#also no worries if you don't want to continue it

[lavilavs]

୨୧ ── Stream with me!

› Pairings: Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne x Streamer!Wife!Reader

› Scenario: What more could a wife who streams want other than streaming with her husband? Nothing! Maybe. It depends. But in this universe—best believe that it is all you've ever wanted! What does your husband think about it, though?

› Notes: English is not my first language + Reblogs and likes are very appreciated! + almost 6k words that's why it took me days to write TT + Cringe and unhinged alert + big poo and goobert stole the show

Bruce Wayne

Bruce lets out a deep sigh as he watches you set up before starting the stream. A warm smile adorns his face, but he's still reluctant to show up as a guest. Just why did someone suggest a wife and husband bonding time in your streams? You were overjoyed that you ended up calling him in the middle of your stream to ask him about it.

Bruce excused himself and let an executive continue the briefing. His gruff voice sounded soft when he called your name, asking why you suddenly called—not even the slightest bit of annoyance in his voice at the fact you called during a meeting.

"Honey, look at the picture I sent!" He questions what could possibly have his wife over the moon. With the monitor in his lens, the picture popped in front of him. It was a 5 dollar donation from UnkissedBrick that said—in all caps—

"MAKE A STREAM WITH YOUR HUSBAND AND MY LIFE IS YOURS !!!$%5@5@"

It started a spark within the community that they were BEGGING you to make it come true. 

A stream to make money, have fun, and be with your husband at the same time? Of course you'd agree. Best believe that Bruce had no way out of this, you barely asked anything from him—would he have the heart to decline a simple request such as this?

No! And that's why he's here sitting beside you, wearing your adorable, pink headphones. It was something entirely new in his life. Never, and I mean never, has Bruce imagined he'll be wearing this godforsaken headphone for millions to see. The only thing stopping him from taking it off was obviously you—his wife.

"Wow! Thank you all so much for coming to see this stream. There's a lot more of you today."

Bruce snaps his head in your direction, giving him a clear view of how you marveled at the screens in front of you. A thought slips into his mind, whispering thoughts that made him worry about you. 

A lot more today? 

How many more were there than usual?

He'll let anything happen, just not this. Stealing the light from you is a scenario he didn't want to occur in this very video. It's your stream, it's your channel—not his. His blood pressure spikes at the thoughts flooding his head. And yet, you didn't seem to mind, you're just thanking them.

Bruce looked at the rapid comments piling up on the screen, amazed by the speed of people commenting. Nothing's too quick for his eyes, though. Who do you take him for? He reads every single one. Despite his worries, it was drastically different from what he thought. Your fanbase was literally fighting the viewers who only came for him.

BigPoo: Coming here ONLY for the husband is soooo embarrassing

isayholAcomosta: Scram your asses outta here man

IAMBatman: LMAOO IMAGINE WATCHING FOR BRUCE WAYNE

InstantoPreggo: either support her (and him ig) or face the consequences of my 16-inch-thick, fat, JUICY HUMONGOUS D!LD0 UP YOUR ASS.

Bruce had to flinch himself away from the monitor after reading that last comment. 

He looks at you with disbelief. So this is what you were laughing at... To be fair, it is rather amusing, to say the least. The look on his face makes you laugh even more now that you've spared some time to actually look at your husband's worry corner beside you.

The chat stops when you scold them to support both of you, also instructing the mods to delete any negative comments about Bruce. Which is odd since you remember telling them to do so beforehand.

"Don't worry about them, honey. Let's just have fun."

The kiss you give on his cheek eases Bruce, his bigger hands take yours to caress it in a comforting way. But really, we know it was for him. A deep sigh escapes his lips, knowing he has nothing to worry about anymore aside from getting through this stream with you.

You've noticed him being quiet again. He should try focusing on the game you're playing so he could see how fun it is. You told him to have fun, and Bruce is trying, believe me. 

Bruce folds his arms and directs his attention to the monitor where you're playing some kind of simulator game about supermarkets. The store layout is nice, though it looks cramped, the prices are lower than the market price, the other products are understocked, and the bills were due in-game. 

"Honey, are you playing this right?" 

"Am I not?"

He's spent years managing businesses, come on. Bruce is shrewd. And seeing his dear wife fail at this supermarket simulator, no can do. He's just lucky this game is right up his alley. You let go of the keyboard and mouse unattended to listen to his suggestions. 

What was hotter than the fact that there's a hot man explaining business tactics to you? Correct, he's your husband! And a smart husband is a hot husband.

Bruce was so concerned with his strategies that he suddenly went on autopilot and grabbed the controls to show you instead of using words. You stifle a laugh behind your hand. When did he learn all those controls? He wasn't just moping around beside you, and he actually was paying attention? You might just want to request another wedding again.

His only intention was to show you how you were supposed to manage the shop. Bruce demonstrated that perfectly. So why is he still in control? His mind wants to let go. And letting go would mean he'll have to leave playing this game. The escaped chuckles from you reached his ears. With a tentative glance and muted rosy cheeks, it was like he was asking permission to keep playing.

"Go on, dear. I'll just watch you play." You mean it. Watching Bruce play a game was more enjoyable than playing, he understands it more anyways. You don't think your heart will ever feel cold when you look at him. Not ever while you're still breathing and alive to keep on loving him.

Your eyes narrow with every part of Bruce that your eyes land on. A subconscious gulp was made when you took notice of the few strands of hair that hung on top of his forehead, the way veins would pop in his forearms with a few movements when he used the keyboard and mouse, and the musky scent of his cologne that perked your senses up—you'd wonder to yourself why you didn't have at least one child with him already.

The overflowing amount of comments in the corner of your eye catches your attention. You scoot closer to read it.

Tin-a-pie: Miss ma'am is so DOWNBAD

Big Poo: "Eaaasy white chocolate"  AHH TYPE SHIIT

MMONEYY: Bruce Wayne's gonna melt 

Goobert: ON EVERYBODY'S SOUL WE ALL WANT TO BE IN BETWEEN THEM

You snort, hitting Bruce's shoulder repeatedly. The man loses focus on his game, amusement in his eyes as you stood up to sit on his lap. He catches you in his arms, holding your shaking body in amusement. Guess he didn't have to excessively worry, after all—spending time and making you happy is his priority today.

"Are you happy, my love?" Bruce pressed his forehead against yours. His forearms had a grip on your waist that felt so secure and warm that even if you melted, you'd still be in his arms.

"Very. Thank you, Bruce." Oh, how your laughter gets his heart kicking and running.

The chat floods once again with teaseful comments. Too many for you to read without getting blown by another. Not that it matters, your husband is too busy being pampered in your kisses.

Bruce's phone vibrates nonstop in his pocket. You fished it out for him and opened it to see Dick's face with an image attached to it.

I hope Mom doesn't mind the new sticker I added to the chat. Tell her I told the other mods about it. ;]

Bruce was in the middle of questioning what his first son said only to be caught off guard with you abruptly shifting your body weight against him, laughing uncontrollably. The chat was spamming a photo of Bruce from earlier when he was so focused on the supermarket simulator game.

"I didn't look like that, did I?" He stares at you deadpan, making you laugh harder.

Dick Grayson

Is this even your stream at all? How was he acting like close friends to your viewers after a few minutes? You stare at your husband dumbfounded. Although you know that Dick has a charming aura and personality, you didn't expect it to leak through the screen and into their hearts within minutes of knowing him!

When you asked Dick if he wanted to do a stream with you, he basically almost leaped with joy. Just almost—because he suddenly hugged you before he could jump up into space from the ecstasy of his dear, loving wife if he wanted to do a gaming video with you.

Actually, Dick has always wanted to. The thought of having millions see how loved you are in his arms—OH THE SEROTONIN—Dick can't wait to do so. He just waited and waited and waited—until you finally invited him.

You can't actually hide your jealousy well about the fact that he's paying more attention to the chat than you.

Goobert: I suddenly feel like a mistress caught in the act with how the missus is looking from behind you

Big Poo: NAH HE'S OUR HUSBAND NOW

TheAMAZINGpie: She's so jealous LMAOOO tease her more

Good thing Dick was staring intently at the chat, he couldn't see your secretive middle finger you're flashing at the viewers. He laughs and takes a quick glance at you over his shoulder, then back to the chat. A scoff of disbelief leaves your mouth. Those snitches!

"Yes, chat, these are the true colors of my wife. She's more barbaric when it's just us two here." The playful tone has you pinching his sides. Dick laughs and flinches away from your hand.

"See? She keeps on hurting me."

"Quit the baby voice, Dick, oh my God! Eww." 

You gag at your husband, earning yet another heartfelt laugh. It was hard to pretend you were annoyed when everything felt so warm and natural. Dick is lucky he's your husband, or else you would've strangled him out of annoyance by now.

"Horror games are overrated, let's play simple ones." He pouts at you.

"What do you suggest then?"

And that's how you found yourself playing dress-up games at the old girl games website, where you can find all of the low-quality yet nostalgic games for girls in the world. You both competed in a game where the game picks who made the better outfit.

Imagine the look of disbelief in your face when he keeps winning 5 times in a row—5 times! Dick has got to be cheating, because in no way Dick Grayson has more fashion sense than you, right? Fight him, girl!

"You are so cheating, babe! How are you the winner every round?"

Dick raised his arms in a smug way, shrugging you off to annoy you. "Ah, the loser is barking. Face it, babe. I'm better." He blows you a kiss that you playfully shooed away, pinching your nose after. Dick gasps at your action, fighting the urge to laugh and just play along.

"Still can't beat me, honey."

"Pick another game. You'll taste defeat, Grayson."

"Whatever you say, Mrs. Grayson."

That's a blow to your pride. Imagine getting flustered in the middle of your bickering. Now you let a smug grin slip on your husband's face. Girl, you better stand on business cause you are losing FACE to your viewers right now.

5 girl go games later and you're still somehow losing to Dick. It feels like your sex has been reversed because what the hell? Maybe you are a man... at heart. How are you losing to a full grown man who—mind you—suggested that you play these games! Dick might be playing these at night when you're asleep.

It was a cooking game this time. You both need to beat each other with higher scores and more satisfied customers, obviously. It was just a mystery how he still wins when you both clearly see the big, colorful letters in bold saying that the dish you prepared was perfect—and he still wins!?

"That's it! I'm convinced you are cheating." You point a finger at him.

"It's just a matter of skill, hun." He smirks at you.

The last resort—your faithful, loyal, loving chat will support you on your accusations, right? Oh no, that smile on your face was wiped when you saw an ongoing poll on the stream. Scratch what you used to describe your chat, they are being the total opposite right now.

Overthrow the queen and appoint Dickie as the new ruler!

It's worst enough that it was 99% over 1%. You look at the camera with a death stare, in disbelief that your dear fans would overthrow you like this. Is it because Dick was more charming and had a larger ass than you? Okay, maybe keep that last thought to yourself because they cannot see the down half of your bodies.

And an annoying donation comes in the heat of the moment...

Daywalk donated 5$  

I'm looking at the most breathtaking, marvelous, amazing, pretty, kind, majestic, beautiful, attractive, sexy, hot, and gorjus (idk how to spell) right now and oh—I didn't realize you were here, sweetheart

Dick was giggling uncontrollably beside you with his phone in his hands. You saw the stream on his screen split seconds before he hid it beside him where you can't reach it. Did he really think you wouldn't notice it was him with this shitty ass username?

"Really, Dick? Daywalk? That's the best you could come up with?" You bury your face in your hand, imitating a facepalm to hide your laughter. You hate how he can easily make you laugh with the stupidest things.

"I am a fan of Nightwing, Babe. He has such good hair, good facial features, and that goddamn juicy ass of his. Have you seen his—"

"Dick."

"Okay, okay, sheesh, God forbid a man uplift his fellow man." He raised his hands in mock defeat. Backing away from that look of yours.

Dick Grayson is audacious. Partly one of the reasons why you married this man. 

You gave up, rolled your eyes, and just gave him a kiss to shut him up.

Jason Todd

"Oh come on, baby, you know you're happy to be here." 

You snicker at the scowl on his face. Jason looked like he wanted to drop a smoke bomb to escape the stream, but of course he wouldn't! What you said is true—he is ecstatic to be here. He refused your offer several times before caving in... and just a little secret, he just wanted to see how bad you want him to be in one.

In fact, he had the stream planned out already. In the span of the 3 days where you begged him to stream with you, Jason used it as a time to search for games to play, imagine scenarios, and other cute stuff that he wants to make happen today.

First things first, seem tough enough to place boundaries through his stare and seem friendly enough to joke around with him. Check. The chat was respectful to Jason and some joked around that this looked like Doomguy and Isabelle looking relationship.

"Oh please, it's more switched. This guy's a baby." Jason's eyes widen when you pull his chair to ruffle on his hair like a little kid. He glares up at you. Okay—maybe, this is tolerable, it has a loving effect to the viewers. Yes, this is fine. 

"Jason, don't bob your head like that onto my boob." You snort and push his head away. Ah, he thought he was nodding inside his head.

Big Poo: He's kinda weird... I like him

Goobert: We accept weird big guy and queen dynamics

Ignoring that small weird display of his, it's time for phase 2—urge you to play horror games of his choice. He didn't binge watch couples playing horror games last night just for you to play other games. A mischievous grin is fighting it's way to make itself appear on his lips. Jason expects you to get scared, cling to him, and show off the muscles he spent the few days toning. 

And as if he wasn't toned enough, Jason plans to show that this muscles of his won't be just for show if they decided to mug you in the streets while he's around. Anyone who's watching this stream would be a warning for parasocial freaks who'll try something with you.

"How about we play this one, babe?" He points at the game he searched up.

With a look of disbelief, you could only sigh at your husband's antics. He couldn't have been more obvious than this. The longer reps of his biceps workouts? Yeah, he's definitely planning something to show it off.

You sigh, and start the game up. The chat snitches on him smiling widely behind you as the game starts. It quickly disappears when you turn around, then reappears when you don't look. He gives the chat a playful motion of slicing his neck then points at the camera with a finger placed on his lips.

With a discreet glance behind you, there, you saw your husband doing a face that could kill that's accompanied by creepy giggles. In all of the years you've been together, not once could a sight like this ever cross your mind. Why is he having internet beef with your viewers?

Does he also think you can't see him through your stream view at your other monitor? You also stare at the gummy smile on your face, still having no resistance in finding everything he does as cute.

Heck, even if he snapped someone's neck in front of you with a sassy remark after, you'll still find it cute. Fucked up, yes, but hey, it's not like you haven't had body counts of your own in your other line of work.

Jason lets out an amused scoff at your unwavering focus to navigate through the dark cellar. There hasn't been a single jumpscare since you started. But because of his horror game video marathon, he's got every single one memorized. 

It'll take some time before the first one. In the meanwhile, he knows what to do to get you to warm up for the big scare.

His hands snakes itself downward, right past his own chair. You were focused on getting out of the sealed room that the chat's warnings fell to deaf ears... or eyes. Jason inches his chair closer to yours, carefully, so that his chair won't bump into yours.

An annoying habit of his that once made his teeth bleed from your punch. He waits until you're about to turn around a corner to strike—Jason bolts your body with an abrupt push on your shoulder. "Boo!"

The most he got from you was a loud curse and your middle finger in the middle of his face.

"Jason—We agreed on never doing that again. Fuck you, honestly." You glare at him through the monitor, not wasting another second to look back at the game. Your ears perk at the loud laugh that seeps through your headphones. 

"Oh please, you're not too much of a pussy to get scared from that, aren't you?" 

"Is that a challenge?" 

Jason waits for suspense, waiting until he knows you're almost near the first jumpscare of the game to throw you off. His hands once again find the liberty to make you jolt, making you lose focus and lightly smack your husband beside you.

Once you get back to the game, a horrifying figure appears on the screen, taking almost all of the pixels it offers. You flinch back and shield your eyes away the moment Jason tries to cover you from the screen.

It all happened suddenly. But it was if time moved slower for Jason.

One minute he was about to hug you.

The next, your fist connects with his face.

Jason didn't budge but hell—your punch still hurts as when you first met!

"You promised to never punch me again!" Jason whines.

Another promise was broken. As if Jason didn't break his earlier? He's sure his jaw also is. With a grimace and a guilty heart, you caressed his face softly. It was your way of apologizing. Oh well, it's both of your faults so let's just get back to gaming.

Big Poo: Leave Doomguy and Isabelle, bro. They're Mr. and Mrs. Smith at this point

Goobert: They're both tryna survive from each other

So what if Jason's plans failed? His jaw is aching—that's fine! He still has other ways... A plan B if you will. As long as his biceps will have a spotlight. He asks you, sweetly, if he could play instead. Jason smirks triumphantly as he knows you can't resist his weirdly adorable, beaten-up face.

He was actually doing so well for someone who's allegedly never saw or played this game before. Jason passed through each trial with flying colors.

When another jumpscare had shown itself, you were suprised to see your husband inch his shoulder closer to the monitor.

"Not flexin! But look at these chills man." He's definitely flexing.

The chat goes crazy! Comments pile up regarding your 'done-with-the-bullshit-face' at the back and mostly about Jason's muscles. He yaps about the non existent chills on his biceps that the chat eats up.

Big Poo: HOLY MOTHER OF GOD—PLEASE HEADLOCK ME

Goobert: I was unfamiliar with your game, Jason. Forgive me (pls flex more)

TheCrowbar: The crowbar approves of this marriage.

"We already are married, bud. If you wanted to say no, you could've done so 4 years ago." Jason rolls his eyes at the comment.

Yeah, he's definitely not warning everyone with that sass.

Tim Drake

"How is everyone mistaking me as your brother?"

Tim glares the chat through the screen. Evidently pissed at the teasing comments towards him. They knew who he was. How could they not? You always mention him and even introduced him at the start of the stream.

He gently grabs your left hand, raising it to show your matching rings.

Big Poo: AWWW! Such a cute sibling promise rings

Goobert: He loves his sister so much. ackk its so cute!!1!!

You try your best not to laugh. It might set Tim off and make him leave without creating any content. Despite wanting to see him get teased and pissed, you had to stop the chat with a few words.

"That's enough teasing my husband, guys. He doesn't like it." But you do. Your viewers seem to caught on your interest from the way you smile and stare at him earlier. Thankfully, they play along at the moment.

"What game do you guys want to see us play?"

Ah, you shouldn't have asked them. Your husband is a geek for video games! He's better than you at every game you guys play. He was more a tower defense, strategic, and board games type of guy. Doesn't make him any less of a weak player when it comes to games like Nekket, Super Smash Sis, though.

You drag Tim along with you to read some comments. He's impressed at the rapid comment speed your viewers have. Can you read a lot from this on a daily basis? There's a lot of unhinged comments slipping through his eyes too.

"Horror games? That sounds good."

What!

Tim snaps his eyes beside you, wide with surprise.

Before you could even ask for his opinion, your husband was already shaking his head sideways. He even had his arms crossed to match with his disagreement towards the suggestion. Tim does not want horror games this late at night. Absolutely not. Not inside this household when he's around.

He knows you're questioning him. But Tim can't tell you he watched the new horror movie you've been getting him to watch with you—alone. In his defense, he didn't want you to waste money on another shitty movie like last time, so, he scavenged alone to determine if it is as good as they say.

This is the result of his little secret mission from you. It's not his fault he hasn't recovered! You didn't see how terrifying it was for yourself... and not that he plans on letting you know.

Your viewers feed on his terror, already laughing to themselves behind their screens. Tim is just unlucky that you have wealthy viewers ready to make an offer you both can't resist. Like what do you mean two people named Big Poo and Goobert paid $10,000 each just for Tim to play?

And that's how the unlucky Timothy Drake found himself hiding behind your frame, occasionally peeking behind your hair to see how his wife is doing.

Everytime you turn into a corner, flashes of that horrible face appear in front of him. God, why are the lights turned off in your room? He doesn't even want to stand up to turn it on. He's aware he's a grown man, but God forbid a man like him can't get scared.

He takes a peek at the comments at the side.

HoelessRomantic: You shouldn't go there if I were you...

Tin-a-pie: GIRL DON'T

Goobert: You're purposely going there to scare baby bro

Baby bro?! This Goobert did not just say that. It felt like all his fear went away. He pushed himself away from your back. You weren't kidding that saying anymore brother jokes will tick him off.

"You may have beaten me at suggestions, but you won't defeat me in terms of winning over my wife!" He scowls at the monitor, taking you and your viewers aback. "I'm looking at you, Goobert... This is a threat." He smiles maniacally.

Tim sweetly smiles at you. One of the things you can't resist.

"Okay... okay.. calm down, Baby. What game do you want?"

"Oh trust me, you'll love it, honey." Tim presses a kiss on your forehead as he takes control.

You love Tim.

You know him well enough considering he's your husband for 4 years now.

But you guess you didn't know him well enough to expect him to suddenly exit the game and pull out a whole ass board game between you guys. Was it sitting there unnoticed the whole time? No matter, you recognized it to be one of his favorite board games.

He excitedly sets it up on the desk for the chat to see. A smug grin on his face to show off his pre-ordered game with freebies. Tim's so excited to share a game he's mastered.

"I bet you kids don't know this. Back in my days, this was the bomb." He proudly boasts.

Big Poo: Bro pulled out his last resort

Goobert: He had to gain back some aura obv

MMONEYY: Are you sure he gained some?

Ignoring their comments, Tim starts on the basics on how to play the game. Here comes the hardest part in being his wife—listening to his long, heartfelt explanation of Dungeons and Reptiles for the second time.

Nonetheless, you were blessed to hear his voice chip at every detail of the game. To see how the love of your life's eyes gleam to share facts to the viewers you tell about Tim everyday. They knew he was a nerd from your stories—but to see and hear it real time is something else.

Tim looked like a grandparent telling stories of his youth. The stories that seemed boring, but you can't help but listen in to. Although the comments complained that it was boring, and he's like an old man, the viewer count didn't decrease. 

They all listened intently with you. Do they see the vision on why you fell in love with Tim? Definitely.

Big Poo: All in vote of Tim being promoted to Husband, say aye.

Goobert: AYEEE

HoelessRomantic: Aye.

Tin-a-pie: Aye!!!

and a million others more.

"Oh so now I'm officially seen as the husband?" Tim laughs, stopping his yap about the game. He gives you a warm look and pulls you towards him. "I guess it's better than being the little brother, babe." He kisses you passionately while covering your eyes to raise his ring finger alone to the chat.

Tim must have the last laugh after all that teasing.

Damian Wayne

Damian has never been this clingy before. Is it because he's finally out in the open with you for millions to watch behind the safety of their screens? He doesn't know—only that he needs to make sure you're his only.

You can see how red his ears are on the monitor, his body boiling at the simple, cute gesture of having you in his lap while you introduced yourself and him to your viewers. This isn't PDA, he knows you're both technically alone in your shared room. 

Still, he isn't used to it. He's been in the spotlight several times, sure—he's Damian Wayne, hello! Son of Bruce Wayne? You get my point, but, he hasn't really been out with you to the media except the time you got married. Damian's more of a private, but not secret type of guy, you know? 

It wasn't difficult to make him agree. With a simple kiss, doe eyes, and a sweet smile, Damian would say yes without a thought!

Oh, but your chat was the mischievous type. One look at Damian and they all knew he was a guy who'd go boom for his lady. And what type of Boom you may ask? Well...

Big Poo: She is NOT going anywhere blud, calm dowwwnnnnn

Goobert: Acting like a damn dog who doesn't want to share the tree he peed on in 2025 is crazy

HoelessRomantic: Let OUR wife go you madman

"Our wife?" He growls, glaring at the camera. Damian would've stood up from his seat if you weren't on his lap. 

He had ignored the first two comments above that, choosing to focus on a comment about his wife. Like—that's his wife! Not hard to understand. He had everything to prove it. Pictures of your wedding day, legal certificates, your wedding rings, and a lot more!

Instead, he snaps his head to the side, acting like he was looking at a physical body to scan up and down with a warning glare. Possessive and explosive... The chat likes that. They'll have the night of their lives dedicated to set Damian off.

"They're normally like that. Don't mind them, Honey." 

He would've let it pass, and listened to your coo. And yet you let him hear you use the word, normally. Normally—as in, you listen to these goofs call you their wife? He doesn't want that. He'll create online beef for you.

And so it began, the chat and Damian's cold war.

The purpose of gaming is gone. Only Damian's sassy remarks and the viewers saying flirty stuff to get on his nerves becomes the content and entertainment. So much for the games you thought you were gonna play today.

But this? You'd pay to watch the whole day. Judging by that smug smirk on your husband's lips, he's aware that they were just teasing him. What can you say... after being with a wife who ragebaits for fun can train you into tolerating bullshit.

And what's a good way to tolerate bullshit? Fight it with your own bullshit, of course. And laughs—to show that he and you are joking. We're trying not to get banned here. So much for the millions of followers if it all ended because of his unhinged comments.

Big Poo: Pull up on roblox right now old geezer or lose husband rights to the whole chat

Goobert: OOOOOH SHITS GOING DOWN

HoelessRomantic: Millions of games and you choose roblox

Tin-a-pie: Imagine losing husband rights to a roblox game...

As soon as you read the chat's algorithm, you shake your head no at Damian. He shouldn't pick a fight over a game he doesn't know. 

It was too late though.

"Challenge accepted." Damian points at the camera. 

Hold on—his smugness falters. You raise a brow over the abrupt change of mood.

"Babe, do you have a roblox account?" He was so adamant in that petty challenge, it was hard to say no at this point. "You better win, loser."

"Do I look like one?" If he has the energy to roll his eyes at you, he might have the energy to kick butt on a game.

You're still appalled that it's roblox of all games. How old was this Big Poo viewer of yours to pick this one specifically? You sure hope it's not a 15 year old... or worse, they could be in the single digits! Oh God, where are this kid's parents?

"In what game will we settle this, Big Poo?" 

Big Poo: Tower of hell :>

Goobert: I honestly thought you'd pick murder mystery 

Big Poo: Let the old man get a taste of the... OBBY MASTERRR

Hey, hey—is this even your stream anymore or Big Poo and Goobert's private chats?

Tower of hell isn't hard. You've played it before. It was just a matter of skill to climb the tower. Damian listens intently to your instructions while waiting for the game to load where Big Poo's avatar was waiting.

"Listen, Dami, just jump over the glowing blocks and shiftlock when needed, okay? You got this, dear!" 

Damian pats on his lips repeatedly until you figure out his motions. With a sigh and a chuckle, you move closer to give him a peck—just a peck! But your beloved had other plans. He pulls you by your hand and smashes his lips against yours. Your quick reflexes immediately covered the camera.

"I can't fathom how I'm in need of a kiss over a lego game."

"Me too. I feel so stupid."

You both laugh, parting away from each other when Big Poo starts to countdown in game.

It was going so well! Damian was in the lead. He's actually pretty good with obbies even if he's a noob. Mind you, he had no practice before the match. Did his training in life transfer to your roblox avatar right now? How is he moving and advancing so fast.

The chat goes crazy with a notable presence—Goobert. The poor guy was screaming their bestfriend's name so bad. They almost looked like a desperate wife wishing their soldier husband to come back home safely.

The whole chat was amazed to see Damian—a noob—winning. And he knows he is.

Goobert: USE THE SECRET WEAPON HERMANO

Damian arrives at the last platform. You marvel at the close gap between him and Big Poo. He's actually gonna win this stupid roblox bet? But what—why did Damian suddenly stop? Don't tell me he's about to—

He types fast in-game, a smug smirk on his face as he watches Big Poo's avatar inch closer to his. In just a few thumbs away, Damian sends his message.

Husband rights defended! ;p

And it was silent—the time went slow. The crowd was astounded when Big Poo suddenly had a stick with a hand at the end. It happened in slow motion. Especially for Damian who worked his way up to the top. 

No matter how fast his reflexes are... it wasn't the same with the wifi.

As your roblox character fell, Damian looked dead in the camera.

"Big Poo..." 

Uh oh

"I BETTER NOT SEE YOU HERE IN GOTHAM OR ELSE I WILL—"

The stream has ended.

extra scene!

In another universe...

In the timeline of Young Justice...

Jaime and Bart were laughing their asses off. Each had their own unique device that hasn't been seen by humankind other than them. It's a mystery how they even got it. Well, it was just on the table... so, it won't hurt to touch, right?

They've both been at it all day long. Lucky for them to have the day off, honestly. Or else they would've missed this multidimensional device that shows different universes. Never in their life would they see 5 of the batfamily like that.

Although 1 of them is unfamilliar, and the second Robin has changed so much.

In a span of 18 hours, all they did was watch the streams.

"How'd you even come up with Big Poo, Ese?"

"You don't wanna know what happened yesterday." Bart snickers. "Well, how about you, Goobert?"

"Don't ask me, it was Scarab's idea."

They both went silent—reminiscing the streams they just watched.

"Do you think M'gann will notice the missing $20,000 from the funds?"

"Don't worry about M'gann, worry about—"

"What $20,000?" Tim's voice springs behind them.

Great.

It just had to be the Robin who the $20,000 went to in another universe.

They better explain well or else they'll be in an interrogation room with the whole Bat Family listening in.

[merps]

Note: some changes were made for screen readers to properly parse words. The original style generally is all lowercase and uses shorthand like "abt" instead of "about", "w" for "with", and "ik" instead of "I know"

[ID 1: A reddit post titled, "AlTAH for 'training' a guy 'like a dog'?" that reads:

I (23F) have recently started seeing this guy (26M). he's super pretty, but he's kind of emotionally unavailable and he's alluded to an unstable/unhealthy childhood.

for context, i also work with socializing abused and neglected dogs at a local shelter and i think how much time i spend with the dogs is impacting the way i interact with ppl.

when we were on a date i started subconsciously making mental notes about him like the notes id make abt a dog. for example, i noticed when we went out to dinner i noticed he ate really quickly and was very anti-sharing (resource guarding) but when i offered to pay and suggested dessert it seemed to make him really happy and a little calmer (food-motivated); he's really particular about his car (territorial/crate aggression); he likes when i pick where we go/ what we do (eager to please), etc. so, ive started using the tactics id use on a dog with similar problems.

recently a friend (22F) pointed out that it's weird that i keep peanut M&Ms on me w the specific purpose of offering the guy one when i see him, and offering them again whenever i can tell he feels vulnerable. she said that im being an asshole bc he's a person, not a dog so i shouldn't be "training him like one."

i don't think that's fair, im not trying to control him or anything, i just want him to feel comfortable w me the same way i need the animals im helping to be comfortable with me. humans and animals aren't THAT diff after all, we all just want to feel safe and cared for. the guy hasn't noticed yet as far as i can tell. the problem is, my "technique" is yielding really positive results.

AITAH? should i stop?

/End ID 1]

[ID 2: Screenshot of an edit to the previous post that reads:

[start all caps] Updates / Clarifications [end caps]

for everyone asking me if i've seen the big bang theory episode with this plotline: i have not

for everyone saying they think i am autistic: probably, yeah. i haven't been tested but maybe i should

i do not have loose m&ms in my pocket bc then they'd get all melty and gross - i keep them in a bag in my purse

I know the title was clickbait-y so i want to make some things clear. i didn't think of it as "training" til my friend said it was like i was training him, and that made me feel weird (and it's why i made the post)

i am not and never have been trying to "modify" behavior. what i noticed in him and what i notice in animals were stress responses. we only get aggressive over our food if we believe someone's gonna take it away. we get defensive over our spaces if we reasonably feel like they'll be violated. applies to both animals and ppl. i was trying to establish trust the way i best know how to lol

if he never shared fries and never wanted to park next to a car with wide doors again, that'd be fine w me tbh. i know he's not a dog, so he's not at risk of being euthanized or something

/End ID 2]

[ID 3: Continuation of the above edit:

[start all caps] On to the update proper yay! [end all caps]

so, to all the ppl who told me i should tell him what im doing - you were right and that's what i did. turns out i was [start all caps] very wrong [end all caps] about him not noticing what i was doing - he apparently put two and two together pretty quickly after i started doing it. he didn't tell me he was on to me tho, because he liked it and was worried id get embarrassed and stop if i knew that he knew. so we talked it out and it ended up not being a very big deal at all and im probably gonna keep having m&ms because they're good. that's all i got for yall lol

/End ID 3]

sickens me to my stomach. how dare this guy get to live my dream.

[misskingshit]

Beauty and the Freak

summary: For every teenager at Hawkins High School, it was inexplicable why someone like you would approach a weirdo like Munson. Maybe he's threatening you.

note: I think I speak for everyone when I say that we will never get over Eddie. Not only is he hot, but he was so cute. God, I really hope he somehow magically returns in season 5. this is a lil long and smutty (no so much) and also, idk if this is trashy or not, but tonight I'm doing part 2 xoxo

"Okay, girls! It was a great practice. Don't forget to bring some ideas for a great finale. I'm open to hearing anything. Bye!" Cheerleading practice had ended, and it had gone better than you'd expected. A very important game was approaching, and everything had to go perfectly.

"Listen, I'm sorry. I know you hate talking about it, but Jason's already mad because Kaleb won't stop talking about you," Chrissy tells you. You let out the biggest sigh. "He's so annoying! I told him no 13 times…" You indignantly comment to your friend. "13 times! I counted! He's bordering on stalker." The two of you finish grabbing your bags and head out into the hallway. "This has to be a joke," you said, fed up. "It even looks like we summoned him. It's creepy," your friend looked at you with pity. Jason and Kaleb walked toward you. "I love how that uniform looks on you, baby," Jason said to Chrissy. You quickly fixed your cold gaze on the other boy; you really couldn't get rid of him. "Keep your comments to yourself, thanks." You put on a fake smile and continued walking. "Why are you acting like this? All I'm doing is trying to get you to even look at me." You stopped walking and turned around, ready to argue. There was no way he was going to come across as the victim here. "That's not my problem, I told you. You seemed super sweet the first few times, and I was even flattered," you said, widening your eyes. "But you're crossing a line. You don't accept rejection and you won't leave me alone. I don't like you! Go away!" And with that, you set off in search of your locker.

❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀

After so long, the moment you'd been waiting for arrived. The bell signaling the end of the school day. Excited, you ran to the exit and quickly headed to the back of the school. "Munson?" The newly minted man turned around and looked around, his face puzzled. He didn't understand what the cheerleading captain was doing looking for him, and even worse, how did she even know his last name? "Are you talking to me?" he asked. You simply nodded with a smile on your face. "Yeah, sorry to bother you, but… I was wondering, do you have something… you know?" His face changed, fully understanding what was happening. "Um, not really. Normally they have to let me know beforehand, I don't do that right away." "Oh, sure, I understand," you laughed nervously. "Sorry, this is my first time, I don't know how this works." He smiled tenderly. "Don't worry." You both shared glances, him smiling at your innocence and you at your nerves. Finally, he came around and pointed to his van behind him. "I have, you know, the green stuff at my house… if you want, you can come with me…" "Wow, you're fast, Munson," you laughed a little. "I-I'm not sorry, sorry, that's not what I meant, forget it." Eddie grew nervous at how strange his proposal had sounded. Although your answer sounded stranger to him. "I'll come," you said confidently, and headed to the passenger seat of the van. "What? Really?" He turned to look at you. "Yeah, why not?"

After processing what was happening for a few seconds, he simply climbed in next to you and started the van. "Don't worry, we'll get out the back." You looked at him, confused. You weren't exchanging anything, it wasn't anything unusual. "Oh, come on, the cheerleader, the most popular, the most beautiful girl in town. You don't want to be seen with me," he let out a sarcastic laugh, looking straight ahead. You were still smiling, but at the same time, you were frowning. "I couldn't care less. They're all idiots I'll never see again once school's out. I really don't care." You looked at the trees through the window. Eddie really couldn't believe it.

❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀

"So… this is my castle. I'm sorry it's so clean and tidy. I…" They both looked at each other and laughed. "It's cozy. At least you know someone lives here. In my house, there's rarely anyone with me. The decor is too simple, the rooms are too big, therefore, too cold, everything is too clean and perfect… it's sad." "Yeah… fuck it all," he sighed, looking up from the floor. "Fuck it all," you laughed. He led you to his room, which led to a roughly 40-minute conversation based on your questions about the guitar posters and him explaining each story in great detail. Until he finally gave you the thing you were really in his RV for. "Well, that's it, what you were looking for," he smiled at you. "Thank you so much," you put it in your bag. You weren't going to lie to yourself. You were really having a good time, you didn't want to leave. And it seems the universe heard your prayers. "I, uhm, n-don't want to sound weird or anything, just, I don't know if you want to stay and hang out, only if you want to, obviously…" "Yes!" you interrupted his nervous stuttering. "Of course."

You both sat down on the bed, and the conversation flowed so naturally that it seemed like you'd known each other your whole life. You both turned out to have very similar tastes and interests, similar personalities. You'd never have thought that two polar opposites could have so much in common. "Can you believe it? God, I really couldn't look a dog in the eye for a whole week!" you said indignantly. You were both lying side by side on the bed staring at the ceiling. "You just accidentally stepped on his paw. It's not that big of a deal," he laughed, turning his face toward yours. "Of course it is! He's a small dog, and his paw must have hurt a lot," you turned your head as well. You were both very close, so close that you could feel each other's breathing. You stared at each other for a few seconds, inevitably smiling. "You have a very beautiful smile," you whispered, looking into his eyes. "You are insanely beautiful, inside and out." Your smile faded; no one had ever said anything so beautiful to you. It was always about popularity, appearances, money, and how important mommy and daddy are on the social ladder. No one really cared about the other person. "Did I say something wrong? I… I'm sorry-" You interrupted, closing the space between you for just a few seconds before quickly pulling away. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" Now you were the one interrupted. Eddie's hand rested warmly on your cheek, his lips moving slowly with yours, completely in sync, as if you'd done this a thousand times. It felt so fucking good. The kisses lasted for a few minutes, their lips moving together, and a few shy but mischievous smiles at the same time. "God," he said, taking a deep breath, "that was…" "Incredible," you smiled, looking at his mouth, flushed from the recent session. You didn't even think about it for a second and threw yourself on top of him, now kissing him much more passionately, as he allowed you to do whatever you wanted with him. You both adjusted your position; he sat against the backrest and you straddled him, slowly rubbing yourself against him, getting even wetter with each of his little moans and murmurs. "Wait," you said, pulling away slightly. His face showed concern; he really didn't want to screw up. "I don't know about you, but I really want you to fuck me right now." You placed wet kisses on his neck. "I really don't think there's anything I wouldn't want to do with you. The thing is… I've never, you know." "You barely had any contact with women?" He looked at you, surprised. "I want to say no, but there's no need to say it like that. It seems like I'm a…" "A freak? Honey, you are a freak," you kissed him slowly, biting his lip. "But that's what drives me the most crazy." You took his hands and directed them to your breasts. "That and the fact that you've never touched a woman before." He smiled mischievously. "I bet you're just as freakish as I am." "You have no idea." You began to rub yourself against him more intensely while he watched, hypnotized by the movement of your breasts, touching them as if they were gold, although, to him, they were. "Do you want to fuck me in my cheerleader uniform?" You asked provocatively in his ear. He could only nod, unable to form a single word.

In the midst of all the wet kisses you were giving each other, you unbuttoned his pants while he lifted up your miniskirt, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. "Are you sure you want this?" you asked him one last time, just in case. "I've never been so sure about anything in my entire life," he looked you straight in the eyes. "Please." And that was all it took. Slowly and provocatively, you scattered kisses until you reached his pelvis. Seeing how big it was, you couldn't hold it back any longer; you took it all in your mouth. You had never felt so turned on as you looked at Eddie's face at that point, throwing his head back in a pleasurable sigh. "God," he said. "Fuck yeah, I don't know what's hotter, the sensation or watching you choke on my dick."

You stayed down there for a few minutes, but you were convinced you weren't going to let him finish right then. "I-I think I'm about to cum, fuck, keep going." His face paled as you quickly pulled out of your mouth and quickly straddled him again. Looking into his eyes the whole time, you took his big, hard dick in your hand and very gently began to slide down. "Oh my god, Eddie, you're so big, fuck," you moaned loudly, biting your mouth. He impulsively grabbed your hips tightly, squeezing you as if that would serve as catharsis. "It's so tight," he brought his face closer to your breasts. "Jump on me, baby, bounce hard on my dick. I know you love it, don't you?" he said between moans and sighs. Damn, you thought, where did he get such confidence out of nowhere? But the truth was that, inevitably, seeing you and hearing you moan about how big his cock was made him feel good. "Tell me you love it." "I love it-" You simply couldn't; with him thrusting in and out so hard, it was impossible. You were at it for about 10 minutes, five of which were spent with him fucking you on all fours. He thrust into you with a force you didn't know he had, moaning as loudly as you could and even biting the sheets and pillows to contain some of your noises. When you both came, you spent a few minutes lying in bed, breathing and trying to recover all your lost energy. "Did you like it?" you asked curiously. "That was the best experience of my entire life." You couldn't help but laugh slightly at his astonished face. "Well, I'm very glad-" "EDDIE!" a man's shout came from the entrance of the house. You both quickly get up and get dressed. "Who is it?" you ask worriedly. "That's my uncle," he whispers, approaching you. Without you being able to do anything else, and with Eddie still buttoning his pants, the door suddenly opens. "Damn, man, don't you know how to play?" the freak asks. "Oh shit, sorry, I wanted to know if it was you with all that noise…" Eddie quickly pushed his uncle out of the room and walked out into the small hallway with him.

You were red-faced with embarrassment, and inwardly grateful that he'd gotten his uncle out of the room. "How much did you hear?" the young man asks, concerned. Wayne sighs in disgust. "Things I wish I could erase from my memory." Eddie immediately squeezed his eyes shut, and was about to apologize. "Don't bother, just make sure I'm not home from work." He turns to leave, but something stops him in his tracks. "How did you do it?" "What do you mean?" "A cheerleader? Seriously, you? And a cheerleader?" he asks incredulously. Eddie looks at him, offended, and quickly gives him the finger. "Fuck off."

❀--❀--❀--❀--❀--❀

Leaving the cute weirdo's house was easy. Thank goodness his uncle was in bed, and you didn't have to say hello. How embarrassing. It was already the next day. Eddie was a little disappointed. He really didn't expect you to talk to him again unless you needed something illegal. And he clearly knew you weren't going to speak to him at school, which made him sad. He'd really had a great time, way beyond the sex. But he didn't know anything. It was lunchtime. The cafeteria, as always, was perfectly divided into its specific social groups. The black-haired man was with his group of friends, the social outcasts, the freaks, but he really wasn't paying attention to anything his friends were talking about. "Eddie," Dustin called, "what's wrong? Aren't you listening?" "Sorry, what were you saying?" But he didn't hear him either. He was too busy watching you sitting about two tables away, how beautiful your smile was, your long chocolate-brown hair, and your excellent figure… as if he were telepathically calling you. You turned around and both of you locked eyes. Although you smiled slightly at him, you quickly turned your head back to your friends. His disappointed gaze lowered to the table. "Shit," he whispered. He knew this would happen; you're super popular, but maybe, even though he doesn't want to admit it, he still had some hope… "Hey, Eddie," your soft voice sounded behind him. There was such a silence at the weirdo table that you could hear a bishop fall. Everyone stared at you, not understanding what was happening. How could you be at his table, and how do you even know the name of his friend, the freak king? Eddie slowly turned his head in disbelief. "Hey," he sighed, quickly standing up from the table to face you. "What are you doing here?" "What do you mean, I wanted to say hi, does that bother you?" "No, no, of course not," he quickly answered. "It's just that I didn't think you'd approach me at school, much less in the cafeteria," he laughed awkwardly. All his friends were still staring at them in disbelief; there was no way in this universe that what they were experiencing could be explained. "I already told you I don't care," you said tiredly. "I know, I just… it's just that I didn't think…" You had gotten that far; you couldn't listen to him anymore. You would do anything to make him understand that you didn't care what people said. And you did. Your arms quickly slid around his neck and your mouth connected with his, leaving all the boys at the table and some of your friends in the distance with their mouths on the floor. It was a tender kiss, immediately reciprocated by Eddie, who didn't even remember that he, the weird kid who plays monster games, was kissing the most beautiful girl in town, the friend of everyone at school, the girl everyone wanted to be with. "Please understand," you said between kisses. "I like you." Another kiss. "A lot." And the world stopped spinning for him. "Are you sure about what you're saying?" he said, unable to believe it. "Of course," you smiled, the two of you still sharing a beautiful closeness. "I'll expect you at my house today at 4 p.m. Bring plenty of clothes. I don't plan on letting you go for at least a week." With one last playful smile and one last kiss on those soft lips you loved so much, you walked away again. "Bye guys!" you greeted his friends as if it were an everyday occurrence. "What the fuck?" was all you heard from them.

[c4tluver02]

driving lesson

wc: 1.4k

Summary: Steve is teaching you how to drive, thanks to him you pick it up pretty quickly.

warnings: none!

a/n: hey guys im back from djour !!! i saw him in Arizona and oh my god guys.......... world stopping. i had barricade and i was in so much pain but genuinely the best time ever!!!! i <3 joe keery!!!!!! ok enjoy this :)

Today Steve is coming over to teach you how to drive. Now in Steve’s perfect world you'd never need to drive yourself anywhere, he’d always be there ready to take you wherever you need to be. But no, you asked him to teach you and who is he to say no to his girl? You're gonna be practicing in Steve's car which feels like a gift in itself. It’s common knowledge that only Steve drives his car, but somehow you made the exception. 

A honk from outside lets you know Steves here. You quickly slip your shoes on and head out the door. He’s stepping out of the car leaving the driver's door open for you to hop into. Greeting him as you walk towards the car, he meets you halfway and gives you a kiss. A gentle hand on your waist, happy to see you. 

“Ready to become a pro driver?” Steve asks with a smile on his face. 

You roll your eyes in response. You would be lying if you said you weren't just a little bit nervous. Not wanting to damage anything or upset Steve by doing something wrong. 

“I don't know if pro is the right word..” The uncertainty mixed within your words and Steve picks up on it. 

“There's nothing to be worried about angel, with me you'll get it in no time.” Steve gives a kiss to your temple and squeezes your hip. He quickly gets up from leaning against the car opening the door wider for you to enter. 

Going into the car and putting your seatbelt on Steve runs to the other side to do the same. 

“Kay, so you’re gonna need to fix the mirrors so that you can see out of it. You can move the seat too.” 

You follow his instructions changing the mirrors and seat. He’s taller than you and longer which means the mirrors on the side of the car need to be lowered and your seat needs to be scooted up. 

“Okay all good, what's next?” You ask ready, but also wanting to soak up as much information as you can.

“Now put the gear stick in drive but put your foot on the brake pedal so we don't move. Then when you're ready, let it go and gently push on the gas pedal!” He says it like it's the simplest thing in the world. 

All you can think about is how you're now in control of a large motor vehicle and can drive into a sidewalk within seconds. Listening to his directions you slowly press on the gas pedal and it launches you forward a bit. 

“Put your foot lower on the gas pedal, like, your toes should be at the bottom of it.” Steve says as he leans over the center console to see where you're placing your foot. Doing as he says Steve nods and you continue moving the car forward. 

“Great job baby! See you're doing so well already!” He says smiling ear to ear. 

“I’ve barely moved Steve, we're still in front of my house.” You say giving him a deadpanned look. 

“Okay fine, how about we turn to the next street? Go to the stop sign, use the blinker, and turn.” 

You're going like 10 miles per hour but you make it to the stop sign and press the break. Unfortunately the idea of keeping your foot low on the pedal only applied for the gas in your mind, making the stop forceful and rough. 

“Sorry sorry sorry!” It comes out so fast and it’s enough to embarrass you and make your face go a little red. 

“Hey it's okay. You’re doing great. You know why that happened?” He asks so gently and you can tell he's trying to make sure you don't have a breakdown 10 minutes in.

“My foot, I put it too high on the pedal and I pressed too hard?” Steve is nodding as you say it trying to confirm every word so you don't feel bad about it. 

“Exactly. See you know! You just made a little mistake, it's all good. You okay to turn?” 

You nod, following through with the turn and picking up your speed a bit to the regular 25 mph. 

“Okay now lets go left again and we can loop back around?” He asks not wanting to push you into doing more than you can handle. 

“Okay, maybe we can drive down to Dustin?” Dustin lives a few streets down from you. A great thing for Steve, ounces he's done babysitting he can see you. 

“Yeah? You like driving so far ?” The smirk on his face is big and wide. Knowing there was nothing to be worried about. You’re perfect at everything you do, this being no different. 

And not to make his ego any bigger but he's right. You are quickly getting the hang of it and he has made the process extremely easy. 

“Mhm yeah I guess it's alright.” You shrug but the giggle that comes out of you tells him you really like it. 

“Can we play some music?” You ask with a quiet tone. Not wanting to get out of the grove you're locked unto but becoming bored with the silence. 

“Of course, what are you thinkin’ baby?” Steve asks, digging straight into his bag of tapes that he has. Normally it's you handling the music so it stays on the passenger side. 

“Beatles?” It’s a staple in your relationship. Always something you both can agree on. 

“On it.” Steve doesn’t pay attention to the road as he finds a tape from the group and you gasp. Slamming on the breaks creating a screeching sound. Immediately his head shoots up, worried. 

When he sees what's in front of him a sigh comes out. Mike, Dustin, Will, and Lucas are on their bikes going straight towards the car. They are on the wrong side of the road and if they were going any faster, or simply too busy bickering to notice you, they would have hit the car. 

Steve rolls down his window and pokes his head out. “Trying to get run over huh?” 

The kids all collectively roll their eyes and bike over to the driver side window. More willing to talk to you than hearing Steve give them a stern warning. 

“What are you doing driving?” Mike asks you.

“Steve’s teaching me to drive.” You say simply giving Steve a small smile and he puts his hand on your thigh. 

“Wow I thought he'd force you to let him drive you around forever.” Dustin replies and Steve lets out a quick scoff. 

“You make me sound like some possessive psycho. She wanted to drive so now I'm teaching her.” Steve bites back defensively.

“Hey, it works for me. Now we have two people who can take us to the arcade.” Lucas says and Dustin high fives him for the idea. 

“There won't be any more arcade days if you keep biking on the wrong side of the road, idiots.” Steve’s leaning more towards your side, as if the closer he gets to the window the more they're gonna hear him and listen. 

“Yeah yeah, whatever old man. We gotta get back to Mikes, have fun driving, don't crash!” Dustin says, yelling the last part as they are already gone. 

“We should've just stuck to driving around the block.” Steve says, putting his hand to his head, squeezing his temples. 

You laugh at his dramatics and start to drive back to your place. It’s quick and smooth this time- you’re starting to get it. 

Once you make it back to yours you try to park close to the sidewalk but out of fear of hitting it you're a few feet too far. 

“Let's switch honey. I am gonna park it in the driveway.” Steve says give your temple a quick kiss before getting out. 

 You put the car in park and get out, your hands are sweaty and your shoulders release the tension. Glad to be back in the passenger seat. Steve quickly puts it in reverse and puts his hand on the head of the passenger seat to see the back. Reversing back into the driveway with ease and putting the car in park. 

“Next can you teach me how to do that?” You ask as if it’s some magic trick. 

“How about we practice more on the road driving and then we can get into parking. Deal?” He asks. You haven't even gone out of the cul de sac or onto busy streets or the freeway. 

“Deal.” You say grabbing his jaw to give his face a million little kisses. Steve’s all smiley when you go to give him a real kiss.

[sqgeism]

On a roll with the Anaxa fics! (i love him so much i cant even)

so, a bit specific; sometimes i bottle up emotions and get so anxious i might even get physically sick from it. what would phainon and anaxa do for reader when that happens? +anyone else you like

Thank you for reading. Don't do if this crosses boundaries

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | anaxa and phainon (seperate) x gender neutral reader

love mail — hellooo anonnie!! thank u i try my best w him and the others ( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ i hope you're alright!! i hope this request is up to standard and u enjoy also erm anaxa's is more nausea n stuff.. phainon is like. actual sickness. like you're unwell.. sick and stuff... sorry i wasn't sure so i did both ゜゜(´O｀)°゜

long before you got into a relationship, you understood how to handle yourself when your stomach began to churn in nausea. your own steps to stop it, or to recover afterwards.

anaxa watches as you fidget quietly, today was another experiment regarding his pursuit for knowledge- but it involved something physically violent for him. he knows you're more morally intact than him, more human, but he's not going to act above those feelings. he cares for you, even if it's hard to see upon first glance.

"sorry." you see him staring, and force yourself to hold it together. but anaxa isn't having it.

he puts away whatever he was focused on, but the confrontation makes it worse. you don't wanna ruin his experiment, so you abruptly stand. "please excuse me. don't wait, just continue."

he blinks as you walk off, out of his lab and back to the hallways. it doesn't take long for him to follow, noticing how you frantically down a cup of water.

anaxa puts two and two together. he's not stupid, he knows your habits, he knows you.

before you can even reach out to the cabinets, he's already opening them and reaching for crackers that you leave for moments like this. he pops a bag and passes a cracker to you, his expression stern but caring. "i noticed these help you, please, eat it slowly."

once his hands are free, anaxa opens the kitchen window to let in fresh air. then you notice, that he's noticed. he knows how to help, he's learned how to help, and you've never realized it before. "is there anything else you need?" the utter concern snaps you out of your daze, and anaxa's suddenly looming over you now, his knuckles brush against your cheek and his eye is fixed on your face. studying you for any more signs of discomfort.

"i won't be continuing with the experiment today," he sees how your face shifts and shakes his head. "don't worry, i'll find something else to do. i'm realizing now that my experiment has too many risks, yet the only one i care about is the one that tells me that you'll be upset with me."

the sage brings you into his arms, having you close as he buries himself in your hair. "please, never be upset with me."

phainon doesn't want to scold you, but he really wants to. though you don't need that right now, especially with the fact you've had such a shit week and the fact you're bedridden.

he's cuddling you while you rest, listening to you snore as he's behind you, your head on his bicep and legs tangled together. he'd say it would make it hard to leave, but he has no plans to. so he doesn't care.

you two often had conversations about how you handle emotions. you were still navigating that realm of your relationship after being an independent person for so long, and phainon understood that it would take time.. but moments like this made him worry. had his heart aching, wishing he could do more.

he wasn't able to catch on that you were bottling it up either, you were good, he'll give you that. but you could've gone to him, he knows you don't want to be a bother but he prays that you'd 'bother' him. that you'd choose to focus your attention on him, for anything. because he'll be there, aeon forbid he's halfway across the universe cause he'll do anything to go back home, to you.

"i wish you'd trust me more." he knows you're sleeping, but he doesn't mind. he hopes that these words reach you while you're at least at peace. "i'd never force you to, i promise. but it really does something to me whenever this happens and i feel powerless to help." phainon chuckles in a way that's completely robbed of any humor. "i'm a chrysos heir, for aeon's sake. i can handle whatever outburst you throw at me that you'll think i'll be upset over."

his hand ghosts over your hair, slowly caressing you. "but i'll never be. i'll never be upset, not at you. and not when you're just experiencing stress."

he brings his mouth to your ear, whispering. "i love you. i love you, and you know that. so let me take care of you."

he notices how you shiver slightly.

that's when phainon lets out a genuine laugh, stopping you from squirming away from him.

[elodieunderglass]

I have a fictional horse question and I would appreciate your perspective!

I read all of Tamora Pierce without being or becoming a horse girl. But! A fic idea I have been rotating in my head for months needs a Horse Response and I can’t rotate the idea without it.

Peachblossom, a strawberry roan gelding who is tricksy, bitey, and grumpy, has just saved the life of a person he has previously annoyed. Person (and the other people present) respectfully thank Peachblossom for doing so. And Peachblossom gives a Horse Response, to the effect of “you’re very welcome; I’m very wonderful; apples plz.”

What might that look like? I’ve put in a series of complicated ear flicks as a placeholder but it doesn’t feel correct.

Thank you for any horse thoughts you may have! It’s been very fun learning about Killie and his entourage. I’m particularly fond of Derek.

(killie the jockey OC's tumblr tag) Aww that's very kind! I'm continually amazed by meeting new people who say they're fond of Killie and his absurd network.

Peachblossom!! EXCELLENT hateful and independent strawberry roan representation! I remember him.

One sweet way that horses show affection and build bonds is to share breath. it's as sweet as it sounds. they place their foreheads close to each other, touch noses, and gently blow air from their noses into each other's nostrils. that serves as general greeting, kiss, affection, scent-sharing, gratitude, and various other expressions of intimacy, kinship, and/or friendship. in the image below they are being VERY sweet and completely pressing their faces together (saying LOVE LOVE LOVE and PEACE PEACE PEACE.)

I'll go into more detail below

if you want to do this with a horse, you should empty your mind and try to be relaxed and peaceful and indicate psychically that you want to do it. they'll usually have to put their head down for you to reach.

Another thing horses do to each other is to scratch each other's withers - the high point of the shoulder. they do it like this, which is super cute and heart-shaped:

they cannot reach this space of the body for themselves, and so this is especially delicious Prize Scratching Opportunity. to scratch each other's withers, they stand shoulder to shoulder and nibble each other with their teeth. it is Extremely Good. if you want to do this to a horse, you can usually offer to do it by saying something friendly and putting your hand on their shoulder - if they move away, they don't want it. scratches will normally be received well (only do this with horses that you're allowed to touch, of course, and upon invitation.)

various horses may do these things to each other in various different ways (or not at all). we are also differently shaped from horses. so the body language can be funny in translation. Horses actually do recognise this, though.

I had a horse friend once (a big stupid retired Thoroughbred - he wasn't mine, he just lived with my friend's horse) who would lovingly reciprocate a withers-scratch by wrapping his neck around my body to delicately, gently and respectfully remove my ponytail holder with his teeth and lips. this, to him, was the equivalent in body language. You can see EXACTLY how his mind was working! reach a high point of the body that SEEMS kind of like withers, this is where the mane is on humans, isn't it - this is the highest point - I'll give it a nice - OH you've got a big knot there!! I'll get it out for you!! Don't worry, I'm exceptionally popular BECAUSE I'm so good at grooming. OH MAN IT WAS ONE OF THESE THINGS AGAIN! you're always picking these up! do you roll around in them?! and then he would carefully give the hair elastic to you, with his mouth. Can you imagine - how careful and gentle he had to be to do that. And of course the correct thing is to say: "WOW big guy thanks SO much!!!!" and resign yourself to having a certain amount of green horse-smelling grass-slime in your hair. that, you see, is an expression of genuine cross-species love and communication - an invitation to love and be loved as a fellow member of the planet - and is to be treasured, even if you stink now and didn't really want your hair down.

And finally, a horse that thinks you are going to give it some treats will nuzzle and mouth at your clothing to find where you are keeping the treats. in case you have temporarily forgotten that there are treats in your clothing. their lips are surprisingly mobile. hi. hello. horses get treats.

those are all things that nice horses do.

now, horrible and rude horses do exist. they all have different personalities. they are extremely social animals. in an ordinary horse social life they will have size differences (sometimes quite significant!), dominance structures, breed differences, and multiple-species friendships. and therefore, each horse will initiate contact or express emotion in a different way.

a CHEEKY way to express affection, for example, can be just straight-up knocking a human over with their face. that's because a charming, kind and sweet thing for a horse to do to another horse is to firmly press faces together and share breath; the human/horse equivalent (as polite and intelligent horses know perfectly well) is to carefully imitate this by lowering their nose to your face level so you can blow in their nostrils with your little tiny face; the CHEEKY thing to do is to whack you with their nose and blow pneumatic amounts of snot on you. GET LOVED IDIOT. SNOTTED ALSO. and then laugh about it.

I can imagine that being in line with Peachblossom's sense of humour (not that I remember him especially well.)

tossing his head and arching his neck and dancing a bit to do a bit of stallion-ish showing off (I am tremendously gorgeous, aren't I) and then getting serious and calm and still for a second and putting his head down as if to nuzzle and share breath (I do actually like you a little bit) and when you fall for it, a very slight headbutt (hahahahaaahahaha you THOUGHT! you THOUGHT!!!!) followed by WHERE'S THE FOOD LMAO.

[hellsslibrary]

I have a request for you!! How about a Sae being fucked after he lost a match and frustrated he fights with the reader, one thing leads to another and he ends up crying while the reader penetrates him.

CAN YOU DO IT PLEASE, I WOULD APPRECIATE IT VERY MUCH, I DON'T SPEAK ENGLISH, I SPEAK SPANISH, BUT I LOVE WHAT YOU WRITE.

Thanks!

MASTERLIST is here.

#a.n. : hey, bitches. Don't ask where I've been, you can assume that life has been too good and I've been in heaven for the last... A couple months(?) and I have 89 requests. I'll do them, yeah. I'll try, really hard. I'll do a couple today. ,

!!Warnings: top!male!reader, bottom!Sae, Sae is slightly more dominant but there's no dom/sub, crying (obviously), by the way, it's mostly hurt/comfort, not sexual contact, but a little later in the beginning and at the very end it's still there (I was drawn to something more tragic, and I also just can't imagine Sae crying during sex, so I did it emotionally), pretty wholesome overall!!

"You... regret giving that ball away, huh?" The question escapes your lips as Sae rewinds the footage of his match for the thirty-seventh time, probably trying to get something across to you, himself, or both of you.

"No regrets. I'm annoyed. If I knew that striker was that bad..." Sae sighs, running a hand through his hair, and then turns his gaze to you.

And his eyes are surprisingly thoughtful as he pokes your chest lightly and then just pushes you, causing your figure to fall onto the couch, and he is hovering over you, stroking the curve of your chin.

"You're going to fuck me... Now," Sae says it a little hesitantly, not wanting to force you to do anything, especially just out of spite, but his eyes immediately widen when you switch him and you, instead pressing him to the couch.

And here we are...

"You're always so tight after matches, you know?" a rhetorical question escapes your lips and you feel Sae's palm on your ass squeeze.

"All my muscles are tense... It's normal," Sae mutters, looking down, watching how your cock disappears and reappears inside him.

And this time, for some reason, it really fascinates him. The older Itoshi exhales sharply, looking up at your face, which immediately becomes slightly worried when you see his clouded gaze... Which shouldn't have appeared in the first round.

"Is it okay? We can stop or..." you stop your movements, but squeak when you feel his heel kicking your thigh, and you resume the pace, and he just shakes his head and whispers: "It's okay, really. Don't be an idiot, you haven't fucked me properly yet."

Sae's voice twitched slightly at the end, when the head of your dick rested exactly where it should. And his hands instinctively grabbed your shoulders, pressing your body into his own and his breath caught when he felt your warm, rapid breath on the skin of his neck.

That fucking moment with the ball continues to spin in his head. That cocky smile of that brunette when he said he would score. His own perfect, beautiful pass... And that one-celled bastard sends the ball fifteen meters beyond the net.

Why does he really care so much? He shouldn't care, it's not his fault he trusted that idiot. He would have stuck with Sae anyway, but there was still a feeling of anxiety in his heart back then, a feeling of fucking insecurity that he least wanted to feel now. Right now, he should feel amazing when you penetrate him, hug you, kiss you, listen to your stupid compliments and let you know how good he feels.

But he couldn't.

He thought it would make him get rid of everything. Of course it feels good. Who wouldn't feel good when their man holds them so carefully and does all this to their body? But this... It's just not like usual.

Sae feels an unpleasant lump in his throat, which he can't swallow, and a traitorous sob escapes his lips. His shoulders are shaking. The legs wrapped around your hips fall. And his cold hands immediately cover his face.

You stop immediately, not expecting him to cry. Well, not during sex, obviously. Does it hurt? Or maybe he doesn't like it? Are you overdoing it? You...

"Get out of me."

Four quiet words break you out of your thoughts and you immediately pull out your dick and Sae removes one hand from his face, which was already tear-stained, his eyes and nose turned bright red and he looked into your eyes.

"What happened? Did I do something wrong, Sae?" you ask hesitantly, and he just shakes his head and kisses the corner of your lips so that you don't worry too much, and then buries his face in your chest, just shaking and soaking your T-shirt with tears.

"I don't know why I'm crying," the Japanese mumbles, clinging to you like a cat clinging to a radiator in winter. He seeks comfort in you, such a rare, but such a necessary consolation for the shaky balance in his soul.

You just hug him and kiss the top of his head, burying his face in the midfielder's disheveled hair, starting to rock him in your arms and humming some melody. Even if it was stupid or you couldn't sing and it sounded out of tune. Just to let Sae know he wasn't alone, to affect almost all of his senses.

"... Do you want me to beat him up?" You ask as the shaking in his shoulders subsides slightly, though the crying continues judging by the liquid seeping through the fabric onto your chest.

"Seriously? If I tell you to kill him, you will?" He asks, wiping his face, exhaling shakily, trying to catch his breath and then looking up at you.

"Only if you visit me in prison."

Sae snorts at this, but says nothing, because words are unnecessary here. Completely unnecessary, his hands fall on your shoulders and he climbs into your lap, looking into your eyes, and then kisses the tip of your nose.

"I will."

You blush slightly at this, which makes Sae smile a little, almost imperceptibly. Just a slight upturn of the corners of her lips, and then it turns into something more sly.

"I owe you, don't I?"

He asks and you twitch as he takes your now semi-hard cock and lifts his hips, rubbing the rim of it right against the head.

"What? Sae— Fuck!" You breathe out, grabbing his hips as he sits down on your cock in one easy motion... Well, at least you comforted the man you love, right?

"Relax. It's your turn to cry, love," Sae mumbles, leaning down to your neck, kissing the crook of your shoulder and neck, starting to move his hips in a figure eight, and your cock immediately begins to harden again, causing Sae to only moan in pleasure.

[art-by-jas]

"You Deserve to Be Happy."

Andrew 'Pope' Cody x Reader

WC: 3.5k

Tags: Established Relationship, Cunnilingus, PinV Sex, Vaginal Sex, Sub!Pope Cody, Dom-ish!You, Praise Kink, Riding, Sad Baby Boy!Pope

A/N: I want it to be known I have not seen a full episode of this show; I have been just skimming episodes for his scenes, so I hope this is sorta on point with his character. Also, this is different than my usual smut; this is more descriptive and less dialogue, and I don't know how I feel about it cause I usually don't like reading that, but I'm happy with it and hope you enjoy it.

Pope stands at your front door, a silent figure cast in the dim porch light. His hands are trembling slightly as he waits for you to greet him. His shoulders are tense, and his face is flushed with anxiety. Once the door opens, he refuses to meet your gaze, instead fixating on a spot on the floor.

"Pope, you okay?" you ask, eyebrows creasing with worry. Pope's eyes meet yours, wide and full of an odd mixture of emotions. It's like he's staring straight into your soul, trying to communicate something without words. He shakes his head "no," his gaze unblinking. You notice that Pope's whole body is trembling, his hands vibrating. Whatever has brought him here at this late hour has gotten under his skin. 

He gives a slight nod, his grip on you relaxing somewhat. "Yeah," he mumbles, his voice unsteady. You lead him through the door and over to your couch, encouraging him to sit down. He does so, his eyes unfocused, as if his mind were somewhere else entirely. Taking a seat beside him, you observe him. His hands are balled into tight fists, and you notice the visible tension in his jaw and the dirt on his clothes.

Taking a step closer, you try to calm him with a steady voice. "Just breathe," you say. You cautiously envelop Pope in a tight hug, and he appears to freeze at first. As he feels your touch, he melts into your embrace, hugging you back tightly. He rests his head on your shoulder, his grip on you becoming almost desperate, as if he is clinging to you for dear life.

With Pope still hanging on to you, you gently ask, "Do you want to come inside?"

"Are you okay?" you ask softly, trying to meet his eyes. He's silent, and you don't know if it's because he didn't hear you or because he doesn't want to answer. You lean in and ask, "Do you want to talk about what's wrong?" Pope shakes his head, but his silence isn't the nonchalant, dismissive sort.

Eventually, he takes a deep breath and blurts out, voice barely above a whisper, "I hurt someone tonight." His words hang in the air. The guilt on his face is unmistakable, a mixture of shame and regret that seems permanently etched across his features. Whatever happened, it has carved a deep mark on him.

He looks up suddenly, desperation swimming in his gaze. "I just want to forget about it—about hurting someone," he says, and his voice cracks, filled with a raw, aching honesty. "I want to do good. I need to make you feel good." His words tumble out in a rush, a jumble of emotions barely held together. “That's why I came here," he continues, almost imploring now. "Because I know I can be better. I just need—" He pauses, searching for the right words, or maybe just the courage to say them. His pleading gaze in his eyes silently asks for your understanding and support.

There are so many questions swimming through your mind, but you push them aside. Right now, what Pope needs is reassurance, a lifeline. 

The vulnerability in his eyes is almost painful. 

You hold his gaze, speaking softly, "It's okay."

Your words are more than just a gentle whisper of understanding and acceptance. You want him to know that you don't judge him, that whatever he's done doesn't define him.

"I—" he starts, but the words fade into a heavy sigh. "I don't know what to do," he finally mutters.

You move in nearer, and your closeness is a calming comfort. "That's alright," you reassure him. "You don't have to figure it all out right now."

Pope's jaw clenches. "I messed up," he whispers, more to himself than to you. A part of you wants to ask what happened—what he did—but you restrain yourself. Now is not the time for questions. Now, he needs comfort.

You reach out tentatively, your hand hovering above his arm, undecided. "Can I touch you?" you ask, your voice soft. There's a moment of hesitation, then he nods. As you place your hand tenderly on his arm, you feel him tense, his muscles rigid under your touch. But he doesn't pull away.

"It's going to be okay," you murmur, "I'm here for you."

The tension in Pope's body relaxes ever so slightly, as if your words, your presence, are slowly unraveling the knots of anxiety within him. 

"I don't deserve your kindness," he finally mutters, the words barely audible, almost choked out. Your heart breaks for him. You don't reply immediately, simply allowing your hand to remain on his arm, silently showing your support. You reach out tentatively, gently cupping his face in your hands. His skin is warm, the rough stubble on his cheeks prickly against your palms. For a moment, Pope freezes, surprised by the intimacy of your touch. But as your fingers gently graze his jawline, he seems to melt into your touch and closes his eyes, the tension in his face softening just a fraction.

Your fingers trace the contours of his face, feeling the heat of his skin. With gentle certainty, you lean forward and press a soft, almost chaste kiss to his lips. Pope's eyes fly open, surprise mixing with a raw vulnerability. For a moment, he seems frozen in place, as if your kiss has caught him off guard. But then, slowly, unexpectedly, he responds, returning the kiss, tentative yet yearning. You can feel the tension in his body melting away as he relaxes into your touch, his lips moving against yours in a silent plea for more.

"It's okay," you whisper, your fingers still cradling his face, anchoring him to the moment. "It's okay to want this. It's okay to need comfort." His hands, which had previously hung limply by his sides, slowly rise to rest on your waist, his touch hesitant, as if he's afraid of breaking something. 

With a determined yet tender grip, you take his hand in yours and guide him off the couch, leading him towards the bedroom. Your touch is gentle but firm, providing a steady anchor for him.

As you lead him into the bedroom, the room seems to shrink around you, becoming a bubble of intimacy. The outside world, with all its pain and guilt, feels far away, momentarily forgotten.

The room is softly lit, the ambiance intimate and soothing. You guide him towards the bed, your actions slow and measured, giving him plenty of time to back out if he wants to. 

"Sit down," you instruct softly, your voice a comforting command. Pope obeys, sinking onto the mattress. His gaze remains fixed on you, waiting for your next move. You sit down next to him. There's a moment of tension, a hesitation in the air. But then, before you can say anything, Pope leans in.

His lips find yours, his hand reaching up to cup your cheek, holding you in place as he kisses you, fiercely and tenderly all at once. You return the kiss, your mouth moving against his with a tender fervor. Your fingers find their way to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer still. 

"I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." He responds with a soft moan, his grip on you tightening, his body pressing against yours. The kiss grows more desperate, his tongue sliding into your mouth.

As the kiss continues, a hint of confidence returns to Pope. His hand, which had been trembling, now moves more assuredly, gently trailing down the side of your body. His fingers find the waistband of your shorts, and without hesitation, he undoes the button. There's a sense of urgency in his movements, as if he's desperate to please you, to distract himself from the pain that's eating at him. He ignores your shirt, focusing solely on the task at hand—getting closer to you, losing himself in the physical connection.

Pope pulls away from the kiss; with a rough, throaty voice, he gasps, "Can I—can I taste you? Please," he breathes, the words exhaling against your skin. He leans in, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, his lips burning a trail towards your throat. "Let me worship you."

A shiver runs down your spine at his words, his hot breath against your skin. "Yes," you murmur, your voice rough with desire. "Yes, please."

As his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your underwear, Pope lets out a low, guttural moan. He feels your wetness, his fingers gliding over your sensitive folds. His eyes darken, a new hunger sparking within him.

"Jesus," he breathes, his voice thick with desire. "You're soaked." Pope withdraws his hand from your underwear, his fingers glistening with your arousal. His eyes lock onto yours as he brings his wet fingers to his mouth, licking them clean, a low groan escaping his throat at the taste. His gaze never leaves yours as he sucks his fingers. "You taste so damn good," he growls, his voice rough with need.

With a slow, deliberate movement, he withdraws his fingers from his mouth, a thin string of saliva still connecting them to his lips. "I need more," he breathes, his voice dropping an octave. 

His hands move to your waist, gripping tightly as he positions himself between your thighs. The need in his eyes is almost feral, a hunger that threatens to consume him. His hands glide down your thighs, his fingertips following the same path, sending shivers up your spine. He pushes your shirt up but does not remove it as he moves lower, his mouth trailing behind, leaving a path of warm, gentle kisses on your stomach and your hips. He hesitates, his lips lingering near the edge of your underwear, his breath warm against your skin.

Without breaking eye contact, he dips his head lower, his mouth finding the damp fabric of your underwear. He presses a kiss to the thin barrier, his tongue flicking out to taste you through the cotton. The touch is light and teasing, and yet it sends a jolt of desire through you. 

A moan escapes your lips, your body arching towards him, seeking more contact. "God, Pope," you breathe, your voice ragged with arousal. "That feels so good." His eyes darken at the sound of your voice, your pleasure fueling his need.

He pushes your underwear aside, and his mouth is on you, hot and demanding. His tongue slides against your folds, flicking over your clit briefly before moving down to taste you fully. He groans against you, the vibrations sending bolts of pleasure. He alternates between quick, intense strokes and unhurried, gentle circles, each movement drawing a new sound from your lips. Your fingers naturally weave into his curls. 

"You taste amazing," he whispers, his eyes meeting yours. His hands find your hips, his fingers pressing firmly as he draws you back toward him.

"You're doing so good," you gasp, your fingers pulling at his curls. His tongue flickers over your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through you. "So good," you repeat, your voice breaking. "No one has ever made me feel like this," you whisper, your eyes locked on his. He responds to your praise with a moan, the sound muffled against your skin. He flattens his tongue against your clit, applying steady, firm pressure. You can feel him getting lost in the act, his focus entirely on your pleasure, his movements growing more intense. "Don't stop," you breathe, your fingers tightening in his hair. "Please, don’t stop." 

Pope feels you trembling, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. He knows you're close, right on the edge, and he wants to push you further. He picks up the pace, his tongue working faster.

He pulls away just long enough to lock eyes with you, his gaze intense and needy. "Come for me," he growls, his voice low but commanding. "Come on my tongue."

Your body tenses at his words, the rough demand in his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You're so close, right on the edge, and the combined assault of his mouth and those words is all it takes to push you over. You cry out, your body arching off the bed, your fingers digging into the sheets as you come undone. 

As you come down from your climax, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath, you look down at Pope, still between your legs. It's clear from the look on his face that he would gladly keep going all day, his need for you unquenchable. But you know that you both need a moment, and so you gently tug at his hair, signaling for him to stop. He obeys, his mouth leaving your sensitive flesh, but not before he gives one final, tender lick. He raises his head, his gaze roaming your face as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

With a determined push, you roll him onto his back, straddling his hips. His hands grip your thighs, fingers digging into the flesh as he looks up at you, his gaze filled with an almost animalistic desire. His chest heaves with each ragged breath.

You run your fingers through his hair, your touch gentle and praising. "You look so pretty," you whisper. You lean down, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, then trailing down his cheek. Your words make him squirm slightly beneath you, a soft flush staining his cheeks. He reaches up to help you remove his shirt, the fabric skimming up his torso before being discarded, forgotten in a moment.

You pause, eyes roaming over his exposed chest, taking in the expanse of freckles that dot his skin like a spattering of paint. They're everywhere, and you find yourself entranced, the urge to trace each one of them nearly overwhelming. You reach to gently touch his chest, your fingers tracing over the freckles, a soft smile playing on your lips. "You have so many freckles," you murmur, your touch tender as you map out the constellations on his skin.

Your touch is gentle as you lean down to kiss him, your lips meeting in a soft, but heated, kiss. As you do so, you grind down, your body pressing against his hardness, the friction eliciting a soft gasp from his lips. Your fingers trail along his skin, tracing the line of his shoulders, the curve of his biceps, and the planes of his chest, leaving a trail of wildfire in your wake.

You pull away from the kiss, your breath fanning across his face as you look down at him, your gaze filled with a burning desire. "I want to ride you, is that okay?" your voice a low, breathy purr against his lips.

He groans at your words, the sound a mix of pleasure and need. "God, yes," he breathes, his grip on your hips tightening. His eyes lock on to yours, his gaze searing, almost feral in its intensity.

You lean down, your breath hot against his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. "Is that what you want, sweetheart? Do you want me to ride you?"

A rough gasp escapes his lips as he nods. His breaths are ragged, his body trembling with pent-up need. "Yes," he whispers, the word a desperate plea. "Yes. I want it."

"Good boy," you murmur, your lips brushing against his earlobe as you lean in even closer. "I'm going to make you feel so good." Your hands slide down his chest, nails raking lightly against his skin.

His reaction is immediate, his breath catching in his throat, a soft moan escaping his lips. As if those simple words carried a magnetic force, drawing out a response in him that was both raw and visceral.

"You like it when I call you that, don't you?" you ask, your voice a low purr.

He nods weakly, his words coming out in ragged gasps. "Yes," he manages to say, his voice thick with desire. "I love it."

You grin at his response, your gaze filled with a mix of lust and affection. You reach back, pushing his shorts down, revealing his leaking cock. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, you guide it up and down your drenched pussy. With a moan of pleasure, he can hardly believe what's happening. He looks you in the eye, as if to make sure this is real, before his eyes roll back as you slowly sink down his length.

His body trembles beneath you, his hands clenching and unclenching. "Oh God," he mutters, his voice ragged. "You're so... perfect."

You moan, feeling the stretch of him until he is at the hilt. Your head vibrates as you get used to him. The feeling of you gripping him tight almost drives him crazy, and he has to fight from coming right then and there. He grips your hips tightly, his fingers digging into your skin, as he tries to keep himself in check. 

He looks up at you with a mix of adoration and desperation, his head tossed back into the pillow. "You feel so good," he croaks. "So goddamn good.”

You start to move, lifting your hips up and down slowly, your pace unhurried.

You lean down, your face close to his, your breath fanning across his skin. "You're doing so good," you whisper, your voice soft. "Just relax. I've got you."

He nods, struggling to keep himself together, the sensations overwhelming him. "I'm trying," he mutters, his voice gravelly. "It's just... You feel so good. I don't know how long I can last like this."

Your hand reaches down, tracing the line of his jaw, the gesture one of comfort. "You don't have to hold back," you murmur. "I want you to feel good. Just let go."

His grip on you tightens again, this time as if to keep himself grounded, to prolong the moment for as long as possible. He manages a shaky nod, his breathing ragged as he forces himself to hold on just a bit longer. "I want to make you feel good too," he whispers, his voice a mix of need and desperation. "Please."

Your desire builds, fueled by his words and by the way he's holding you, as if his life depends on it. "You are," you rasp, "you are making me feel so damn good."

He groans, his eyes fluttering shut again, unable to keep them open as pleasure washes over him. "I won't last much longer," he manages to gasp out.

You lean down, your lips finding his neck, kissing and nibbling the sensitive skin. "Just let go," you whisper. "Let go and come in me. Need to feel you, Andrew." Your lips trail along his neck, teeth scraping against his skin, as you mark him as yours.

He lets out a desperate moan, the sound of pure need. "Say my name again," he whispers, his eyes still squeezed shut. "Say it again, please." The words are ragged, almost desperate, as if he needs to hear you say it to make it real.

"Andrew," you breathe against his skin, the word barely a whisper, but it echoes loudly in the room. "Andrew, let go. Come for me, baby."

That's all it takes, your words and the sound of his name on your tongue, for him to finally tip over the edge. He comes with a guttural moan, filling you with hot white stripes of his come. He gasps your name, the broken syllables falling from his lips like a prayer.

You rest your forehead against his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart against your skin, the sweat on his skin mingling with yours. His grip on you tightens briefly before softening, his body starting to relax even as you lean against him. There are no words, not yet, just the quiet aftermath of pleasure, the sound of ragged breathing filling the room.

After a moment, his hand comes up to run through your hair, his touch tender and lingering. "You are so goddamn good to me," he mutters, his voice still hoarse. "I don't know what I did to deserve you."

You lift your head, looking at him with a soft smile, your touch gentle as you tuck a lock of hair behind his ear. "You deserve to be happy," you say firmly.

"You think so?" he asks, his voice quieter than usual.

"I know so," you respond.

 You look him in the eye, your gaze steady and sincere, wanting him to understand that you mean every word. "Now, are you going to tell me what happened tonight?"

He leans up, capturing your lips in a soft, tender kiss. It's a silent reassurance, a gesture of trust, before he pulls away just enough to look into your eyes. "Tomorrow," he says softly. "I'll tell you everything tomorrow."

You nod, accepting his word, your trust in him overriding your curiosity. "Tomorrow," you repeat, leaning into his touch. 

He pulls you close, tucking you against him, your head resting on his chest. You can hear the steady beat of his heart, the sound soothing, a lullaby that soothes your racing thoughts. He's silent for a while, his fingers tracing soft, lazy circles on your skin, the simple contact a quiet comfort. You start to doze off.  

Just as you're hovering on the edge of sleep, you hear him speak, his words soft and murmured against your hair. "Thank you," he whispers, his voice carrying a weight of gratitude. "For staying."

MASTERLIST 

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Apparently we are asking sex Ed questions now?? Somehow a tumblr ask bow is easier to unload into than a doctor.

I masturbate over my clothes (use my underwear to create friction, basically) because I am way too scared of penetration. I have looked at diagrams and tried every which way on the internet to get past this, but it simply does not work.

That is, however, not my issue. My issue is that after a while of the rubbing, my legs tremble and touching my self again feels bad, but from what I've read about orgasms, it feels different? Like, every post about it says if you're questioning if it was an orgasm, it wasn't one, but it's the strongest feeling I've gotten in my many years of masturbating. I've tried continuing even after that point, but it just... doesn't get any better. Am I doing something wrong? Do I need to have penetration to feel good?

hi anon,

so, first off, no, you don't ever need to do penetration if you don't want to.

secondly, listen: don't worry about whether or not you're having orgasms. literally irrelevant. do you like what you're doing? does it feel good? are you stopping when it doesn't feel good? okay, awesome. those are the only things that matter. you can't get a bad grade in what makes you feel good.

it's very normal for the clitoris to become too sensitive for continued stimulation after a while, hence why it wouldn't feel good anymore, but it's also possible that rubbing through your underwear is creating too much friction with not enough lube. you don't have to directly touch yourself, although I will respectfully point out that there's a lot of middle ground between "rubbing over the clothes" and "full vaginal penetration" - tons of people get a lot of mileage out of just touching their clitoris without putting anything in their vagina (it's me hi!!!), and that can be a lot gentler on the clit. either way, a little cheap, water-based lube could go a long way!

[heesngirl]

Synopsis : In a city where luxury and danger coexist behind shiny facades, The Sentinel introduces Lee Heeseung, a tactical agent whose life revolves around vigilance, precision and a single priority: protecting the person most important to him. The story kicks off in the midst of a mission that, while seemingly routine, soon reveals itself to be part of something bigger, more tangled and much more personal. Between covert threats, tensions within the team, miscalculations and a briefcase that could change everything, Heeseung faces not only operational risks, but also his own emotional limits. With a narrative that oscillates between suspense, action and a deep bond that is unnamed but felt on every scene, this story marks the beginning of something far more complex than a simple operation: a silent war between the professional and the personal.

Warning : EA/BDG Heeseung x Painter reader. dom! Heeseung, pet names, loss of virginity, oral sex (both), fingering, P in V, unprotected sex, cumshot, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, smut, mdni.

Count : 26k (Part. 1)

The icy wind was a constant on the rooftop, cutting like blades as it engulfed the men in their positions. From that vantage point, Seoul stretched out like a mosaic of moving lights, a potentially hostile terrain under the team's meticulous gaze. Heeseung remained motionless, his body in controlled tension as he scanned the target building through the scope of his sniper rifle.

The communicator frequency remained static for a second before Jake broke the silence.

— System operating stable. CCTV cameras are under control. But, if you ask me, the guy in the orange tie is still my prime suspect, if only for the visual attack. — Sim spoke, even wanting to add some humor to lighten the tension.

— Focus your resources, Jake — Heeseung replied in a low but firm voice. He turned his body slightly, adjusting his rifle to compensate for a wind current that had changed direction. The scope's laser remained fixed on one of the building's upper-level windows. — Prioritize the VIP area where Jongseong is. The threat is more likely concentrated there.

A few meters away, Sunghoon leaned against the edge of the building, his rifle mounted on a tripod for stability.

— Maybe we should start with him. Although the crime here is probably bad taste. — Sunghoon added, following the Australian's lead.

However, Heeseung didn't take his eyes off the scope.

— Sunghoon, focus. South window, level five. Do you see any movement? — Lee's demands made it clear he wasn't in the mood for jokes right now.

Sunghoon adjusted his scope, scanning the indicated area with precision.

_ Negative. Only the service team. Movement patterns match previous reports. No anomalies.

Jake chimed in again, the sound of his fingers typing almost as steady as his voice.

— Section B, levels three and four, checked. No signs of hostile activity. By the way, Chief, how do you feel knowing your lady is under the protection of a rookie?

Heeseung's silence lasted a moment, but it was long enough for Sunghoon to click his tongue softly.

— Come on, Jake. Don't push him. We know he hates delegating his personal security. It's like someone else is carrying his favorite weapon.

Jake chuckled before continuing.

— Favorite weapon? I'd say it's his entire arsenal. Although, Heeseung, I'm told the new bodyguard looks better than you in a suit. I'd start to worry. You could be out of a job.

The sound of Heeseung's lips tightening was almost audible over the line. He adjusted his position, recalibrating the rifle to ensure the wind wouldn't affect the shot's trajectory if necessary.

— Jake, if you keep talking, you'll be my next target.

The communicator filled with muffled laughter until Jongseong's voice cut in earnestly.

— Shut up and keep the channel clear. I'm surrounded by people who would pay to make me disappear, and their chatter isn't helping my concentration.

— Situation report, Jongseong. — Heeseung ordered, returning to his authoritative tone.

— Everything seems calm. Standard behavior pattern. Although there are a couple of guests with unusually calculated movements. They're in the northwest corner of the main hall. However, it could be paranoia. — Jongseong replied, a faint echo of tension in his voice.

— Paranoia is useful. Mark their location and maintain visual distance. — Heeseung indicated, activating his targeting laser and focusing it on the room. The intersection between what he saw in his visor and Jake's heat map gave him complete coverage of the area.

Jake cleared his throat, capturing everyone's attention before speaking.

— I'm setting up a facial recognition scan. Give me a minute.

— You don't have a minute, Heeseung replied with a snarl. He quickly scanned the horizon, looking for any sign of an approaching drone or hostile equipment. — Speed, Jake.

—I've got it, I've got it — Jake began rattling off information. — Man one: Japanese businessman, no suspicious record. Man two: Chinese businessman, history of money laundering, but nothing linking him to terrorist activity.

— Monitor them closely, Heeseung ordered.

Sunghoon raised his head slightly at Lee, his tone heavy with skepticism.

— Are we sure this mission isn't a waste of time?

Heeseung glared at him before answering.

— It's on these "quiet" missions that things tend to go to hell. Stay alert.

The channel returned to silence, except for the soft whirring of electronic equipment and the echo of the wind against the buildings. Heeseung couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. His training had taught that calm was never a good omen.

— Jake, any anomalies in the thermal readings? — he finally asked.

— Negative. Everything is within normal parameters. — Jake replied. His tone, though relaxed, had a slight tremor.

— Something's off... — Heeseung muttered to himself, but his team heard it anyway.

Sunghoon adjusted his posture, straightening slightly.

— Do you have a bad feeling?

— I always do. — Heeseung inhaled deeply, his fingers brushing the rifle's trigger out of sheer habit. It wasn't paranoia, not after so many years in the field. Things were never that simple.

The clock in his mind kept ticking every second. It wasn't just the time spent on the mission. It was the time that kept him away from you.

— Get ready. This isn't going to stay quiet much longer.

The sound of the wind against the building's facade was barely audible through the insulation of the headphones. However, for Heeseung, every detail in the environment was like a silent warning: something was out of place. From his position on the rooftop, the view of the city stretched out like a tapestry of flashing lights, but his attention was fixed on a critical point, a space between the shadows where the pieces on the board began to move.

Jake's voice broke into the channel with an urgency that left no room for doubt:

— Chief, we have activity on the 15th floor. A subject has entered the service area. He's carrying something bulky it looks like a briefcase, but it doesn't fit the standard profile. Metallic material visible around the edges.

Heeseung adjusted the scope of his rifle, the thermal imager highlighting the suspect's silhouette through the building's tinted glass.

— How bulky? It details the movement."

Jake responded instantly, his fingers tapping the keyboard in an almost mechanical rhythm as he processed the data from the monitoring system.

— About 70 centimeters per side, maybe more. He's using both hands to carry it, though the movement is fluid. It doesn't seem heavy, but it's not light either. He entered through corridor 15-B, access restricted according to the plans."

— Behavior pattern? — Heeseung asked, memorizing the coordinates.

— Direct. No hesitation. This guy knows exactly where he's going, — Jake said, his tone now deeper. — He has backup: two subjects in the approach area. They're about 10 meters behind, covering possible entry points.

Before Heeseung could issue an order, Jongseong's voice entered the channel. His tone had an unusual edge of tension.

— I need backup. The two suspects I identified in the VIP area are moving. They're approaching my location. They're not patrolling, boss, they're looking for something... or someone.

The air grew heavier, charged with a palpable threat that vibrated in the frequency of their voices. Heeseung took a deep breath, letting the cold logic of years of training drown out any emotional distractions.

— Jake, continue monitoring the primary target. Sunghoon, maintain cover in the corridor. We can't let these guys act unchallenged. I'm going in. — Heeseung declared, as he began securing the descent harness.

Sunghoon looked up from his visor, though he kept a firm hand on the sniper rifle.

— Just you? — he asked, though he already knew the answer.

— Your position is critical. If anything gets out of hand, I need you to eliminate any threat before it crosses the line.

Sunghoon nodded, returning his attention to the telescopic sight. His tone was calm, but with a hint of concern.

— Understood. Just make sure you don't give them a clear angle

The rappelling gear was cold to the touch as Heeseung adjusted it with meticulous movements. Every buckle, every knot had to be perfect; there was no room for error. Jake, meanwhile, continued feeding the channel with data.

— The target has entered a room not recorded on the official plans. Access is direct from the main corridor. He's manipulating something on the door... Probably an electromagnetic decoder. This guy is no amateur.

— Estimated time to opening? — Heeseung asked, as he secured the rope to the main anchor.

— Depends on the model, but if it's what I think, less than two minutes."

Heeseung cursed under his breath. Time was a resource they didn't have. He glanced at Sunghoon one last time before crossing the edge of the rooftop.

— Cover the area. If anything moves toward the target, neutralize it.

The descent began with a firm tug on the rope. Every meter he fell brought him closer to the heart of the problem, and every second counted like a heartbeat in a countdown he couldn't afford to miss. From above, Sunghoon followed his movements, his rifle adjusted to keep his sights on any emerging threat.

— Jake, give me an update. — Heeseung asked, as he maneuvered to avoid the ventos. The most exposed ends.

— Two side entrances are blocked. The other two suspects are covering the apartment's main exits. Chief, I don't like how this is setting up. It looks like a coordinated move."

— It is," Heeseung replied, his voice as cold as his gaze. He knew an ambush when he saw one.

Finally, his boots made contact with the windowsill. With swift movements, he cut the rope and secured his weapon. The apartment's interior was dark, lit only by the occasional flicker of emergency lights.

— I'm in. Jake, lead the way.

The hum of the electromagnetic decoder echoed around the room like a silent countdown. Heeseung stood by the entrance, his back pressed against the wall, his gaze fixed on the dim lighting that filtered through the crack in the door. His right hand adjusted his grip on the rifle while his left brushed against the knife secured to his thigh. He still didn't know exactly how many enemies were inside, but he knew he couldn't wait any longer.

— Jake, tell me what's behind that door. — he whispered in a subdued voice, his tone tense but still in control.

The sound of incessant typing filled the earpiece before the answer came quickly.

— Two confirmed hostiles. One is manipulating the decoder, the other is covering the door with a weapon. You have about fifteen seconds before it opens.

Heeseung exhaled through his nose, trying to gauge the time with his own breath. He couldn't allow the lock to give way.

— Escape routes?

— The only viable exit is the hallway leading to the service area. But if these guys are here, it's because they have backup on the perimeter. — Sim explained, still typing tirelessly.

Heeseung didn't need any more information. In a single motion, he unclipped a stun grenade from his belt, activated it with a quick twist of the safety catch, and threw it through the crack in the door just as the decoder emitted a final beep.

The blinding flash lit up the room like a flash of lightning, accompanied by a sharp crack that reverberated off the walls. The muffled screams of the enemy confirmed that the blow had worked. He wasted no time. With a firm kick, he knocked down the door and entered, his rifle braced against his shoulder, his eyes already adjusting to the dim lighting.

One of the enemy members staggered, both hands going to his face in an instinctive attempt to regain vision, while the other, still shaken by the blast, tried to raise his weapon. Heeseung didn't give him a chance. He fired a single, accurate shot at the torso, watching the body fall heavily to the floor with nothing more than a ragged gasp.

The second man tried to react upon hearing the shot, but Heeseung moved faster. He crossed the distance in a couple of strides, grabbed him by the jacket, and slammed him violently against the wall, pinning him down with his forearm pressing against his windpipe.

— What's in the briefcase?" he whispered coldly, watching the man struggle in his grasp, his expression tinged with confusion and rage.

The enemy let out a stifled gasp, trying to catch his breath, but instead of responding, he let out a hoarse laugh, an exhalation laced with mockery.

— It's too late."

The radio in his ear emitted a sudden crack before Jake's voice cut in alarmingly.

— Heeseung, we have a problem! I've lost the corridor's signal for seventeen seconds, and now there's a third hostile moving toward the VIP area. It's fast. This is a coordinated movement.

Heeseung's grip tightened for a moment before he released his hold on the enemy, dropping him unceremoniously to the floor. He spun around and hurried out into the hallway, his mind already processing the best way to intercept the threat before it reached Jongseong.

The warm lights of the room, the clinking of glasses, and the cadence of carefree conversation seemed too perfect a setting for the latent tension in the air. Jongseong stood by the table, his expression calm and his posture relaxed, but his gaze was fixed on the two men slowly closing the distance between them.

His hand turned the glass between his fingers with a nonchalant air, as if he didn't sense the presence of the two strangers strategically positioning themselves around him. But he felt it. He knew it.

— I don't like the way they're moving. — he whispered casually, his tone low enough for his communicator to pick up the words without alerting those around him.

— Stay where you are. I'm on my way. — Heeseung's reply came instantly, firm but restrained. Jongseong didn't react; there was no need to.

One of the men finally reached him and raised his glass with a calculated smile, as if it were a simple courtesy.

— Mr. Park, it's good to see you enjoying the evening. —The way he articulated each word left no room for doubt. This wasn't casual conversation.

Jongseong maintained his neutral expression, bringing the glass to his lips before responding with feigned calm.

— I put too much effort into my attire not to. — he murmured lightly, without taking his eyes off the liquid in his glass.

The man inclined his head slightly, his smile barely perceptible.

— Confidence is a dangerous weapon. Sometimes, one small slip of the tongue is enough to make everything fall apart. — the same man pronounced with a certain mysticism. Before Jongseong could reply, the side door of the lounge opened with a loud bang.

The murmur of the guests instantly dissipated, turning into shouts and panicked runs as soon as Heeseung's figure appeared in the doorway, his gait measured but lethal. His gaze scanned the scene with the precision of a predator analyzing its territory, identifying each threat in a matter of seconds.

The first man, still next to Jongseong, slid his hand inside his jacket in an attempt to reach his weapon. He didn't have time to react.

Heeseung crossed the distance in two strides, caught his wrist before he could draw his weapon, and, with a sharp, controlled twist, dislocated his arm with a sickening crunch. Before he could scream, he slammed it against the nearest table, knocking over glasses and plates in a shower of broken glass.

The second man barely managed to take a step back before Jongseong slightly tilted his wrist and spilled the contents of his glass over his face. The reaction was immediate. The burning of the alcohol in his eyes made the man swear, bringing both hands to his face in a reflex action.

It was enough. Heeseung took advantage of the distraction and kicked him in the knee, knocking him face down before immobilizing him with the barrel of his gun pressed against the base of his skull.

— Don't let it show that you're desperate to end this. — Jongseong joked to Heeseung, but he only gave him an indecipherable look before simply going to inspect the area.

The chaos of the operation still permeated the air when the team finally left the building, blending in with the sound of sirens wailing in the distance and the flashing lights of patrol cars illuminating the scene with red and blue flashes. Outside, the criminals were subdued and escorted to special forces vehicles, while the guests were guided to a secure area. The security protocol was deployed with mechanical precision, each unit fulfilling its function efficiently.

Jake, arms crossed and a look of pride that was hard to hide, watched the scene with an air of self-sufficiency before blurting out with obvious satisfaction:

— Well, once again, everything was solved thanks to my impeccable skills. I don't want to say I'm the best, but... well, I really am. — This was typical of him; he was almost always heard saying the same thing at the end of a mission.

Jongseong, who until that moment had only watched silently, slowly turned his head toward him with an arched eyebrow. His expression was a mixture of disbelief and suppressed mockery.

— Your impeccable skills? — he repeated sarcastically, tilting his head in feigned interest. — You mean the part where you claimed the briefcase contained a bomb ready to blow the building to smithereens?

Jake frowned instantly, his smug smile fading a little.

— Yeah, so what? — he retorted defensively, abandoning his previous stance. Jongseong snorted and shook his head before crossing his arms.

— That what was in the briefcase wasn't a bomb — He paused deliberately, savoring the moment before shrugging. — They were containers of a yet-to-be-identified chemical.

Jake blinked, the confidence on his face turning into disbelief.

— No, that's impossible. — the Australian persistently defended himself.

— I'm not saying that. The chemical response team is. — Jongseong gave an amused smile before pointing toward the area where the hazardous materials specialists were handling the contents of the briefcase with safety equipment.

Jake opened his mouth to protest, but couldn't find the words immediately. His expression went from disbelief to frustration in a matter of seconds.

— No... It can't be. The thermal readings and electronic signatures matched those of a high-impact bomb! — Exasperation filled him; he clearly didn't like being wrong, especially when it came to something so important.

— Well, I guess someone made a mistake in their 'flawless analysis.' — Jongseong gave a short, mocking laugh before patting him on the shoulder with mock sympathy.

Jake, clearly offended, turned his head to Heeseung for support, hoping his leader would intervene and back him up. Heeseung was practically his puppet for a while.

— Heeseung, tell them this isn't making any sense. I didn't make a mistake, right? — but the answer never came. Jongseong, noticing the sudden silence, also turned his head in Heeseung's direction, only to be met with… nothing.

—Where the hell is he?—Jongseong muttered, frowning as he scanned the area for Lee.

Jake spun around, looking around with the same expression as someone who had just lost something they were holding a few seconds ago.

— Don't fuck with me… He was here two minutes ago. —Jake assures, continuing to scan the room, but to no avail.

The two exchanged a puzzled look before turning to Sunghoon, who stood with his hands in his pockets, his expression utterly indifferent to the situation.

— Sunghoon, where's Heeseung? — Jongseong called, frowning. But the sniper barely blinked before shrugging, not bothering to show surprise.

— He left as soon as we left the building. — he replied, looking as unfazed as ever.

Jake blinked a few times, clearly unsure whether to laugh or get angry. Jongseong, for his part, ran a hand over his face in exasperation before slowly shaking his head.

Sim, still processing his leader's sudden disappearance, snorted in resignation before blurting out, with a mixture of frustration and amusement : — No doubt... the agent and bodyguard of the year."

And even though it was all over, the feeling that this was just the beginning of something bigger lingered in the air.

The roar of the engine mingled with the night air as the car sped through the streets with almost inhuman precision. Heeseung kept one hand firmly on the wheel, while the other busied himself with disposing of his gear. His bulletproof vest was the first to come off, its weight falling into the backseat with a thud. Without taking his eyes off the road, he hooked his earphones with his index finger and thumb, pulling them off with a sharp motion before dropping them next to his gun on the passenger seat.

Every action was executed with the same precision he had demonstrated moments earlier in the operation. The way he undid the straps of his gear, the way his movements were quick but controlled, spoke of a man accustomed to moving under pressure. But this time it wasn't a chase; there was no enemy on his heels, no threat forcing him to run. His urgency was different, much more visceral.

The speed he was driving was dangerous for anyone without his level of driving skill, but he didn't brake, didn't hesitate even once as he took the turns with a fluidity that defied traffic laws. His gaze was fixed on the road, dark and deserted at this hour, but in his mind, his destination was already clear. He had only one priority.

The car stopped precisely in front of the illuminated building where the event was taking place. The elegant lights decorating the entrance contrasted with the darkness of the night, reflecting off the windshield like intermittent flashes that Heeseung completely ignored. His mind was no longer on the mission he had just completed, nor on the criminals being brought to justice. No, his focus was solely on what was in front of him.

Without wasting a single second, he leaned into the seat and, with practical and precise movements, began to remove the last traces of the operation. He unbuttoned his tactical shirt and slipped his operational uniform jacket over his shoulders, letting it fall into the backseat. His breathing was still controlled, though there was a different urgency in its rhythm than it had been a few minutes ago. It wasn't the stress of combat, nor the tension of a confrontation. It was the need to reclaim his place.

With steady fingers, he took the black silk tie he'd left ready before the mission, knotted it quickly, and tightened it with a sharp tug. His suit jacket was next, sliding over his shoulders with ease, fitting his body as if it had always been there. Finally, with the same meticulous efficiency, he unbuckled his belt and discarded his tactical uniform pants, leaving only the dress pants he wore underneath.

He had planned this from the beginning. No matter how chaotic the mission was or what unforeseen events arose along the way, he had been clear from the beginning that as soon as it was over, this would be his destination. Because there was no force that could make him delegate his task to someone else and feel comfortable doing so.

He wouldn't trust another to protect you. He wasn't going to leave your safety in the hands of a replacement who, in his eyes, would be nothing more than an incompetent, incapable of providing you with the care, protection, and service that only he could offer. Because protecting you was not only his duty, but his right.

He fastened his wristwatch and ran his fingers through his hair, arranging it with the same precision with which he secured a weapon before entering combat. Then, he took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the entrance to the event. He had wasted enough time, and now, he would resume his position.

As he walked through the doors of the event, he immediately felt the change in atmosphere. Everything about the place radiated luxury and elegance. But what captured everyone's attention most wasn't the expensive outfits or the opulence of the place, but the majestic works that adorned the walls, each one with an air of grandeur that could only be attributed to its creator.

He paused for a moment, allowing himself to observe the paintings on display with a feeling that could only be described as pride. There they were, displayed in the way that best suited them, every stroke, every color reflecting the unmistakable essence of their creator. He knew how much this evening meant to you, how much you had worked for this moment, and although he didn't usually stop to appreciate art with the same intensity as the critics or collectors who murmured in fascination, in that moment, he felt something different. A deep satisfaction that led him to a slight smile.

But his time of admiration was brief. Soon, his focus shifted to what had truly brought him here. With the sharp eyes of someone trained to analyze their surroundings in a matter of seconds, he began to scan the crowd, searching among the faces, among the impeccable dresses and suits, and the golden reflections of the champagne in the glasses raised in a toast.

And then, he found you...

There you were, wrapped in the warm lighting of the hall, your cheeks flushed and an expression that, despite the slight cloudiness in your gaze, retained the same spark that always managed to ignite something inside him. You'd been drinking, there was no doubt about it. He knew well your poor resistance to alcohol, enough to know that that blush wasn't just a product of the festive atmosphere, but of the wine or champagne you'd surely been sipping for a while now.

Without hesitation, he closed the distance between himself and you, ignoring the crowd, the fleeting glances that fell on him when they recognized him, the murmur of other people's conversations that held little interest for him. His attention was fixed on one thing: you.

By the time he reached your side, his hand slid effortlessly to your waist, holding you with a certainty that left no room for hesitation. The feel of your satin dress against his palm was almost hypnotic, but he didn't allow himself to dwell on that detail. Just as confidently, he guided you away from the center of the event, leading you to a more secluded corner, away from prying eyes.

As soon as you had even the slightest shelter from the crowd, you felt the urge to pounce on him, without thinking, without hesitation. He caught you immediately, more by reflex than anything else, and the light laugh that escaped your lips as he steadied you resonated like a direct echo in his chest. His grip remained firm, feeling the warmth of your body against his, the way you leaned in without reservation, with the innocence and boldness of someone not completely sane. Something inside him contracted. Because he knew you. I knew the impeccable composure you usually maintained, the way, even in the most carefree moments, you never completely lost that aura of restraint and elegance. And yet, there you were, giving him a version of yourself you rarely allowed anyone to see.

— You took too long, — your voice sounded sweet, with that syrupy tinge that only alcohol could infuse your words. A slight pout appeared on your lips, as you looked at him with an expression that, if I weren't so used to reading your every nuance, I might have interpreted as genuine reproach. — I came to think I'd really have to spend the whole night escorted by that cheap replacement they assigned me in your absence.

The way you slid your gaze over his face, with those eyes of yours so expressive, so analytical even in the midst of your drunkenness, made his jaw tense slightly. And then you smiled. Not just any smile. A goofball, completely genuine, full of that warmth you rarely displayed with such transparency.

— Although, you know what? — you murmured, leaning a little closer to him, as if sharing a secret. — There's no comparison. You look so much better in a suit than that sad copy they tried to replace you with.

Your comment took him by surprise. Not because of the content itself, but because of the way you said it; without reservation, without any shame. For the first time all night, Heeseung felt a wave of satisfaction run through him, a warmth different from that of the mission, deeper, more personal.

Those words were a kind of relief. It wasn't that he doubted his place, or his role at your side, but Jake's mocking comment about that incompetent man they'd left in charge of your security had been on his mind more than he was willing to admit. Not because he was afraid of losing his job, but because, for the barest of moments, the idea that you might feel safer with someone else had been like a thorn in his side.

But now, with that declaration from you, spoken with complete honesty and without a hint of reserve, the thorn vanished completely. Of course, his job wasn't in jeopardy.

A crooked, barely perceptible smile touched his lips as he reached out and, with an instinctive gesture, brushed away a strand of your hair that had slipped over your cheek. His fingers brushed your skin with the lightness of a caress that wasn't entirely planned, but that he also made no attempt to avoid.

— How many drinks did you have to end up like this? — His tone was low, intimate, with a hint of amusement underlying it. As he asked the question, his thumb briefly brushed the curve of your cheekbone before casually dropping his hand.

Your eyelashes fluttered a couple of times before a satisfied, almost proud smile curved your lips.

— Five. — you said without hesitation, showing your open hand to emphasize the amount, with the confidence of someone who had just achieved a small personal triumph. Then you stared at him, waiting for his reaction. And when the laugh escaped his throat, deep and genuine, you knew you'd got it.

— Only five? — he repeated incredulously, gently shaking his head. — Not even I would feel anything with that amount.

But you weren't him. Your resistance was different, lower, something he'd always found fascinating. Because, in part, he liked seeing you like this, with your cheeks flushed, your eyes shining, and without the filters you usually wore under normal circumstances. He liked this version of you, looser, more transparent. More his.

From one second to the next, you sought more of him. Without warning, you closed the distance, tangling in his embrace with the same ease with which someone clings to something that comforts them. Your body molded to his easily, as if that were your place.

He gave in, because, fuck, how could he not? His arm tightened around your waist, pulling you against his chest a little more firmly, allowing you to feel the solidity of his presence, the warmth his body gave off. His other hand, still tangled in your hair, slowly descended to the curve of your back, guiding you with a gentleness that contrasted with how much he was enjoying having you so close.

— Princess... — his voice lowered a pitch, becoming deeper, more intimate. — Don't you think it's time to leave? Wouldn't you like to rest?

You pulled away just enough to look him in the eyes. And as soon as your pupils met his, there wasn't a second of hesitation in your answer.

— Get me out of here. I have nothing else to do in this place. All those people, the celebration... They've completely consumed me — you exhaled, with a hint of exhaustion you didn't try to hide. You paused for a moment, lightly biting your lip before continuing with the most honest confession of the evening. — The only thing I need now is to be with you. Without interruptions, without appearances to keep up.

He didn't wait any longer, nor did he need any other response. In a single movement, he swept you into his arms with insulting ease, as if you weighed absolutely nothing, as if carrying you like that was the most natural thing in the world.

And without further ado, he made his way through the crowd with firm, determined steps, ignoring any curious glances that might fall upon you. He didn't bother to notify the organizers, the staff, and much less your manager of your departure. He'd handle that detail later, when he could enjoy the shocked expression on that man's face when he realized you'd vanished without warning. For now, his only goal was to get you out of there, and nothing and no one would stand in his way.

【★】

The car glided smoothly to a stop in the parking lot, and as soon as he turned off the engine, he got out without delay. He walked around the vehicle with firm steps and opened the passenger door where you were. Without saying a word, he leaned forward slightly to unbuckle your seatbelt, his fingers briefly brushing the fabric of your dress as he released the latch with a subtle click. His expression was inscrutable, but in the way he helped you sit up, in the way his gaze briefly scanned your face, you could sense a different nuance, something that seemed to be torn between habit and a deeper need to take care of you.

The cool night air brushed your skin as you stepped out of the car, causing you to shudder slightly. You had barely taken a couple of steps outside when, with the same ease with which he held his gun on a mission, he scooped you up in his arms without warning.

— Heeseung! — you exclaimed in a strangled gasp, surprise etched in your voice as your arms instinctively clutched his neck. You looked at him in disbelief, trying to process his sudden action. — Put me down. I can walk on my own. I'm not drunk anymore. — you declared firmly, yet he didn't even slow his pace, carrying you with the same confidence with which he made every decision.

— I know, but I'm doing it because I understand that walking in heels is uncomfortable for you, — he replied calmly, without taking his eyes off the entrance. His tone was so nonchalant, so resolute, that for a moment you were speechless. — Even without you saying it, I know your feet are sore now.

And there it was again, that level of understanding that always disarmed you. You didn't need to tell him when you were tired, when you were uncomfortable, or when you needed support; he just knew. His ability to read you so accurately made a strange, warm, and deeply comforting feeling settle in your chest.

You entered the house amidst a complicit silence. Heeseung didn't stop until he reached the living room, where he placed you with extreme care on the sofa, making sure you were comfortable before separating from you. Then, with the same ease with which he handled any situation, he knelt in front of you and moved his hands to your ankles, unbuckling your heels with patient movements.

— You should take better care of yourself — he murmured in a low tone, barely a reproach. But with that note of tenderness that always seeped into his words when it came to you. — Sometimes I think you're too self-careless.

His firm but careful fingers began to massage the sore area, tracing circles with just the right amount of pressure to relieve the tension. You closed your eyes for a moment, letting out an involuntary sigh as the feeling of relief coursed through every fiber of your body. Unable to help it, you leaned slightly toward him, raising a hand to his face, caressing his cheek with a gentle touch, a silent thank you.

His eyes met yours, and in that silent exchange, there was something that transcended words.

— That's why I have you, — you whispered, your voice barely a thread in the stillness of the moment. — You're always there for me, protecting me right and left.

Heeseung held your hand in his, his warm palm covering you with unwavering certainty. He nodded slightly, his pupils reflecting absolute determination.

— I always will be. Don't doubt that I'll be there for you without fail, no matter what it is. — He whispered with conviction, his tone imbued with something deeper, something that hadn't needed to be said out loud for a long time.

The closeness between you narrowed almost instinctively. Your gazes intertwined, your breaths sharing the same space, the tension enveloping you with an almost tangible intensity. Your lips parted slightly, as if you wanted to say something, but any words were cut short when he too began to lean in, his face approaching yours slowly, deliberately. Anticipation vibrated in the air, and every passing second seemed to stretch the moment to the limit.

Then the door burst open.

— Oh! Good evening, miss and sir. I didn't know you had arrived. — Mrs. Kim, the housekeeper, exclaimed cheerfully, her voice echoing from the kitchen entrance.

The tension between you dissipated in a blink. Heeseung moved away in a measured movement, while you, with unusual swiftness, sat up straight on the sofa as if nothing had happened. You tried to compose your expression, avoiding at all costs letting your face betray the moment you had almost shared.

— Mrs. Kim, please take the young lady to her room and draw her a bath, — he ordered firmly, without a hint of nervousness in his tone. His self-control remained intact, although there was still something in his gaze that he couldn't quite hide. — And make sure her bed is ready.

The woman nodded with a pleased smile and gently took your arm, guiding you with the familiarity of someone who has played that role countless times. As you stood, you cast one last glance in her direction, meeting those dark eyes that seemed to want to say far more than his mouth allowed at that moment.

— Good night, Hee. — you said quietly, trying to keep your tone neutral, although there was a note of gentleness you couldn't avoid.

— Good night, princess. — he replied, his voice firm but laden with an undertone only you could recognize.

As soon as you disappeared upstairs, silence fell over the house. He stood motionless in the center of the living room, his gaze fixed on the spot where you had vanished. His fingers inside his pockets clenched tightly. He had to leave. It was what he always did. Make sure you were safe and disappear until the next day.

But this time, something was holding him there.

The echo of your voice still vibrated in his mind, the touch of your skin against his hands, the closeness you had almost shared minutes ago. He sighed heavily, shaking off the thought, when suddenly his phone vibrated in his pocket, breaking the stillness of the place. He pulled out the device, and when he saw the name on the screen, his expression hardened. He frowned, his jaw clenching, but he didn't answer. Instead, he swiped to silence the call and put the phone away. That wasn't relevant, not now. Not when his priority lay elsewhere. You were safe. That was all that mattered.

Without wasting any more time, he turned on his heel and left the house, returning to the agent he'd always been.

The vibration of the hallway lights fused with the muffled echo of his footsteps as he moved forward. The coldness of the marble beneath his boots reverberated through the soles, matching the measured rhythm of his breathing. Heeseung's face was impassive, his gaze fixed straight ahead as he moved toward the meeting room, the tension in his shoulders barely perceptible beneath the controlled rigidity of his posture.

He pushed the door open with calculated firmness, the subtle creak of metal cutting through the air. Jake was leaning back in one of the leather chairs, one leg crossed over the other, a lazy smile on his face. Young Mi, sitting on his lap, ran her fingers over Jake's temples with an intimacy that had no place in this setting. Jake's hand rested with brazen familiarity on her thigh.

Heeseung barely frowned before clearing his throat with a dry sound. Young Mi instantly stepped away, while Jake, visibly relaxed, gave her a carefree smile.

— Boss... — Jake tried to compose himself, sitting up slightly in his seat. His crooked smile tried to soften the situation, but the Australian knew perfectly well there was no escaping the weight of that gaze.

Heeseung moved forward to sit opposite them, resting his elbows on the back of the chair with tense calm. The way he crossed his legs and interlaced his fingers on his knee gave the impression of someone relaxed, but Jake knew the signs of an annoyed Hee better than anyone. The air in the room dropped several degrees.

— I didn't think strategy meetings had evolved to... this kind of dynamic. — Heeseung commented with a tone laced with sarcasm, his sharp gaze scanning the space between Jake and Young Mi.

— Well, we all need a little distraction now and then... — Jake let out a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that betrayed his discomfort.

— Distraction. — Heeseung repeated with a barely perceptible tilt of his head. His tone was neutral, but the charge behind that word was evident.

Jake opened his mouth to try to justify something, perhaps to ease the palpable tension that was beginning to settle in the room; but Heeseung gave him a sharp look that cut off any attempt at a response.

— Where's Jongseong and Sunghoon? — His voice was low, but the authority in it was unmistakable.

— On their way. They won't be long. — Young Mi was the one who answered, with her usual characteristic calm.

Heeseung nodded, shifting his gaze to Jake just as Young Mi stood up to say goodbye. Jake, despite his relaxed facade, couldn't help but follow the woman's gaze as she left the room with calculated elegance.

Once the door closed behind her, Heeseung returned his attention to Jake. The Australian settled into his seat, smiling with a hint of nervousness that he tried to disguise under a mask of confidence.

— Well? — Jake asked in a light tone, though his posture indicated a certain rigidity.

— Since when did you become so indiscreet? — Heeseung looked at him with a calmness that only made the accusation feel more serious.

Jake let out a dry laugh, placing a hand on the back of his head.

— Are you really going to lecture me about this? Because, if memory serves, you're not exactly a model of restraint when it comes to a certain... woman.

— It's not the same. — he defended himself almost automatically, in a sharp tone, his jaw clenched.

Jake let out a low laugh, leaning forward to argue.

— Oh, no? So tell me, what would you do if you finally put aside that pathetic self-restraint and showed your lady what you really wanted from her?

Heeseung remained silent, but the dark glint in his eyes was enough to make the Australian smirk.

— Exactly... — Sim continued, leaning back in his chair with a triumphant air. — But then, you're Lee Heeseung, the perfect guardian. The guy who controls every damn aspect of his life except when it comes to her.

The twitch in Lee's jaw was imperceptible to anyone who didn't know him as well as the man in front of him.

— This isn't the time to discuss this. — Heeseung finally said, his tone cutting.

Jake let out a nasal laugh, narrowing his eyes with a calculating expression. He was ready to continue pushing Heeseung's buttons, but before he could even utter another word, the door hinges creaked again, and that's when the two missing male presences had finally arrived. The underlying tension in the air didn't go unnoticed by both men, surnamed Park, who quickly realized that something had been happening between Sim and Lee.

— So what now? — Sunghoon was the first to speak, his tone laced with that hint of skepticism that seemed to be part of his default character.

Jongseong entered behind him, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets as he swept the room with an analytical gaze. His eyes narrowed slightly as they settled on Heeseung, whose expression still retained that sharp calm only seen after a tense exchange.

— Wow... — Jongseong trailed off with a slow, calculated smile. — We've arrived at a good time, or have we missed something interesting?

Heeseung didn't answer immediately. Sunghoon raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes scanning the space with a precision that suggested he was taking in every nuance in the air.

— What happened here? — Sunghoon persisted, his tone light but with a spark of genuine curiosity behind the question.

— Nothing relevant. So let's just focus our attention on whatever Jake has to show us. — Heeseung replied, his curt tone making it clear he had no intention of spilling the beans.

Without wasting any more time, the man Lee had mentioned got going; with a couple of quick gestures, Jake displayed a grainy image on his laptop screen. The figure of an individual in a dark hallway appeared, blurry but clear enough to capture the outlines of a man carrying a briefcase.

— This was captured by one of the security cameras while the system was under the control of the hack. —Jake explained, zooming in to make the figure more visible. It was only for a few seconds, during the sudden crash my system suffered while I was guiding Heeseung through the installation.

— And who's this? — Sunghoon asked, narrowing his eyes as he analyzed the image in front of them.

To which the laptop owner smiled broadly and shot a meaningful glance at Hee, then looked back at the first questioner. He added a key gesture to those glances; pretending to adjust his tie, he made them realize who it was. Sunghoon and Heeseung exchanged glances, understanding exactly what Sim was talking about.

— See, boss? I told you, the guy, beyond his visual assault with that stupid tie, never really gave me a good feeling. And I wasn't wrong. — Jake turned to the oldest of those present.

Who looked genuinely bewildered by such a revelation. He found it hard to believe that what started out as an innocent joke had actually hit the nail on the head. Even Sunghoon, who had also joined in on the joke at the time, seemed confused, but this fact.

— So, technically, it's like this... — the squad leader began, pausing dramatically to try to better connect the dots in his mind. — The first briefcase detected did end up being what was expected. A bomb that, for some reason, ended up in the hands of the guy with the tie. Whereas what we retrieved from that place, along with the criminals involved, was completely different.

Silence reigned once again as everyone present tried to weigh the thoughts in their heads, trying to channel what happened into the most congruent context.

— If the guy took the briefcase with the bomb, apparently deactivated at that point. Whereas the briefcase we managed to take contained the still-unidentified chemical, it only means that it was never really an alibi to blow up the building where the event was taking place. It was an exchange of corrupt goods. — Heeseung deduced skillfully.

— But there's still something that doesn't quite fit here — Jongseong added. — If that was the case, let's say the guy managed to sneak out of the VIP area where I was too, he would have done so at the moment I was trying to evade the two suspects who were after me. But then, how could he have made the exchange? Heeseung, you neutralized the other guys and with that, you got the briefcase that was taken as evidence. — after finishing his contribution, he turned to the others, who were also racking their brains trying to make sense of the whole thing.

It really all seemed to make no sense at all, which made them question whether it was really a mission handled fairly.

— Now that I think about it, and it still doesn't make sense. The entire exchange could have been executed during the seconds Jake was having trouble with the system — Sunghoon added. — Maybe the briefcase with the bomb never arrived at the same place Heeseung entered, but rather it could have been left at some key point, and what Hee intervened in was the subjects receiving their share of the exchange, and we always went after the wrong briefcase.

Everyone turned to look at the sniper, as his assumption didn't sound so far-fetched.

— Jake, didn't Young-Mi happen to bring an interrogation report with her? — Heeseung immediately questioned, to which the aforementioned quickly nodded and took out the document, leaving it on the desk. — Perfect. Jongseong, this is your task, and getting me the details later is a must. Jake, I want you to use your skills to find the identity of the subject who ended up taking the first briefcase. I'll be waiting.

With nothing else to add, he got up from his chair and left the office like a bat out of hell. This variant of the operation—although it might not seem like it—had him on edge. But his mind was also elsewhere, and he was going there.

【★】

The lively laughter of children echoed throughout the room, infecting you in the process. Children could be quite witty at times, which always helped make the outdoor art workshop in the gallery garden less boring for you. Your young apprentices had their own way of standing out, and you firmly believed that their little minds were more volatile and profound than an adult's. Their raw, innocent creativity and their interest in learning from you were incredible.

Until there came those moments when you'd rather everyone remained silent, and the curiosity of their constantly fluctuating little minds didn't get the best of them.

— Noona... — one of the younger ones suddenly alluded to you, to which you responded with a soft hum, letting him know he had your attention despite your gaze fixed on the small canvas in your hands. — Can love be expressed through painting?

The question caught you off guard, firstly because of its depth, despite being the inquiry of a child of only eight years old. Secondly, you knew that coming up with an answer, with the most appropriate words for someone of his age and understanding, would take a little extra effort.

— Love can be expressed in many ways, Jin-Seo — you begin in a simple and concise way, pausing momentarily to encourage the other person's anticipation, and then continuing with the formulation of your answer. — The most common way people express their love is by saying "I love you," because that way they are letting their opposite know that they feel love. But most people affirm that showing love goes beyond just putting it into words. There must also be actions and gestures that support the love you say you feel.

You thought they weren't paying attention to you until you looked up from the canvas and most of the little ones were staring at you intently, especially the one who asked the question. Maybe they were interested in your words, or just mesmerized by the gentle tone of your voice.

— So, with that in mind, consider that love could be expressed through painting. An example of this could be when you're painting and think of someone important, or like when you put something on canvas and want to give it to that person, or for that person to be the first to see it. — You added to your explanation, a kind of self-reflection, since while you were saying each word, there was only one person you could think of.

After a moment, everyone began to converse among themselves, while simultaneously continuing with their artistic activities. What you said earlier seemed to resonate with them; it amused you to see them talking about it, when many of them probably didn't understand anything.

— Someone whose art is abstract and profound also seems to have a mindset driven by the same patterns. — A male voice suddenly sounded behind you, causing you to flinch slightly. There was nothing familiar about that timbre.

Turning around in your position, you saw an expensive-looking man in a tight-fitting suit, his face sporting an expression of apparent delight, though you couldn't easily tell if it was due to your analogy, the children, or some deeper reason. You glanced quickly, searching for the relief bodyguard, who turned out to be out of position. You felt a touch of panic, but tried to approach the situation calmly.

— Excuse me, but this is a restricted area. The public is not allowed to enter unless I so permit. — You spoke firmly, leaving no room for argument. But the man didn't seem to be perturbed by your direct tone.

His smile, barely a subtle curl of his lips, remained intact as his eyes slowly scanned the scene in front of him. The precision with which he analyzed his surroundings alerted you; that kind of attention didn't befit a mere onlooker.

— I'm truly sorry for breaking the rules set by our miss — he said then, his tone laden with calculated difference. — But I couldn't contain my excitement… Nor could I miss the opportunity to see you work up close. It seemed like the closest way to fulfilling every loyal admirer's dream.

The term “loyal admirer” hung in the air, imbued with a weight you couldn't quite place. The way he had said it, with a disturbing mix of sincerity and reverence, sharpened your senses. Your fingers, still holding the paintbrush, twitched slightly as you searched your memory for any clue that might justify those words.

Suddenly, images began to emerge in your mind like a series of fleeting slides: that man's face appearing again and again among the crowds at every event, exhibition, and auction you had participated in. A constant but until now imperceptible presence, camouflaged among the attendees, among the shadows on the periphery, observing you with an insistence that, in retrospect, seemed chilling. And then, a name resonated in your thoughts like a distant but precise echo.

— Kang Hyun-Woo. — you said the name with a mixture of caution and certainty, carefully gauging his reaction.

The guy smiled. Not a casual or merely polite smile, but an expression filled with genuine and profound satisfaction, as if he had just received a long-awaited confirmation.

— It's quite an honor to be recognized. That an artist of your caliber not only remembers my name, but also captures my presence... that far exceeds my expectations. — His voice lowered a pitch, becoming more intimate, sharper.

— I couldn't miss the name of an elite buyer — you replied in a more neutral tone. Trying not to show your growing discomfort caused by his presence. — Although, I must admit, I would never think that a man like you, whose profession is linked to electronic systems and devices, would be an art enthusiast. — you add almost scathingly.

— Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, miss. You’d be surprised to know that art is also one of my passions — Such a statement is accompanied by hand gestures and somewhat exaggerated but measured expressions. It was strange, and even more so when I heard his next comment: — Or at least, I could say that it’s your art that fascinates me. Your pieces are simply exquisite, and each one is better than the last. — His idolization was simply on another level.

— Noona is a great painter. — one of the children suddenly spoke up, innocently intervening in this particular exchange. In fact, the sudden childish contribution brought an even wider smile to Kang's face.

— Right? She's simply the best painter of her generation, if not of all time. — he replied with satisfaction, turning to the little boy, who smiled at him as if nothing had happened.

You watched the scene in silence, thinking of a discreet way to get this guy dragged out and finally disturb the tranquility of your space. You didn't want anything too grotesque and inappropriate to happen in front of the children present. Before you could even begin to realize your thoughts and ideas, your savior arrived.

Heeseung glanced at you, then at the children sitting there painting. He knew he had to be careful with his actions, now that he had an audience of delicate little minds.

— Sir, I will ask you in the most peaceful way to accompany me to the exit. Users who violate the establishment's rules receive a penalty, and that will be your case. — He spoke in a measured voice, although the underlying severity was perceptible.

In a discreet movement, his hand closed around Hyun-Woo's wrist with a calculated pressure, enough to cause a subtle creaking in the joints. The other man's expression instantly tensed, his smile fading as his eyes widened with a mixture of disbelief and pain.

— I was just offering my admiration to the lady. I didn't mean to cause any trouble; my intentions are simply to personally pay my compliments to the artist who creates all the paintings hanging in my house. — Kang assured him, his tone forcedly calm, although the rigidity of his jaw and the hostility in his gaze toward Heeseung betrayed his pain and discontent.

Heeseung didn't let go of his wrist. The pressure of his fingers remained calculated, firm but not overtly violent, just enough to remind Hyun-Woo who was in control at the moment. His eyes remained sharp, cold, devoid of any trace of superficial courtesy.

— Admiration... — Heeseung repeated the word with a measured cadence, as if savoring it. — If that's the case, I would recommend that you limit your admiration to galleries, auction catalogs, and your acquisitions. Because if you again take on responsibilities that aren't yours... — He leaned in slightly, enough so that only Hyun-Woo could hear him. — I will make sure that your eyes never again know what it's like to look at one of my lady's works. — The tone was soft, almost intimate, but the implicit threat was unmistakable. The opponent sensed the weight of those words clearly, because his eyes narrowed slightly, and the line of his smile stiffened.

However, without letting him add anything else, Heeseung dragged him toward the exit, leaving you to continue the lessons with your young apprentices.

【★】

Your face lit up with excitement as you looked at the final results of your cute students' paintings. The secondary room of the gallery, designated for the workshop, was full of them, giving it a colorful and pleasant vibe, as they were displayed on the walls of the installation.

— They're getting better and better. — Heeseung comments, as he delights in watching your happy expression. And his delight doubled the moment you turned to him, flashing that wide smile of yours. You looked so proud.

— Yes, they really are. They already know so many more things and techniques than when the workshop started. They're incredible. — you boast proudly, as you walk around the room, eyeing each of your young apprentices' works.

Lee can't take his eyes off you, too entranced by the charm your person radiates, so naturally and effortlessly. Seeing you like this provokes so much in him, and he couldn't help himself, rising from the stool to discreetly approach you from behind. Once close, he leaned down to your level and fixed his gaze on the profile of your face, since you, for one, were too absorbed in those small paintings.

— Being taught by someone incredible can make you incredible too — he murmurs in an almost tender tone, a tone he would only allow himself to use with you. — Don't be so surprised. They're learning from you. It's obvious they'll end up being exceptional in the long run. Although... they'll never surpass their wonderful teacher. And if they do, I'll find a way to change that.

His words make a soft chuckle escape your lips; you couldn't help but find a certain amusement in the way this version of him contrasted so much with what many people see at first glance. The stoic and imposing man, whom many feared, became surprising sweet around you. Yet he still managed to make things more disconcerting when he had the chance, for example, his constant obsession with making you walk on clouds, only to then simply clip your wings, marking the limits of his professionalism.

— What's so funny? — he suddenly asks, looking at you with a frown, a clear manifestation of his confusion at your prolonged amusement.

— The fact that the mouth you use to shower me with praise is the same one that later utters words that break my heart, and also the same one that does nothing to finally meet mine. — you reply, your laughter gradually fading away and leaving your face with a more somber, almost expressionless expression.

You turn slowly, drawn almost instinctively to the source of that familiar, deep tension that usually surrounds you. Your eyes meet his, and the space between you shrinks to nothing. Your breaths mingle in the air that vibrates between you, heavy with something unspoken, something you both feel but that never quite materializes. His gaze, dark and penetrating, bores into yours, as if he could read every thought struggling to break free in your mind. But, as always, there's something holding him back. Something that prevents that line from finally being crossed.

Heeseung straightens with a barely perceptible sigh, his expression transforming into a mixture of resignation and regret. His eyes never leave yours for a second.

— I'm sorry — he murmurs in that deep, controlled voice that nevertheless betrays a hint of vulnerability. — I'm sorry for not being reckless enough to...

His voice trails off, but you understand perfectly what he's trying to say. That impulse to cross the line, to surrender to the inevitable, always clashes with his iron self-control.

— Save those words — you reply, your tone soft, but tinged with a tiredness that comes from the constant repetition of this same cycle. — It's always the same with you, Heeseung. The confusing signals, the words, the boundaries. — you add, taking a step back, intending to get away before that mix of desire and frustration ends up breaking something inside you.

But he reacts before you can. His hand catches your wrist in a swift, precise movement, and suddenly you feel him spin you around and propel you toward one of the tables. A small gasp escapes your lips when your body meets the cold surface, and before you can process it, he slides between your legs, occupying the space left by your labored breathing.

One of his hands rises with deliberate slowness to grasp your wrists and pin them behind your lower back. The other, however, rests on your jaw with a reverence that contradicts the firmness of his grip. His thumb brushes the line of your jaw, and the tension in his gaze is so palpable that you feel trapped in the dark abyss of his eyes.

— What do you mean by mixed signals? — he asks, his tone low and laden with something heavier than simple curiosity. His eyes darken even further when his thumb brushes over your skin in a gesture so intimate it takes your breath away. — Because as far as I know, I've made it very clear that I adore you. That you're my biggest weakness.

The intensity of his words makes your breath hitch and your heart race. But he doesn't pull away. Not this time.

— It's not just words. Words aren't enough if actions don't back them up, Lee Heeseung. — you whisper, your voice barely breaking as memories of the thoughtful response you gave Jin-Seo hours earlier during the workshop flood your mind.

He remains silent, but you can feel the tension in his body intensify. The conflict is evident in the way his eyes scan you, searching for something he perhaps can't even name.

— You're right. I can't go on without using actions to back up my words, can't I? — he asks rhetorically, looking at you with such intensity that it makes your heart flutter. That distinct glint in his gaze generates so much anticipation.

Then, with a slow, calculated movement, you see him lean toward you. His nose brushes yours, and his lips barely touch yours, so close yet so far away. The promise implicit in that touch sends a shiver down your spine. Your breath catches between you, and the moment seems stretched to the limit, on the verge of breaking at any second. But just as the chasm between you is about to close completely, a loud crash interrupts the moment.

Fire alarms and other people's screams echo through the gallery's main hall, scything the air with their piercing, urgent sound. Heeseung jerks away, going to look through the window. You can barely process what just happened as the sound of sirens continues to echo in your ears, marking the abrupt end of a moment that nearly redefined everything, and at the same time the beginning of what could be considered the most heartbreaking catharsis of your life.

— Tell me it's not what I think it is... — you say fearfully, your voice barely above a whisper, as you approach the same window where Heeseung is looking out.

He turns in your direction, his expression indecipherable to the naked eye, and that only seems to disconcert you. Drawing strength from where you didn't know you had it, you push him aside and finally look out the window. The burning glow in the distance is reflected in your gaze, tears flowing as so many years of your life flash before your eyes. Everything that defined you, all your achievements, goals, and dreams come true, were burning.

Your impulsiveness led you to stumble out of the back room, running in the direction where the fire had already spread. People ran desperately toward the emergency exit, while you headed straight for the heart of the fire. Your clouded, thoughtless mind made you see the scene as if it were unfolding in slow motion. The flames rose mercilessly, burning the infrastructure and everything in their path. The smoke alarms continued to blare, along with the terrified screams of the people. All of it became the soundtrack to such a tragedy.

Before you could enter, you felt yourself being pulled forcefully. You didn't bother to look at who it was; you didn't need to, and your brain certainly wasn't at its full capacity to stop and check that it was Heeseung.

— You can't go in there! The structure could collapse at any moment! — he exclaimed, flustered, and dragged you backward, away from the risk zone, pulling your body in the direction of the emergency exit in the garden.

— My paintings… I have to go get them… — your response comes out automatically, which is how your mind was working. Or at least it did until emotions took over and your screams deafened the eardrums of the man holding you. — Let me go, Heeseung! My whole world and life is in there, I have to go get my things! — you shout, abruptly twisting in Lee’s arms, struggling to make him release his firm grip on you and let you go rescue your precious creations.

But he doesn’t budge, and he wasn’t planning on doing so…

— There’s no point in you doing this! — he growls through gritted teeth, resisting your abrupt, almost aggressive movements, trying to neutralize them. — You can paint new paintings, you can acquire new materials and so on. All of those things are replaceable. But you aren’t! I won’t have another you if I let you go all the way there and put your life at risk! So don't ask me to let you go, because I'm not going to. — he declares resolutely, leaving no room for argument.

Without even giving you the chance to insist a little further, he easily lifts you up and throws you over his shoulder to carry you out of that place. As you walk toward the exit, you look around, watching the fire spread even to the secondary room, the same one that housed the creations of your young apprentices, their first steps into art, all those pleasant memories accumulating in your mind at that very moment. And soon, just as Heeseung had predicted, the structure began to collapse, yielding to the intensity of the fire, causing a resounding roar. Thus marking the extinction of that place you had forged with so much effort and taken to the top. It was the end of your world, the death of a part of you that might never be the same again.

【★】

Your gaze remained fixed on the table in front of you, but you weren't really looking at it. The cold metal beneath your fingers seeped into your skin, chilling you to the bone, but even that couldn't shake you out of that lethargic state. The voices around you were only a distant murmur, a background noise that faded before reaching your mind. All that remained was that dense, overwhelming emptiness that gripped your chest like a claw.

The sound of heels clicking firmly against the floor pulled you out of that mental fog. The echo spread through the room like a warning, each step calculated and confident, until the figure of a woman appeared in the doorway. Beautiful, impeccably dressed in a dark suit that accentuated her slender figure. Her hair was tied back with precision, not a single strand out of place. Her presence radiated authority and coldness.

Without saying a word, she pulled a badge from her jacket and placed it on the table, the scrape of plastic against metal breaking the awkward silence. You glanced at it only out of reflex, your eyes sliding over the engraved letters before she spoke.

— Seo Young-Mi. Prosecutor in charge of your case. — Her tone was direct, firm, but not lacking in subtle professional kindness.

You didn't respond. Your gaze had already shifted toward the tinted glass at the side of the room. You knew Heeseung was there. You felt it. That strange warmth that only he could make you feel, even in the midst of a disaster, was there, piercing the chill of the room. You could almost imagine his expression, the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers were probably clutching his own arms to keep from intruding into the room.

Young-Mi settled into the chair opposite you, crossing her legs with innate elegance. She rested her elbows on the table and interlaced her fingers. Her eyes scanned you carefully, reading every microexpression on your face.

— I know this might be difficult... — she began, softening her tone a little more, in an attempt to show some empathy, even if it was professional.

— But I need you to answer a few questions so we can continue the investigation. The interrogation will be recorded. If you feel uncomfortable at any point, you have the right to stop it.

Your hands clenched in your lap. The lump in your throat thickened, making it difficult to breathe. Young-Mi slid a notebook and pen across the table, waiting patiently.

— Let's start from the beginning — she continued, striking a posture that denoted her interest and attention. — What was the first thing you saw when the fire started?

A chill ran down your spine. The image of the fire burst into your mind with painful clarity: the flames devouring the walls, the air saturated with smoke and screams. The suffocating sensation of heat on your skin. The panic. The emptiness.

— It wasn't much... When the fire started, I was busy in the gallery's secondary room. I didn't find out about the fire until it was already well underway and the alarms went off. — you answered effortlessly, your voice coming out weak and ragged. Your breathing became erratic, your shoulders trembled.

Young-Mi didn't press that point further. He just jotted something down in his notebook and moved on to the next question. The rest of the conversation passed in a blurry stream of words and short answers, your mind disconnecting from each sentence as soon as it was spoken. All you really felt was that feeling of being watched through glass.

Finally, Young-Mi closed the notebook and slid it to the side.

— That will suffice for now. Thank you for your cooperation, and I'm sorry for your situation. — she concluded, his professional tone resurfacing. He stood with mechanical elegance, smoothing the wrinkles in his jacket as he headed for the door.

No sooner had he left the room than the door opened again... and this time it was him who entered.

Heeseung crossed the threshold with confident steps, but his expression was thick with tension. His gaze scanned your face, searching for something in your dull eyes that probably wasn't there. Without saying anything, he crouched down in front of you and held your face in his hands, his gentleness contrasting with the strength of his grip.

— Hey, you handled it well, princess. — he murmured in a surprisingly sweet tone, his thumb gently caressing your cheek in an attempt to comfort you.

Your throat tightened. A tremor ran through your lips as you leaned into his touch, letting the warmth of his skin seep into your own coldness. You closed your eyes, resting your cheek on his palm. His touch was the only thing that managed to stabilize the turmoil of internal chaos.

— Get me out of here, please, take me home... — you whispered, your voice breaking at the end of the sentence.

Heeseung took a deep breath. His fingers slid along your jawline, holding you as if he feared you might crumble at any moment.

— There's something I must do first, and then I can take you to rest. Do you think you can wait for me? It won't take too long, I promise. — he replied gently, though his gaze darkened with a mixture of guilt and resolve.

You didn't have the strength to argue, so you simply nodded slightly, your eyes narrowing as he leaned in a little closer and pressed a brief, warm kiss to your forehead.

When he made a move to withdraw, you didn't hesitate. You stood up almost reflexively, your footsteps following his without him having to ask. The door closed behind you with a hollow sound, but you focused only on the figure walking in front of you, his shoulders tense and his gait firm. It didn't matter where he went or what he had to do. In that moment, all you needed was to be near him.

The sound of your footsteps echoed empty in the cold hallways as you followed Heeseung, who walked with a firm, confident stride, as if everything that had happened was just a passing cloud already dissipating in his mind. However, the weight of what he had experienced continued to crush your chest. The images of the fire, the anguish of seeing your world reduced to ashes, remained stuck to your skin, like a ghost. But you couldn't show any of that. He was there, by your side, and all you could do was keep up with him, hoping his presence would soothe some of the pain inside you.

As you reached a particular door, Heeseung stopped without warning, turning to face you. The softness in his gaze didn't go unnoticed, despite the tension surrounding him.

— Please stay here. — he said in a voice that brooked no argument. Though he didn't speak loudly, there was something in his authority that made it clear: you couldn't follow him any further.

However, the way his eyes lingered on yours for a second, as if he were trying to say something without words, made you feel a strange mix of comfort and despair. You nodded wordlessly, as if your strength could no longer rebel. He had always been the one who led the way, the one who took the reins, and though that sometimes frustrated you, in that moment, you needed him.

— I won't be long. — Was the only thing she said before disappearing behind the door with the soft creak of the wood closing. You stood there, staring at the closed door.

It wasn't that you didn't want to wait. It was that you didn't know what else to do with your life, now that everything you'd built seemed to be crumbling around you. You headed to one of the nearby chairs, searching for something to anchor you to the present, even a minimal distraction. Your eyes fell to the floor, to the reflection of the light that slipped through the walls, seeking some solace in your surroundings.

The creaking of heels interrupted your trance, and you looked up to find Young-Mi walking in your direction with calculated elegance. Her bearing wasn't so distant, but there was something in her gait that told you she wasn't a woman you could ask for too much. Somehow, she sat down next to you with a naturalness that surprised you, and before you could react, she was already there, by your side.

— Oh, you're still here. — she pointed out, her voice soft but curious, the weight of the situation not allowing her to change the tone of her question.

You didn't know what to answer, so you just stared at the floor for a moment, not wanting to burden her with your thoughts.

— Yes, I'm waiting for Heeseung. — you murmured, barely able to raise your voice. As if saying her name would lighten something that was worrying you, even for a moment.

Young-Mi, who was watching your movements closely, nodded slowly, unhurriedly, as if she had already expected a similar answer. She didn't pressure you or insist, something that, without knowing why, relaxed you slightly. Instead, she remained there, still, waiting silently.

Shortly after, he broke the silence, with a gentle demeanor and something she might have considered the perfect opportunity to speak.

— I must tell you something, taking advantage of the fact that I finally have the pleasure of seeing you in person, — she began, in the same gentle voice, as if she were opening a window in the middle of a storm. — Heeseung talks a lot about you, about how incredible your art is. He says you're able to convey what others can't, that every brushstroke is filled with emotion, something... unique.

Your eyes, they rose toward her, even though you didn't want to listen. You didn't want someone talking to you about your art, not in this place, not after what had happened. However, Young-Mi continued calmly, unbothered by the silence that enveloped you.

— I visited your gallery once. And I confess that what Heeseung said isn't an exaggeration. Your work has something special. — She paused, observing your face with curiosity, perhaps trying to understand your distance.

At that moment, the pain of loss crept into your chest again, stronger. It wasn't just the fire anymore. It was the disappearance of something that was a part of you. But with the same calm with which she had begun, Young-Mi leaned toward you, as if understanding something beyond words.

— I understand this isn't the best time to talk about it, but I wanted you to know. — she said softly, looking at you with some empathy and a certain regret. To which you simply remained silent.

The lump in your throat was so tight you couldn't speak. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, all you managed to utter was a brief, if somewhat empty, response.

— Thank you — you replied softly, your lips sealed in a forced smile, devoid of any real emotion. Had it been any other circumstance, things would definitely be different. — But... Please, I'd prefer you not talk about the gallery anymore. Not even about that.

Young-Mi nodded, making no further comment, as if she respected you more than you could express. In an act of tacit understanding, she remained silent, giving you the space you needed.

Elsewhere, inside the room, the conversation between Heeseung and Jongseong continued:

— The fire is under control, but the evidence still doesn't seem clear. The teams are still checking, but we have to wait to see what else can be found, — Jongseong commented, pointing at some notes on the table. — Hopefully, we'll be able to better understand what happened once we have Jake to review the recordings from the other side of the location.

— Okay, keep me updated on that. I'll be on the lookout, Lee replied, his tone firm and serious.

— I made sure they prioritized this case. For you… and for her — he added, a hint of respect in his voice. Heeseung looked up, his dark eyes reflecting a glimmer of recognition and gratitude. — Also, here are the details of the past mission and its loose ends, too. — Heeseung stated, extending a document to the major, who took it.

— Thanks, Jong. — Was all he said, but Jongseong understood the true weight behind that word.

Without another word, Heeseung pushed himself away from the table and left the room. His eyes instantly found your figure, sitting next to Young-Mi. The prosecutor spoke in a low voice, but as soon as she saw him leave the room, she stood up with a slight nod and walked into the room from which the other party had emerged.

Your gaze met his, and without needing to say a word, you stood up and approached. He looked at you with that mixture of concern and tenderness that had become so persistent in recent hours, and without hesitation, he touched your cheek with his fingertips.

— Ready to go? — he asked gently, his tone more like a whisper than a question. You just nodded. And when he took your hand, you allowed him to lead you out of that room.

When you truly care about someone, the last thing you want is to experience the pain of seeing them suffer, but... How do you make someone stop suffering like that? That was the question Heeseung had been constantly asking himself over the past few weeks, ever since the day of the fateful fire that took away what you loved most. He's done nothing but divide his responsibilities between his work as an agent and watching you deal with what could be considered the deepest depression he's ever seen you experience. And yes, he's seen you go through many bad times, but this, this was beyond comparison; even he could sense that.

Of course, as your bodyguard, he genuinely cares; after all, ensuring your well-being is his job. But, in his role as the man who so adores your existence, he'd been racking his brain trying to come up with something to help you cope or completely alleviate your current discomfort. But whatever he could come up with, the first step would be to get you out of your room…

Heeseung entered the house with firm but silent steps. The sunlight filtering through the windows filled the entryway with a soft, golden glow, bathing everything around him in a warm glow. His eyes scanned the room, pausing at the foot of the stairs as he looked longingly up to the upper floor. Without wasting a single second, he climbed up there, making his way towards your room.

He carefully opened your door, and just as he expected, upon entering, he found you sleeping soundly. Your cold, dark bedroom somehow radiated the sadness that dwelled within you, the same sadness he'd so frequently witnessed in your eyes these past few days. With light steps, he approached, reached for the nightstand beside your bed, and turned on the small lamp he knew was there. As he did so, it cut through the darkness in the room, and the first thing he saw was your face twist into an expression of disgust, clearly due to the light that suddenly shone directly into your face.

He smiled inwardly, finding your gesture so adorable. Then he simply crouched to the side and reached up to brush away a few strands of hair that had fallen into your face. He also ran his thumb between your eyebrows, gently caressing the area until your frown relaxed and your peaceful expression returned. Seeing you like this, he felt warmth flood his chest and a subtle tingling in his stomach. He liked you so much, there was no doubt about it, he couldn't deny it to himself, not even if he tried.

— Princess, the sun's up. Time to wake up. — His voice echoed in a soft murmur, trying not to be too rude when waking you up. And he succeeded; he saw you open one eye and then close it again.

— So what... am I going to photosynthesize or something? — you replied in a sleepy, deep voice, as you shifted between the sheets, shifting positions, now facing him with your back to him.

Perplexed, he admired your sleeping form for a few seconds; sometimes he forgot how sharp your tongue could be. Choosing not to be defeated, he straightened up to walk to the window and, mentally praying that you wouldn't insult him, he slid the curtains aside, causing the room to fill with the warm light of day.

— Lee Heeseung, close that fucking curtain and let me sleep in peace! — Your annoyed voice echoed in the bedroom, and he could only laugh as he watched you cover yourself from head to toe with the blanket.

— Get up, miss. You've got a busy day ahead of you today — he replied, half-amused and half-firm, reaching over to tug at your blanket. But you were more reluctant, clinging to it and not letting him move it. — Come on, I really have a good day planned for you. Get out of bed. — he added, his tone so insistent it seemed almost like a plea. But even that didn't stop him from struggling with the blanket.

— Let go of the fucking blanket, and I'll get up voluntarily. — you said, finally peeking your head out, giving him an annoyed look. To which he raised an eyebrow at you, not trusting your word.

— How do I know this isn't some trick on your part? — he inquires, momentarily giving up on pulling at the soft material, but not completely letting go.

— First, because I would never refuse a plan with you. Second, because you're stronger than me, and if you keep pulling at this thing, you'll end up taking it off and discovering that my panties are the only thing I'm wearing right now. — you warn, somewhat annoyed. And that last reason was enough for her to finally let go of the blanket without further struggle and walk away.

Obviously, she was upset to hear such a revelation, but she made an effort to act normal and maintain her composure.

— Okay, then... go get ready. I'll wait for you downstairs. — She excused herself somewhat nervously and then simply left the room, giving you some privacy.

【★】

The crunch of gravel under your boots mingled with the dry echo of bullets hitting the targets. The warmth of the sun filtered through the scattered clouds, enveloping the training grounds in an atmosphere filled with tension and constant noise. Gunshots rang through the air, some sharper than others, followed by the metallic crackle of bullets hitting their targets. You walked at a steady pace, but not without casting annoyed glances around, clearly annoyed by the surroundings you found yourself in.

— Really? It wasn't enough for you to force me to get up early, and now I also have to endure this hellish sun? — you muttered, pushing back a strand of hair that the wind had blown across your face.

Heeseung, walking slightly ahead of you, turned his head with a lopsided smile, the one you knew so well and that, unfortunately for you, always managed to disarm you.

— If you keep complaining, I'll make you walk around the training grounds until you forget how to complain. — His tone was light, but his eyes held a hint of mischief that made you frown.

— You wouldn't dare. — you blurted out, with a mixture of disbelief and veiled threat. For his part, Heeseung just laughed softly, a low sound that somehow shook you.

— You think so? — he retorted, tilting his head to one side.

You shot him a dirty look, but before you could continue reproaching him, he raised a hand and pointed toward a farther part of the field, where a covered structure stood.

— Don't worry, you won't be under the sun. Let's go to target practice. — he added simply.

You stopped abruptly, your eyebrows raising in surprise as you turned your head to him.

— Target practice? — you repeated, almost unable to believe it. Heeseung nodded, watching you with that serene yet penetrating expression that always made you feel like he could read your every thought.

— You once said you were curious about what it felt like to shoot a gun," he explained matter-of-factly, as if it were the most casual comment in the world. "I thought this would be a good opportunity.

You continued staring at him, trying to remember when you'd said that. And then you remembered. It had been during a casual conversation, one random night in your living room, while he was cleaning his gun after returning from a mission. You had quietly mentioned that you'd always been curious about that sensation: the weight of the gun in your hands, the vibration of the recoil, the dry sound of the shot breaking the air. It had been a fleeting confession, something you never thought he'd actually take into account.

— How do you still remember that? — you asked, your tone softening without you even realizing it. Heeseung shrugged, shifting his gaze to the field for a second before looking back at you.

— I always listen to you. Even when it's things you say quietly, or details that don't seem important to you, but are to me — he replied with a hint of sincerity that lodged itself in your chest. He paused for a second, his gaze softening. — I can't help it."

You were speechless, feeling a warm surge of emotion lodge itself in your core. But before you could formulate a response, he took a few steps further into the facility, and you had to jog to catch up.

The atmosphere changed as soon as they walked through the door into the shooting range. The sound of gunfire became more subdued, muffled by the thick walls of the structure. Several paper targets were lined up at the end of a long, narrow hallway, pierced by holes of varying sizes. The metallic scent of gunpowder wafted through the air, thick and pungent.

Heeseung approached a table where an arsenal of weapons rested and picked up a sleek, black pistol, along with a pair of protective headphones and goggles. With fluid movements, he picked up the weapon and checked the magazine before extending it to you, offering it to you with a calm but expectant expression.

— Ready to try it? — His tone was gentle, but his eyes sparkled with a hint of anticipation, perhaps excited to see you experience something new, something that wasn't quite your style.

You hesitated for a second, your eyes scanning the polished line of the weapon and then returning to his face. You couldn't help but feel a slight chill run down your spine at the thought of holding a real gun. But when you saw the confidence in the way he looked at you, something inside you settled.

— What if I miss? — you murmured, taking the gun gently, feeling its cold weight in your hands.

Heeseung took a step closer, helping you put on the protective gear, then wrapping his hands around yours to adjust the grip. The warmth of his fingers on your skin made you feel a tingle that spread to the base of your neck. He parted your legs with his foot, straightening your back properly.

— You don't have to get it right away. Just trust me, you'll see you won't get bored. Besides, even I didn't get it right the first time, so no pressure, princess. — he assured calmly, his voice just inches from your ear as he positioned himself behind you to help you calibrate and lock onto the target in front of you.

Only, as expected, the closeness and pressure of his body against yours, his hands on your waist, his warm breath caressing your cheek, and his low, raspy voice— These were enough to make you nervous, so much so that your hands were trembling slightly. And unfortunately for you, Lee noticed.

— If you keep shaking like that, you're definitely not going to hit the shot. — he whispered huskily at the edge of your ear, causing an electric current to travel along your spinal cord.

— Then get out of the way and let me do it on my own. — you replied defensively, trying to hide your nervousness. Heeseung glanced at you and just smiled, giving no indication that he was planning to leave you.

— I'm your bodyguard. I'm literally watching your back to keep you steady in case the force of the shot pushes you back. — His response was accompanied by a readjustment of his grip on your waist. However, you ignored him, simply focusing on the target in front of you, maintaining your position and your gaze fixed forward. — Okay, this is a good position, pull the trigger when you feel ready. — he adds, and no sooner had he finished speaking than the first shot you fired.

The bullet, to the surprise of even the man behind you, actually hit the target. You soon heard a contemplative whistle, and even applause from him.

— I guess it was beginner's luck on my side. — you hasten to comment, hoping to preempt any praise your precious attorney was already thinking of heaping.

— Beginner's luck or not, that was incredible, Princess. It was very natural. Do you want to try it again? — he asks, and with a quick nod you respond, then get into position.

And so it was a second time, and several more times you continued shooting, missing and hitting, but especially enjoying the activity and Heeseung's company. It wasn't something you'd thought you'd enjoy doing, but it was quite therapeutic… somehow, and it helped improve your mood. It was stress-relieving and exciting at the same time. Besides, if there was one thing particularly remarkable about all this, it was seeing Heeseung more open-minded, less stoic and proper.

Eventually, once you'd finished emptying a second cartridge, you began to take off your earmuffs and glasses, handing everything to Heeseung, along with the gun, for him to sort through. You'd had enough; you were even a little tired now that the adrenaline rush was starting to wear off.

— So what next? What else is on the itinerary? — you asked, as you both walked back to the facility's exit.

Then, once you're outside, Heeseung suddenly stops in his tracks and looks at you. There's a slight hint of suggestiveness gleaming in his eyes. That detail doesn't go unnoticed, as does the way he then shifts his attention and gaze toward the rustic training ground not far from you.

— You're going to run ten laps around the field. — His voice and expression, at first glance, reveal apparent seriousness, and after his declaration, he suddenly adopts a firm, almost strict stance. — It's required to unlock the next activi-

Before he could add anything else, you were already running toward the car, dramatically shouting "No," with a prolonged "No," causing the older man to burst out laughing as he watches you struggle to open the door, trying to escape from him and his plan, which was nothing more than a joke. He just wanted to test the waters, see what kind of reaction he'd get from you, and without a doubt, the result was endearing.

【★】

On such a hectic day, which started early, filled with fun activities, delicious food, and moments you'd surely remember forever, the mix of warm orange and red hues was finally beginning to settle in the sky. A few clouds embraced the sun, as if wishing to bid it farewell as it set, the afternoon felt so light. You were tired, yes, but no less happy. You couldn't even remember the last time you'd deviated so abruptly from your routine.

And now you understood why people say it's always good to try and do new things.

Heeseung had put so much effort into it, everything so perfectly planned, from the places you visited, which were one better than the last. You'd never seen beyond the same old streets, you'd missed out on much of the charm of your own city, but thanks to him, that had changed. Besides, the day, although well-planned around you, had also had the opportunity to explore new shades and nuances in the man who dedicated his entire day off to trying to make you feel good and smile again.

During the depressive episode triggered by the loss of the gallery after the fire, you hadn't been aware of how much you'd truly shut down. You'd been so depressed that even making art at home didn't cheer you up. But with this change of scenery, and Heeseung taking matters into his own hands, everything seemed better.

— Are you falling asleep, or why do you suddenly seem so quiet? — His warm voice suddenly cut through the silence inside the car, interrupting your thoughts and recollections of the day. — We're not done yet. I need you with energy for a little longer, okay? — he added, simultaneously patting your thigh gently to wake you up.

The soft noise of the engine filled the silence between you, providing a momentary calm before you decided to say something.

— I'm not one for surprises, and yet here I am, inwardly excited about whatever the man I like so much has prepared to cheer me up. — A soft murmur is your response, as you look out the car window. The city flashed by outside the windows, a blur of light and shadow.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips at your murmur. He knew you didn't like surprises, but he also knew that, deep down, you appreciate the effort and thought that goes into them.

— Just wait and see, okay? I promise you won't regret it. — he stated, casting a fond but brief glance at your facial profile.

After what seemed like a torturous eternity, the car was finally being parked on a sidewalk; Heeseung hurried to get out and walk around the vehicle, going to your side to open the door and carefully help you out of the passenger seat.

— What's this? — you asked almost automatically, confusion surfacing now that you were both standing outside what at first glance appeared to be a well-decorated establishment, with modern designs and structures. Heeseung didn't bother to clarify your growing doubts, just took your hand and led you inside.

The place was divided into two floors: The first floor had a reception area and was a spacious, well-lit facility. You took a thorough look around, scanning the place and seeing how it stirred certain feelings in you.

— Let's go upstairs, that's where the real important part is. — Without giving you a second to react, he was already taking your hand and leading you upstairs to the second floor.

The first thing you noticed when you entered the place was the available space. Then your gaze inevitably fell on the things in that area. It was equipped with tables piled with all kinds of art materials, from canvases to easels, which were clearly new. And the walls were blank, presenting a different kind of canvas. It was like your old studio, maybe bigger.

With tears in your eyes, you turned to look at him. Vulnerability and a host of indescribable emotions radiating in your eyes.

— Please, don't tell me you... — You couldn't even finish your sentence without your voice breaking.

He saw the emotions reflected on his face and how your voice caught in your throat. His heart contracted with happiness and worry at the same time.

— Yes, I did — he admitted softly, leaning closer so he could admire your beautiful eyes up close. — I know everything you lost that day. Your art, your space, your identity as an artist, and- — He couldn't finish either, but in his case, it was because you interrupted him.

— Are you telling me you really bought this place? — you inquire, immediately looking at him with wide eyes, at the same time bringing your hands to your mouth, covering it in excitement and surprise.

He nods, never taking his gaze from yours. He could see the surprise and gratitude in your eyes, and it made his heart swell with affection.

— Yes, that's exactly what I did. I was truly so excited. I wanted to give you a place to call your own again, a space where you could create, be inspired, and heal.

— You shouldn't have done something like that. — you complain, slightly embarrassed, but no less moved and grateful for his empathy and support.

With excitement, you set about exploring the place. The tables with materials. They had the exact brands of paint you'd always used. The brushes and everything else were also from brands and designs you loved so much. And damn, you felt like your heart was going to burst with how fast it was beating, your emotions so intensely on edge, realizing that he'd really put so much care and effort into giving you back what has defined you so much in life and in your artistic career.

He followed you as you explored the space, watching you discover the carefully chosen materials. He knew your preferences down to the smallest detail: the specific brand of paint, the type of brushes you preferred, even the specific texture of the canvas you liked the most.

— You shouldn't be too surprised that I hit the nail on the head — he murmured, suddenly interrupting your exploration and capturing your full attention. He leaned a little closer, his voice low and gentle, adding, — I did a lot of research. I wanted you to feel at home, like in your old studio. Every detail was chosen with you in mind. — He paused momentarily, his eyes searching yours before adding, — I want you to be happy again, here.

— Hey, an art studio isn’t exactly cheap to create, — you reply, embarrassed at the sudden reminder of reality. — I’ll pay you back when I get the chance. — you assert resolutely, but he just laughs softly, shaking his head.

— Don’t even think about it. It’s not a loan, it’s a gift. I have more than enough resources, and seeing you happy and painting again is worth every penny I spent on this place. — he replies, looking at you seriously, trying to emphasize his firmness and refusal to accept anything in return.

A lump suddenly formed in your throat, the feeling of comfort filling you completely, as did a deep appreciation for the other.

— You’re so good to me. — you murmur softly, avoiding his gaze, tears welling up in your eyes.

It was then that Heeseung leaned closer. His finger trailed under your chin with a touch so gentle it made the air thicken between you. He forced your gaze up, and your eyes locked with his, dark and charged with an emotion so raw it almost made your knees weak. His voice, low and drawling, vibrated with an emotional depth that seemed to take even him by surprise.

— You don’t know how much your smile and wholeness mean to me. For once, accept something without arguing or thinking you owe it to someone. — he whispered, and the way his eyes gave you no respite made heat rise up your neck.

The tone of his voice and the intensity in his gaze shot through you like a shock. You felt your lungs gasp for air as, from one second to the next, he lifted you up with alarming ease. Your legs reflexively wrapped around his waist, your arms slid around his neck as his hands held you with a firmness that shook your senses. The way he held you, with that mixture of urgency and need, made something inside you clench.

The rapid beat of his chest vibrated against yours, the heat of his body penetrating the layers of clothing. His breathing, rapid and ragged, brushed your ear as his lips lowered just to the crook of your neck, but didn't quite touch you. His self-control hung by a thread; you felt it in the tension of his muscles, in the way his fingers dug lightly into the skin of your back.

— Thank you for this and for everything you've done or do for me. — you mumbled, your voice breathy and shaky against his ear.

His response was to wrap his arms more tightly around you, burying his face in your neck as he breathed in your scent with a depth that made you shudder. His body visibly relaxed, as if simply holding you like that had broken down the last barriers he'd kept standing. But the way his hands slowly ran down your back, up the line of your spine with almost tortuous precision, made it clear he wasn't completely calm.

— You're wonderful... — you murmured against his cheek as your fingers moved up to his face.

You held his face in your hands and let your thumbs brush over the warm skin of his cheeks. Heeseung closed his eyes for a second, leaning into your touch as if he needed it to keep breathing. When he opened them again, his pupils were dilated, and a dark shadow crossed the depths of his gaze. There was emotion there, something pure, brutal, and blatantly transparent that made you press closer to him.

— Don't look at me like that. — you stammered, feeling the blush spread across your face and the tension growing between you like an electric field.

But he didn't look away. On the contrary, his eyes slid slowly over your face, lingering on the line of your lips, on the trembling of your lips.

The sound of your breathing. His hand moved to your cheek, his thumb tracing a slow, delicate path over the flushed skin of your cheekbone. His smile was faint, almost dangerous.

— Like what? Like I'm looking at the person who means more to me than anything else in this world? — His words were a knife-edge to your chest, each one imbued with devastating conviction.

Your breathing became erratic. Your fingers descended to his neck, and you felt the tension vibrating beneath your touch.

— Please don't say things that make my heart race, only to break it when you decide to return to your usual limits. — you warned him, your voice thick with vulnerability and exhaustion. You didn't want to go through the same old cycle, not this time.

Heeseung slowly shook his head, a dark, intense smile on his lips. He carried you in his arms until you were sitting on the cold surface of a table, his hands resting on either side of your hips, enclosing you between his body and the wood beneath you. He lowered his head until his forehead touched yours, his labored breathing hitting your parted lips.

— What if I told you this isn't one of those times? That no more limits and reality checks. — His voice was a harsh whisper, each word heavy with intent.

— Don't just say it, prove it. — your words came out as a challenge, an attempt to encourage him to move forward, while your eyes were fixed on his.

So, Heeseung didn't hesitate any longer. He closed the distance and his lips crashed against yours in a kiss overflowing with pent-up hunger. The pressure of his mouth was immediate and possessive, his tongue sliding between your lips with a confident, brazen rhythm that stole your breath.

Your response was automatic; Your arms closed tightly around his neck as your fingers tangled in his hair. The way he deepened the kiss, with calculated movements and almost absurd precision, sent a shudder down your stomach and resonated in your belly. A strangled moan escaped your throat as his hands moved down to your waist, pulling you closer to him. He separated his lips from yours, only to trail them down your jawline, leaving a series of open kisses that burned directly into your skin. His tongue traced the outline of your neck, followed by a bite hard enough to leave you trembling.

— I really waited so long for this. — Your breathing was shallow, your chest rising and falling rapidly as your fingers closed in his hair, unconsciously tugging at the strands.

— Too long. — he agreed, his voice vibrating against your skin.

— Are you going to make it up to me? — You gasped, your lips brushing against his as you spoke.

Heeseung laughed against your neck, his deep chuckle sending vibrations straight to your core.

—I'm going to make it up to you for every agonizing moment of holding back. — he stated with unwavering certainty, his hands trailing down the curve of your back to your hips.

His mouth returned to yours, this time with relentless intensity. He kissed you with hunger and need as his hands slid beneath the fabric of your shirt. The way his fingers grazed the bare skin of your back made your body arch toward him, seeking more, needing more.

— Too many clothes~ — he whispered against your mouth, and before you could respond, his hands moved up to undo the barrier of fabric with one precise motion, and with that same expertise, he unclasped your bra, setting it aside, discarded along with your shirt.

The way his eyes slowly scanned the exposed skin made heat shoot through your core.

— And I made sure to dress lightly. — you reply teasingly, your lips curving into a suggestive smile as your eyes bore into his.

— Clever girl. — he murmurs, a spark of approval in his eyes. His fingers skim your waist before sliding to the button of your jeans. With unnerving skill, he unbuttons it and hooks his thumbs into the fabric, pulling with a fluid, confident motion.

He slides the jeans down your hips, his pace slow, almost reverential. His fingers brush your skin on the way down, generating a fiery tingle that makes you catch your breath. But he doesn't rush. He pauses to kneel and slowly unbutton your boots, each touch leaving a trail of heat over your skin. Once your jeans fall to the floor, his eyes scan the image of you in nothing but your panties. His breathing becomes heavy and ragged, while his gaze darkens with need.

— Fuck... — he exhales, his pupils dilated as he devours you with his eyes. — I knew you'd look beautiful, but... this is beyond my wildest dreams.

His husky voice fills the air between you, laden with an adoration that sends shivers down your spine. His fingers trace the curve of your thigh, barely a touch, as he seems to debate whether to continue or surrender to you.

— I'm debating whether to touch you or kneel and worship you because you truly are a goddess... My goddess. — he declares with an intensity that makes you shudder involuntarily, his eyes anchored to yours as a malicious smile curves your lips. The way you smile, as if he owned you completely, only fuels the fire in his gaze.

Without breaking eye contact, you lie down on the table, stretching with a slowness that borders on sensual. The cold wood beneath your back contrasts with the heat burning on your skin. You display yourself before him without a trace of shame, and the gleam in his eyes, darkened by desire, makes you shudder.

He begins to unbutton his shirt. His fingers work with deliberate slowness, revealing every inch of taut, firm skin. In the dim light, you begin to notice the subtle scars that adorn his torso, silent traces of a past filled with battles and danger. They're old, fading with time, but still visible enough to tell stories without words. And somehow, that only makes him more attractive. Every mark, every line on his skin is proof of his strength, his dedication, and the knowledge of everything he's endured awakens in you an even more intense desire.

When the shirt falls to the floor, his breathing is harsh, his chest rising and falling sharply. His hands move down to his belt, but before he can do anything else, you slowly sit up, as if some invisible force is pulling you towards him.

— Wait, I want to help. — you offer, your voice laden with a low, seductive tone.

You approach him and, with a mischievous smile, replace his hands with yours. Your fingers slide over the leather, unbuckling his belt with a sensuality that renders him completely immobile. His breathing becomes heavier, his jaw tense as he watches your every move.

— You're making it difficult to maintain any semblance of gentlemanly behavior. — he whispers, his hands returning to your hips, trapping you in a touch as subtle as it is charged with intent.

— I don't want to seem too innocent... — you murmur softly as your fingers slide down the loop of his jeans, undoing the button with deliberate precision. The zipper slides down slowly, the sound almost imperceptible but encapsulating silent promises. Your eyes remain fixed on his, defiant yet vulnerable. — Not for someone who surely isn't used to delicate women like me.

A hiss escapes his lips as your fingers brush the exposed skin beneath the hem of his jeans. The tension between you feels like an electric current, vibrating in the air. His hand rises to your cheek, brushing the pad of his thumb over your lower lip in a slow, reverent caress.

— Delicate? — he repeats, his tone thick with disbelief, his eyes darkening with desire and tenderness.

— It's my way of expressing that this is the first time I've been in a situation like this. — you confess, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks as you continue to pull down his pants, your hands grazing the contours of his hips as you slide them down his legs.

His eyes soften at your confession, but the spark of desire in them doesn't go out. He helps you remove his pants, standing before you in his boxers, his breathing heavy as his gaze scans every inch of your body with barely contained hunger.

— Princess, I am truly honored to be the one to experience this with you. — His low, husky voice caresses the air between you.

Your breathing quickens as he moves closer, his fingers brushing the skin of your hips, sliding down the waistband of your panties. His closeness clouds your mind, the heat radiating from his body, enveloping you.

— Showing shamelessness will be my way of hiding the fact that I might disappoint you with my lack of experience. — you murmur, your voice cracking slightly under the mixture of nerves and anxiety.

He gently tilts your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. The intensity in his gaze momentarily takes your breath away.

— Impossible... — he firmly denies. — Do you realize how fucking sexy you are right now? Vulnerable and yet totally self-confident — His hands slide agonizingly slowly down your waist, his thumbs caressing the exposed skin with slow strokes. His mouth descends to your neck, leaving a warm kiss before his teeth graze your skin with a light bite that draws an involuntary sigh from you. — And trust me, even if it's your first time, how could you disappoint me, darling? Nerves, inexperience... only make this moment more sincere, more intimate.

His mouth continues lower, tracing a burning path down your neck to your collarbone. His tongue grazes your skin before sucking gently, leaving a warm tingle that spreads throughout your body. Your hands grip his shoulders, your nails digging lightly into his skin as he leaves another soft bite on your collarbone, followed by a wet kiss that makes you gasp.

— I really want to do it with you. — you reaffirm in a shaky whisper, urgency pulsing in every word.

His eyes darken even further, his lips curving into a smile heavy with satisfaction. He leans toward you, brushing his nose against yours before capturing your lips in a deep, demanding kiss. His tongue slides between your lips, exploring with a sensuality that makes you arch toward him, seeking more. His breath mingles with yours, his hands traveling down your back, sliding over the smooth exposed skin, brushing your hair.

— Then let’s do this... — he whispers against your lips, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. — Lie back, and let me show you how good this can be.

He gently guides you back, making you lie down on the table. The cold of the wood contrasts with the scorching heat of his body on yours. His hands travel up your thighs, slowly parting them as his mouth returns to your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses that descend dangerously to your tits. His tongue circles your skin, his teeth delicately graze a nipple before sucking, drawing a breathy moan from you.

Your hands find his back, sliding over his tense muscles as he moves down your abdomen, his mouth following the path of his hands. Your panties are at the limit of his fingers, and he looks at you with a mixture of devotion and lust. He took his time, sliding the fabric down your legs in a slow cadence, his touch soft and reverent. He tossed them aside and stepped back for a moment to gaze down at you, completely naked and trusting. His eyes darkened with desire, but he maintained a tender expression.

— You're absolutely beautiful. — More than a compliment, it's a genuine statement. He was fascinated by you and your gorgeous body.

— You flatter me. — you reply, letting out a soft chuckle as you lean up on your elbows so you can look at him. He chuckles softly, his eyes crinkling as he appreciates your modest chuckle. He leans closer again, and his fingers hook through your legs to separate them further.

— There's no flattery involved, these are more than just words — he assured, his fingers tracing tantalizing patterns on the inside of your thighs, causing your skin to prickle and your pussy to ache with need for his touch. — You look stunning this way : open, trusting, and eager. You, in all your splendor, that makes you more beautiful than you could ever imagine. — he affirms, and his caresses become more intense and difficult to bear as he approaches the center of your legs, which throbs eagerly for his attention.

— And soon, I'll be moaning your name, also christening this new art studio. — you add, wanting quell the burning excitement with humor.

Heeseung threw his head back with a deep, genuine laugh at your bold addition, his eyes shining with joy and desire. You never ceased to amaze him.

— Fuck, you're perfect — he moaned, leaning down to place a hot kiss just above your knee, his hand continuing to torture you with slow caresses on your inner thigh. — Do you really think you'll be moaning my name soon?"

— Maybe... — you replied, smiling mischievously. His teasing smile widened at your expression. He knew that smile was dangerous : mischievous yet innocent.

— What if I told you I'm good with my mouth? — He watched your reaction closely, his fingers unconsciously parting your legs further.

— Well, if you're that good a kisser, I have no doubt you'd do wonders using it down there, between my legs. — you respond shamelessly, simultaneously adjusting yourself to rest your feet on the edge of the table and spread yourself even more obscenely for him. His smirk widens, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

Without wasting another second, he kneels between your legs, still grinning, and declares,

— I bet I can make you scream.

— I bet the same. — you reply mockingly, though deep down you tremble with anticipation at the sight of him kneeling, his face between your legs, his warm breath fanning your most intimate area.

Heeseung smirked, aware of the effect he was having on you without even doing much of anything. His hands slid under your thighs, tilting you closer to the reach of his mouth. With the first contact, he took his time, licking and sucking at your folds, striving to learn what made you gasp and squirm. When he found that sweet spot, he zeroed in, his tongue swirling and pressing against your clit almost desperately, causing your hips to buck toward him, seeking more. His lips closed around your swollen bud, sucking hard.

Your breaths became ragged as his hands gripped your hips tightly, making sure to keep you in place as he sucked hungrily on your clit.

— Mmph! Heeseung~ — you moaned softly, pressing your hands to his head, letting your fingers tangle in his hair. Your back arched off the table, and your abdomen tightened as your chest rose and fell rapidly with labored breaths.

For his part, Heeseung let out a satisfied hum, the sound reverberating against your warm core and making you gasp even louder. He loved hearing his name on your lips, and even more so the way your body responded to him. Without any warning, he slid two fingers through your soaked entrance, your warm, bulbous walls welcoming him with a delicious squeeze. Immediately, he began probing your insides, skillfully curling his digits to reach that spot that would make your eyes roll back.

— Oh! Wait... — you whimpered at how right his action was, and how good it felt. But Heeseung didn't stop. Understanding perfectly well that he really shouldn't stop; it was a normal reaction to the unexpected intrusion of his fingers into your sensitive pussy.

He pushed his fingers deeper, parting them slightly, scissoring them to stretch you. He captured your clit between his lips once more, sucking gently as his fingers worked their magic inside you.

— Babe? — he alluded suddenly, his eyes searching yours, wanting to make sure everything was in perfect order with you.

— I'm fine. Don't stop~ — you replied between moans. To which Lee groaned softly, loving your simple response.

He added another finger, stretching you further, preparing and stimulating your sex as much as necessary. He could feel the muscles in your thighs tense, your moans grow louder, and your entire body begin to shake and writhe involuntarily on the table. He knew you were about to break. That's why he grew excited and twisted his fingers inside you more insistently, pressing on that spot that reduced you to a wet, trembling mess.

He looked up and witnessed the way your face contorted with pure pleasure, your eyes rolling back, your lips parted, letting out your sweet moans and noises, and those cheeks flushed with excitement more than shyness. He was fascinated by every tiny detail of you as you were sexually pleasured. He wanted more of that, more of you, he wanted to take you to the edge, make you succumb to him.

And he did it, he got what he wanted, the moment you couldn't hold back, and you came undone on his fingers and in his mouth. Your moans echoed clearly. He felt your orgasm overflowing, your pussy clenching rhythmically around his fingers as you came undone. He moaned against you, savoring your pleasure before slowly pulling his fingers out and giving you one last lick on your clit.

With some care, he straightens and hovers over your small body lying on the table, still convulsing from the aftershocks of your orgasm. His hand lovingly caresses your face. His thumb runs over your flushed cheek as he watches you come down from your high. A satisfied smile touches his lips, knowing he's the reason for that dazed expression. He leans down and kisses you on the lips, hindering your attempt to catch your breath.

— Is my precious lady okay? — he asks as soon as he finishes kissing you. His voice is soothing and genuinely concerned for you.

— Don't worry, I'm okay. That was amazing, really good. — you reply breathlessly, still struggling to catch your breath, but there's a note of pleasure underneath.

A spark of pride lights his eyes at the sound of you, and the arc of his smile widens slightly. His gaze descends with deliberate slowness, tracing the contours of your naked body with a palpable desire that makes your skin prickle under his scrutiny. His hands still frame your face, but the heat of his palms seems to penetrate deeper, igniting something still burning inside you.

— I'm glad you liked it, baby. — he whispers with satisfaction.

The tension in the air thickens as you reach for him, sliding them over the skin of his abdomen to the beginning of his boxers. A strangled gasp escapes his lips when you hook your fingers in the elastic waistband, and his breath catches. The intensity in his gaze deepens, darkening with a desire that seems to consume the air between you.

He steps back slightly and allows you to pull the garment down, without resistance. His erect member springs free and stands against his abdomen.

— It’s your turn… — you declare with a softness laden with intent, your fingers tracing a lazy path up his hip. He looks up at you as you cup his erection in your hand and stroke it gently.

His chest expands with a heavy inhale as your fingers close around his thickness, and the way you position yourself on the edge of the table, lying sideways, while you move your hand up and down his penis. He tangles his fingers in your hair as you stroke him, and a moan escapes his throat. The sight of you completely naked and touching him is almost unbearable; he could burst and spill just looking at you.

— Am I doing this right? — you ask, looking up at him with bright eyes, full of excitement and innocence, causing his own eyes to soften at your question, his thumb brushing over your lower lip.

— You're perfect... — he assures without hesitation, and lowers his hand to yours on his member, showing you the perfect rhythm and pressure, the thing that drives him the most crazy. — Just like that. Fuck, you're good at this.

You suddenly see his free hand slide with delicious delicacy between your legs and his fingers caress the wet lips of your pussy, still sensitive from the orgasm he made you have with his mouth. Meanwhile, you continue pumping his length.

— Hey, you're supposed to be the one receiving now. — you chide, giving him a reproachful look, and he chuckles, his fingers stroking your folds possessively.

— Shh~ I'm enjoying it. — he mumbles. His hips buck slightly against your hand, almost fucking your fist. He feels him getting close, but he also wants you to squirm for him.

In the blink of an eye, you find yourself moaning; his fingers plunged in again without reservation, bursting into your pussy, caressing your walls, feeling them clench just like before. But he wasn't the only one doing more. In an unexpected move, you took his cock into your mouth, taking what you could, relaxing your jaw to accommodate him properly, at the same time parting your legs so he could better insert his fingers while you sucked him off.

His eyes widened in surprise and pleasure the instant you took him into your mouth, your wet, warm heat enveloping him completely. He let out a throaty moan, and his fingers thrust in and out at a steady, merciless pace, fervently rubbing against your walls, feeling them tighten and throb.

This was better than anything he'd ever experienced. Which led him to declare :

— You're going to be the death of me, I'm taking it for granted."

But your simple response was to moan around his cock, sucking more eagerly with each passing second, enjoying his reactions, the kinky wet sounds, and at the same time, how his fingers so expertly fuck your pussy. Heeseung stares at you with devotion as you suck him off relentlessly, his fingers sinking deeper into your heat, reaching that point that makes you choke around his member. He's never seen anything sexier in his entire life. Or maybe it was the effect produced by the simple fact that it was you. And, as if seeking to end his sanity, you tilt your head off the table, trying to take more of him into your mouth.

You seemed to like this much more than either of you could have expected.

His cock throbs against your tongue as you take him deeper, almost gagging, completely ignoring any gagging. Leaving him amazed by your enthusiasm and skill. With a moan, he curls his fingers inside you, precisely caressing that magical spot that makes your whole body shudder.

— Princess, you're going to make me cum... — he growls through gritted teeth.

You pull out of your mouth for a moment, just to catch your breath, but you don't stop servicing him with your hand, running your hands up and down the hot, saliva-covered skin. Your lips feel swollen and wet, but moaning while he continues to make you see stars with his fingers distracts you. Heeseung looks at you, his face flushed, his lips swollen, his hand moving rapidly over his length. He can't hold back any longer.

— Cum with me. — he demands between heavy exhales, and simultaneously, his fingers speed up the pace inside you, thrusting in and out relentlessly, making you moan loudly. But you take him back into your mouth, sucking the tip steadily while you continue to move your hand along the rest of his length.

He rolls his eyes as you take him again, your hand and mouth in perfect harmony. He feels his release creeping in, his balls tightening. He lets out a strangled cry as he feels you suck harder and your tongue swirl around the tip. And just like that, your body convulses once more, consumed by ecstasy, and you cum on his fingers as he spills into your mouth, his hot, salty semen filling you and running down your throat.

He's never experienced an ejaculation so intense, so satisfying. He keeps thrusting his fingers into you through the orgasm, prolonging the pleasure until you're a quivering, panting mess on the table.

— Fuck, that was… — He’s unable to finish the sentence, his voice cut off by a heavy gasp, caused by the intense aftershocks that ravage your body.

For your part, you move away from his penis and lie back, tired and exhausted, on the table. Lee is about to make sure you’re okay, but, to both of your misfortunes, his cell phone rings, and you both sigh in frustration. However, he picks up the device and turns it off, completely ignoring the unwelcome call, his attention focused solely on you. No one was going to ruin his perfect moment.

He gently removes his fingers and brings them to his mouth to clean them with his tongue, once again delighting in the exquisiteness of your warm essence. He watches you lie there, exhausted and satisfied. A smile spreads across his lips as he realizes how intense it was.

— Are you okay, baby girl? — he questions, looking at you closely, studying you, wanting to assure you that only pleasure and comfort were what you were feeling. And luckily, your answer reassured him.

— I can assure you, I'm more than fine — you reply in a soft, smiling voice. You hear him sigh with satisfaction, and his thumb gently strokes your hipbone, in a gesture that is both tender and possessive. — How are you?

— I'm fucking great, princess. I've never felt anything like this — he admits in a voice somewhere between astonished and satisfied; he really does seem so happy. — You're incredible, did you know that? — he adds in a tone full of admiration.

—I'm glad I did well. — you reply, smiling proudly at yourself. To which Heeseung laughs softly and leans in to place a soft kiss on your forehead, then another on your nose, and finally a longer one on your lips.

— You were more than 'well'. You blew my mind — he replies after breaking away from the kiss. His hand slides from your hip to your waist, holding you firmly. — But... — Suddenly, he drags you to the edge of the table and spreads your legs, his eyes darkening with renewed desire. He can't get enough of you, and it doesn't look like he's going to anytime soon. — I can't just let you lie there looking so sexy and not do something about it. — he states in a low, husky voice, causing you to shudder.

— Oh, that wouldn't be acceptable, would it? — you respond playfully, playing along. The older man smiles mischievously, his hands running down your legs to the inside of your thighs.

— No, it wouldn't be. After all, my job is to protect you. And right now, I need to protect you from being neglected. — He positions himself between your legs and opens them wider, making the necessary space for himself, as he takes his member in his hand and strokes its tip against your sensitive clit, moving down your wet slit, collecting your juices, before repeating the motion a few times.

He watches your expression closely as he strokes your pussy with his tip, his eyes dark with desire and something softer, almost gentle. He knows he's about to pluck the petals of your innocence, and despite his dominant nature, he wants this moment to be special for you.

— I want your eyes on me, gorgeous. — More than a request, it's really a command, laced with his need to capture your expression the moment he finally goes further.

He watches the way you sit almost upright and bring your hands to his back, your delicate fingers digging into his skin, clinging to his body. He leans closer to you, wrapping his free arm around your waist to support you. He continues stroking your clit with his glans, spreading your wetness and increasing your anticipation. He catches you with his gaze, his eyes boring into yours.

— You're mine now, okay? This changes everything. — His voice is deep, filled with a mixture of possessiveness and vulnerability.

— I've always been yours. — you gasp softly, and his eyes soften at your words, a surge of emotion mingling with his arousal.

He leans down to capture your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, trying to keep you distracted as he finally fits himself against your wet entrance. His tip presses against you with eager insistence, slowly beginning to push in, until, with a gentle but firm push, he pierces your hymen, eliciting a stifled cry from both of you. The sensation of encasing himself in your tight heat makes him see stars too, but he struggles to hold back a little.

— It's okay, it's okay, babe. I know it hurts, but you'll feel amazing soon... — Still against your mouth, he whispers those reassuring words, one hand stroking your hair while the other grips your hips tightly. He begins to move slowly, giving your body time to adjust to his size.

— Heeseung~ — you moan, deeply enraptured as he goes deeper and deeper, deliciously filling and stretching your tight pussy. His control almost breaks at the sound of your moans mixed with his name.

One of his hands moves to your ass, squeezing it possessively, tilting your hips to get a deeper angle. His hips thrust gently but firmly, his swollen member sliding in and out of you in unnecessary movements. He watches in fascination as you lie back again, arching your back and spreading your legs wider to better fit him. He uses that moment to push himself deeper between them and, holding them, wraps them around his waist. He slides an arm under your back, holding you and allowing you to arch fully.

— Look at us, look how well you take me, princess. — he pants, keeping his gaze down between your legs, watching his cock fill you.

— I'm liking taking you~ — you moan softly, your voice slipping like a hot whisper in the air.

After listening to you, he begins to move more deliberately, each thrust measured but intense, searching for the perfect rhythm to make you enjoy yourself. One hand moves between your thighs, searching for your clit with skillful fingers. The contact makes your body shudder, and your moans become more frequent.

— Can you hold out longer, baby? — he asks, his voice low and raspy, as he gently rubs around your sensitive bud, continuing to thrust. His hot breath glides over your skin, making you feel like you're on fire inside.

— Yes, love. Yes, I can. — you respond ecstatically, oblivious to shyness, as your body arches toward him, seeking more contact, more pressure. Your voice is a desperate whisper, a call for him to take you further, deeper.

However, hearing you call him "love" triggers a excitement is on the edge, and his movements become frantic, more intense.

— Say it again... — he demands, his voice muffled against your breasts, as his tongue glides over one of your hardened peaks, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He begins to thrust faster, deeper, hitting spots inside you that make you moan and feel like you're about to fall apart.

— It can't be that you like a simple nickname so much. — You giggle lightly between moans, as your body moves to the rhythm of his thrusts. Your hands clutch at his back, searching for something to hold on to. Heeseung laughs breathlessly, his breath hot against your chest.

— It's not just a nickname when you say it — He lifts his head to look into your eyes, his hips never stopping their rhythmic movements, as his hand slides over your skin, searching for sensitive spots, seeking to make you feel alive. — You calling me 'love' makes me feel like you're giving me something precious.

— Well, I'm giving you all of me, love... — you murmur thoughtfully, as your body surrenders to him, as your soul opens, offering itself. Your voice is a desperate whisper, a call for him to take you, to make you his completely.

His breath catches at your words, emotion overwhelms his lust for a moment, and his movements stop. Then, he kisses you deeply, desperately, pouring all his feelings into the kiss, as his tongue slides over yours, his teeth capture your lower lip in a sweet bite that makes you gasp. When he pulls back, he looks at you, his eyes intense, full of emotion.

— Then I'm very lucky, because you're the most precious thing anyone has ever given me. — His voice is gentle, a murmur of gratitude, of love.

— Come here. — you gasp, taking his face in your hands and pulling him in for a kiss, to feel his warmth. Your mouth opens and his tongue slides inside.

He lifts you slightly, both hands on your hips, moving them off the table to change the angle, and his cock hits a spot inside you that almost makes you scream into his mouth. The air escapes your lungs in a ragged gasp, and your legs tense around his waist, trying to keep him inside you.

You look into his eyes, your pupils dilated, filled with adoration and mutual desire. You keep your hand on his face, caressing his cheek, while you moan at his precise, deep penetrations. His gaze is like a magnet, attracting yours, and you feel lost in the abyss of his eyes. His lips curve into a smile, and his tongue comes out to lick your lips, as if he's savoring their taste.

— You look at me as if I'm the only thing you see. —He whispers, his voice husky with arousal.

— And you are. —You gasp softly in reply, your words like a trigger that breaks his control.

He starts moving faster, harder, his hips slamming into yours. The table creaks beneath you, but he doesn't slow down. He loses himself in your eyes, in the feeling of your pussy surrounding him, in the sound of your voice. His breathing is ragged, and his chest rises and falls rapidly.

— Heeseung… — His name amid your moans echoes throughout the room, as do the sounds of skin against skin with each thrust.

Your voice is like a chant, a hymn to the passion that consumes you, as he continues hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. The sensation is like a tsunami, a wave of pleasure that drags you toward the abyss.

— Louder… — he growls, his hands squeezing your thighs, spreading them as far as he can, and his cock drives deeper into you. You feel like you’re being torn apart by passion, like your body is being consumed by the intensity surrounding them. — Say my name again.

— Ah! Heeseung! — you whimper, your voice like a scream of release that echoes through the spacious studio. The orgasm is searing. But he doesn’t stop, he keeps moving, keeps driving his member into you, relentlessly.

He watches your face contort with pleasure, your mouth open in a silent scream. He sees your chest rise and fall rapidly, hears your soft moans. But instead of slowing down, he goes faster, penetrating you mercilessly. He wants another, another cry of ecstasy, another orgasm. His thumb finds your clit again, rubbing it in firm but gentle circles, trying to coax all the pleasure he can from your body.

— Hee~ — you whine pitifully, due to the overstimulation. He smiles devilishly, knowing exactly what those moans mean, but still continues his rhythm.

— One more, baby. Give me one more. You can take it... I know it. — He pants, sweat dripping from his forehead. His voice is like a challenge to your resistance.

— But I want you to cum too. — Your voice is almost a whisper. You really want him to release himself, to let himself go completely and lose himself in the abyss of lust where they're suspended.

His eyes nearly roll back at your words, as a wave of desire overwhelms him and drags him closer to the shore. He bites his lower lip, fighting to contain his own ejaculation, the throbbing desire that threatens to spill over.

— Not until you do it again. — he growls, his jaw clenched, his voice deep and thick with need. He presses his thumb harder against your clit, feeling your body tremble beneath his touch.

— Then cum with me. — you beg, your moans intertwining with the urgency of your words.

His eyes darken with intense desire, and he nods, unable to resist your plea. He adjusts the angle slightly, relentlessly hitting that perfect spot inside you, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

— Let's cum together, my princess. — he growls with a possessive tone, his movements becoming more urgent, primal, as if each thrust demands your total surrender.

You moan loudly once more, tightening your legs around his waist, digging your fingers into his forearms, feeling the strength of his body against yours. At the sound of his name on your lips, he loses control completely. With a loud grunt, he buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent, and his entire body tenses as he reaches climax. He feels another orgasm wash over you, your throbbing walls enveloping him, triggering his own release.

He swallows your screams, his lips devouring yours in a deep, ravenous kiss. Your bodies convulse against each other, his hot seed filling your insides, as a soft groan escapes his lips, another wave of pleasure hits him, and your inner muscles squeeze him dry. He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours, watching as you crumble again, lost in euphoria.

— I love you~ — you gasp softly, a surge of vulnerability floating in the air. Your confession seems to stop time. His eyes, dark and deep, bore into yours with overwhelming intensity, filled with wonder and adoration.

Something in him shudders, as if your words have pierced every layer of his being, reaching a place no one else has ever touched before. His body still trembles with the aftershocks of his relentless passion, and yet it's your declaration that truly takes his breath away. Slowly, a smile spreads across his face, the most beautiful and genuine you've ever seen. But the silence between you lengthens, and uncertainty begins to settle in your chest.

— Why aren't you answering? — you ask in a whisper, the echo of your fear resonating between you both.

He doesn't answer right away. Instead, his fingers find your face with infinite tenderness, his thumbs gently wiping away the sweat and tears of pleasure gathering at the corners of your eyes. His touch is reverent, as if you were something sacred.

— Because I'm still trying to process that you just said those three words to me. — His voice is a husky whisper, thick with emotion. He takes a deep breath, never taking his eyes off yours, finding in them all the answers he didn't know he needed.

— I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overwhelm you. — you excuse yourself timidly, but before insecurity can take hold, he shakes his head, a soft laugh escaping his lips. And then he kisses you.

It’s not just a kiss. It’s a refuge, a silent promise, an absolute surrender. You pour all your emotions into it. He kisses you with a devotion that rekindles the spark between you, dispelling any doubts. When he finally breaks away, his forehead rests on yours, his eyes closed tightly, as if afraid that when he opens them, this moment might vanish. But you’re there. He’s there. And nothing in the world could make this moment cease to exist.

— You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear those words from you, so don’t apologize — he whispers, his voice imbued with a sincerity that envelops you like a caress. His gaze shines with a mixture of relief and suppressed emotion.

— I really wanted to say them. — you murmur softly, brushing your nose against his in a tender and complicit gesture.

His reaction is immediate. He wraps you in his arms with a strength that doesn't seek to possess, but to hold you, wanting to reassure himself that you are real, that this moment isn't a fleeting dream. His body relaxes in the embrace, for the first time in a long time, finding true peace. The warmth he radiates is comforting, enveloping, and in that contact he understands: these aren't just words. They are an absolute truth, as undeniable as the way your heart beats in unison with his.

A soft smile spreads across his face, his eyes crinkling tenderly as he absorbs every nuance of this moment. But the intensity of his love, this longing he's harbored for so long, compels him to seek confirmation.

— Are you serious? — His voice is a deep whisper, thick with emotion, while his eyes cling to yours with quiet desperation. He needs to hear it again. He needs to know this is real.

— I'm completely serious, Heeseung. I love you. — you repeat firmly, letting each word resonate with truth, with the strength of a feeling that leaves no room for doubt.

Something in him breaks and mends itself at the same time. His lips part slightly, as if he wants to respond immediately, but the torrent of emotion is too much. A single tear slides down his cheek, a silent witness to the impact of your words. He takes a deep breath, trying to stem the avalanche of feelings, but his voice trembles when he finally lets out the answer he's been keeping deep inside.

— I love you too. — In those four words, filled with an indescribable intensity, his whole world aligns with yours.

Your heart beats frantically at just hearing it, the butterflies in your stomach flutter, but there's something else that captures your attention in that instant.

— I guess you're not the only one who loves me. — you comment, amused, feeling his desire renewed inside you, his cock hardening once more.

He chuckles softly, a deep sound that resonates in his chest, filled with satisfaction. He gently moves his hips, teasing you with his renewed hardness.

— It seems so. And it also seems like I'll have a hard time tiring of you, too. — he says, his voice husky with desire, thick with palpable lust.

— I want you to bend me over this table and take me from behind. — you gasp softly, each word professing desire.

His body shudders at your heated words, his member throbbing urgently inside you. With a grunt of pure pleasure, he slowly withdraws, enjoying the exquisite friction of each brush as his manhood slides out of your cushioned, warm walls. In one swift, determined movement, he lifts you off the table, turns you over, and bends you over the wooden surface, pressing your tits against it.

Suddenly, you feel the impact of his hand on your buttock, a blow that makes you shudder and moan in surprise, but that ends up resulting in a delicious stinging sensation. He smiles wickedly at your words, loving with some morbidity the pinkish trace he leaves on your pale skin. He rubs the spot before delivering another firm slap, enjoying the way you wriggle under his touch.

Without warning, he penetrates you again, sinking his member hard into your pussy, pressing his chest against your back as he presses you against the table and his body. He wraps his arms around your waist, pressing you against him as he begins to thrust into you mercilessly. The table creaks under the force of his movements, his muscles contracting and relaxing in a primal rhythm as he thrusts in and out again and again, without any restraint.

— Do you like it? — he asks between moans, his hot breath caressing your skin.

— I love it~ — you moan, fascinated, and he leaves soft kisses on your cheek, each touch igniting the fire between you even more.

He continues thrusting into you, his movements becoming more erratic and desperate as you move. He pursues his next release. He nestles into the crook of your neck, his lips and tongue peppering your skin with hot kisses, marking you as his with every touch. He hooks an arm under one of your legs and lifts it to the edge of the table, allowing him deeper access, each penetration sending waves of pleasure through your body.

— Tell me you're only mine. — he growls, his teeth grazing your neck, a touch that sends shivers of pleasure through you.

— I am, I'm only yours. — you whimper loudly. He shudders at your words, an intense wave of possession and love enveloping him completely.

He buries his face in your hair, inhaling your intoxicating scent as he continues to penetrate you, each movement bringing him closer to the edge of ecstasy and sensitivity.

— I love you~ — he whispers huskily, each syllable filled with fervor.

— I love you too. — you reply between moans. Bringing a hand between your body and the table, he moves down your abdomen until he finds your clitoris and begins to rub it, once again seeking that relief that seems so close.

Heeseung feels you arch, your body eager for release again. Firmly, he circles your wrist with his fingers, pulling your hand away from its goal. He wants to be the one to bring you to climax, not your own fingers.

— My turn… — he growls, replacing your fingers with his, his expert touch fanning the flames of ecstasy in your body.

— Mmm~ H-Heeseung! — you mumble, choked, your insides throbbing, nearing orgasm. You clutch the table, seeking stability in the abyss of pleasure.

He feels your limbs trembling, aware that you're on the verge of unraveling again. He rubs your clit with firm pressure, synchronizing his movements with his thrusts. With his other hand, he grabs your hips, holding you tight as he thrusts relentlessly.

— Be a good girl and cum for me again... — he commands huskily, a command that resonates deep inside you. And without further ado, Heeseung feels you convulse around him, reaching your climax, his name on your lips. — That's it, you're doing so good, baby. So good for me.

He continues moving inside you, prolonging your pleasure, reveling in the way your body trembles and gripping him in an ecstasy that seems to have no end. His own climax reaches him like a crashing wave, and with one last deep thrust, he lets himself go, spilling inside you once more, with an intensity that leaves him trembling. A deep roar escapes his throat, his gravelly voice reverberating through the studio as his body surrenders to the wave of sensations coursing through him.

The air is still thick with desire and something deeper, something beyond physical pleasure. With a ragged sigh, you collapse onto the table, the warmth of your skin meeting the coolness of the wood as you try to catch your breath. Heeseung doesn't move away. Instead, he snuggles up against you, his face finding refuge in the crook of your neck and shoulder, his still erratic breathing brushing your skin. His arms slide around your waist, pulling you against him with possessive need.

— You fascinate me. — His voice is a deep whisper, still laced with emotion and desire. His lips brush against your skin as he continues to murmur words of adoration, telling you how much he loves you, how beautiful you are, how unique it feels to have you in his life.

Each word is a balm, a reminder that this isn't just desire, but something bigger, more real. His confessions feel like invisible caresses, enveloping you in a bubble of tranquility, one that belongs only to this moment, to the two of you, and to the certainty that, for now, nothing else matters.

[peachhcs]

can you do one where samy and will go to a party in Michigan and Samy gets super drunk and when they get back to her apartment it is just her and will and he is helping samy and she is throwing up and he is helping her and then the next morning she is hungover

i think this ask is from like last summer or close to it (eek so sorry). i've been looking through my asks and landed on this one as i try to answer old ones

i always feel like whenever will and samy go out, he never gets super drunk so he's still sober enough to get them home and take care of samy (also so she never has to worry and can just have fun) -- takes place sometime...this past school year when will comes to visit

au masterlist

the senior hockey house was lively. considering how popular the boys were on and off the ice, their house was always packed anytime they threw a party. it was mostly the girls who tried getting in to talk up one of the players which was always a gamble if they were successful or not because most of the hockey boys were there to have fun.

samy weaved her way through the crowd in search of her boyfriend. she kept getting stopped by someone who wanted to talk to her, so her efforts to find him turned into a 30 minute adventure. there was always a familiar face around the corner like a classmate, a hockey boy, or her soccer teammates that wantd to talk and considering samy got super chatty whenever she was drunk, she always stopped to have a conversation.

will decided to just go to her since he didn't know nearly enough people to get stopped every 5 minutes. he finally found her in the living room talking with tj and tyler. the blonde smiled and silently touched her arm so he didn't startle or interrupt the conversation. the brunette caught his gaze and interrupted herself anyway to greet him.

"ooh, hi baby. i promise i was coming to find you. i got stopped sooo many times," the girl chuckled. the boy's smile grew.

"i figured. that's why i just came to you instead," he kissed her temple. tyler and tj smiled at the affection. at this point, everyone was so used to samy and will that hardly anyone really teased them anymore (besides their closest friends). they were really just "mom and dad" status now.

"i was just telling ty and tj about your season and how you scored like soo many goals in your rookie season," will quickly blushed at the praise.

he never had to worry about leaving samy be at parties because well 1. he trusted her and 2. she just talked about him to everyone she interacted with anyway. he was the same way too, any party he was at in san jose he just talked about his girlfriend the whole time. mack definitely got sick of hearing him yap on about her.

"oh really?" the hockey player chuckled.

"i mean, duh. i gotta brag about you. he's so humble," the brunette smacked his chest and will's smile had never been bigger.

"i honestly can't believe you're a pro now. makes me miss our dev program days," tyler chuckled.

"don't remind me. it goes fast, man. i honestly can't believe it either. i feel like i'm dreaming sometimes still," will admitted.

"i mean you deserve it. you were a fucking beast out there. still are," hearing those words from former teammates made the rookie flush. sometimes when he doubted himself he just remembered how proud his former teammates were of him and why he did this—for them.

"geez, thanks ty. i appreciate that. you are too," the boys continued their small talk while samy finished what was left in her cup. she was buzzing, probably on her 4th drink of the night..she lost count an hour or two ago.

whatever ethan and mark always bought was way better than the cheap alcohol her and hannah got for their wine nights. it got samy drunk pretty fast and she was already tipsy when they got there because her and hannah pregamed with samy's soccer teammates. there were great perks to being friends with the senior hockey players because she always got her friends an in.

tyler and tj let the couple have a moment together since will came over to originally find samy. the girl grinned up at him and will couldn't help but smile back. "hi, pretty."

"hiii, how are you?" she grabbed onto him and he caught her before she stumbled over.

"how are you? drunk?" will could smell the smirnoff on her breath mixed with some type of berry.

"likee yeah. i'm good though. i'm sorry i didn't make it to you sooner. soo many people just wanted to stop and chat. you know me and talking," the brunette giggled.

"i know, you love talking. you think it's maybe time to go?" the shark's rookie wondered just because it was almost 1 in the morning and he knew samy well enough that he knew when she needed to go to bed and stop drinking before she started throwing up.

"okayyy, we can go. i better say bye to hannah and make sure she has a way to get home. and mark and eth so they know i'm leaving," samy determined and will nodded.

"okay, let's find them," with will being taller, he could see through the crowds of people better than samy.

he took her hand to lead her through the house in hopes of finding one of the three people she listed. however, samy was talking to every single person she walked by, sometimes trying to stop completely, but will kept pulling her along.

they found hannah first. she was talking with a few of her gymnast friends, immediately grinning when she saw will and samy.

"hey guys!" the brunette exclaimed.

"hannah!! hey!!" samy jumped into her roommates arms.

"hi pop. what's up?" hannah laughed when she caught the girl.

"will says we're leavinggg. are you getting home okay?"

"yeah, i'll be good. i might go back with georgia and farah," hannah pointed to the two girls beside her.

"you might or you will?" will always needed to confirm the getting home plans.

"she will. we'll get her home okay, don't worry," farah smiled kindly. mark's girlfriend was basically the mom of the group, so she aways made sure the girls made it back home safely. will trusted her and nodded.

"text us," he reminded hannah who nodded.

"will do. take care of her," she giggled down at her roommate again and passed her back to the boy.

mark and ethan weren't far. they were in the kitchen with mostly their teammates now since people were starting to leave. mark spotted the couple first knowing the look meant they were leaving.

"ooh, whats this?" samy spotted a cup of something and picked it up faster than will could stop her. she took a few sips of it before immediately coughing and making a face of disgust.

"hey, don't drink that. i think you've had enough," will took it from her and handed it over to mark who stepped in.

"you guys leaving?" the older boy wondered.

"yeah, i'm gonna take her home. great party, thanks for having us," will nodded.

"you're good to walk her?" mark confirmed and the blonde nodded.

"i'm sure. i'm not even that drunk."

"okay, let one of us know if there's any problems. get back safe," the boys fist bumped.

will took samy by the arm to lead her to the front door. the girl was giggly as they walked, claiming he was tickling her. "baby, that tickles!" she giggled.

"i'm not tickling you, i promise," will hummed.

he would let her go, but he also learned that samy was a runner when she was drunk. if he let go, she'd 100% take off down the street and he did't want her doing that, especially at 1 in the morning.

"do you hate me?" sometimes samy's topic changes gave him whip lash.

"no, why would i hate you?"

"i dunno. you just suddenly decide to hate me?"

"i would never do that, i promise. i love you," the blonde smiled and kissed her cheek again. samy blushed.

"i love you. i love, love, love you."

these were basically their walks home on nights out. samy yapped on about anything that came to her mind and will just listened. he held her arm or her hand to make sure she didn't run off. when will wasn't around to do this, it was usually hannah, mark, ethan, or moldy walking the girl home.

"i'm so drunk right now," samy stated blankly.

"you did drink a lot tonight. you'll probably have a killer hangover tomorrow," will chuckled.

"ugh, don'ttt say that. i can't even think about that right now," the soccer player shook her head.

after another 10 minutes, they were back in samy's apartment. samy kicked her shoes off, feeling a bit more sober after the walk, but the slowing down was making all of the alcohol catch up with her. she was running to the bathroom before will could even process her leaving until he heard the sounds of her yacking in the toilet.

he quickly went to her. she was bent over the toilet, so will pulled her hair back before she threw up in her hair. he tried pretending she wasn't throwing up because his stomach was not that strong to begin with,

"get it all out, baby," he comforted, rubbing her back in soothing circles.

samy threw up 3 more times. whatever was in that random cup she picked up must've been strong in addition to the four or some drinks she had. will flushed the toilet and helped the girl to her feet.

"what do you need? water? food?"

"probably water," the hughes sister mumbled.

will went to the kitchen while samy splashed her face with water from the sink to refresh herself. the throw up definitely sobered her up a bit more, so she was becoming more aware of herself and her surroundings. her boyfriend returned a moment later with a fresh cup of cold water. he leaned against the doorframe to watch her drink it.

"sorry..i definitely went too hard," the brunette flushed.

"don't apologize. you had fun," will quickly shook his head.

he took the cup back from her when it was empty. his next job was helping the girl brush her teeth. he followed her routine—securing her hair back with a headband, wetting the toothbrush before putting the toothpaste on, finding her makeup remover. will had this down to a science.

samy loved turning her brain off whnever her boyfriend was around to take care of her, but as he brushed her teeth for her, she couldn't help but admire him. he was just soo pretty in her eyes, so handsome, so good looking. his little curls were peeking out from under his hat that samy thought about twirling around her finger later.

"okay, spit," he said. she leaned over the sink to spit the toothpaste out and rinse her mouth clean. the next task was her makeup, but that was easy when all the boy had to do was wipe her face off with the wipes.

he was gentle with it. he carefully wiped at her face to get the mascara, foundation, blush, eyeshadow, and eyeliner off. "would younger you think you'd be in this spot right now?" samy asked, kind of thinking out loud as the alcohol wore off.

"what do you mean?"

"like..what would 11 year old us think of us right now?" the brunette giggled thinking of her younger self who absolutely despised the boy in front of her with all of her being.

"i would think younger will would scream cooties and make some snarky remark," the blonde smiled too.

"who would've thought.."

"wouldn't want it any other way though," the hockey player grinned. he threw the wipe out once he was finished and let samy look at herself to make sure he got it all.

"you're perfect at this," she grinned.

they made their way to her room. samy was sober enough to find herself clothes to change into so will dug through his bag for a pair of sweatpants and a different t-shirt. the couple changed and will went to find tylenol and another glass of water for his girlfriend in the morning.

samy climbed right into her bed, glad to be in bed after the long night. will returned with the pills and the same glass he gave her earlier.

"for tomorrow morning," he motioned to the nightstand. samy smiled.

"you're so nice to me."

"i try," will laughed. he climbed into the bed a second later, reaching for the light on his way down to the pillow.

samy scooted close to him knowing how warm he got and how cold she was at the moment despite the blankets on top of them. the boy wrapped his arms around her and samy found his little curls like she knew she would. playing wih his hair was one of her most favorite things to do.

"i love you," she whispered.

"i love you more. sleep well," will hummed.

"thanks for always taking care of me. it means a lot," will's taken care of her for as long as she could remember after nights out and it definitely wasn't going to change anytime soon.

the couple was fast asleep within minutes of one another. will's steady heartbeat put the girl to sleep and her fingers threading through hs hair was what had the hockey player slipping into a deep sleep.

[boopiemadz]

HIII saw your post abt travis x reader so PLSSSSS literally anything w him, maybe s2 timeline when Javi is missing like sitting by the fire with him in the middle of the night, or being like the only one he opens up to???? I just want to give him a hug oml 🙏

OML yes! This came out more angsty then I intended but thats okay, still has a happy ending for reader and travis dont worry. Also I wrote this as a !Fem reader btw.

If youd like I love when ppl leave comments on my stuff, it js makes me feel happy so feel free! But yeah heres the little oneshot I wrote based on this prompt.

WARNINGS!

Suicide, Death, Cannibalism (this is yellowjackets...), Loss, Grief, Kissing 🤭, and basic yellowjackets topics.

[Guilt ridden scars]

---

Time is a weird construct. Especially when stranded in the Canadian wilderness for an unknown amount of time. Ever since the crash you had kept tally marks in your journal, unfortunately you lost your notebook somewhere between the 21st and 26th day. So you had to restart. This time you kept time on the wall of the cabin, in the small corner you slept in next to coach Ben's room. You started this tally the day Javi went missing, the day of doomcoming. 

Doomcoming was a mess. 

Nothing about that night should've happened, it was the catalyst for everything. Though you never participated in the hallucinogenic chase that went down, there was still a deep pang of guilt that you didn't get to him sooner. You had been wandering around high on mushrooms far away from the group, but when you returned, the sight of Travis pinned against that tree, knife to his throat put a knot in your stomach.

It wasn't your fault.

What happened to Javi was not your fault.

What happened to Travis was not your fault.

What happened to Jackie was not your fault.

Yet it still felt like your fault.

---

It had been around 59 days since Javis disappearance, according to the tally marks. 59 days spent everyone out, 59 days since you felt anything at all. 

You'd spent the first few months staying close to the friends you were close to on the team, you loved the yellowjackets, those girls were a lifeline, a source of belonging. But something shifted somewhere between finding the cabin and doomcoming, the cabin was hot, and cramped, to be honest it made you infuriated. So to combat the overwhelming crowd you started to occasionally take a walk down to the lake to sit and think. This became a regular thing for you. Eventually someone found your spot.

“So this is where you go when you disappear”

Says Travis slowly approaching you. “Please don't be a dick and tell everyone” It's not that you didn't like Travis, he was just, abrasive. His demeanor was cold and snappy, but you couldn't blame him, he had lost his dad and wasn't exactly in the right state of mind. But you never really paid much attention to him either. 

“Nah” He says kicking the pebbles lining the shore. “I get it” He sits down next to you giving some room for space as you continue dipping your feet in the cold water. “Aren't you supposed to be out hunting with Nat?” You question “Not today, she went alone. I decided to come here instead of slowly dying of heat stroke in the cabin” You let out a giggle. 

That day marked the start of your friendship with Travis, he went from a rude and annoying boy to a close friend you'd sit with at the lake to escape from the fact that your friends are changing and everything that came with being stuck in such a place. 

---

When doomcoming happened it's like everything was flipped upside down. Talking to him felt too much, your routine lake chats stopped, eventually he went back to being the boy you'd never pay attention to, the boy who sat quietly by himself, except this time he didn't have his brother, he didn't have you.

---

The sun was setting over the snowy landscape of the forest. You'd sat yourself in front of the attic window watching it go down, yet another day without game, without peace, without javi. Ever since winter hit it's been maggots, leather belt soup and rationed meat. To say you were hungry was an understatement. Hell, a few weeks later you and the team would partake in cannibalizing your teammate Jackie (oop). 

Going back downstairs after sulking in the attic you got changed and started to settle down on your spot on the floor. Laying on your side looking at those tally marks that showed how long it had been since Javi disappeared, 59 days.

Just before you were about to close your eyes a figure walked through the dark and stopped at the door to open it and sneak outside. Everyone had already been asleep when you were up in the attic watching the sun get lower as due to the lack of food everyone had become increasingly low energy. 

You get up slowly so as to not disturb Akilah who was asleep peacefully beside you. As you crept up to the door and opened it, wrapped in your blanket, you squinted in the dark to see the person who’d left the cabin chopping wood. 

“Hey” You whispered, walking closer to the figure. “Why are you out here?” You questioned

As soon as the person turned around to face you, you finally recognized who it was, Travis. 

“I could ask you the same thing” He says, continuing to swing the axe breaking wood into smaller pieces.

“I came out here because I saw someone sneak out of the cabin, not because I wanted to stand in the cold” You retorted, giving him a sarcastic tone. He scoffs and throws some wood down on the fire pit leaning down to light the pile then sitting down in front of it hands out. In that moment, in the firelight you see it, a tear drifting down his cheek, eyes red and nose running. He'd been crying. 

In that moment you sit down next to him in silence, you hadn't had a real conversation for a long time, but something in you told you he shouldn't be alone right now.

---

After a minute of awkward silence a shift in the air starts to happen. You don't know why but for some reason the silence shifts from awkward and uncomfortable to a warm knowing embrace. It takes another second before he speaks up. 

“I- Im scared”

He says eyes are still focused on the fire in front of him. “Im so fucking scared Y/N” 

A tear falls down his cheek as he speaks, the heaviness of his statement hanging in the air. “I know” You say sliding your hand over his, something in you sparks when you finally touch. Then he turns to you, tears in his eyes, cheeks red and chin quivering. 

“I need you.”

And with that he lets out a sob, not just a tear or a cry but a gutoral sob laced with vulnerability and emotion. He buries himself in your shoulder quaking while you hold him. Holding him. 

“I'm here… Im here Travis” You mutter stroking his hair as a tear simultaneously escapes your eye. 

“I don't know what to do” He says, releasing from the embrace and wiping off his nose with the back of his sleeve. “I have no one left, what if Javi is…” You stop him “You have me” His attention softens as he shakes his head.

“Shit this is embarrassing” He chuckles softly trying to avoid eye contact. “I've never cried in front of anyone before” You speak up “It's about time you let it all go” 

“What do you mean?”

“You've been holding back this… grief, for javi. Sure we had talks at the lake but… ever since, its just been this quiet resentment. This needed to happen.”

He looks at you for a second before looking down to speak. “You know why I came out here?” 

“No”

“I've been coming out here every night. To leave food out for Javi. I knew you guys would yell at me if you knew… cuz of animals or something. But if there's a chance he's still alive, I need him to be.”

“Travis..” He cuts you off.

“But this night was different.” He takes a deep breath

“If hadn't… if we…”

You see the struggle in his eyes, the words he's saying he can't form.

“I was planning on killing myself” 

He finally spits out.

---

“Travis” Is all you manage to say as your throat dries up and your eyes water once more. You gently put your hand on his shoulder before you say another word. “Stay with me” He tilts his head to look at you, with an almost confused look “What do you mean by that. Why shouldn't I just try again tomorrow night.” 

“Because I need you” All you can hear is the wind, and your own racing thoughts. Your heart bounds across your chest as you think about him, about life and about this situation.

“I will come out here every night. I will stay by your side to make sure you stay alive.” You're not finished yet “Because I need you. I can't survive without you.” You take a breath “Everything in me says give up. Every bone in my body wants to jump off a cliff and just die. But when I look at you… When we would spend our evenings together by the lake. A tiny voice in me wants to live just one more day. With you.” 

You blurt this out without thinking, just a mash of thoughts and feelings you'd buried somewhere deep down. After another pause he doesn't speak, instead he cups your face with his hand, searching your face with his deep brown eyes until the land on your lips and he asks;

“Can I kiss you?”

And all you can do is nod before he comes closer and presses his lips on yours. They aren't tough, not like you'd expect but soft and gentle and patient. Peace fills your head and passion floods your mind as you kiss him softly but with a desire thats been brewing for a long time. After you both pull away a small smile forms on his face. 

“I guess I'm staying around.”

[concretejunglefm]

First time with one of the guys (u choose bc i can't decide who) and you're very nervous bc you're on medication that's makes it impossible to cum.

Like just things getting heated and obviously you enjoy it and want to continue but you feel the need to stop and let him know bc well yeah but also you're kinda embarrassed

You're worried he'll either think you're weird or be turned off, worried you'll kill the mood, you don't want him to feel bad bc he can't get you there or be frustrated bc he's trying and you're not responding as you feel you should

Would just love to see how they would deal with it bc so much smut is centred around the climax (not a bad thing) but just curious to see how things would pan out

i hope you enjoy this anon 💕 i picked nicholas because he's a sweetheart

Pairing: Nicholas Ruffilo x f!reader.

CW: includes mentions of insecurities, unprotected sex, soft body worship.

Smut below the cut 🔞 Minors DNI.

Nicholas can sense your unease before you even utter a word. “What’s wrong?” he asks, but you dismiss his concern, shaking your head with a soft, mumbled “nothing.” Perhaps if you try hard enough, you can convince yourself that there’s nothing wrong.

Your body is ablaze from the way he’s been touching you, the lingering kisses of his mouth tracing the vulnerable points of your neck, while his hands explore, slipping beneath layers until they’re completely discarded. Your touch mirrors his, and now your naked bodies are pressed flush against each other.

“Talk to me,” he whispers, his gaze fixed on you as his fingertips softly caress your skin. You wrestle with the temptation to tell him what’a gnawing at you, but how can you? How do you explain that you’re unable to orgasm? That nothing he does will satisfy your desire in that way.

You’ve tried on your own, against a pillow, with your fingers, but you grow tired and frustrated when nothing happens, like trying to ignite a match but the spark fails to ignite.

“I can’t cum,” you finally blurt out, your cheeks flushing even deeper. You squirm beneath him, not from the pleasure you felt moments ago, but from embarrassment. You yearn to turn away from him, but Nicholas holds you in place. His fingers gently caress your jaw, while his thumb slowly traces the softness of your lips. His eyes search yours, searching for some kind of explanation.

Sighing, you relent and begin explaining your medication and its side effects on you. You mention how you worry it might make him look at you differently, but all Nicholas does is make you feel at ease. His constant warm touch grounds you, and his eyes, radiating a warm and reassuring glow, which flows into his voice. “That’s okay.”

He presses a tender kiss to your lips, a blend of softness and sensuality that ignites an explosion in your stomach, akin to a fluttering of butterflies. The sensation eases you enough to relax into the mattress as he gently caresses your jaw with his mouth and softly whispers, “I still want to touch you. Can I?”

“Please…” you softly respond, arching your back as you press into his touch.

You feel the way his fingers caress every inch of skin they touch, following the curve of your breasts and toying over your nipples in a manner that elicits a moan. His exploration of you is soft and sensual, making you melt and feel the warmth spread between your thighs. His mouth follows, tracing every inch of you as if he is studying every inch he touches, committing to memory the areas that make you gasp, moan, or have your fingers diving into his hair and pulling, or your nails scratching against his shoulders and back. It’s as if he wants to memorize every inch and worship you in the process.

“I want to feel you inside me,” you moan, your back arching as you press closer to his fingers, currently circling your clit, your wetness becoming more apparent. He leaves you with a gentle kiss on the inner part of your thigh before rising and settling back between them.

“Are you sure?” he whispers against your lips, and you nod with a soft, approving hum. Your fingers return to his hair as you pull him closer for another kiss, savoring the taste of you on his tongue from when he had solely focused on you and your pleasure. You doubt that he possesses the magical solution to make you feel ‘normal,’ but what you truly crave is the sensation of him within you, the fullness that only he can provide.

Slowly and inch by inch, he sinks into you, causing you to gasp and moan until he completely fills you. His forehead presses against yours as he slowly thrusts, allowing you to feel every part of him as you tighten around him and claim him.

tagged: @fadingangelwisp @deathblacksmoke  @geminigirlfromfinland @fuck1ng-queen @xxkittenkissesxx @lacy1986 @ami--gami @floodflameschosen @dominuslunae @tosoundlessdarkistare @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @lonelydragonlady @th4t-em0-k1d @amelia-acero @dollieomens  @sitkowski @athenexe @trvshdxddy @collapsedglasshouses @overmydeadbodysblog @xmads-omensx @ajordan2020 @astronoids @courta13 @oobleoob @bluehairpunklol @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @swissy23 @i-love-the-smell-of-you-blood @concretenoah @i-love-the-smell-of-your-blood

[possesseddesiress]

Switch Up: Conclusions

CONTENT WARNING: This story includes themes of transformation and body control with a suggestive approach. If this type of narrative is not to your liking or you do not meet the recommended age, we suggest you do not continue. All images used (if any) belong to their respective owners. I claim no authorship over them and they are only used for illustrative purposes.

If you decide to go ahead, welcome to Possessed Desires, where mind and body are never completely under your control.

Switch Up: Conclusions (English Version)

Life had been perfect since Miles showed us the control and we ended up in these bodies.

We had become the kings of the school, it was no longer necessary to hide from bullies, or go unnoticed in the halls, no. Now at every step we took, at least one person would turn to look at us as if their life depended on it.

It was like having power in its purest expression. Attractive, muscular, who wouldn't want to have all that?

Some things had changed, maybe people noticed it or preferred to ignore it and take it as normal. The way Blake now dressed, the new interests in Caleb, the more noticeable flirtations of the new Ruben.

Or even Alan and Blake's relationship. Who now couldn't seem to keep their hands off each other for too long.

Everything was as it should be. Us in the lead, no longer being shadows.

There were strange and difficult parts to get used to, of course. Miles' control did not yet have the ability to endow the host with the memories and recollections of the shell body.

So getting used to a new house, hobbies and even a new social circle was a challenge. Not impossible, but something that cost at least the first few weeks.

Although, the base abilities of the bodies did seem to remain, as a kind of autopilot. I discovered in a short time that I quite liked theater, I didn't know if it was because of Ruben's "base style", but there was a strange satisfaction in standing on a stage with hundreds of people in front of me and having them eating out of the palm of my hand.

I must admit that I've become a bit self-centered (and although I don't like to say it in front of the new Caleb and Blake, that worries me). I know I'm not Ethan anymore, that's way behind me now, but what if my original personality is lost?

I wanted to take the place of a popular guy, but not become him body and soul. Much less a hyper-projected version of him.

- Did you call us? - I asked, just coming out of a theater rehearsal. As long as I had been inside this body, I still couldn't get used to it. I kept looking at my strong biceps out of the corner of my eye, or bouncing my pecs for mere play.

- Yeah, I've been thinking something lately - Blake nodded to himself, looking at me and Caleb in the other corner of the room.

- And what is it?

- Well, since this - he pulled the controller out of his pocket - I've noticed that we don't usually hang out together anymore, we used to go everywhere, now you're with the theater, you're with your prankster friends or those cosplay things.

- What about you? - Caleb spoke - You just hang out with your new boyfriend, your training or your experiments.

There was silence, Blake denied.

- That's not the point. I mean the three of us have neglected each other, we used to be close, now it seems we don't even have time to answer messages.

He understood what Miles was saying but in a way, he was also agreeing with Logan.

- You haven't made time for us either - I muttered, looking down.

Silence settled between us for a while, until Caleb dared to break it.

- I love you guys. But maybe it's also part of... this - he pointed at his body and then at us.

- Stop being friends? - I asked in a low tone.

- Maybe... Maybe.

He also lowered his gaze.

- I can't believe they're really saying that - Blake looked at us with some suspicion - To stop being friends just because... we changed bodies?

- We're not the same people anymore.

- We are on the inside, Logan!

- ... He didn't call me Logan anymore.

- But you know you fucking were!

Miles' breathing became ragged and ragged for a moment, he became thoughtful.

- And what do you propose? - I looked at him.

He didn't say or do anything for a while, it was extremely awkward until he started moving towards Caleb, serious, they stood face to face, I thought they were about to punch each other until Blake moved in to kiss him.

Caleb tried to push him away but ended up giving in, it was an intense series of kisses, the stinkier one took some authority as he squeezed the hairs on the back of the other's neck, pulling him tight to him.

There was a lot of tongue and saliva in between, they were loud in strange, little by little the atmosphere began to heat up more, Caleb grabbed Blake's waist to corner him against the wall, their backs collided with a thud, which made him let out a gasp but they still continued kissing.

It went on for a while until they seemed to remember I was there too.

- Are you going to stand there alone? - Miles asked, looking at me with a mixture of lust and impatience. Seeing no response, he looked up at Logan and motioned to him.

The other one broke away and advanced towards me. It wasn't even a second before he had his tongue inside me, his hands roaming and clinging to my skin.

- Ah... I-I don't understand w-why this will make us b-b-become united again

I stammered as best I could as Logan seemed to have turned into a beast thirsty for desire kissing my neck. I didn't know if it was him or traces of his new body, but jeez... He sure was territorial, aggressive and primal.

- We wanted to do this together, didn't we? - Miles said, caressing his chest and abs carelessly - We wanted to be sporty to be hot, popular, all together. But when did we give ourselves time to taste what we had now?

I couldn't think of anything. On the one hand, it seemed crazy and completely ridiculous what Miles was saying. What did this have to do with the fact that we were kissing now?

I wanted to think of it as some sort of couples therapy strategy, but we were friends. What was this?

Before I could say more, Miles came up behind me and started caressing Logan's body, which made him let out slight grunts.

- And that's your whole... your whole plan? - I mumbled heavily, focusing on Miles having control in his hands - Is it necessary for you to always bring... that with you?

He smiled.

- No, but I feel more comfortable this way... I don't quite know my new family, imagine leaving the control around and everyone starts switching bodies left and right - he explained with that nerdy aura that still seeped through from time to time, I couldn't explain why, but that made me smile - Plus now we can do this.

He pressed and pointed, and suddenly, I was no longer looking at him, I was staring at the wall, with my lips against a neck, settled between someone's legs... Now I was in Caleb's body.

- Uh... Why did you do that? - my old voice asked.

- They say the best way to understand another person is to put yourself in their shoes, right? Well surprise, we can do that.

Before I could even respond, I found myself in someone else's body again, control in my hands. Caleb broke away, looking down at his huge hands.

- Why him? He's a brainless gorilla - he mumbled stroking and sniffing himself, to which he made a strange gesture - Shit, what's that smell?

And it was like he lost his mind, suddenly glued to his armpit with need, inhaling hard and rubbing his armpit to fill his nose with sweat over and over again.

- Because I wanted to get back at him - It was strange to see Ruben talking without me in charge - Besides... He's sexy, a brainless himbo, it's easier to socialize with some people, I don't have to worry about being... interesting. I can say anything stupid and people will laugh, though... The smell is still a problem.

He grimaced, but Miles was still lost in this new experience.

- Scent? What the hell are you talking about? If it smells delicious...

- That's because Caleb has hyperosmia, that's why he always wanted to smell this strong. He liked his own stench

The new Caleb kept sniffing himself. Until all of a sudden he was back against Ruben's neck, sniffing and kissing him.

- Shit, you smell good.

Ruben gasped but his legs clung against Caleb's waist, starting to rub against him.

It was chaos between kisses, Caleb sniffing Ruben's skin, the Latino panting and clinging to the boy's armpit. I couldn't hold back and tightened my grip, ending up with Caleb on top of me.

- No fair! - Blake's body cried out.

- S-sorry f-friend.

I stammered with a smile.

Blake came over and pressed himself against Caleb, starting to caress his body, rubbing and kissing him.

In less time than we thought, there were no clothes left, we were panting in unison, awkward kisses and eager hands everywhere. Logan on Blake's body, me on Ruben's, Miles on Caleb's. Though the order didn't matter much since every so often. Someone would take over to end up in another body.

- Woah! Why did you decide on a Latino? - Miles asked caressing his chest and face.

- Because he's hot, I liked him from the first moment I saw him - I whispered distributing kisses on his thighs - He's interesting, handsome, and has something unique about him over the others.

- Lots of romantic shit - Logan said caressing Ruben's chest from behind - Why did you choose Blake?

Miles let out a laugh.

- Do I need to explain?

- Nah... - they both kissed madly.

- Won't your boyfriend be mad about this? - I asked.

- I'm just re-bonding with my best friends. What's the big deal?

A short time later, Ruben's body was in the middle of me in Caleb's, Logan in front with Blake's. I was shoving the rod from my new body straight into Miles' new one. Which made him gasp.

- Ah, it's big! - he complained.

- Another thing I picked him for - Logan smiled back Logan before they kissed.

I was lost in the feeling I didn't realize when Miles took control to switch us back and forth, back into our original bodies.

- Shit, let me know you'll do that, mfh! - I couldn't help but gasp, my eyes rolled to white for a while. I felt Caleb fill everything with me, Blake settled with a smile in front of me to take my face in his hands, caressing my cheeks.

- Do you remember what you did with me when I was inside Alan?

I swallowed nervously.

— D-dude, I-I don't know what you're talking about. — Nah, don’t be a coward, Ethan - He grabbed one of my pecs and squeezed it, making me let out a little yelp - Say it. — Ah, shit! I used you! — Great. And don’t you think you should pay for that?

A glint flashed in his eyes. He signaled to Logan, who began thrusting harder. My eyes rolled back from the sheer pleasure, and I panted like crazy. A bit of drool escaped my lips as Logan slammed his hips into me with even more force. Miles grabbed my chin, firm and confident.

— You love how he feels inside you, don’t you? — I love having him inside me... - I murmured, breathless.

He grabbed my neck a little tightly, squeezing it.

— And does it feel good? — It feels so good - I moaned in pleasure.

Miles smiled again, cocky as ever, then guided my hand to his length. With his other hand, he pulled me in and kissed me with need and hunger.

Everything turned into a sticky, sweaty, slightly smelly mess after that. I don’t even want to imagine what the janitor walked into. Or the class that came in after us.

Strangely enough, Miles had been right. It felt like reconnecting with the real bond the three of us once had, like it always used to be. It was nice having my best friends back. I knew it would be weird—again—for others to see Caleb, Ruben, and Blake hanging out like old buddies, considering none of them even spoke to each other before the swap.

But what mattered was having my friends by my side again. — Wanna do something Friday? - I typed into the group chat. — Yes! There's a new superhero movie coming out. Can we go see it? - Logan replied. — Don’t you ever get tired of being such a nerd? - I joked. Logan just sent a photo.

— A nerd who had your legs shaking.

I smiled, though weirdly... Miles had been quiet for a while. — SHIT! - he suddenly typed in the chat. — What’s wrong? Everything okay? — FUCK, NO! I CAN’T FIND THE REMOTE! — What?! — We must’ve left it in the classroom! That was the last place we used it! — Dude, what the hell?! — I don’t know, I completely forgot! — Can’t you make another one? — Of course I can! That was just the beta model! But now it’s lost, who knows where it is!

We tried to find the remote after that—even snuck into the school at night. But nothing. No trace of it.

Miles eventually figured out how to install a kind of ‘lock’ on our new bodies to prevent interference from the original remote. So yeah, everything worked out for us again. But... What about the remote?

----

I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you liked it, don't forget to follow it and share it so more people can discover it.

I'm always open to suggestions and ideas, so if you have any fantasy or scenario in mind, let me know in the comments or in messages.

This was the fifth and final part of "Switch Up". I really hope you enjoyed it—writing it has been an absolute blast for me. It’s the biggest project I’ve done within this community and genre so far. For now, Ethan, Miles, and Logan’s story has come to an end… but having the remote control has opened the door to brand new stories.

So, I’ve decided to launch a spin-off called: The Switch Club. A collection of short stories—some standalone, some interconnected—to expand the high school body swap fantasy even further. I hope you’ll enjoy everything I have planned for you!

See you in the next story... Who knows what body you will occupy this time?

---

[bubblegumrabbitwriting]

hey hope you're doing well!

I am very obsessed with Cy, if you're willing to do so would you write a scenario where the mc is very very sick and cy goes to get help and the mc is all like "please, don't leave me again..." ?

I am living for some angsty moments between them, but also the bitter sweetness of the 'sick & needs to be cared for' trope.

I love ur work and can't wait to get more chapters i think about this fic way too much :3

Thanks so much for the kind words. Here is my monthly offering to the Cy fans; eat well, friends. 😔

-----------------------------------

You wake up with a fuzzy head and thoughts falling through your fingers like sand. It's almost like you're sick... No...that can't be right-

A sneeze jitters your head, rattling your brain and making any thoughts that clung in your mind retreat.

Just a coincidence, nothing more-

Another sneeze and this time the shake of a head that follows leaves you reeling, rubbing your temples in a futile attempt to relieve the knocking that echoes in your mind.

Maybe you will just stay in today, curled in your blankets... Yes, that's it; you're just tired and need sleep.

You flop back into the warming embrace of fluffy blankets almost subconsciously, the cosy layers cocooning you in an embrace you wouldn't even be able to fight if you tried.

Cy POV switch

Cy was on their way to speak with the professor, definitely not what they would like to be doing with their time, but there is one upside. Or more like one person that makes the trip worth it.

They pull out their phone, chest already tight, before they see that the message they sent still hasn't been replied to. Two hours and still no reply; already their mind races with possibilities, and the tightness in their chest just keeps winding.

Their feet picking up speed, shoes scraping on the concrete and mind racing.

MC POV switch

You're not sure how long it's been since you decided that nothing could pull you from your fog-hazed slumber; at some somepoint you stopped even being able to tell the difference between dreams and reality.

You're pretty sure that the professor checked up on you a few times, but all you could reply with was groggy groans and mumbles.

There's a knock on your door frame, and you look up through the gap in the blankets that cover you. Oh, look, it's Cy.

Their voice comes out soft, broken up with breathless intakes. "Hey, you doing all right there?"

"Ughh..." is the most dignified response that leaves your mouth.

Cy lets out a small chuckle, tight with worry. "That bad, huh?"

Your head flops back into your cocoon; when did it become so much of an effort to keep it lifted?

You feel a dip in the mattress by your feet, but the idea of even shifting to face Cy is too much work.

"Hey, face me for a moment?" Cy gently prods you.

You shift in your blanket shield with a groan, so your face hole is facing Cy.

Cy slowly moves their hand towards you, giving you time to retract if you wanted to. Not that you have the energy to.

Finally, Cy hand presses to your forehead, the coolness of their skin causing you to lean into their touch as an almost purr sounds from your throat.

The coolness a balm to your aching head, your eyes flutter open, and you're granted a view of their amber eyes creased with worry. When did their eyes get so pretty?

"You definitely have a fever." Cy goes to lower their hand, and yours weakly wraps around theirs, keeping it on your forehead with a whimper.

"and now I'm your icepack..." You don't respond to that, continuing to snuggle as close as possible to Cy's hand. "You're going to need medicine." Yes...medicine, whatever you say, icepack.

You zone out, too focused on the coldness of Cy's hand that you don't realise what is happening until it retreats and Cy gets up, ignoring your grumbled protest.

"Im going to get you some, you just...stay and stew for abit."

The words break through your fevered mind; they are going to leave... What if they don't? What if they disappear again? Who's going to be here to look after you? What if they don't come back?

Your body snaps to attention as the panic sets in, rushing forwards as your hands grasp for the hem of Cy's shirt. "Please, don't leave me again…" You whisper, body aching and head woozy.

Cy POV switch

Cy's body freezes as soon as the words leave your lips. Abandon you? The very idea is ridiculous...but that's what they did, isn't it?

They had their justifications, childish fears twisted into adult melancholy and terror. Slowly it submerged them and drove them to do the very thing that they are scoffing at now.

What else would you think of them? What else could you think?

They lost that unwavering trust the moment they turned you away and left you there, and they won't lose it again.

So what else can they do but lower themselves back down? "Never, not again." Simply words and never enough to mend the wound, but they will do anything they can to slowly rebuild that bridge.

Even if they have to do something they would rather not...pulling out their phone and typing out a quick message to the person they wouldn't even trust with the simplest of tasks, let alone something as important as this.

Cy: A I need you to get some flu medicine and drop it off at the warehouse.

A: Has our time apart truly sickened you so much? No worries, I will get you what you need, and we will never need to be apart again. <3

Cy: JUST GET THE DAMN MEDICINE; IT'S IMPORTANT!!!

By the time the short text exchange is done, you're already asleep again. It's more than easy enough for Cy to sneak out and get it themselves, but they won't move from your side.

They will be here when you wake up and for as long as you will stand their presence to build whatever little trust they can claw back.

Anything to make your life that much easier and closer to what you deserve.

[puck-luck]

request: an americano with peppermint for william eklund. one night stand trope or friends with benefits! thank you :)

answer: also my first time writing for william eklund and i hope it lived up to all of your expectations. i don't know much about him, but i did find a tiktok of him speaking swedish and.... hot. went with the one night stand option for your blurb my dear!

An hour. That’s how long you’ve known William and you’re already in his apartment, panties thrown God knows where, his dick buried inside of you. You made it to the bedroom before you stripped, but William got greedy and took over the second he saw you standing there in your bra. It’s been a whirlwind since.

Your clothes flew off in all directions, then William’s did the same. He’d practically thrown you on the bed– you figured he was strong since he told you he’s an athlete, but oh my God– and pounced, fingering you with a fervor that you thought was only afforded to wild animals. If there’s an argument that heat exists for humans, you’re on the “yes” side now. It’s the only explanation for how William went feral and you’re going crazy. 

Your body feels like it’s overheating, joints creaking and floppy at the same time. Every one of William’s touches feels like a lick of fire and right now, he’s got a burning grip on your hips. Your knees dig into the mattress and your face is smushed into a pillow to muffle the embarrassingly loud and lustful moans spewing from your open mouth. There’s a patch of drool, wet and growing bigger by the second, where you’ve bitten into the soft cushion and your elbows are barely doing anything to keep you up. At one point, you were on your hands– but you’ve been knocked down by the sheer power and intensity of William’s bucking hips.

His mouth is dirty. You should’ve known. He was so charming, charismatic, and flirtatious at the bar. Now, his growled praise is your undoing. He lured you in and he’s taking you apart– it’s yet to be seen if he’ll put you back together after.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” William moans. “And this ass, baby… watching it bounce while I rail your wet pussy? I’ve never seen anything prettier.”

You moan when he swats the skin there, the canvas that is so plain and open and willing to be marked. 

“You take me so well,” he continues. “Sucking my cock right in. You’re greedy for it, huh? Needed someone to fuck you hard tonight? Good thing you found me, isn’t it?”

You nod against the pillow, clenching your fists in the sheets below you. You feel dizzy with it, like you’d had more than two drinks at the bar and you’re on the verge of getting the spins. In reality, it’s just William hitting the gummy spot inside of you. “William–”

One of his hands, the one that slapped your ass, comes up to your hair and fists it. You have to arch your back to follow his touch, pulling your head back until your mouth is entirely freed of its saving grace of a pillow. 

“I want to hear you saying my name,” William says. “I want to hear you moaning for me, babe. Let me hear them, give me something to remember you by when we’re done.”

He thrusts sharply into your g-spot and tugs your hair at the same time.

“Oh my God, William,” you exclaim, the words reverberating in your own head. 

“That’s it, be loud for me,” he encourages. He’s using his leverage with your hair to create a new angle, one where he’s hitting that spot every time and he can reach around to rub your clit. Is multitasking a part of athletics, too? It has to be with the way each of his movements– the tugging, the thrusting, the circling– is as defined as it would be if it was the only thing he were doing. “I’m getting close, where do you want me to come? All over your back? On these pretty cheeks? Or should I fuck your dripping cunt until you’re full of my cum?”

“Inside, inside,” you tell him, scrambling for purchase. You worry that if you don’t tell him quickly and enthusiastically that you want him inside when he comes, he’ll pull away before you can join him and you are very close to joining him.

His fingers rub your clit at a rapid, impossible pace. He keeps you held up with your hair, roots taut and aching. His cock drives you down, fucking you so hard it’s like he can create a hole in the mattress in the shape of your body, and when he leans down to smear a kiss on your neck it’s all over for you.

You fall apart in a shudder, disintegrating entirely and reforming as something new. 

William is not far behind. “Skit,” he mumbles with an accent you can’t define. “Helvete, oh–”

You feel his cum spurting into your heat, mixing with your wet juices. William fucks you through his orgasm, rhythm unsteady and self-indulgent. The sound made by your bodies slapping together echoes through the room, harmonizing with your little whimpers and the words that William is muttering under his breath.

One hour. That’s how long you’ve known William. You’d like to know him for many more.