#tw drugging

The grand hall of Zapolyarny Palace gleamed with cold opulence—crystal chandeliers and polished marble floors. The hall’s high arched stained windows revealed the quiet chaos of the snowstorm outside; snowflakes painted the palace with its icy elegance. Today’s agenda was rather bleak, no new missions from Her Majesty had been tasked, nor was there anything of pure interest beyond the palace walls. 

Naturally, with a dull day like this, Sandrone held her tea parties to combat idle bodies within the palace. Her parties were far from formal, more so a casual gathering between friends and people alike—if the Harbingers even considered each other friends. Nonetheless, the get-together was always immaculate—every pristine teacup was aligned and every mechanical attendant moved with flawless precision. As expected from the Seventh Harbinger herself.

Amongst the group sat you with your usual stillness—calm like the ocean yet as mysterious as its azure depths. What lay beneath its tranquil surface was nothing but a façade of lies. It wasn’t a surprise you lived up to your title—Prevaricator.

Sandrone presided at the head of the table, she sat with precision, back pin-straight as she nursed the freshly brewed beverage. Straight across from her, sat Columbina, and Arlecchino on a vermillion sofa; you and Rosalyne to her right, leaving two empty chairs across from you. On some days, The Captain and Childe would occupy those seats.

“When do you leave for Inazuma, Rosalyne?” Sandrone peeked through the steam that rose from her cup, cerulean eyes piercing yet held no ill intent.

The blonde swallowed down a piece of biscuit before replying, a sharp hand covered her crimson-stained lips out of etiquette, “In three days’ time. I’ll make sure to get you Inazuman tea once I get back.” Rosalyne laughed which pulled an eye roll from Sandrone.

Before the latter could entertain the banter, Columbina spoke up, her dainty voice just enough for all to hear, “Inazuma? I’ve heard The Balladeer is also assigned there.” Rosalyne nodded, despite her quiet response, her displeased face conveyed all emotions needed to conclude how she felt about the Inazuman puppet.

As for you, your feelings toward The Balladeer were nothing but neutral. Sure, you’ve previously exchanged disagreements on several occasions but that was all there was to your ‘relationship’. Though, his mannerisms and sharp words awfully reminded you of a certain Harbinger—one you could barely stand even if your life depended on it.

You weren’t alone in that opinion.

As you spiraled into pure disdain for your colleague, a set of icy footsteps against the marbled floors halted all conversation—your thoughts included. For a mere second, it was as though time had stopped and the snowfall outside was suspended mid-air. Oxygen grew thin within the palace and you swore the temperature dipped below necessary. Even Sandrone’s automatons seemed to hesitate for a heartbeat.

Dottore stepped inside. Uninvited. Unannounced. Unwelcomed. As if your unkind thoughts had somewhat summoned the devil himself.

With pure mockery and amusement, Dottore tilted his head slightly, taking in the frozen expressions of his colleagues. His pointed mask shone beneath the crystal chandeliers. 

“Is this how you welcome a guest?” The Doctor drawled. “How cold. You should all be delighted I’m even attending this . . . get-together.” He ended the sentence with absolute scorn, obviously looking down at his fellow Harbingers.

Sandrone’s fingers tightened around the porcelain cup, “You weren’t invited.” She said flatly.

“Ah.” Dottore started, already headed towards the mahogany table, “Details.” He ignored the Seventh entirely and claimed an empty seat, a seat reserved for anyone but him—directly across from you.

You did not react. Nor did you acknowledge his presence beyond the faint clink of porcelain as you set your cup down as if it were any other tea party. Unlike Sandrone who wore her negative emotions proudly, you remained expressionless—cool, unreadable, and infuriatingly indifferent.

Dottore watched your calm figure from beneath his mask.

Of course you would pretend he didn’t exist. That was what fascinated him the most.

Nothing but a lowly ranked Harbinger yet you carried yourself like someone who had already surpassed every soul in the room. And that’s what made Dottore’s skin itch.

Oh, how badly he wanted to break that false persona of yours, and reveal the weak, poor human you were beneath all those layers. After all, your very existence was built on lies—delusions, just like your genius invention.

Being the Tenth Harbinger meant that your physical prowess wasn’t as refined as the others but your intellect was a different story, and admittedly, it utterly amazed Dottore more than anything.

Who could’ve come up with such a brilliant idea of manufacturing Delusions? Even though the entire process was a joint project between you and Dottore—much to your dismay—he had to give you credit. Not only did your invention further aid each Harbinger with their combat skills but it was also being mass produced in Inazuma right this very moment.

Such a feat a lowly Harbinger could obtain.

Which is why you have piqued his very interest. Dottore wanted to study you, to dissect each and every neuron, and learn how your action potentials differed from the rest—was it your synapses? Or maybe your neurotransmitters? Maybe that’s where your blind arrogance came from.

“Well, don’t mind me. Do carry on with your trivial matters.” The Doctor dismissively waved a gloved hand, a smirk curled at the end of his carmine lips.

Silence remained for a beat or two before Sandrone cleared her throat and resumed conversation with Rosalyne in hopes to drown out a certain parasite amongst the group, “This tea is from Liyue, huh? Quite different from Fontaine, I must say . . . but I’m not complaining.”

Naturally, you followed suit by bringing your cup to your lips to finally get a taste of Liyuean tea—your sip earlier had been abruptly interrupted by The Doctor. The fresh brew tasted of intense floral notes . . Was it apricot and peach? Nonetheless, the flavour was right up your alley. You had to hand it to Rosalyne for having such an exquisite taste.

It had already been a couple of minutes since Dottore crashed the tea party and you were two cups in, having taken a liking to this particular brew. Huh, maybe you might just visit Liyue for yourself. Though, this second round felt a little off—not the taste, no, it was still as lovely as before—something to do with how it made you feel. Sure, the heater was on and around your shoulders was a thick ivory Fatui coat you regularly wore in Snezhnaya but they didn’t usually leave you extremely warm—blazing, even.

You frowned.

Dottore noticed instantaneously. 

How your posture shifted imperceptibly—one leg crossing over the other, shoulders rising with a much deeper breath than before. A faint warmth kissed its way down to your collar, even extending as far as to your chest. The slight shift was invisible to most in the room, except Dottore.

Ah. There it is. He thought.

Your fingers lingered at the rim of the porcelain piece as you set it down once again; you weren’t clumsy, nor weak, just a tad slower than your usual movement. Annoyed, you exhaled through your nose, absolutely oblivious to the reason as to why your body was somewhat disobeying you. Was it the long term effects of your Delusion finally catching up?

Dottore leaned back into the plush vermillion chair, fingers intertwined atop his crossed legs. Oh, how utterly delighted he was. Patience really is a virtue! His little experiment of the day had finally fallen into its rightful place; now, he shall sit and watch how you would handle the independent variable given. Of course, with this experiment of his, you were the controlled variable.

Upon instinct, your gaze finally lifted to meet Dottore’s—albeit behind a mask, there was no denying he had his crimson gaze set upon you. He responded with a mere head tilt, as if he were studying a rare specimen who finally gave him some kind of result.

A sly smile spread across his lips, “Are you unwell, Prevaricator?” Dottore asked pleasantly, voice full of concern yet you knew it was all mockery and amusement; that’s all the Harbingers were to him, a group of people convenient enough for him to play with, unfortunately for The Balladeer, he bore most of Dottore’s little games.

It seemed like you were next in line, though.

The Doctor had easily rerouted Sandrone’s automatons earlier before the tea party—a few adjustments just enough to programme her machinery to serve one cup differently from the rest with a diluted compound, a compound barely enough for your body to register. It wasn’t as potent as the final product but it was sure to disrupt your system even by a smidge.

And that’s where Dottore thrived the most, on small differences.

His question drew unwanted attention from the rest, their curious gaze now upon you. It was more so the fact that no one else wanted to engage in a conversation with Dottore.

Your eyes narrowed a fraction, “No,” A small pause.

“Just . . . warm.” Curt and icy, a response only he deserved. “Oh?” The Second Harbinger pressed further.

“This hall is simply overheated.” At your clipped response, his smile stretched even further behind his pointed mask. What an unsettling sight.

Liar. The Doctor thought.

You shifted in your seat once again, this time, your jaw tightened, fully irritated by your own body. Aside from the sharp heat that clung to every corner of your skin, you felt . . . Sensitive; the distinct contrast of the frost bitten air that ghosted your cheeks once in a while against feverish skin formed goosebumps all over your body. Even your chest ached with slight sensitivity as it rubbed against your undergarment. You weren’t utterly uncomfortable but it was enough to fuel your budding annoyance.

That, alone, fascinated Dottore.

He leaned forward slightly as if to study you closer for a brief moment before getting up from his seat, “How disappointing,” Dottore murmured lowly to himself but it was certainly loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I was hoping for something . . . More telling.” He gave you one last look which was met with a cold glare from you. Ah, he adored that look on you, that expression of pure defiance and hatred; you could bury your innermost feelings with such expressions yet it didn’t deny the fact that your pupils were a touch wider now, breathing a fraction slower—heavier.

This was only a tiny crack on the surface but it was more than enough to prove Dottore’s hypothesis—that beneath your seemingly unbreakable façade, you were susceptible to breaking.

Now, he only needed to calculate your breaking point.

How far were you willing to endure? Would you fold after the next experiment? Or would you stick to your stubborn façade and refuse to give in while you suffered in silence? Dottore could barely wait to write his next hypothesis.

Without another word, The Doctor turned to leave.

Confusion amongst you and your colleagues lingered in the air but soon dissipated upon conversations of shared dislike for the Second Harbinger; you could only nod along, heat that simmered beneath your skin needed your attention far more than the conversation at hand. Even your head began to spin. You wanted to call it a day but Rosalyne was bound for Inazuma for an unknown period of time in a few days and you wanted to spend today with her since she had just gotten back from Liyue regarding a previous task.

The get-together rolled on for a couple more hours until conversations ran dry and tea turned cold and it was time to finally call it a day. Everyone excused themselves without ceremony and returned to their respective homes—thankfully, the snowstorm had died down. On another day, you would have done the same but your body proved to be more disoriented than you had assumed, thus, the best option was to reside within the Zapolyarny Palace for the night.

Each Harbinger was assigned personalised quarters by the Tsaritsa for the purpose of convenience such as summonings before lengthy meetings and other matters but of course, no one was obligated to stay in those quarters during other times. Though, Sandrone and Columbina did frequent their respective spaces; you assumed for the former’s case, it was for pure convenience since it was nearer to the Fatui’s Experimental Bureau.

By the time you had reached the upper corridors of the Palace, the cold marble beneath your boots felt wrong; the hear of your skin also hadn’t faded, if anything, it had deepened into something more unbearable: a persistent awareness which you resented with every step. 

You hated this. Hated the way your mind slipped when it should’ve been sharp and precise, hated the dull tension your lower spine housed, and the irritation that came with not knowing why. You knew your body far better than anyone else, so why hasn’t your mind come up with a concise conclusion?

As you rounded the corner, you reached out a hand against the wall to steady yourself, just a few more steps and you’d reach your quarters. Pull it together.

“Are you sure you’re well?”

At the familiar voice, you stopped in your tracks, body swaying ever so slightly as if calm tides of the ocean lulled you back and forth. You hadn't even heard footsteps trailing behind you nor did you sense anyone else’s presence, was this because of your cognitive decline?

Dottore stood behind you, half-shadowed by the dimly lit corridor, posture relaxed as if he had every reason to be outside your quarters so late in the afternoon. You didn’t own the entire hallway, of course but he rarely presented himself in the Palace unless he was summoned by the Tsaritsa, let alone step foot on the upper corridors.

His voice was smooth, almost considerate, “You look like you need . . .” He paused for a heartbeat, “Help.” Whether it was your soiled mind talking or simply the tone of Dottore’s voice, the implication sat heavy in the air like an unpleasant smoke, and it wasn’t innocent either. Just the thought of it coming from The Doctor had you shuddering.

“I’m fine.” You straightened, not even bothering to turn around. “Whatever you’re implying, save it for someone who cares.” Before you could continue your step, Dottore swiftly crossed the distance between the two of you, grabbing a firm hold of your wrist. There was no skin to skin contact yet his touch burned, almost enough to let out an embarrassing gasp.

“Implying? What a bold conclusion. What could you possibly mean by that?” Your pulse jumped at his words, utterly betraying your entire soul. “Let go.” You spun to face him, eyes flashing with raw fury.

Dottore ignored your protest, instead, he stepped forward, ultimately caging you between himself and the icy wall behind your back. An arm braced beside your head, body close enough to feel the heat radiating off him; the faint scent of antiseptics and a few more chemicals you couldn’t name invaded your senses. It made you nauseous.

“There it is. That look.” He murmured, positively amused at your reaction. Your breath came a fraction faster and you despised the thought of Dottore being able to notice the slight difference.

Huh, who knew dosing you a diluted version of the independent variable would incite such a mix of reactions, if only The Doctor had known he’d obtain a variety of results from this simple experiment, he would’ve gone all the way and given you the undiluted compound. But alas, he was nice enough to ease you into the drug.

“Do you have any idea how insufferable you are?”

You scoffed, "You're blocking my way, I think you’re the more insufferable one here.”

Dottore leaned in, only slightly—not to invade your space but just enough to threaten it.

“You walk into rooms like you’re already above everyone in them. You don’t beg for relevance, nor do you perform—it’s as if you believe you’re untouchable.” His voice dipped, much sharper this time.

Your jaw tightened, “Move.”

“That arrogance,” Dottore retorted. “Is precisely what irks me.”

Refusing to look away and lose the fight, you met his gaze head-on through his mask, ignoring the fact that your skin now burned a thousand flames, and you were hyperaware of every inch of space between yourself and The Doctor.

“Yet here you are. Following me—cornering me. If I’m beneath you then why bother tailing after some lowly Harbinger?” Dottore’s amusement completely vanished at your words, and something much, much colder took its place.

“People who think they’re superior are usually just hiding something.” The grip around your wrist tightened, it wasn’t painful but it was deliberate. “And I am very good at uncovering what lies beneath façades.”

“Seems like you’re projecting. Let go of me before you regret it.” Obviously, you were no match for The Doctor when it came to physical combat but at least with your Delusion, you could hold him off for a bit until Her Majesty finally notices two of her Harbingers are at each other’s throats. 

Dottore chuckled, “How fascinating. Even compromised, you still bare your teeth.” That was another result for him, he made a mental note of it so he could jot all his findings down later.

At least, Dottore released your wrist and stepped back, allowing some of your senses to finally return, “For now, get some rest, Prevaricator. I’d hate for you to collapse before I’ve satisfied my curiosity.” Without another word, he turned and disappeared down the corridor, akin to a ghostly apparition.

You stood there for a good minute, trying to process the whole situation despite your impaired cognitive ability. Fury and unease twisted in your gut, creating a ball of mixed emotions, it sat heavy and absolutely uncomfortable but that wasn’t the worst part. It was the fact that whatever you were experiencing right now, Dottore had somewhat gotten his bloodstained hands involved.

On purpose, too, and all the while a sly smile plastered upon his masked face.

You felt sick.

With Dottore, there was never really an end in things, he was like a parasitic species—stubborn and hard to get rid of once they got a hold of their host. With this in mind, you stumbled into tomorrow with your defenses up, walls built higher this time.

At 10 AM, you found yourself in one of the auxiliary research lounges in the Experimental Bureau, the symptoms of yesterday long gone but not forgotten. The auxiliary served as an informal space within the building, an area for research staff and people alike to collaborate and discuss findings over a hot cup. Even though these rooms were built for relaxation, they certainly didn’t look the part—just like any other experimental building under the Fatui, it was all metal and cold; sound travelled far and beyond within these walls.

Safe to say you rarely bumped into your fellow Harbingers in spaces like these—especially Sandrone and Dottore who were frequent users of the facilities at the Bureau.

Just like the two, you conducted experiments and built items but your focus was on physical enhancement, mainly in combat. Human experiments weren’t ruled out of the list but you weren’t like The Doctor—unethical trials weren’t your cup of tea. Your research focused on enhancing what has already existed, not creating something that didn’t exist. Sure, there were times unwanted adverse effects spiraled out of control but that was all part of the process. Not every experiment was perfect.

“Prevaricator. You look well rested.” Unbelievable.

Now, even your coffee break was interrupted? Dottore’s laboratory was on the other side of the building, how could he have possibly ended up in your territory?

He walked in with confidence that had your eye twitching; you hadn’t even noticed the sound of the large metallic door hissing open—were you really that out of it today?

“You tampered with my tea.” You replied flatly, gaze locked onto the hot beverage resting on the table before you.

“An accusation. How unlike you.” Dottore placed a gloved hand atop his chest, feigning offense.

You crossed your arms over your chest, “You don’t attend social gatherings outside banquets, you don’t follow people to their quarters, and I don’t experience unexplained physiological changes unless someone interferes.”

Dottore stood there for a moment before breaking into an unsettling smile, “Very good. You finally noticed.” He praised you. You frowned, seething at the fact that he had treated you like one of his test subjects—they were always unwilling to participate in his experiments yet he proceeded nonetheless without a care, every single time. Their bone-chilling screams haunted your late night projects and you had no choice but to ignore them.

“I’ve been thinking about you,” Dottore made his way over to the table you sat on. “About how resilient you were yesterday. Sure, it was only a diluted compound but any other subject would have pathetically . . . Given in.” He reached into his pocket and took out a tiny vial filled with an iridescent liquid, it glimmered beneath the warm lights of the auxiliary.

“This is more refined.” “If you think I’m going to drink that, you are wholly mistaken.”

“Of course you will.” Dottore placed the vial on the table with a clink, right next to your steaming coffee. “Because you’re curious, and you hate unanswered questions more than you hate me.” In truth, the hatred you harboured for both were equal; unanswered questions in research were your biggest enemy and it drove you absolutely mad.

At your indifference, he spoke up once again, “Or because you want to prove that you’re still in control. You’d want that, wouldn’t you?” 

Silence stretched longer than Dottore had wanted but he was a patient man, perfect results took time and with the gears turning in your head, he would conclude he’s not far off.

The thought of Dottore being in control of even a sliver of your life had you fuming, no one wanted that. Surely the effect of this substance wouldn’t be as bad, right? If anything went horrendously wrong, you could always trust in your expertise but would your cognitive abilities even pull through under a more potent chemical?

Despite your better judgement, you reached for the small vial, unscrewed its metal top off, and drank it all in one gulp. As expected, the taste was absolutely horrid; it stung your throat like you’d swallowed a thousand needles. You let out a cough, tears lining your eyes.

Dottore smirked. Right into the lion’s den.

Due to its higher potency, the substance acted a lot faster this time. The liquid sat heavy on your stomach, as if your gastric acid itself directly rejected it, not only did it make you nauseous but it also left an uncomfortable feeling. He noticed the way your breath hitched or how your brows furrowed in realisation that this chemical was much, much stronger.

He moved closer, one, two, three steps to close the distance, “Do you feel it? The way your body is betraying your discipline?”

You sat there for a while, wordlessly assessing the substance’s onset effects—increased heart rate, increased body temperature, vasodilation, cognitive fog, slowed motor skills, and slowed breathing. Your hearing became sensitive, both sharp and muffled at the same time, even Dottore’s sentence sounded almost incoherent but not quite.

“I think . .” You started, trying to catch your breath. “I think you should leave.”

Suspiciously  enough, Dottore didn’t push any further, instead, he took a step back, “Rest. This dosage shall pass . . . Eventually.” The click clack of his shoes echoed in your ears as Dottore left the auxiliary.

You’ll be back in no time. He thought to himself.

You sighed a breath of relief, his presence was suffocating to say the least, and being under the influence of some substance didn’t help. Taking a few controlled, deep breaths, you tried to calm yourself; suddenly drinking coffee didn’t feel like the right thing to do. So, with a hazy mind and light feet, you left the auxiliary and headed to your own laboratory.

As you walked in, your subordinates greeted you, they immediately sensed something was wrong but didn’t dare pry—after all, it wasn’t their position to question their Lady Harbinger even if it meant concern. You tried your best to oversee experiments and discuss results but as each minute passed, your body began to feel even stranger.

Indecent thoughts slipped in and out of your mind, your skin yearned to be touched, and not to mention the uncomfortable heat that pooled between your legs. The flu-like symptoms from earlier you could handle but this was something else, it drove you to the borders of insanity; with the absence of another’s touch, your cunt ached.

You tried to hold it out—to let the effects pass but you only lasted about an hour or two before you ultimately kicked out every single soul inside the laboratory out of embarrassment. There was no way in hell you’d let your subordinates see you in such a state; gossip amongst lower ranked Fatui spread like wildfire and you weren’t about to become the topic of the month.

This compound didn’t simmer like the last, instead, it demanded immediate attention.

The laboratory now fell silent, only the constant hum of machines and ventilation accompanied your ragged breaths. You leaned over your desk, fists curling against the smooth surface as you cursed Dottore with every unpleasant word your impaired mind could think of. The period of effect was unknown, so basically you were just playing a waiting game, a dangerous one at that.

But you weren’t about to settle for this—no, you demanded answers from The Doctor. 

Right now. Your patience had been exhausted and could feel a reckless storm brewing within you—one that abandoned rationality.

Without a second thought, you crossed the entire building from one side to the other, it was probably the fastest you’ve walked despite slightly limping from discomfort between your legs. Archons, you could only imagine how crazed you looked.

The door to Dottore’s laboratory screeched upon opening, gaining the attention of all staff inside it, including the Harbinger himself. He didn’t have to wait for the door to fully open to conclude it was you, according to his calculations, he expected you to show up right about now.

Before the staff could murmur amongst themselves, Dottore spoke a singular word—loud, clear and icy.

“Out.”

His subordinates didn’t have to be told twice. They shuffled to their feet rather quickly, immediately dropping whatever task they had at hand before squeezing out the door as if some madman were chasing them. Something in their mind whispered they wouldn’t want to witness what was going to happen next.

As the last person rushed out, the heavy door behind you hissed as it closed, leaving you and Dottore alone in his laboratory.

“Well, this is highly unexpected.”

“You’re going to give me a counteragent.” You demanded immediately.

Dottore momentarily paused before laughing at your retort, it wasn’t a cruel laugh, it was pure amusement. “My, this drug has really done its job, hasn’t it? Your mind is a mess!” Your furrowed brows and downturned lips only fuelled his delight. “You speak of a counteragent yet aphrodisiacs aren’t poisonous—they don’t harm the body, they heighten one’s senses and increase libido. Indeed, anaphrodisiacs exist but they don’t serve as a counteragent. In short, there is no ‘cure’.”

“The effects dissipate only after . . . release.” Dottore added. 

An aphrodisiac? How could you have not come to that conclusion? You were so caught up in Dottore’s scheme that you completely forgot to account for the use of a common drug. Everything about him screamed complex so it was only right to assume he had synthesized a rather intricate substance.

“You’re well-versed in medicine and human physiology. You should know exactly how these types of compounds function.” Dottore slowly circled your unstable figure as if he were a predator sizing up its prey.

“Tell me, Prevaricator. If you rely on this counteragent you speak of, why didn’t you just synthesize your own instead of barging into my territory like a lunatic? I was in the middle of an experimental breakthrough.”

As much as you hated to admit it, Dottore was right you should have known. Now, you felt like an utter fool standing in his laboratory demanding for something that didn’t exist.

“Unless . . . You’re already aware that there is no counteragent. Which raises a far more interesting question,” He stood directly behind you, his tall stature loomed over your own, voice dangerously close to your ear.

“Why did you come to me?”

Your heart pounded violently against your chest, not because of fear but because of the humiliating reality that The Doctor pointed out. Why did you come to him? He was the last person you should’ve sought when it came to human physiology. What happened to relying on your own expertise?

“I came to you for answers. Why are you doing all this? I’m not your test subject!” 

“That’s precisely the problem—you’re not. So, I took matters into my own hands, whether you liked it or not.”

“Why?”

“Your façade infuriates me. And I will use every resource I have to strip you of your false layers.”

You were dumbfounded. Why was Dottore so adamant? Both of you were Harbingers for gods sake!—your identities were built on lies. Every Harbinger was granted a false identity by the Tsaritsa, everyone knew that. 

“Tell me, Prevaricator. Is it the aphrodisiac driving you mad or the fact that you know exactly what you want but refuse to admit it?”

“I . . .” Your sentence faded into thin air.

The aphrodisiac had you on a chokehold; you couldn’t think properly, any rational thoughts were forgotten, and left behind for your future self to pick up. You couldn’t even refute any of Dottore’s arguments even if you badly wanted to—your brain simply just wasn’t working because right now, all you wanted was one thing, release. The heat your body radiated became unbearable and the painful ache between your legs intensified with every passing second.

Dottore stood right before you, he wordlessly studied your unstable, flustered state; this was only the first layer he had stripped off—the tip of the iceberg—and he was more than ready to find out where it ended.

Dottore took a step forward. You took a step back in response.

“Relax, I’m not going to hurt you.” He hummed lowly, reaching out a gloved finger to trace the edge of your collar, it was slow and deliberate, cutting you off from what you needed most right this moment, contact. Embarrassingly enough, you shuddered at the sensation of his finger against your clothing, the small vibrations of the friction it created was enough to push you further into insanity.

“Oh. Well, that answers my question from earlier.” Dottore wrapped a gloved hand around your throat, not too tight, not too loose, just enough to have your cunt clenching around nothing. You whimpered at his touch, your sensitive skin finally receiving the contact it has yearned for. His leather gloves felt electric against your feverish skin and you’d be lying if you didn’t want more.

“. . . Please.” You whispered, lips parted to draw shallow breaths in and out. 

“My, what a mess you are and we haven’t even begun the third phase of the experiment.”

Without wasting another second, Dottore pulled you by the neck and pressed his lips against your own. The kiss knocked out all the oxygen in your lungs, it was sloppy, heated, and passionate.

The tip of Dottore’s mask harshly dug into your cheek as he pressed even further, shoving his tongue inside your mouth. Your head spun, the kiss was intoxicating—he was intoxicating. At this point, with how desperately Dottore kissed you, you wondered if you were truly the one under the influence because it seemed like he was more lust driven than you were. Hungrier.

Wet sounds of aggressive lip smacking and the occasional pants you and Dottore let out filled the entire laboratory. If anyone were to walk in right this moment, they’d probably be crimson-cheeked at how lewd and pornographic you both sounded.

Dottore growled into your mouth as he gripped your jaw and tilted your head for better access. Oh, how well you were taking him; you were so obedient and amazing for him to the point where it immensely turned him on. A minute later, he pulled away, flushed and panting, a thin string of saliva connected both your lips.

“How fascinating.” Dottore stated, breathless.

His tongue swiped on his bottom lip, collecting the saliva that pooled there. Your state wasn’t any better, as a matter of fact, the kiss was so messy to the point where saliva was smeared all over your mouth and chin but you didn’t care, you needed him.

Dottore unclipped your ivory Fatui coat, throwing the heavy fabric across the lab, it fell with a distinct thud. With that out of the way, he pushed you to the nearest wall which was right next to the entrance. You stumbled on your feet at his urgency but didn’t bother complaining.

He unbuttoned your blouse, first, second, third, until the fabric revealed skin beneath it. A quiet gasp escaped his kiss-bitten lips, “You’re truly magnificent.” You didn’t know whether Dottore praised you as a human being or as a mere test subject but nonetheless his saccharine words had your cunt pulsing.

Gloved hands momentarily ghosted your feverish skin, as though you were a fragile relic he refused to touch for you were far too precious and pristine to taint. He slipped off your blouse and the cool air of the laboratory kissed your skin, you shuddered at the significant contrast of temperatures.

“Hmm. Sensitive. I wonder what would happen if I press . . . here.” Your body curled in pleasure as Dottore cupped a clothed breast, palms sensually rubbing against your covered nipple. How exquisite you were, he had barely gotten started yet you already seemed like you’ve reached your limit.

“Ngh—Dottore!” Your own hands shot up to your face to cover your mouth, the last thing you wanted was to moan his name embarrassingly loud but it seemed like even your body couldn’t resist.

The Doctor let out a low growl, “Do not tamper with my experiment. This is all part of the result. Uncover your mouth.” 

Humiliation engulfed your almost bare body as you heeded his words. He clicked his tongue and pinned both your wrists with a hand, “Any unwanted changes to my experiment will result in a second trial. Do not test me, Prevaricator.” The only thing you could do was wordlessly nod.

“Good.”

With his free hand, Dottore expertly unclasped your bra, causing it to swiftly fall onto the metal floor. There, he marveled at your hardened nipples, how it seemed to immediately react to external stimuli. He groped a breast, this time squeezing and massaging it, pulling a string of breathless moans from your lips.

“Now that’s what I like to hear.”

Dottore continued to give each breast his undivided attention ‘til you thrashed your sensitive body from overstimulation, “Dottore . . !” This time his name came out as a plea and he immediately understood what you were begging for, “Tsk. How impatient. We shall then move onto the next phase.” He scoffed.

Within the next minute, you were stripped of your remaining clothing, leaving you vulnerable in front of Dottore. Before you could even try to swallow down the embarrassment, his hand was already on you, toying with your sopping cunt. His gloved finger sensually traced your slit—up and down, up and down ‘til it slowly your clit, then did he only rub tight, hasty circles.

“F-Fuck! Haah!” Your back arched at the electric sensation that kissed down your spine. You weren’t a virgin but it has been a long while since you were touched so lewdly like this, moreover, he seemed to really know what he was doing. Dottore watched as your flustered face contorted in pure pleasure—swollen lips parted, brows knitted together, glassy eyes rolled back, just the result he wanted.

But he was greedy, he wanted more. He wanted to see you absolutely fucked up.

Dottore plunged two long fingers inside your wet cunt, causing you to resist his firm hold on your wrists. He curled his digits upward to meet the spongy patch of nerves there, “Mmf—! That feels good—Ah!” You could only moan in response as he picked up the pace.

Each harsh thrust of his fingers had your abdomen squeezing with pleasure, attempting to bear the force of his hand. Loud squelches coming from your cunt reverberated throughout the laboratory’s metallic walls and you could only hope no one would walk by to hear such sinful sounds.

Dottore grunted as he felt you squeeze around his fingers, he could feel the growing tent in his pants, cock aching to be freed from its restraint. He watched as your entrance greedily took him in, your sweet essence oozing out every time he pumped inside.

His crimson eyes beneath the mask glimmered at the way your slick messily coated not only his palm but as well as your inner thighs; he had never seen anything quite like this before. What spectacular results he was given! 

It didn’t take long to feel the coil deep inside your stomach to start unravelling slowly. Dottore noticed it too, how your breath quickened and eyes tightly shut. He kept going, in and out, in and out steadily guiding you closer and closer to the sweet release you yearned for.

But just before you were pushed over the edge, he abruptly pulled his fingers out, causing you to shamelessly whine in protest. Confused, our eyes shot open, vision blurred with tears of pleasure, “Wha-What . . ? Why did you stop?” 

Pleasure slowly faded away from your body, the high that once engulfed you now felt farther and farther away. Dottore brought his slick-stained fingers up, casually examining it under the laboratory’s fluorescent lights like he didn’t just almost fingerfuck you to an orgasm.

“We’re simply moving on to the final phase.”

Final phase?

At the sound of metal clinking, you were pulled out of your thoughts. Before you, Dottore hastily undid his ebony-coloured pants, he pulled the fabric down with his underwear just enough to free his aching cock. Your eyes widened as it stood proudly against his abdomen; he wasn’t as girthy but his length definitely made up for it, his blunt tip was a deep shade of blush, and a prominent vein ran along the underside of his cock. More interestingly, it curved a little to the left.

You could almost drool at the sight.

Dottore let out a low hiss as he wrapped a gloved hand around his sensitive cock to spread his pre-cum all over it, he gave it three languid pumps before stepping closer to your naked body. With one swift movement, he nudged your legs apart—resulting in you briefly losing balance—before slotting himself between them.

You whimpered at the sensation of Dottore’s cock rubbing against your slit, you could already feel how hot and heavy it was from the simple contact alone. Without warning he slowly pushed in, its blunt tip separating your wet folds apart. Your arms immediately flew to his clothed shoulders, nails digging into the expensive fabric as he inched deeper and deeper.

Dottore muttered a curse, lips slightly quivering. The sensation of your warm walls around his cock drove him absolutely insane and he wasn’t even all the way in yet; your cunt hugged him oh, so tightly and greedily sucked him in he could almost come right then and there as embarrassing as it sounded.

It had been quite a while since Dottore engaged in sex since he had more important matters to attend to so this feeling of being inside someone was closer to foreign than not.

Soon enough, he bottomed out with ease. The two of you took a moment to steady your breaths and adjust to each other’s body, though, you did try your best to stand as still as possible as the tip of his cock gently nudged your sweet spot—any hasty movements would cause it to press further inside.

“You’re so—Haah!—Tight!” Dottore let out an amused chuckle, a smirk plastered on his lips.

“S-Shut up.” You flushed.

Without another word, Dottore hooked a hand beneath your right knee and forced it up to rest on his shoulder. That movement alone brought your hips closer to his, allowing his cock to slip deeper; you involuntarily squeezed around him in response, back arching off the icy wall which earned a low growl from him.

Faint wet sounds echoed in your ears as Dottore pulled out all the way until only his tip remained, your cunt sucked him in so much that merely drawing his hips back was met with such resistance. He wasted no time thrusting back in, this time, with the entire length of his cock, it made your knee buckle, and your lips immediately parted to let out a garbled moan.

Dottore started off with an experimental pace—he studied how your expressions differed with each push and pull.. When met with shallow, hasty thrusts, your breathing seemed to mimic the rhythm of his hips, whereas with deep, slower thrusts, you seemed to bite down on your bottom lip while your eyes slightly rolled back.

How interesting. What about deep, swift thrusts?

Dottore picked up the pace to test his next experimental question, blunt tip bullying your sweet spot, and heavy balls slapping against your skin.

“Fuck! Fuck! Ngh—! Dottore!” You mercilessly clawed at his back. The expression you gave him was simply exquisite, your whole face contorted in raw pleasure. Hot tears rolled down your flushed cheeks and he took the opportunity to lick it off your face.

Using a free hand, Dottore reached for one of your breasts, teasing and massaging it while he watched the other bounce with each thrust.

Earlier, the laboratory faintly smelled of chemicals, now, the air smelled of sinful sex—your’s and Dottore’s scent entangled with one another, a completely volatile pair.

“That’s it—Mhm!—Let me hear your pathetic whimpers as I push you further and further into insanity.” He growled in your ear and bit the column of your neck.

Dottore unhooked your leg from his shoulder before securing both arms around to lift you up, “Jump.” He didn’t have to repeat his word for you to do so. As you jumped, he supported your weight with his hands which allowed you to wrap your legs around his waist.

With his hands planted on your ass, Dottore began to expertly bounce you on his cock; this position left you more vulnerable since there was nothing you could do but take each and every thrust. Since gravity also came into play, his thrusts were far deeper than before and you swore you could feel him on your throat.

“Right there! Ah! Right there, Dottore! Please don’t stop—Fuck!” The tight coil inside your stomach began to unravel once again and the high you experienced earlier came flooding back. It was an overwhelming pressure, it pressed on every part of your sensitive body, sending waves of shock up and down your spine.

Dottore observed your cock drunk state—head lolled to the side, hair a complete mess, face flushed with lust, lips locked in a permanent part to let out moans, tear-stained cheeks, and eyes rolled far back enough you could probably see your own skull. This. This was precisely what Dottore wanted from you—an expression so raw, so vulnerable it was an unbelievable contrast from the usual one you wore.

You looked absolutely broken and helpless like he was the only one who could save you. And The Doctor loved everything about it.

He moaned your name as you clamped on his cock—not your title, but the name bestowed upon you by Her Majesty. The name only your female colleagues used to express closeness.

“I’m close,” Dottore panted. “Open your eyes and look at me while you come. Surely you can perform this simple task, right?” You responded with an incoherent sentence but nonetheless used your remaining energy to open your eyes, your body felt absolutely limp as pleasure weighed down on you, and you were positive you’d have trouble walking tomorrow.

He praised you for your obedience and you could only respond with a pathetic whine.

Dottore did his best to keep up the brutal pace but with his impending orgasm looming over, his movements began to falter, he could only hold out for a certain amount of time.

“Ngh! Cumming! Ah! Ah!” The coil inside you violently snapped and your vision flashed white as you creamed around his cock. Dottore let out a deep grunt and followed suit, hips stuttering before fully sheathing his cock inside and shooting a heavy load. Thick ribbons of his cum painted your walls white, he made sure it remained inside of you by thrusting a few more times.

The two of you stilled for a moment to catch your breaths before Dottore pulled out to gently get you back on your feet. As expected, your legs have turned weak and embarrassingly enough, you held onto him for support—not because you wanted to but you needed to.

As you came down from your high, this allowed the haunting reality to finally settle in for you. You just fucked your colleague. And not just any colleague but the one you absolutely despised most. Were you insane? Regret gnawed at your feverish skin.

Out of instinct, you weakly pushed Dottore away, a familiar expression painted on your face—the one you always wore, the one he loathed—cold and indifferent, “This . . This doesn’t change anything. At all.” 

The Doctor could only half-heartedly laugh at your declaration because you both knew it was a complete lie, after all, you were the Prevaricator.

—

A sweet little thing that his new wife had conveniently failed to mention to him when he proposed. When he found out about you after the papers had been signed and the rings exchanged, his first thought was that you'd be just another pain in his ass—like your lying mother.

Or "selectively truthful" as she put it one time.

But then you'd arrived back from college in a dangerous sun dress with a smile on your face that faltered the instant you saw the outline of Toji's hulking frame at the top of your stairs.

"Who's that?" your voice was smooth as honey, the soft cadence traveling straight to the old man's groin.

"That's Toji, dear. My new husband. I told you about him, didn't I?" Your mother had never once mentioned him to you either.

You were polite, introducing yourself to him and even offering your hand out for a shake. Toji gladly took it, his calloused fingers enveloping your comparably small hand and he squeezed hard. Hard enough for you to wince from the pain, and yet, you didn't pull away.

You just stood there, enduring it until he decided to let go of you. And that's when he decided that you were interesting enough for him to pay attention to you.

Things were different with Toji around the house.

A place that was once comfortable and easy to navigate became new territory because you were never sure where he was going to show up next.

Usually he is in the kitchen, so early in the morning that the whole street is quiet. He always has the window propped open as he leans against the counter, nursing a beer in silence. Sometimes you notice a new scrape or bruise decorating his skin but you never comment on it.

That’s how you find Toji now.

His bottom lip is split, the flesh slightly swollen. When he spots you, his tongue flicks out to lick at the wound, wiping away some dried blood as his gaze settles on you.

"What're you doin' up?" he asks before you can say anything.

"Couldn't sleep."

He offers you a small nod before downing the rest of his drink. Your eyes are fixated on the way his Adam's apple bobs with every swallow, a singular drop of liquid trickling out the corner of his mouth.

Somewhere along the way, you became less intimidated by him and more curious.

Toji is aware of this shift too as he watches you through narrowed eyelids. Normally you would have left by now, retreating to your bedroom lest you spend more time with him than necessary.

Now, you just stand there, your arms hugging your body as a breeze coasts through the kitchen.

He tosses the bottle in the trash before pushing himself off the counter with a grunt.

You worry for a split second that he's leaving. You're not sure why you care, but a part of you is hoping he stays instead of going back to bed. Then, you're stuttering out a question before you can think, stopping Toji in his tracks.

"Where were you?"

The weight of his gaze is heavier than anything you've felt before, the intensity of it sending a chill down your spine. And Toji just forces you to endure it for a moment.

He notices the way your little slip dress is billowing around your thighs and the way your arms have shifted lower, exposing your chest to him. Your nipples have pebbled under the silky fabric and Toji's eyes linger for longer than what's appropriate as a stepfather before cutting back up to yours.

"That's really none of your business, doll." In your outfit you really look like one too. Your features seem softer in the dim light, your fatigue accentuating its effect. "Your mom in bed?"

You nod.

Toji hums while he holds your gaze, tension thick between you two. Your throat feels dry but you don't want a glass of water. For some reason, you feel a need to prove yourself to Toji.

In all these moments that you share together in the early hours of the morning, you always get the sense that he's looking down at you. Like you're still just his wife's kid that he's now stuck with. The girl who he can't tell anything to because she can't be trusted, or maybe he just thinks you're too young to understand. Thinks you can't possibly relate to him in any way.

But you don't need to relate to him, that's not what you want.

"Do you have any more beer?"

Toji's eyebrows raise a bit and you take that as a confirmation of what you assumed he thought about you.

"You don't drink beer," he states matter-of-factly. You wish that didn't upset you as much as it does.

"I can drink beer."

"I don't doubt you can, but that's not what I said."

You mull over his words silently, chewing the inside of your cheek. "I want one," you insist, "please?"

Toji sighs but opens the fridge anyways. "Go sit down on the couch and throw somethin' on the TV, I'll be there in a minute." He's pulling out two more beer bottles from the case, setting them on the counter while you're still lingering.

You finally scurry off when he shoots you an annoyed look.

The couch sinks under your weight, the cushion old and worn. You're being swallowed by the furniture piece as you flick through the channels on TV until Toji returns, both beer bottles in one hand.

He sighs loudly as he plops himself down next to you, the exertion from his earlier job catching up to him.

"Here," he holds his hand out toward you. You reach for one of the bottles but he pulls back quickly. "Not that one, already drank from it."

"Oh, sorry." You grab the other, peering down the neck like you'd be able to see anything before giving it a sniff.

Toji is rigid, watching you closely as you inspect the bottle.

But then you just give him a sheepish smile, a little embarrassed that he's seeing you be so apprehensive about a beer. You're just not sure what to expect. You never cared for drinking before and you're only doing this to try and get closer to Toji.

Eventually he looks away, getting bored of your performance.

So you take a swig like you've seen him do countless times before, and the liquid sloshes into your mouth. Bitter and carbonated, it makes you cough.

"Is it bad?" Toji questions while he lifts his hips off the couch, adjusting his seat to get more comfortable. You stare at him while his legs fall open, man-spreading to the point where his thigh is pressed up against yours.

"No," you fib. Toji knows it's not the truth but still he likes that you're trying to convince him that you have something in common. "It's good."

"Yeah, you like it?" The grin on Toji's face is wicked, and it almost makes you admit your lie but you stand your ground.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment and Toji sips his beer.

"Then you gonna drink it or let it go flat and waste my money?"

His hand wraps around your own that's holding your bottle and guides it to your parted lips. He tips it just enough for you to have a sip, watching your throat to check that you swallow. And then he tips it further.

Toji holds the glass lip up to yours, pouring beer steadily into your mouth. You keep swallowing repeatedly, desperately trying to keep chugging so the drink doesn't spill but you're not fast enough.

And eventually you can't keep up, choking and sputtering on the beer that Toji doesn't stop pouring.

You somehow manage to down most of it which impresses him. But amber liquid still trickles out the corners of your mouth, down your neck and onto your chest.

"There ya go. Tastes good, doesn't it?"

You gasp when he finally pulls away and you can breathe normally. Your stomach feels upset from all the bubbles and you let out a tiny hiccup while you wipe your lips.

Toji's eyes haven't left you since he sat down, and you wonder what the reason is for the sudden intensity. You're not sure you've even seen him blink.

Fidgeting in your seat, you smack your lips together a few times. Your tongue feels a bit tingly and your head a bit fuzzy.

"Toji?"

"Yeah, doll?"

"I feel… weird," you mumble. Your words are hard to get out, a task both physically and mentally laborious. Your mind struggles to piece the letters you need into the words that you want to string together.

When he doesn't reply, you try again. Maybe he didn't hear you.

"Feels…" you pant, short of breath, "bad. Hot."

You're sweating through your slip, the thin fabric becoming damp as you slump over.

"Just lay down like that," Toji finishes his beer then tugs on your legs until they're resting over his lap and you're laying on your back.

You think you must be sinking into the couch, every limb in your body feeling incredibly heavy. Certainly too much for you to lift on your own.

How kind of Toji to help you then, you think as he adjusts you once more, spreading your legs further apart.

Deep within your hazy mind, you realize what he's doing when his hand cups your mound. His fingers press against your wet panties, pushing into your cunt as far as the fabric will allow.

You want him.

It feels good when he touches you.

You want to tell Toji that too, but all you manage is a weak moan. Your eyes struggle to focus on the blurred outline of him.

"You're soakin', doll," Toji muses, lightly slapping your clothed pussy a few times. "You like when your step daddy does what he wants with you?"

Speaking is too much work so you try to nod to give him an answer, but your head just lolls to the side and now you're staring at the blurred glow of the TV.

Toji huffs out a laugh through his nose at you and then moves your head to look at him again before returning his hand to your cunt.

He rubs you slowly through your underwear, relishing in the little whimpers you let out when he grazes over your clit.

More.

You want more.

Whatever Toji slipped into your drink did nothing to quell your desire for him, if anything, you feel needier. Your whole body aches but the space at the apex of your thighs hurts the most. Your pussy just feels so empty, and all you want is for Toji to fill you up.

You groan softly. You're determined to use every last ounce of your energy to get what you want.

"Tell me what you need, baby."

"I-in…" you falter, catching your breath before trying again. "In…side."

"Inside here?" Toji asks, adding pressure to his motions as his hand continues to glide between your legs.

He knows what you meant. In fact, Toji knew what you wanted the minute you walked into the kitchen this morning. He didn't have to drug you, he's sure you would have been obedient enough if he decided to fuck you.

But Toji always likes to play with his food a little first. Whether that be an actual meal on his plate, a target for a job, or a woman he wants to ruin—it doesn't matter.

Your sweaty brow furrows, confused as to what you're feeling. Toji had pulled your panties aside, the cool air hitting your exposed pussy and making you shiver. But then instead of feeling the warmth of skin against your wet slit, it's something cold and hard.

You would have panicked and protested if you weren't so sedated. Your hands would have pushed at Toji's and your hips would have jerked away. Maybe you would have told him to stop, said that you didn't want him to put that thing inside you. And that's exactly why he spiked your drink.

Toji just wants to have his fun too, that's all.

When he presses the beer bottle into your tight hole, it takes a bit more force to open you up than his fingers or his cock would have. The glass, being so rigid, doesn't slide in as easily, and it doesn't help that your body still seems to be reacting. Your cunt is clenching forcefully, trying to keep it out as you twitch.

Your expression contorts in a million different ways, each one expressing a different level of discomfort.

Even to your drugged mind it feels weird, wrong, as Toji forces the rest of the bottleneck inside you. He almost debates pressing it even further, giving your tiny cunt a much bigger stretch, but he'll take it easy on you tonight.

Instead he just starts to pump the glass in and out of you with a languid rhythm, admiring the way it's getting coated in your juices. Toji wonders what kinds of sounds you'd be making if you were more coherent, what kinds of words you'd spit at him.

Would you plead with him to stop?

Or would you just let him have his way? Enduring his sick form of entertainment in hopes of him getting bored again and leaving you alone.

Or maybe you'd surprise him and beg for him to keep going, to give you more of whatever he wants as long as you're stuffed full.

With the way your pussy is still soaked, he's starting to think it might be the last one.

"Always thought that innocent girl thing was just an act," Toji speaks more to himself, knowing you likely can hardly understand him at this point in your high. "Just couldn't prove it. But here you are, slutty pussy fuckin' dripping all over a beer bottle."

There's a little squelch when he pushes the glass back in a bit faster and he laughs because it's just ridiculous. Young pussy always gets so fucking sloppy.

But he can't deny that you have him hooked. Every time the TV shines a bit brighter, he's given the most beautiful view. Your breasts show through your dress as your chest heaves, your breathing haggard. Your plush thighs look so soft, they feel so soft as he runs a hand up one.

And you have the prettiest pussy. Glistening lips parting around the bottleneck, swallowing the inches so well now that Toji got you all loosened up.

When Toji finally slides the bottle out of you, he twists his wrist to get a better look at the slick that's covering it. Then he brings it to his lips, letting his tongue run along the glass until he's cleaned up every last bit of you.

It's while he's tasting you that Toji decides he's not going to fuck you tonight. Just the flavor of you was enough to tell him that he'd be missing out if he did.

Next time he'll keep you awake so you can really feel one another when he sinks his cock into you, and this time he'll settle for your hand.

Toji stands beside the couch, his shorts and briefs pooled at his feet while he takes your limp hand in his, curling it around his shaft. The minute he feels your palm sliding down his length, so much softer than his own, his balls are already twitching.

He holds your hand in place, beginning to roll his hips and rut into your fist.

"Juuust like that, doll," he groans, thrusting faster. "You're makin' me feel so good."

You're passed out by this point, unaware of the praise that your stepdad is throwing your way while he fucks your fist. But if you were awake you'd be over the moon.

Your cheeks would be hot as his words went to your head, pride swelling in your chest.

Toji makes you squeeze him harder as he gets closer to his release, his head falling back with a low moan as a million images replay in his mind.

You standing in the kitchen in your slip dress, wide eyed and looking up at him. You sitting in front of the TV, watching him hopefully as he approaches with your drinks. You moaning on the couch, whimpering as he inserted the bottle. And your sleeping form, shimmering with sweat as you unknowingly pleasure him.

Each sight was better than the last, though he'll make sure they're all stored securely in his mind. Mementos of this night for him to look back on whenever he's feeling particularly needy, until he can collect more.

"Shit, baby, I'm gonna cum," Toji grunts, his movements becoming erratic before he stills.

His cock pulses in your grasp while he hisses out your name like a curse. And while your stepdad looks down at his milky white release that's splattered across your chest, he wonders if you are one that's just dressed like an angel.

It was meant to be a fun night out; one of your friends had been promoted. It meant she was getting a better wage and, more importantly, getting moved to a different department and far away from a very annoying coworker. It was clearly a matter of celebration, and your whole friend group had taken it very seriously.

Grabbing dinner at your favourite taco spot and getting the night started with a few rounds of margaritas had proved to be a great idea. You'd all reached the club a couple hours later with a buzz that had you crowding the dance floor and making the party much more lively that it had been before your arrival.

A few more rounds and even more songs had flown by and after a few hours, you'd found yourself slinking past the crowd and to the bar, almost begging for a fruity little cocktail that would help wash down the burning taste of the round of shots your friend had insisted on drinking.

You'd casually chatted with the bartender, offhandedly shrugging off the flirting attempts of a couple guys waiting for a drink beside you. The first sip had felt like heaven, the sweet and tart flavours washing off any of the bitterness the alcohol had left on your tongue.

That's probably when it happened, when the friend you were celebrating had joined you with a cheer and pulled you into a drunken hug. She'd asked about your drink, the vibrant colours of the mix making it appealing enough for her to call the bartender over to request one. It'd been just a moment, barely over a minute, that your drink had been unattended before you were both leaning on the counter and you were bringing the stripped straw back to your lips.

You'd been there for a bit, chatting and laughing about things that had happened earlier in the night. And then you'd felt it, the way your stomach seemed to churn and your eyelids grew heavy. You knew you weren't moving —in fact you'd managed to snatch a bar stool not long ago, needing some relief for your feet after standing for so long— and still it felt like everything around you was shifting, edges becoming liquid and sliding up and down your field of vision.

Your friend seemed to notice too, lightly waving her hand in front of your face and checking your level of awareness, the dizzy happiness you'd been feeling until moments ago dissipating as what had happened dawned on the both of you.

With a subtle movement you'd taken a quick look over shoulder, noticing that the guys you'd pretty much ignored a while ago were still there, lingering close, looking back at the both of you from time to time. The next thing you'd looked at was your drink, suddenly able to spot the fact that the ice cubes had fully sunken, barely responding to the swirl of the surrounding liquid when you spun your straw around.

Luckily your friend was moving before you could even think of what to do next, the dizziness fully settling now and making you feel like you were hearing the loud music from underwater. You'd barely caught onto what she was saying, even if she was yelling it over the club's noise. All you'd managed to catch was a mention of your boyfriend, the name of the place you were in and a hurried instruction to get there as soon as possible.

It was like you were skipping through time, because the next thing you remember is another one of your friends appearing beside you, looking as worried as the first one did. Between them, they'd managed to get you on your feet and walking towards the exit. A third person of your group walking past you and toward the spot you were in just moments ago, with two intimidating security guys following.

You blinked, or at least that's what you remembered, but suddenly you were outside and coming to when the voice of your boyfriend filtered through the noise that seeped from the club and through Blüdhaven's streets.

"You with me, baby?" Warm hands cup your cheeks, gently guiding your head to move side to side while he assessed your state. A dazed smile pulling at your lips when you realise it's Dick standing before you.

There's a light nod of your head, something he probably feels more than he sees. And then your eyes are closing and you let all your weight fall forward and onto his chest. A happy sigh leaving you as your hands clumsily cling onto the soft crewneck he's wearing.

His hands shoot out to grip your waist, arms wrapping around you to make sure you don't tumble to the floor. "Whoa, hey. Okay— Eyes open for me, baby. Have to know you're still here." All he gets in response is a nonsensical mumble, a slur of random words that leave your lips and onto the fabric covering his shoulder.

Another little sigh leaves you when one of his hands moves up your back and to cup your neck, gently tilting your head back until you're looking at him again. A loopy smile pulls at your lips, "hiii."

Despite the serious situation, he can't help the soft laugh that leaves him. Your eyes flutter closed again when he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your head. "Hi sunshine. How are you feeling?"

"Hmmm…." Your eyes crack open, blown-up pupils slowly dragging over his face while you mull over the question he's starting to think you've already forgotten. "Good," you settle on, "always good in your arms."

A little laugh leaves him again, and he gently pulls you closer, until he's got you gathered up in his arms. "Sweet-talker even in these conditions, hm?" Carrying you towards his car, he gives a thankful nod towards your friends, doing his best to ignore the fact that you're clingling onto him like koala.

The drive goes by criminally slow. The mix of whatever was dumped into your drink with the movement of the car triggers your nausea worse than the first hit of the drug had managed to. Dick has to pull over a few times, all of them helping you stay up and safely out of the splash zone while your body takes care of ridding itself of the toxin.

By the time you get home you're probably mostly clean of the substance. But whatever has been processed by your system, mixed with the alcohol and the exhaustion that only comes with being sick so many times in a row, has your head drooping down and your muscles feeling like an uncomfortably-sore putty.

"Come here," a small smile pulls at your lips even in your stupor, happy to melt into Dick's arms when he holds you again. "We're going to get you a nice, full cup of cold water. And you're going to drink all of it. After that, shower and comfy pj's— Nothing but rest tomorrow, too."

You just nod sluggishly to his words, sliding in and out of sleep while he lists off his instructions and walks the both of you to your shared apartment. Still, you comply with all of it — drinking not one, but two full cups, happy to lift your arms or legs when he tells you to, shrugging sweaty clothes off and finally relaxing on the warmth of the shower.

In what feels like no time —although you're sure it was way longer for Dick, who had to do all of it with pretty much no assistance from you— you're all warm and snug in bed, turned to your left side and close to the edge of the bed were your stomach to act up again.

A pitiful little whimper leaves you when you catch sight of your boyfriend slipping out of the room, barely processing the reassurance he calls out from the hallway before he's back. He sets another glass of cool water by your nightstand, along with something that should help the crazy hangover you're going to have come morning.

He's happy to hold the clingy hand you stretch from under the blankets, even if it makes his task of getting in bed more difficult. After solving a tangle of sheets and limbs, he manages to curl behind you, the warmth of his body seeping from his chest to your back when he holds you close.

"Not going anywhere, baby," he reassures one more time, pressing a soft kiss to your temple and then the curve of your neck. "Sleep now, I'll be here to make sure you're okay."

You're out barely seconds later, tired body slumped back against his while he gathers you even closer, curling himself so every part of his body fits with yours. As if having you this close will prevent anything else bad from ever happening to you again.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

You have no idea what time it is when you wake up, but it has to be late enough for the golden rays of sun to seep in through the curtains and, annoyingly enough, directly onto your face. A light grunt leaves you because of it, hand blindly reaching for a pillow to press your face into to avoid being blinded.

Another groan leaves you, rather offended this time, when Dick laughs behind you. It's soft and riddled with sleep, proving he hasn't been awake for much longer than you.

"Morning, sleepy head. How's my sunshine feeling?" You give into his touch when his arms wrap tighter around you, letting him turn you around and taking the chance to hide you face against his chest and away from the morning light.

"Hungover. Badly," you grumble, twisting a bit so you can tangle your legs with his under the sheets.

A light huff leaves him, and you feel the way his nose presses into your hair. The relaxed sigh that leaves him at the familiar scent of your shampoo. "Yeah, no wonder."

It's quiet for a bit, a comfortable, half-asleep kind. One of his hands lazily traces patterns along the length of your arm, while your fingers play with the loose thread on the hem of his sleep shirt.

"I'm sorry for last night," it comes out as a quiet murmur, something he can only hear because it's muttered against the crook of his neck. Your warm breath tingling over his skin with every word. "I shouldn't have taken my eyes off my drink, it was dumb of me and—"

Your words are cut off by the way he leans back, the hand tracing shapes on your skin moving to instead cup the back of your neck, guiding you to look at him. His expression is serious in the way Nightwing is, when he looks down at you. "Stop it. I don't want you to apologize— You shouldn't be apologizing. You have no fault of what happened, you should be able to have fun without having to watch your back."

It's dumb, because you know he's right and you never expected him to say anything else. But the reassurance hits somewhere deep in your chest, and before you can do something about it, tears are springing up in the corner of your eyes. You go to say something, anything. But only a choked little sob leaves you and in an instance you're back against his chest, tightly held in the comfort of his arms and cologne.

The weight that lifts off your chest at his words, one you hadn't realised was there, makes your whole body melt in his grip. It's pure relief, the factual knowledge that he doesn’t blame you, doesn’t hold what happened against you nor sees it as a failure on your part. Dick is just worried, thinking of your well-being and what to do to make you feel better, while simmering anger is pointed at the ones that did this to you. But not at you, never you.

"Shh, it's okay," barely over a whisper, he reassures you while peppering kisses to your forehead and temples. "I know it was scary. But you're safe, baby. I've got you. Always will."

⋆. 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𐙚˚ || 𓄹 ⊹ . 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 . 𐐒𐐚₊⋆｡˚

You watched as they carried all your boxes in from your overloaded car. Thick muscles in their arms bulging as they flexed, flashing smiles and winks at you as they went. Refusing to let you lift a finger.

"You've had a long drive babygirl, why don't you grab yourself a beer and go an' relax in the garden til we've got everythin' in?"

"You sure? I feel bad making you carry all my stuff."

"Don't you worry your pretty little head over it one bit, gona have to get used to us takin' care of you now that we're family, ain't that right Tommy?"

"Thats right," Tommy agrees with a big grin as he shuffles past with another large box, "we're real glad you're here sugar so go on and rest up before you have to start unpackin' everything."

Of course, Joel's offer for them to take over unloading your car hadn't been made entirely out the goodness of his heart. He wanted a good chance to snoop through your belongings and it would definitely be easier with everything stuffed willy nilly into boxes. Harder to spot that anything had been moved and tampered with.

So with every trip inside they opened the boxes and had a quick rummage inside. They'd already discovered your underwear, pulling out a couple of lacy sets and some barely there thongs, groaning as they imagined how you'd look in them. They also discovered a couple of raunchy books in your collection, tucked away in between your college text books and a few dog eared classics.

"Jackpot," Tommy exclaimed as he rifled through his current box of treasures. Looking up Joel saw him pulling out a strip of tablets from the box marked "bathroom".

"Birth control."

Joel's cock throbbed, jackpot indeed. He was even more eager to empty himself inside you now he knew the risk was reduced. Fuck, he wanted you so bad. He palmed over his cock, trying to relieve the ache and Tommy snorted.

"You gona have her tonight?"

"Yep. Javier dropped the stuff off yesterday. Can't fuckin' wait."

"Fuck! Lucky bastard," Tommy gumbled, palming his own cock at the thought of you getting ruined tonight. "You're gona let me have a go aren't you?"

Joel side eyes him as he places his box on top of the pile at the bottom of the bed. "Maybe. Get the Goldstein house finished by the deadline and we'll talk."

“Fuckin’ deal. I’ll make those lazy assholes work 24/7 if it means I get to bury myself between those pretty thighs.”

Joel just chuckled and dumped his box on the pile at the bottom of the bed. By the time they had finished they’d discovered your little collection of vibrators and dildos. They laughed at the size of them. The biggest one was nowhere near as big as even Tommy. Your little pussy must be tight and tiny if that’s all you can take they’d told each other, Joel heading for his room as Tommy locked himself in the bathroom to rub one out at the thought of squeezing themselves inside of you.

After a quick lunch you got to unpacking all your boxes, refusing any more help, saying they’d done enough. Tommy gave you a tight hug before leaving and tipped his brother a wink on his way out the door.

Joel checked on you a few times, making sure you were staying hydrated while your mom fussed in the kitchen, intent on making your favourite meal for your first night in your new home. He thought it was so cute how flustered she looked, wanting everything to be perfect. He was a lucky bastard to have two such beautiful women living under his roof.

Seeing her get stressed out, he stopped her and pulled her into his arms, holding her close to his chest.

“It’s ok baby, just breathe, it’s all gona be amazing, smells fuckin’ delicious in here.”

She hummed contentedly into his chest and he felt her melt against him.

“I just want it all to be perfect, I’m so happy she’s here. It was just us for so long and then she moved away for college and I just love that my baby is back again. I want her to like it here.”

He pushes her out so he can look her in the eyes.

“You’re a good mama, she’s gona like it, I promise. She’s a good girl, she’ll appreciate all the effort you went to.”

She gives him a relieved smile and stands on her tip toes to give him a kiss, which quickly devolves into an impromptu make out session. The sound of you clearing your throat is what eventually breaks them apart. He chuckles at the embarrassed squeak your mom lets out, as if she’s the child caught in the act by her mom and not the other way round.

“Sorry babygirl,” he tells you, “your mama is just too beautiful to resist. But we’ll try and keep the PDA to minimum.”

You giggle back and tell him, “its ok, just glad she finally found someone who appreciates her.”

He beams down at his wife and pops another little kiss on her lips before finally releasing her back to her cooking.

When dinner is finally served it’s delicious and conversation flows so easily between the three of you that Joel remarks it’s like you’ve always been here. When dinner is finished you insist on doing all the cleaning, shooing them both out of the kitchen whenever they try to help.

So Joel takes advantage, he takes his wife into the bathroom and fucks her quietly against the tiles in the shower. She has to bite into his shoulder to keep her moans and cries quiet, she definitely doesn’t want you to hear your mom having sex. He fucks her slow and deep, her leg held in the crook of his elbow. She really is an incredible fuck. Once again he marvels at how lucky he is. After the first time he’d let the boys have a go with her they’d been desperate to make it a regular thing. He loved how jealous they all were of him and all the favours he got from them in exchange. And now with your pussy about to go into rotation as well he thinks he’ll be able to get those boys to do anything for him.

An hour or so later your mom is tucked up safely in bed, sound asleep, helped along with a little of Javier’s special powder. Not a full dose tonight, just enough to help ease her into a deep sleep. He’s more heavy handed with the cocoa he’s just made you. He wants to play with you undisturbed. Take his time and work out all the secrets of your beautiful body. And for that you need to be fully unconscious for hours.

He knocks gently on your door and you call for him to come in. Your face lights up when he hands you the cocoa.

“That’s so kind of you Joel, really. Thank you.”

“Of course babygirl. I know it’s been a crazy kind of day, you need to relax a little before bed, help you switch off.”

You chuckle, “yeah you’re probably right, I guess the rest can wait til the morning.”

“Atta girl. Drink your cocoa and get some sleep, I’ll see you in the morning’.”

He gives you a quick hug and departs, turning back and grinning like a Cheshire cat when he sees you take a big mouthful of your drink. Half an hour he thinks. You’ll be out cold by then. He folds some laundry to pass the time.

When he comes back you’re delightfully sprawled out on your bed, out for the count. He smirks as he runs his eyes over you. So fuckin’ pretty. His cock is already at half mast despite already coming twice today. You’re going to be the death of him.

He closes the door, walks over to the bed and gently picks you up, laying you down properly on your back. He lays down next to you, on his side so he can look at you properly. He gently swipes the hair from your face and just spends a few minutes admiring you. You look so peaceful and content. He leans over and presses his lips against yours, a sweet little kiss for his sweet little girl. A moment of softness before he ruins you.

He runs his fingers down your throat and over your chest until he finds a nipple. He circles it slowly over your baggy t-shirt until he feels it start to harden. He bites his lip as he sees the little bud poking out under your shirt. He trails his fingers lower. Taking his time. Savouring it. He sneaks his hand underneath and groans at how soft you are when his calloused fingers meet your silky skin.

He shifts himself, pushing your thighs apart so he can settle between them. He slowly starts to push up you t-shirt, leaning forward to place soft little kisses on your belly as each new inch of flesh is revealed to him.

His chest is heaving and he’s panting by the time your t-shirt sits just beneath your breasts. He’s teasing himself. Going so slow and dragging it out. But he only gets to have you for the first time once and he wants it to be perfect. Wants to remember every detail.

He finally pushes your top up further, groaning as he finally gets to see your pretty tits.

“Oh babygirl, those are so beautiful!” he tells you as he settles his hands over them. He squeezes and gropes for a moment before pressing kisses all over them. It’s when he first sucks a straining nub into his mouth that you let loose your first sound. A quiet little whimper that makes his cock throb.

“Yeah you like that baby, your cute little nipple in Daddy’s mouth?” He sucks the other nipple into his mouth and a louder little whine escapes you.

“Oh yeah, nice and sensitive, just how Daddy likes it. Doin’ real good for me babygirl.”

He spends a lot of time at your tits. Lapping and kissing and suckling. He wishes he could mark you up but he knows he can’t leave any trace behind. So he takes his fill and by the time he’s done your tits are shiny with his spit.

He pushes back up on to his knees, shifting his attention to your lower half now. His cock is aching but he can’t help teasing himself some more as he slowly drags your little sleep shorts and panties down your legs and discarding them on the floor.

He runs his hands up your soft thighs, squeezing and watching the flesh bulge through his fingers. He gently pushes them apart and up, spreading you open for him and giving him a mighty good view of your slit. His heart is in his chest. Your hole looks tiny. He can’t wait to get inside it.

But first he pulls out his phone. He gets off the bed and puts it into record mode, making sure he runs the camera the full length of you before getting a good shot of your spread pussy. He then finds Tommy in his contacts and hits the face time button.

Tommy picks up on the first ring, his eager face popping onto the screen.

“Did you do it yet?”

Not even a hello. Joel just chuckles.

“Not yet. Wanted you to see before I ruin her. She’s fuckin’ perfect, almost busted in my shorts just from looking at her pussy.”

“Fuck, yeah, let me see.”

Joel turns the phone around, starting at your peaceful, sleeping face and works his way down, teasing Tommy just like he teased himself. He hears Tommy groan when the camera pans over your breasts, rising and falling gently with every breath.

“Fuck, those are pretty!”

“Aren’t they?” Joel agrees as he plays with your nipple again, gently rubbing and pinching and tugging at it until you’re moaning again. Joel hears Tommy’s belt clanking and the sigh of relief as he obviously takes himself in hand.

“Take your hand away a minute Joel, I want a screenshot of her tits.”

Joel gives you another squeeze and then complies with Tommy’s request even as he can hear the sound of him beating his meat to the sight of you. Joel just chuckles, he doesn’t blame Tommy one bit. You’re the stuff wet dreams are made of.

“Oh fuck! Show me– show me the rest of her. Let me see her tight little cunt.”

Joel starts moving the camera again, slowly moving down your torso, over your cute belly button, down over your mound and finally, to the big reveal. Your beautiful little pussy.

“Fuuuuuuuuck! Get me in close Joel I really want to see her.” Tommy demands breathlessly as the sound of his fist hitting his abdomen picks up pace.

Again Joel complies with his brothers request, moving his phone right in between your legs to give his brother a close up of what should be your most private place. He uses two fingers to gently split your lips and reveal your tiny, little hole.

Tommy comes without any subtlety, “fuck, fuck, fuck, ohhhhhh, fuck yes.”

Joel laughs as he hears his brother panting through his come down. “Yeah she’ll have that effect on ya!” He turns the camera back to his face so he can talk with his wrecked looking brother.

“Your cock is gona fuckin’ ruin that tiny little thing.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Thanks for that brother, I better go, got an early mornin’ if I’m gona earn my go with her.”

Joel nods his head, happy that his brother is keeping his end of the bargain. He really needs that job finished on time. Thankfully Tommy is easily motivated. Yeah, you moving in is going to do wonders for the business.

“Hey just do me a favour ok? Take some before and after shots of her cunt for me, was too in the flow to take a screenshot.”

“Will do Tommy, I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”

Joel hangs up and does just as Tommy asks, taking a number of photos of your pussy, close ups with your lips spread wide by his fingers and full body shots of you laid out on the bed from between your legs, even some artsy ones with your cunt in focus and the rest of your beautiful body blurring in the background.

Joel takes a deep breath. He’s denied himself enough. Time for him to have his way with you. He really should stretch you out properly, work you up on a few of his fingers, draw out a couple of orgasms. But fuck, he wants to see that tiny little thing stretch around his cock.

He decides on a compromise. He can get you wet enough to take him at least. He leans in and blows a steam of air right over your clit and loves the way you shuffle slightly on the bed, trying to squirm away from the sensation, even in your sleep. He sees the way your clit is already swollen from the attention he paid your tits and nipples, but he swears he can almost see it throbbing now.

He leans in and places a gentle kiss right on it. It’s a barely there touch but it’s enough to make you moan.

“That’s it baby, sing for Daddy, let me hear all your little noises.”

He leans back in and laps at your clit, alternating his strokes until you’re writhing and moaning for him. He’s careful not to give you too much. Not enough to make you come but he can see the drip of arousal seeping out of you, sees the little twitch of your walls.

He abandons your clit to lick down to your hole. He circles it with his tongue before easing it inside you. Even that is a tight fit. You’re gona choke his cock so good. He licks into you a few times, enjoying the taste of you.

He finally pulls back, kissing over your soft thighs, “mmm good girl baby. Taste so fuckin’ good. Just know this sweet little pussy is gona be so good for her daddy, gona make him feel so good.”

He eases off the bed and strips himself, taking you in one last time before climbing back on top of you. He eases his weight into you, relishing the warmth of your skin on his, the way your nipples rub against his chest. He gives you another little kiss before taking himself in hand and lining himself up.

“This is probably gona hurt babygirl but I know you can take it,” he murmurs in your ear.

He eases the head of his cock inside you and you’re already clamping down on him so good.

“Fuck baby, yes, just like that. Such a good girl for daddy.”

He rocks back and forth just fucking you with the head of his cock, little whimpers are falling from your mouth as he uses you. But he wants more. And he’s going to take it.

“Ok baby, here it comes,” he warns you before shoving forward with a brutal thrust. Even with all the power he puts into it he can’t make it all the way in. He doesn’t even pause, just withdraws and gives you another ferocious thrust and finally his hips connect with yours. You wail and all your muscles contract, fighting against the intrusion.  

He collapses fully against you, unable to hold himself up. You feel so good. But as the feral fog clears he starts to worry. What’s if he’s made you tear? That would be bad. He’s been reckless when he’s normally so careful. This is what you do to him. He’s been reduced to his base instincts to take and plunder and in doing so put himself at risk of discovery.

His heart hammering, he slowly withdraws and heaves a sigh of relief when he sees there’s no blood. He pushes back in much more carefully until he’s once more buried the whole way. He grabs his phone and takes a picture of your little pussy full of him. He makes sure to get a few angles so he can really see how stretched you are with him inside. He’ll never be this reckless again, he’ll always make sure to stretch you first so he needs to make the most of this time.

He reaches between your bodies and goes to town on your clit, holding stationary inside to give you chance to accommodate to him. He feels your pussy start to pulse, he can’t tell if you’re clenching as you’re already so tight around him. God you feel so fuckin’ good. Better even than your mama and she’s the best he’s ever had until now. Marryin’ her was the best goddamn decision of his life.

You come with a loud, breathy moan and he feels your slick dripping down his balls. Your body relaxes with your release. You’re still incredibly tight but he thinks you’re ready. He starts to rock his hips again, slowly drawing out and pushing all the way back in, memorising every velvety soft ridge inside you.

“Oh fuck baby, good girl. Need some practice taking daddy’s big cock but you’re doin’ such a good job.”

He’s not lying. He feels incredible. His balls are already tightening and he’s desperate to let go. But he tries to reign it in, not ready for his first time with you to be over just yet.

“Yeah that’s it. Gona have to work up gettin’ rough with you how I want but we got all the time in the world baby. Daddy’s gona train you up til you take this cock like a champ. Gona give you this cock every night. And don’t you worry, daddy’s the biggest, those other boys ain’t gona be a bit of a problem for you once he’s got you good and trained.”

He keeps his pace measured. He’d love to fucking rail you but if he wants to keep his access to you he needs to be careful. He can’t damage you on the first go. He goes slow but deep every time and only speeds up marginally when he feels it getting easier to push into you.

You whimper and whine and wriggle beneath him delightfully, your brows pinching together in consternation as he uses you.

“You’re so fuckin’ cute babygirl. Cute as a fuckin’ button. Gona have daddy wrapped around your finger aren’t ya?”

He’s getting so close now. He can’t hold off much longer. He grabs you behind the knees, pushing them up until you’re folded into a little pretzel of a mating press. It lets him sink even deeper and you let out a beautiful full throated moan as the change in position has him hitting that spot inside you.

“Oh yeah baby, that’s the spot huh. Daddy’s cock is feelin’ pretty good now huh baby? You like it don’t you, bein’ all full of him?” Another moan rips from you. “Yeah you do. Fuckin’ love this cock.”

He speeds up again and you come, your slick splattering all over his midsection as you mewl and moan so pretty for him. He’s done for. His cock spasms almost violently inside you with the force of his orgasm, his cum flooding you, deep, deep inside.

“Ohhhhh fuck babygirl, that’s it, take daddy’s cum, take it all.”

He releases your legs back onto the bed and slumps on you once more, kissing all over your face and chest.

“Good girl baby. Did so good for me.”

He slowly eases out of you, no easy feat with how hard you’re gripping him. He give himself a minute to regain his breath before getting to his knees and inspecting your hole. It’s red and still gaping slightly from the stretch but even with that she’s still impressively tight. He can’t see any obvious signs of serious damage. He watches for a good few minutes before his cum finally starts to leak out of you. He groans at the sight, impossible turned on at watching you dripping with him.

He grabs his phone and takes some photos and sends them to Tommy before climbing off the bed to find his pants. He’s just searching the pockets when his phone dings again and again.

He picks it up to see a flurry of messages from Tommy.

Oh fuck yes!

You ruined her!

How was she?

Still looks tight

Joel replies:

She was perfect

Needs a little training but she’s tight as fuck

Joel takes a picture of the little packet of blue pills in his hand and attaches it to the thread.

Got a few more loads for her tonight.

///