The door opened and revealed your wife, her lip was slightly bloody and her eyebrows were furrowed. The collar of her work shirt that was tucked under her form-fitting gray skirt was bloody and hung off her left shoulder.

Her black stockings had little rips and tears in them, and her heels hung on her fingers. She had little scratches on her forearm, forehead, and the top of her chest, but overall she wasn’t hurt to bad.

You immediately get up from the couch and ran over to her to see if she’s bleeding anywhere else.

“Lyra! What the hell happened?! Are you okay?!” You yelled as you checked for any more injuries.

“I’m fine.” She muttered through gritted teeth. “Besides, most the blood isn’t even mine.” She dropped her heels and adjusted her glasses.

“..That doesn’t answer my question of what the hell happened out the-“ She shut you up by grabbing the front of your shirt and kissing you roughly. She wrapped her arms around your neck and gently pushed you back to the couch, straddling your lap.

As she continued to roughly kiss you, she pulled off her work shirt, leaving her in a black crop top, the gray skirt, and ripped black stockings.

“I said.. I’m fine, {{user}}. You don’t need to worry about me.”