#yes maam

[monacofiles]

the rest of him

or...you're a little more excited to greet chris' biceps than the rest of him

vendetta!chris redfield x reader requested cw a little suggestive, but no descriptive smut an chris in that vendetta outfit....its the only reason I watch that film tbh

chris had last called you two days ago. he wasn’t supposed to, but the thought of nearly losing rebecca shook him more than he had let on to her and his only reprieve came at the thought of you.

it was the middle of the night, but you picked up anyway, trying to hide the sleep drooping from your voice. and for the first time in your whole marriage, chris told you every part of his mission. he told you about antonio and then about damien. but he also told you about rebecca and how they managed to save the city. 

safe to say, he put in nearly a month of vacation time afterwards.

so when he finally arrives home, night having already set in, the only thing he wants is you. and luckily for him, you’re exactly where he wants you.

sat on the couch, you’ve piled blankets up high with an animated fireplace on the tv as you’re lulled into a gentle sleep. your book is rested on your chest over (two?) blankets. you hadn’t heard his key scratching at the door, nor do you hear the thump of his bag on the floor. he isn’t wearing his tactical vest anymore but he still has his bsaa-assigned uniform on. he unlatches his boots first, making sure to set them down quietly as to not wake you.

he stalks over to the couch, standing in front of you to take your book and place it onto the table, careful to keep your page. kneeling down in front of you as one large hand moves you tuck a strange of hair back behind your ear, chris’ shoulders drop in a careful calm since…well, since before he left.

your eyes twitch, fluttering open to see chris smiling warmly at you.

“you’re home!’ you sit up quickly, eyes still drooping and voice tired. you throw your arms around his shoulders, chris’ own arms falling around your waist.

you press a kiss to the side of his head, as your hands fall down to his biceps as you pull away.

“you wanna join me?” you ask, smile lightning up your face as you push the blankets away, shifting to make room for him. chris laughs from where he kneels, shaking his head.

“gotta shower, baby. you wanna join me?” he extends one hand as you shuffle around in the blanket, untangling your legs from it as you take his hand, folding it against your own as he pulls you up. with both hands busy wrapping around chris’ arm, you lean into his bicep, pressing a tired kiss there.

“missed you,” you murmur as you’re led through your bedroom and into your bathroom. setting you down on the counter, chris scuttles away for a moment to turn on the shower, adjusting the temperature to your liking. he moves back toward you, resting his hands on either side of your thighs. you make quick work of grabbing back onto his arm.

“you wanna hop in? i’ll get some clothes,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss to your head. you press your own kiss right to his bicep before lamenting, unfurling your grip on his arm.

once the water is at an optimal temperature, you make quick work of your clothes, throwing them into the hamper. you hear chris close the door behind him followed by the shuffling of his clothes before he pulls the curtain back, stepping into the shower himself.

a cool wave of air hits you, nipples pebbling from the contact.

“y’alright?” chris asks with an amused grin.

“shut that, will you?” you scold with no real heat, turning to grab your shampoo as chris joins you under the water.

“turn around,” you look toward him, gesturing for chris to turn, which he follows quickly.

you make quick work of his hair, shampooing twice, careful not to get any in his eyes before reaching for your conditioner to lather it into his hair. once finishing, you pull him back against you, face resting against his back.

“missed you,” you murmur once more against his skin, hands moving up to his biceps, resting there for a moment before you shift, lips coming to press against the hard surface of his upper arms.

“missed these, too,” you say. gentle, barely-there movement gradually turn into nips and wanton kisses. you pull away after a moment to admire the bruise you made on his skin. chris pulls away for a moment to check the spot you’d marked.

“like my biceps, then, hey?” he asks with a grin, turning around fully to face you. his body presses into yours as he leaves his own trail of wanton markings against your neck.

“the rest of you is pretty good, too…i guess,” you mumble as you move toward his biceps once more.

“yeah? gonna show me what you think of the rest of me?” chris asks, pulling you away from his bicep to pull you up, your legs securing around his waist. despite the lack of mouthing, you’re more than content to watch his muscles at work.

[emotionallyintubated]

Yes, Ma'am

(trinity santos x reader)

Us girls, we are so magical Soft skin, red lips, so kissable Hard to resist, so touchable

By the time Dr. Trinity Santos arrives in the ER for her first shift, everyone already knows three things.

One: she is brilliant. Two: she is calm under pressure. Three: she is going to change the entire rhythm of the department.

You learn this in pieces.

In the way nurses straighten when she walks by. In the way attendings listen when she speaks. In the way your stomach flips the first time she smiles at you. Which is unfair, because you're not usually like this. You are the confident senior resident. You run traumas. You give orders without hesitation. You correct interns without blinking. You do not giggle. Except. Somehow, around her, you absolutely do. Her first day, you're assigned to show her around. You keep it professional. Mostly.

“Trauma bays are down this hall,” you say. “Supply is there. Attendings’ lounge is off limits unless you make friends with Dr. Robby.”

She laughs softly. “Noted.”

You glance at her and immediately regret it. She's looking at you, really looking. Curious. Amused. You forget what you were saying.

“Uh. And. Um. CT is. Over there.”

She waits. Patient.

“Anything else?” she asks.

You blink. “No. Yes. I mean. No. That’s. That’s it.”

Smooth. She smiles wider.

“Thank you. This is really helpful.”

You nod too fast. “You’re welcome.”

And then you walk directly into a supply cart. She clocks you almost immediately. Not in a dramatic way, with raised eyebrows or knowing smirks. Just quietly. In the same way she notices everything else. The way you straighten when she enters a room. The way your voice goes half an octave higher when she says your name.

“Need labs?” “I can grab that.” “I’ll walk you there.” “I’m free.” “I’m always free.”

It's embarrassing. She never calls you out. Instead, she watches. Learns. Files things away. Like how you're so confident with everyone else. Sharp. Assertive. Untouchable. And then she talks to you and you turn into a nervous middle schooler. Weeks pass. You get used to her being there...sort of. You find a peaceful rhythm working codes together. To trading glances across the nurses’ station. To hearing her voice over the chaos.

“You’re good,” she tells you once after a tough case. You freeze.

“Me?”

She nods. “You stayed calm. You kept everyone focused. That patient did well because of you.”

Your face feels like it is on fire.

“Oh. Um. Thanks. You too. I mean. You were great. Obviously. You’re always great. Not that I’m watching. I mean. I am watching. For medical reasons.”

She laughs. Actually laughs. It's totally unfair. She starts teasing you gently. Nothing obvious, just small things.

“You always end up on my shifts,” she says one night.

“That’s just scheduling,” you reply quickly.

“Is it?” She tilts her head.

You look at the floor, a blush rising on your cheeks. “Yes.”

“Mmm,” she hums. “Interesting.”

Another time, “You brought me coffee again,” she notes.

You shrugged it off again. “Extra.”

“Three days in a row?”

You squeak. “It was a coincidence.”

She smiles into her cup. “Sure it was.”

She never pushes. Never makes you uncomfortable. She just keeps collecting information. Like how you blush when she compliments you. Like how you avoid eye contact when she stands too close. Like how you get quieter when conversations turn to dating. She's never heard you talk about boyfriends, ex or otherwise. Ever.

The lunchroom is in its usual state of hustle and bustle when it happens. It's late afternoon during that weird slow hour between rushes. You're sitting at the table with a sad salad and your phone, trying very hard not to think about how tired you are. And how pretty she looked during rounds. How you are totally doomed and crushing. The door opens. You look up. Of course it is her.

“Hey,” she says. “Mind if I join you?”

You nearly choke on lettuce. “No. I mean. Yes. I mean. Please, sit.”

She sits across from you. Comfortable and easy. For a few minutes, you just eat. Silence, not awkward. Just quiet. She's the one to break the ice.

“Can I ask you something?”

Your heart trips. “Okay.”

She studies you for a moment, a thoughtful look on her face.

“Do you get nervous around me?”

You freeze. “…No?”

She raises an eyebrow. You crumble instantly.

“Okay. Yes. A little. Maybe. Sometimes.”

Her lips curve. “I thought so.”

You hide your face in your hands.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to. You’re just. You’re very. You know. You.”

“Me?”

“Pretty. Smart. Nice. Intimidating. Absolutely incredible.” You peek through your fingers. She's giving you the softest smile you've ever seen.

“Thank you,” she says. Then, gently, “Is it because you like women?”

Silence. Your brain blue screens. You stare at her. “…What?”

She keeps her voice calm. “I’m not trying to put you on the spot. You don’t have to answer if you don't want to. I just noticed some things.”

Your pulse is in your ears. “You noticed?”

She nods. “The way you react to me. You never talk about guys and you light up around certain nurses. Not to mention how you get very quiet when people talk about boyfriends.”

You swallow. “I didn’t think I was that obvious.”

“Not to everyone,” she says. “Just to me.”

You stare at your hands. “I’m not out at work,” you whisper.

“I know,” she replies immediately. “I would never tell anyone. This stays between us.”

You breathe out slowly, then give her a small nod. “Yes, it's because I like women.”

She smiles. “Thank you for trusting me.”

You manage a small smile back. She hesitates. “Can I ask one more thing?”

“…Okay.”

Her voice lowers just slightly. “Do you like women who take charge?”

Your eyes widen. “Dr. Santos.”

She laughs quietly. “I'm serious.”

You panic internally before deciding to just answer honestly. “Yes, ma’am.”

The words slip out before you can stop them. Silence. Her eyes darken just a little. Not in a scary way. In an interested way. In a delighted way. She leans back in her chair.

“Well,” she says lightly. “That's good to know.”

You stare. “Why?”

She stands, grabbing her empty container. “Oh,” she says casually. “Because I plan on putting that information to very good use.”

Your brain short circuits. She pauses at the door before looking back at you, a sly smile on her face.

“See ya later, doctor.”

[3liza]

mammography technician: “so it says you wrote here, ‘mickey’s tit smasher’?”

[aangelnesses]

Im so high and wet

[reignyreigns]

✧⭑✧ Welcome to The Queen’s Court ✧⭑✧

Hi there, my name is Reign (Reigny to moots), queen of this castle, if you will — and you will. A bit of court etiquette before you get ahead of yourself: a follow is just a follow. It does not imply a d/s dynamic, familiarity, or access. If I’m interested in interacting with you, it will be direct, never through a like or a follow. Do not mistake your fantasy for access. Approach me as though we are already in a dynamic, and you will be blocked.

To start us off, a dynamic with me begins on my terms, not yours. If you are interested, you will read and follow all the rules laid out below. Anything less tells me you are not ready to enter my court.

⋆ ✧ ⋆ 𝑨 𝑸𝒖𝒆𝒆𝒏’𝒔 𝑰𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 ⋆ ✧ ⋆

Now that that is out of the way, a proper introduction, then.

☾ ✦ ☽ 25F, 6'3, plus-size, mixed latina, built with long legs, thick thighs, ample curves (yes, mommy milkers included), fair-to-medium tan skin, short dark red curls, large feet, and a body that was never meant to be overlooked.

☾ ✦ ☽ A psychology major set to graduate by next summer, with student loan debt and a life that deserves to be softened a little.

☾ ✦ ☽ A few tattoos already claim their place on me, and I have every intention of collecting more.

☾ ✦ ☽ Faceless profile. The silhouette, the stature, and the fantasy will have to do.

I prefer people who can listen well, move carefully, and understand that desire is not the same thing as permission. With that in mind, a few rules.

✧ Adults only. No exceptions.

✧ Read everything before attempting to approach me.

✧ Familiarity has to be earned, not invented.

✧ Wanting a dynamic is not the same thing as being in one.

✧ Mind your manners. Approach through asks inbox. **$$ to DM**

✧ Approach slowly, clearly, and with intention.

✧ Consent, limits, and boundaries matter here.

✧ Do not demand what has not been offered.

✧ Your real life comes first. Always. (I refuse to be responsible for your debt)

✧ If you overstep, I will remove you. ($$$$ Unblocking Fee)

✧ You may address me as Goddess, Queen Reign, or Lady Reign.

✧ If you are unsure, Goddess is the safest place to begin.

✧ Pet names, overly familiar language, or casual disrespect will not be received well. ($$$$ Unblocking Fee)

☾ ✦ ☽ If you’ve read this far, I can tell you want to impress me. ☾ ✦ ☽

In my court, I am always more drawn to usefulness than noise. I have a soft spot for those who know how to lighten a burden, move with intention, and understand that real devotion is often expressed in practical, beautiful ways. I remember the ones who know how to give gracefully, because thoughtfulness will always linger longer with me than empty attention ever could.

☾ ✦ ☽Proper offerings and tributes belong here☾ ✦ ☽

(Yes yes click the link like a good boy)

☾ ✦ ☽ 𝑲𝒊𝒏𝒌𝒔 ☾ ✦ ☽

YES findom ⋆ ✧ ⋆ soft fdom ⋆ ✧ ⋆ gentle fdom ⋆ ✧ ⋆ subby men ⋆ ✧ ⋆ worship ⋆ ✧ ⋆ feet ⋆ ✧ ⋆ heels ⋆ ✧ ⋆ boots ⋆ ✧ ⋆big men on their knees ⋆ ✧ ⋆ ownership ⋆ ✧ ⋆ edging ⋆ ✧ ⋆ femboys ⋆ ✧ ⋆ overstimulation ⋆ ✧ ⋆ chastity ⋆ ✧ ⋆ daily rituals ⋆ ✧ ⋆ servant subs ⋆ ✧ ⋆ begging ⋆ ✧ ⋆ sub-leaning switches ⋆ ✧ ⋆ caged ⋆ ✧ ⋆ collared ⋆ ✧ ⋆ restraints ⋆ ✧ ⋆ cucks ⋆ ✧ ⋆ older men ⋆ ✧ ⋆ fetishwear ⋆ ✧ ⋆ good boys ⋆ ✧ ⋆ simps ⋆ ✧ ⋆ licking ⋆ ✧ ⋆ praise ⋆ ✧ ⋆ degradation ⋆ ✧ ⋆ humiliation ⋆ ✧ ⋆ intelligence ⋆ ✧ ⋆ nerds ⋆ ✧ ⋆ yearning ⋆ ✧ ⋆ stepping ⋆ ✧ ⋆ slapping ⋆ ✧ ⋆ pegging ⋆ ✧ ⋆ pet play ⋆ ✧ ⋆ dry humping ⋆ ✧ ⋆

MAYBE feminization ⋆ ✧ ⋆ creampies ⋆ ✧ ⋆ impact play ⋆ ✧ ⋆ stretching

NO brat taming ⋆ ✧ ⋆ diapers ⋆ ✧ ⋆ gun play ⋆ ✧ ⋆ cheating ⋆ ✧ ⋆ body shaming ⋆ ✧ ⋆ weight gaining ⋆ ✧ ⋆ age regression ⋆ ✧ ⋆ scat ⋆ ✧ ⋆ vomit ⋆ ✧ ⋆ race play

You made it to the end. Good boy. Now like this post and comment your favorite pattern/print to prove you can follow directions ♡♡♡

[reddcato-66]

Taking a peek?

[tomhoppusdelonge]

ngl infection control has gotta be one of my favourite units ever

[azuree1733]

Fake comic cover I did ☺️