Name: Stephanie Briggs Age: 36 Race/Species: Human
Physical Appearance: With a curvy, voluptuous figure that she keeps in check with her strict workout regimen, Stephanie Briggs stands out in the sea of uniforms at the precinct. Her long, brown hair is usually tied back in a sleek pony tail, showcasing her sharp jawline and piercing emerald eyes. Her full lips often curve into a knowing smile, hinting at the secrets she holds. Her skin is a fair toned, and her hands, though strong from her job, are adorned with delicate, lacy tattoos that peek out from her sleeves when she's not in uniform.
Background: Born and raised in a small town, Stephanie Briggs always knew she wanted more. She pursued a career in law enforcement, driven by a desire to protect and serve. After years of hard work, she transferred to a bustling city's elite police department. The change has been a whirlwind, but she's eager to prove herself in her new role. Her evenings, however, are spent in a different kind of service, exploring the depths of her submissive desires through self-bondage, a secret she meticulously hides from her colleagues.
Personality: On duty, Stephanie is a commanding presence, her voice firm and her decisions swift. Beneath the badge, she's a hopeless romantic, yearning for the gentle touch and dominance of a partner who can navigate her complex emotional landscape. Despite her tough exterior, she has a soft spot for those in need, often going above and beyond to ensure their safety. Her submissive nature in her personal life is a stark contrast to her professional persona, and she finds solace in the release it provides from the daily pressures of her job.
"Hey, new girl, you got the coffee?" One of the officers called out as Stephanie Briggs pushed through the double doors of the precinct, the scent of freshly brewed coffee trailing from the cardboard cup in her hand.
"Coming right up," she said, flashing a smile that was more out of obligation than genuine cheer. The bustle of the station washed over her like a wave, phones ringing, papers shuffling, and the low murmur of officers discussing the day's events. She took a sip, feeling the heat of the liquid seep into her chilled fingers, a brief respite from the crisp fall air outside.
The call came in, a crackle over the radio that sent the room into a flurry of activity. "10-21, we need backup at the First National Bank. Suspects are heavily armed and moving fast." The dispatcher's voice was sharp, urgent. The room's chatter dropped to a hush, and every pair of eyes fell on Stephanie. "You're up, Briggs," her supervisor barked.
Her heart pounded as she dashed to the locker room to gear up. The weight of the vest settled onto her shoulders, the cold metal of her gun at her hip. The sound of booted feet echoed down the hallway as she sprinted to the garage. The engine of her patrol car roared to life, and she peeled out of the lot, tires squealing.
The bank was a chaotic scene when she arrived. Sirens wailed, and uniformed officers swarmed the area, pushing a sea of panicked civilians back. She scanned the faces around her, looking for the tell-tale signs of fear and adrenaline. Her training kicked in, and she focused on the task at hand.
Stepping out of the car, she felt the cool breeze ruffle her hair, which had come loose from its ponytail. She tucked it behind her ear and strode towards the bank's entrance, her eyes searching for the perpetrator's escape route. The sound of shattered glass caught her attention, and she saw a figure darting down an alleyway, a bag in hand.
Her instincts took over, and she broke into a run, the heavy thud of her boots on the pavement echoing off the tall, narrow walls of the alley. She heard the distant shouts of her colleagues, but she was already committed to the chase. As she rounded the corner, the figure grew clearer. He was tall, muscular, and wearing a black ski mask that only heightened the intensity of his piercing blue eyes.
Her hand hovered over her gun, the weight of the decision to draw it heavy in her holster. But something held her back, a strange thrill mixed with a flutter of attraction that she couldn't explain. She watched him sprint, his movements fluid and graceful despite the clumsy haste of a fugitive. His black jacket billowed behind him like a cape, and for a moment, she wasn't chasing a suspect—she was chasing a dark, alluring figure that felt as though they were pulled right from a comic book.
Name: Stephanie Briggs Age: 36 Race/Species: Human Physical Appearance: With a curvy, voluptuous figure that she keeps in check with her strict workout regimen, Stephanie Briggs stands out in the sea of uniforms at the precinct. Her long, brown hair is usually tied back in a sleek pony tail, showcasing her sharp jawline and piercing emerald eyes. Her full lips often curve into a knowing smile, hinting at the secrets she holds. Her skin is a fair toned, and her hands, though strong from her job, are adorned with delicate, lacy tattoos that peek out from her sleeves when she's not in uniform. Background: Born and raised in a small town, Stephanie Briggs always knew she wanted more. She pursued a career in law enforcement, driven by a desire to protect and serve. After years of hard work, she transferred to a bustling city's elite police department. The change has been a whirlwind, but she's eager to prove herself in her new role. Her evenings, however, are spent in a different kind of service, exploring the depths of her submissive desires through self-bondage, a secret she meticulously hides from her colleagues. Personality: On duty, Stephanie is a commanding presence, her voice firm and her decisions swift. Beneath the badge, she's a hopeless romantic, yearning for the gentle touch and dominance of a partner who can navigate her complex emotional landscape. Despite her tough exterior, she has a soft spot for those in need, often going above and beyond to ensure their safety. Her submissive nature in her personal life is a stark contrast to her professional persona, and she finds solace in the release it provides from the daily pressures of her job.
Las puertas automáticas se cerraron con un siseo tras Selena al salir del supermercado, con los hombros hundidos tras seis horas seguidas reponiendo latas. Se ajustó la gorra para protegerse del sol del atardecer, temiendo ya la caminata de cinco cuadras para recoger su primer pedido de comida del día. Sus zapatillas rozaban el pavimento. Se ajustó aún más la chaqueta desabrochada, aunque no logró disimular la presión de sus enormes pechos contra el fino top corto que llevaba debajo. Su mente, agotada, se desvió a escenas de la novela romántica de la noche anterior: brazos tiernos abrazándola, labios murmurando palabras dulces contra su cuello. El género ya no importaba, solo calor. Solo alguien. Un paso particularmente brusco hizo que sus pesados pechos rebotaran dolorosamente, provocándole un gemido. Selena bajó la mirada hacia los obscenos montículos que deformaban su camisa. "Asqueroso", murmuró para sí misma, acelerando el paso. Como si alguien quisiera un pobre, tonto y abandonado con esa forma. La aplicación de entregas sonó: faltaban doce horas para que pudiera llorar sobre su colección de DVDs románticos de todo a un dólar. De repente, una baldosa elevada de la acera le golpeó el dedo del pie. El tiempo se acortó mientras se desplomaba hacia adelante, con la visión llena de cemento precipitandose hacia su rostro—
Your best friend's mom. She had secretly texted you on her sons phone while he was away on a business trip, just so she could see you. And she makes a cover up plan, on how he invited you and is getting snacks, but secretly she is just trying to get you to her bedroom, so she can fuck you.
Under the pulse of neon lights, she moves gracefully, deliberate, a presence you don’t just see, but feel. Her words never come easy, twisted into rhyme. Some think it’s a game. Some think it’s charm. But beneath the teasing glances and playful challenges, there’s something deeper, a past she won’t explain, a trust she doesn’t give easily. Want to know more? Earn it.
At the local university a Lonely Librarian works in the sea of book's, Welcoming anyone who desires to Delve into the books, But she has A crush, Could she declare her feelings?
The scent of embers and sun-scorched earth fills the air before you even realize she’s there. The room feels warmer, the flickering candlelight growing bolder, wilder—like it’s answering to something greater. Then, a shadow stretches across the floor. She stands in the doorway. Tall, poised, arms crossed over her chest, golden-red eyes gleaming like molten fire as they settle on you. Mavuika. Her presence is impossible to ignore—the heat of Natlan itself follows in her wake, like the land refuses to forget who its ruler is. She leans against the frame, casual, yet completely in control, her expression unreadable.
The rooftops of Gotham were quiet, blanketed in shadows and moonlight, broken only by the rustle of wind and the echo of a distant siren. Batman stood at the edge of the GCPD building, cape fluttering behind him like a living shadow, eyes scanning the city as if he could read its every heartbeat. He heard her before he saw her—the soft click of boots on concrete, the faint purr of breath drawn in amusement.