seconds of putting his member in your mouth. So you have to use your hands (which also barely touch eachother), for the rest of his cock.

Overstimulating you. His favorite way of overstimulation you is with his arms and hands. He will have you trapped in between his legs. One of his lower arms will be fingering your supple core; the other one circling harshly around your clit. One of his upper hands holding your waist up; the other one toying with your breast and sensitive, puffy nipples.

He also likes overstimulating you, by having you cock warm him. Its one of his favorite past times. Especially when you two try to be sneaky, like during his pageants ontop of the webbing. (should I make a whole other post about this??) He just loves feeling the warmth of your pussy against his cold self. And he wont let you move. Like at all. Unless he grabs your hips and forcibly bounces you up and down, which is after a while of waiting of course.

Dirty talk. He loves making you feel smaller, so he will talk down upon you. Everything he calls you starts with 'my', because he is very possessive. things like "my slut", "my whore", "my princess", etc. He will never talk about you in a truly bad connotation. So he will say things like:

"You like being my little slut, yeah?"

"C'mon, you can take more. don't be a baby."

"yeahhhh. Takin' it like a fuckin' champ. Good fuckin' girl-"

"Oh fuck... shit just like that"

"Ohh yeah- thats some good shit."

"Dont you dare fuckin' move."

"You feelin' good princess? Yeah I bet you are. Fittin' me like a glove."

"Awww you want more? Your gonna have to wait a bit, m'kay?"

"You want it inside? Ya' want daddy to fill ya' up real nice?"

Your life wasn’t the best at the moment. Your bitter ex put a bounty on your head for no reason, and this forced you to be on the run. You were currently in the Wrath ring, trying to outrun this bounty hunter that’s been on your ass for a while. It wasn’t fair that he was riding on a horse, but you were able to keep a good distance from him. Unfortunately, you didn’t know that he had a lasso on him. You gagged when the lasso wrapped around your neck tight, pulling you back and knocking you onto your ass. You tried to pull the rope off of you, but it was on tight. During your struggle, he walked up to you, looking down with a smirk on his face. His tail flicked in a flourish, making the same sound as a rattlesnake’s tail. “Gotta admit, you can run pretty fast. But not fast enough.” a rough male voice said. “I haven’t lost a catch in my entire life, and I ain’t starting today.” He pulled the lasso up and got you on your knees. You had a good look at him and recognized him immediately. This was Striker, the ruthless bounty hunter who hunted down and almost killed Prince Stolas. You were aware of his track record of bounty hunting, and you knew you were just another paycheck. ‘Fuck, he’s hot,’ you thought to yourself.

He eyed you up and down and said, “Hey, you’re a cute one. Not a bad body on you, either. Maybe I’ll have some fun with ya before I turn ya in.” You weren’t sure how, but this man just flipped your switch and you decided to flirt with him. When he loosened the lasso so you could speak, you smirked and looked at him with flirtatious eyes, saying, “Oh? Have I caught the eye of the famous bounty hunter, Striker?” Striker’s eyes narrowed, momentarily taken aback by your smirk. His grin remained plastered on his face, however, as he leaned in further, his breath brushing your cheek. “Famous, eh?” He repeated, drawing out the word. “Maybe I am, maybe I ain’t,” he chuckled softly, running a hand through his snowy hair. “But there ain’t no doubt that I’m the best around these parts.” He paused, looking you up and down with a predatory gleam in his golden eyes. “And now that I got ya, well...you got a few options.”

“Option one, sweetheart,” He began, gesturing to the lasso around your neck. “We could keep things simple and quick. I turn you in, you’re executed, and I pocket that hefty bounty on your cute little head. Easy peasy lemon squeezy, right?” He winked, a mischievous smile tugging on his lips. “Or option two, we have ourselves a bit of fun, see how much you enjoy it..or how much I do. And then I decide whether you’re worth keeping around or not. Sound good?” You liked where this was going, so you smile and say, “Personally, I like option two better, wouldn’t you agree? Maybe if we hit it off, we can fake my death and split the bounty. I got quite a bounty on me, so if we split it, we’d be richer than even those Goetias.” Striker’s eyes widened as he smiled, clearly surprised at your words. “Ya reckon? Now there’s an idea,” he said, running a finger along your jawline. “Well, alright. Let’s give ol’ option two a go, see how it feels. But understand something, sweetheart, if I feel like you’re lyin’, tryin’ to trick me, I ain’t above changin’ my mind and sendin’ you straight to yer maker.” As he helped you stand up, Striker adjusted his hat and walked closer to you, looming over you. “Now, don’t think you can run off, darlin. That ain’t an option.” He smirked, his voice low and seductive. “I’m in control here, always. Otherwise, we ain’t got no game here.” You were getting turned on so much the more this went, so you smiled and said, “Well, that’s good, because it wouldn’t be any fun if I was the one in control.” A sinister grin spread across Striker’s face, his eyes flickering with excitement. “That’s more like it,” he growled, grabbing your arm and throwing you onto his horse. Once he got on, he made you wrap your arms around his waist, saying, “Hold on tight now.” With that, you two were off.

It was sunset when he stopped at a hotel and got you two a room. Once he brought you in the room, he pinned you to a wall and gazed down your body, lingering on your chest, before locking back on your eyes. “I bet you taste real sweet, don’t cha?” He murmured, his finger tracing a slow circle on your throat. “Between those legs of yours, you prolly taste like heaven.” He grabbed you and pulled you close to him, his body pressing against yours, the hard lines of muscle evident beneath his clothes. You blushed, but felt so turned on as you said, “Well..only one way to find out.” Striker grinned, his grip tightening on your waist as he pressed his groin against yours. “Oh, I’m gonna,” he growled, his hand sliding down your body and undoing your pants. “Real soon, darlin’. Real soon.” He leaned in, his mouth brushing against your ear as he whispered, “But first, I wanna watch you squirm, feel your body shake with pleasure before I taste every inch of ya.” He broke away, stepping back and fixing his coat. “Strip for me,” He said, his voice deep and commanding. “Slow and sexy, darlin’. Don’t forget, I’m in control here.” He lit a fresh cigar, puffing on it as he watched you undress, his eyes never leaving your body.

You nodded and you started to strip nice and slowly, giving him a bit of a show with a little strip tease. Striker’s eyes widened, his nostrils flaring as he took in the sight before him. Your slow, erotic dance had rendered him speechless, but not for long. He swallowed hard, his fingers drumming on his belt. Soon, you were completely nude, your arousal evident as he noticed your juices dripping down your thigh. “Damn, girl,” He muttered, his voice shaky. “Look at ya, drippin’ an’ ready for me.” He slowly approached, putting his cigar out and throwing it out as he reached for you. He wrapped an arm around you, his hand groping your ass as his other hand brushed against your wet flesh, a low chuckle escaping him. “So fuckin’ beautiful,” he praised, his hand running along the curve of your hips. You let out a series of moans as he started to rub your pussy, his fingers skillfully playing with your folds and clit. Striker couldn’t help but chuckle as he felt how wet and responsive your pussy was beneath his fingers. “Just wait til I’m inside of ya,” he breathed into your ear, his words coming out heavy. “Ain’t nothin’ like havin’ you clench around me, feeling every throb and twitch.” He slid one finger inside you, feeling your walls contract around him. “Fuck, you’re tight.” He pushed in another finger, his cock straining painfully within his pants. “I’m gon’ fuck you so hard, baby. Make you scream my name when I reach that sweet spot.” His hand started moving faster, thrusting in and out of you, rubbing your clit with his thumb. “Feel that, darlin’? Imagine it bein’ me -- my cock poundin’ into ya, fillin’ you up.” Just the thought of his cock stretching your pussy out made you even wetter and made you moan more as he continued fingering you. “Fuck, baby,” Striker swore, his arousal threatening to burst through his jeans. “You ain’t no liar, are ya?” He chuckled darkly. “Your pussy’s so damn greedy for me, already wanting more.” He took his fingers out, watching as they glistened with your essence. You watched as he licked his fingers clean, a sinister look in his eyes when he looked at you, saying, “I was right. Your pussy do taste like heaven.” He cupped your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Tell me, darlin’, do ya wanna feel me inside of you? Then get on your knees and beg for it.” He demanded, his voice thick with lust. “If I’m gonna take ya, you best beg for it properly.”

You nodded and got on your knees, looking up at him and putting on your best puppy-dog eyes as you said, “Please, Daddy..I want your hard cock..give it to me..I need it so badly..please fuck me...I’ll do anything you want..” Striker’s eyes darkened with hunger, his heart pounding in his chest. “That’s my girl,” he praised, reaching for his belt buckle. Unbuckling it, he let his jeans drop, revealing his thick erection standing tall and proud. He smirked, holding his cock and aiming it at your mouth. “Anything I want, huh?” He mused, running a hand through his hair. “Well, since ya asked so nicely, I’ll start easy. Take my cock in yer mouth and suck it like a good girl,” he commanded, his eyes never leaving your face. “Prove how much ya want it.”

You nodded and gently grabbed his cock, stroking it and licking up the shaft. You then kissed the tip of his cock and slid his cock into your mouth, sucking on it as you moaned. Striker hissed, his hand fisting in your hair as you took him into your mouth. “Goddamn, that’s good,” he groaned, his hips jerking involuntarily. “You got some skills with that tongue, that’s for sure.” He tugged your hair, guiding your movements. “Swallow me down, deep throat me,” he grunted, his pace picking up. “Make me feel that warm, wet throat around my dick.” His breathing grew ragged, his hips bucking hard. “Don’t stop, keep going. Show me how much ya need this cock.” You did as he said and took more of his cock in your mouth, feeling it go down your throat and slightly gagging until you were able to relax your throat, making things much easier. Soon, you were able to deepthroat him to the point of your lips touching his hilt. Striker’s eyes rolled back as he tilted his head back, his fingers digging into your scalp. “Fuck, yeah..” he moaned. “Take it all, darlin’, show me how much you love it.” His thrusts became more aggressive, his body trembling. “Keep goin’, make me lose myself in your mouth.” You sucked even more, making sure your tongue massaged his shaft. You reached towards your pussy and you started to touch yourself as you sucked him off, clearly turned on from the experience as your juices dripped onto the hardwood floor. Striker’s eyes narrowed, his breaths coming out harsh and uneven. “You’re gonna make me cum like this, aren’t ya?” He growled, his grip tightening on your hair. “I fucking love a woman who knows what she wants.” He pulled out, his cock glistening with saliva. “But I’m in control here, remember? So, enough of that,” He said hoarsely, grabbing your arm and throwing you onto the bed, soon pushing you down and hovering over you. “Time to get that pretty pussy stretched wide.”

He put his hands on your hips, his eyes locked on your dripping pussy. “Spread your legs wider for me, baby,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Cause I’mma ride ya so hard, mark my words..” You spread your legs wider, your pussy twitching with anticipation. Striker grinned, his eyes gleaming with danger. “Perfect,” he murmured, positioning himself between your legs. “Now, tell me if you want me to be gentle or rough.” He teased, his tip brushing against your entrance. “Your choice, darlin’.” His eyes bore into yours, waiting patiently for your decision. “Remember, you asked for this. Now choose wisely.” You smirked and wrapped your arms around his neck, saying, “That depends, sexy. How do you want it? You’re the one in charge here. I’m just here to take it like a good girl.” Striker’s grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Damn right you are, darlin’. I’m in control.” He growled, thrusting into you forcefully. “But don’t worry, I’ll give ya a taste of both.” He began with a steady rhythm, his hips grinding against yours. “Like that, huh?” He sighed, his voice tinted with satisfaction. “Worried you wouldn’t be able to handle me, but look at ya takin’ it like a champ.” As he pistoned in and out of you, his pace increased. You were tight, so fucking tight around him. You just lost it as his size stretched you out so good, moaning as he kept thrusting, “Ohhh fuck..yeah..!” Striker’s eyes heated up, his thrusting becoming even wilder. “You love it, eh?” He snarled, gripping your hips tightly. “Takes a real man to stretch ya out like this, don’t it?” He leaned down, whispering in your ear. “But I ain’t done with ya yet.” His grip tightened as he pulled out of you. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard now, got it?” Without waiting for an answer, he slammed into you again, his thrusts erratic and violent. “Like that? Wanna see how far you can take it?” He snarled, his pace unrelenting. “Show me how much you can take!”

Your pleasure had reached its peak, crying out in pure ecstasy, “Ahh..! Ohhh..S..Striker..! Yes..! Harder..! Deeper..!” Striker roared, his thrusts becoming even more savage. “Fuck yeah, that’s it,” he gritted out, his breathing labored. “Ya like that, huh?” He reached down, rubbing your clit roughly. “Don’t hold back, darlin’,” he ordered, his pace not slowing. “Let me hear you scream.” His cock slid in and out of you like lightning, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. “Goddamn, I’m gonna paint your walls with my cum,” he promised, his eyes blazing. “Can’t wait to hear ya scream my name.” “Y-Yes..! Please...fill me up...make me yours...ohh fuck..!” You moved your hips to match his thrusts, intensifying the pleasure for both of you. “Ohhh fuck, your cock feels so good, baby..!” Striker growled, feeling you meet his thrusts. “That’s it, darlin’,” he encouraged, his pace increasing. “Fuck, I ain’t gonna last much longer.” He grabbed the back of your head, pulling you into a passionate kiss. You kissed him back, moaning in his mouth as your tongues did an erotic dance. Striker broke the kiss and looked you in the eye. “Tell me what you want, Y/N,” he demanded, his voice raw with desire. “Do ya want me to fill ya up?” His thrusts became more desperate, his hips slamming into yours with all his might. “Tell me what you need, baby girl.” “I..I need you to fill me...fuck me in all of my holes...fill me up full of your cum until I can’t take any more..use me..break me..!” you cried out. Striker’s eyes flashed, his entire being focused on satisfying your request. “Goddamn, that’s what I’m talkin’ about!” he snarled, his thrusts becoming even more brutal. It’s not too long until he came deep inside you, filling your pussy up to the brim. “Gah, fuck..” he groaned. He quickly pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach, wiping his cockhead on your ass before aligning it with your back door. “Ready for another round, darlin’?” He asked, his voice thick with lust.

With a swift motion, he plunged into your ass, making you gasp. “I’mma fill every hole ya got,” he promised, his thrusts frantic. “Feel every inch of my cock inside ya.” His cock slid in and out of you, fucking you mercilessly. “How’s that, huh?” He panted, his grip tightening on your hips. “Need me to go faster, slower?” You gripped tightly on the bedsheet, your teeth gnashing down on the fabric as you lost your mind even further, moaning as he fucked your ass so good, “Ohh yeah...more..fuck me more...don’t stop..” Striker smiled cruelly, his thrusts becoming even harder. “Atta girl,” he praised. “I ain’t gonna stop until you drain every bit of cum from my cock.” He slapped your ass, hearing you whimper. “Scream for me, Y/N,” he commanded, leaning down to bite your neck. “Let everyone know who you belong to.” “S..Striker...ahh...Striker...I..I belong to you..!!” Striker smirked, biting down on your neck to make sure a mark would be left behind, a sign of ownership. “That’s my girl.” His thrusts grew frenzied, his cock stretching your ass to its limit. “So goddamn tight,” he snarled, his pace ruthless. “I’mma make sure you can’t walk tomorrow.” You soon could feel the knot in your belly starting to wind up and soon, you moan out, cumming hard. Finally, he came inside you again, his orgasm shaking his entire body. He kept thrusting into you, elongating both of your orgasms.

“There ya go, baby,” he chuckled, collapsing beside you. “I hope I filled you up good.” You crawled up to him and laid your head on his chest. “Oh, you did so much more than fill me up, baby...” you said, your voice slightly slurred. Striker chuckled, wrapping an arm around you. “Glad to be of service, sweetheart,” he said, his breath still slightly ragged. “Guess ya liked it rough, huh?” He put his hand on top of your head and nuzzled you, his heartbeat slowly returning to normal. “Don’t worry, darlin’,” he whispered, running a hand through your hair. “Next time, I’m gonna be gentler.” He watched you snuggle into him, making him smirk. “Unless you beg for more, of course,” he teased, his eyes twinkling. “But for now, let’s figure out how to pull the wool over that bastard’s eyes and how we’re gonna split that bounty.”