#frozen shoulder exercise

[roshni99]

जब से फ्रोजन शोल्डर से परेशान हैं? डॉ. खुशबू मत्तू लाएंगी आपके लिए विशेष व्यायाम टिप्स, जो की स्टिफनेस को कम करने और आपकी मोबिलिटी को पुनः प्राप्त करने में मदद करेंगे! 💪✨ 🔍 फ्रोजन शोल्डर एक्सरसाइज़ क्यों? फ्रोजन शोल्डर आपकी दिनचर्या को प्रभावित कर सकता है। डॉ. खुशबू मत्तू के विशेषज्ञ व्यायाम से आपको आराम, लचीलापन और शक्ति वापस करने में मदद मिलेगी। 👩‍⚕️ डॉ. खुशबू मत्तू से मिलिए: वर्षों के अनुभव के साथ, डॉ. खुशबू मत्तू एक प्रमुख फिजिओथेरेपिस्ट हैं जो आंगनवाद के माध्यम से जीवन को सुधारने के लिए समर्पित हैं। उनके सुझाव आपको दर्दमुक्त, सक्रिय जीवन की ओर मार्गदर्शन कर सकते हैं। 🌈 अपने कंट्रोल में लें शोल्डर स्वास्थ्य! 👉 *देखें और सीखें*: डॉ. खुशबू मत्तू के अनन्य व्यायाम शिक्षण का लाभ उठाएं। 📚 *खुद को शिक्षित करें*: फ्रोजन शोल्डर के पीछे विज्ञान को समझें और सार्वभौमिक स्वास्थ्य सुझावों की खोज करें। 🔄 *ज्ञान को बाँटें*: दूसरों को बढ़ावा देकर समृद्धि की ओर बढ़ें। हम शोल्डर के स्वास्थ्य की समृद्धि का समुदाय बना सकते हैं! 🔥 कॉल टू एक्शन: फ्रोजन शोल्डर की सीमाओं से मुक्त होने के लिए तैयार हैं? अब ही डॉ. खुशबू मत्तू के आंदोलन में शामिल हों! 📌 उनके पृष्ठ को नियमित रूप से संपर्क करें: khushboomattoo@raphacure.com 🚀 अभ्यासों में समाहित हों और शोल्डर के मुक्ति की ओर अपनी यात्रा शुरू करें! 💡 **जो इसकी आवश्यकता है, उसे टैग करें! मिलकर, चलिए हम फ्रोजन शोल्डर से मुक्त होकर और गति और शक्ति के जीवन का स्वागत करें। 💪 #शोल्डरस्वास्थ्य #DrMattooकेसाथस्वतंत्रता #शोल्डरमुक्ति" 🌟"व्यावसायिक समर्थन और आवश्यक साधनों के लिए हमारे मोबाइल ऐप को डाउनलोड करें: 📲 Android: http://bit.ly/3JACQOb 🍏 Apple: https://apple.co/3I0QKbe हमारी वेबसाइट: www.raphacure.com यहां से ऐप डाउनलोड करें और अपने व्यावसायिक और स्वास्थ्य आवश्यकताओं का समर्थन प्राप्त करें। एक सुरक्षित और सुचना-पूर्ण अनुभव के लिए हमारे ऐप का उपयोग करें।" frozen shoulder exercises,frozen shoulder treatment,frozen shoulder exercises at home,frozen shoulder exercise,frozen shoulder physiotherapy,shoulder frozen treatment,shoulder pain relief exercises,frozen shoulder recovery,how to treat frozen shoulder,sukoon physical therapy,dr varun wasil,frozen shoulder pain relief,shoulder pain relief,shoulder mobilization techniques,frozen shoulder stretches,swami ramdev,baba ramdev,ramdev,yog guru,yog,yoga

[afternoonblues]

i'm not being completely cruel. yes, i know it may seem like i'm being one but. no. my mother needs to understand that her frozen shoulder cannot stay that way forever unless and until she starts doing some exercises or physical therapy. i understand her leg pain. old age, spine injury. all that usual jazz. but frozen shoulder? now i've had my fair share of that too along with neck becoming so stiff every once in a while from sleeping in a wrong way that it has brought me to tears but i've done exercises to heal myself up. she's just not doing it. she thinks if i keep on massaging her shoulders, her hands and both of her legs, then it will eventually recover.

it will not. it's been months.

and, i've told her multiple times i cannot keep on massaging her every single night. she will not understand my mental capacity right now and i don't expect her too, but to do this shit every night since god knows when for years? i am done. so tonight, no, actually since the morning when she was in a pretty good mood, i've been telling her that i will not be massaging her hand tonight unless and until she starts doing some of those very very very simple exercises (even the neurologist had told her to do the same! when we went in march for her bell's palsy check-up, from which she recovered very quick). she had thought i was joking and that if she lovingly nags me little, i will cave in.

i didn't cave in because i'm a person who knows my limit and how to keep my word. i've massaged her legs, just the way i do, every single night but i have not touched her arms. she has been coaxing me a lot, fake cries and all that, saying how she will not be able to sleep if i don't massage her arms. she is acting like such a child, it's ridiculous. she is almost gaslighting me too by saying some other things and tbh i don't care. i have told her no matter what happens tonight, i am not doing this. i'm doing this for her own good so that SHE can recover NOT ME. she may stay mad at me for as long as she wants, i will stand my ground.

[samipsheth]

5 Easy Exercises to Relieve Frozen Shoulder Stiffness and Regain Mobility

Suffering from frozen shoulder? Don’t let stiffness limit your daily life. Discover 5 easy exercises to relieve frozen shoulder stiffness and help you regain mobility naturally. These simple stretches and movements are designed to reduce pain, improve flexibility, and support shoulder recovery — no equipment needed! Ideal for all age groups and perfect for home-based relief.

[rajmangalhospital]

Understanding Frozen Shoulder: Its Impact on Daily Life and Activities

Shoulder pain treatment in Baner

Frozen shoulder, medically termed adhesive capsulitis, is a debilitating condition characterized by stiffness, pain, and limited range of motion in the shoulder joint. While it might sound like a minor inconvenience, those who suffer from it understand the profound impact it can have on daily life and activities. In this blog, we delve into the intricacies of frozen shoulder, exploring its causes, symptoms, diagnosis, and most importantly, how it disrupts various aspects of daily life. Shoulder pain treatment in Baner

What is a Frozen Shoulder?

A frozen shoulder occurs when the connective tissue surrounding the shoulder joint becomes thickened and tight. This leads to restricted movement and severe pain. While the exact cause is often unknown, certain factors such as injury, surgery, diabetes, or prolonged immobility can increase the risk of developing this condition.

Symptoms of Frozen Shoulder:

The symptoms of a frozen shoulder typically develop gradually, progressing through three distinct stages:

Freezing Stage: In this initial stage, any movement of the shoulder causes pain, and the range of motion gradually becomes limited. Shoulder pain treatment in Baner Frozen Stage: The shoulder stiffness worsens, and the pain may decrease, but the range of motion remains severely restricted. Thawing Stage: During this final stage, the range of motion begins to improve, albeit slowly, and the pain gradually subsides. Shoulder pain treatment in Baner

Impact on Daily Life and Activities:

1. Difficulty with Basic Tasks: Simple activities like getting dressed, reaching for objects on high shelves or even combing one’s hair become arduous tasks. The limited range of motion and persistent pain make these everyday activities a source of frustration and discomfort. Shoulder pain treatment in Baner

Impaired Work Performance:

For individuals whose professions require manual labor or frequent use of their arms, a frozen shoulder can significantly impede work performance. Tasks that involve lifting, carrying, or reaching may become impossible or extremely painful, leading to decreased productivity and potential absenteeism. Shoulder pain treatment in Baner

Disrupted Sleep:

The pain and discomfort associated with a frozen shoulder often worsen at night, making it difficult to find a comfortable sleeping position. Sleep disturbances can further exacerbate fatigue and mood disturbances, impacting overall quality of life. Shoulder pain treatment in Baner

Social Limitations:

Engaging in social activities that involve physical movements, such as sports or dancing, may no longer be feasible for those with frozen shoulders. The fear of exacerbating pain or causing further injury can lead to social withdrawal and feelings of isolation. Shoulder pain treatment in Baner

Emotional Toll:

Living with chronic pain and physical limitations can take a significant emotional toll on individuals with frozen shoulder. Feelings of frustration, helplessness, and depression are common as they struggle to perform even the most basic tasks of daily living.

Coping Strategies:

While coping with a frozen shoulder can be challenging, some strategies can help individuals manage their symptoms and improve their quality of life:

Physical Therapy: Gentle stretching and strengthening exercises prescribed by a physical therapist can help improve flexibility and range of motion in the shoulder joint.

Pain Management: Over-the-counter pain relievers or prescription medications may be recommended to alleviate discomfort associated with a frozen shoulder. Shoulder pain treatment in Baner

Heat and Cold Therapy: Applying heat or cold packs to the affected shoulder can help reduce inflammation and relieve pain.

Activity Modification: Adjusting daily activities to minimize strain on the shoulder joint can help prevent exacerbation of symptoms. Shoulder pain treatment in Baner

Supportive Devices: Using assistive devices such as slings or braces can provide additional support to the shoulder joint and alleviate discomfort.

Seeking Professional Help:

It’s essential for individuals experiencing symptoms of a frozen shoulder to seek prompt medical attention. A healthcare provider can perform a thorough evaluation, make an accurate diagnosis, and develop an individualized treatment plan tailored to the patient’s specific needs. Shoulder pain treatment in Baner

Conclusion:

Frozen shoulder is not just a physical ailment; it’s a condition that can profoundly impact every aspect of daily life. From simple tasks to social interactions, its effects ripple through various facets of existence, causing pain, frustration, and emotional distress. However, with proper management and support, individuals can navigate through the challenges posed by the frozen shoulder and reclaim their quality of life. Remember, seeking professional help and adopting coping strategies are crucial steps toward alleviating the burden of this debilitating condition.

[doctorenzoyeh]

Title: How to Use a Cane to Stretch Your Shoulder

Today I want to show you 3 Simple exercises using a dowel (a stick) to stretch your shoulder. You could also use a cane, a broomstick, a mop, or even an umbrella.

[chenfleur]

melting again

pairing. yang jungwon x y/n ⇝ ft older brother!jake

genre. family by choice au, that one scene from ep 13, fluff, secret relationship

word count. 1.2k

author's note. this drama ended last week and now there is a gaping hole in my chest. i'm trying to get back into writing after a few months and i forgot how hard it is (headinhands) happy december! i hope this month is kind to everyone ♡

masterlist

You’re not exactly sure how long you’ve spent sitting in the fourth floor’s common area, shifting around to find a more comfortable dip in the armchair, uncrossing your legs when the bottom one falls asleep just to cross it over the other. The condensation of your iced coffee dripping down your wrist is a prickly sensation—it demands your attention that, up until now, had been completely focused on burning holes through Yang Jungwon and Jake Sim’s apartment door. 

When the rivulet ends as a small, wet blotch on the sleeve of your blouse, your patience snaps.

There’s a resounding slam of sole against tile as you march up to the door, fingers fumbling with the keypad. “Assholes,” you curse under your breath, impatiently punching in the code you already know by heart. “I reminded them twice yesterday that we’d be having breakfast at Dad’s…”

The door unlocks with a click and a little jingle. Hastily twisting the door handle, you exercise your self-given (and very justified, you’d argue) right to barge into their apartment as if it were your own. 

“Guys!” You slip off your shoes, kicking them to the side. “Where the hell are—”

The obnoxious wave of alcohol that hits your nose makes you stop in your tracks, extinguishing your fuse by forcing you to take in the state of their apartment.

See, your expectations for two twenty-something men living together weren’t high to begin with, but this seemed excessive. The place looks like the morning after a college party, but the fact that you know it was only the two of them last night is what makes it unreasonable.

Random clusters of soju bottles, crumpled beer cans, and half-torn chip bags are strewn all over the place—and there, in all their flushed-face glory, were Jungwon and Jake. Both severely passed out on opposite ends of the couch.

You roll your eyes so hard, they’re practically in the back of your head.

“Jake. Sim. Wake. Up,” you grit out, punctuating each word with a smack to his limp arm. “Seriously, wake up. Did you forget we’re eating with Dad today? Huh?”

Your older brother only groans in his sleep, moving away from your swatting hand and settling back against the couch. There’s a siren in your head urging you to punch him, but you silence it with an irritated sigh.

Then, your eyes fall onto Jungwon. They soften.

Setting your things down, you round the coffee table, kneeling down next to the couch. Your brain is determined to stay annoyed with him for not being ready to leave, but your hand is gentler than you’d hoped for as you shake his shoulder. 

“Jungwon,” you murmur. “Come on, just wake up.”

Not a part of him moves, not even in acknowledgement. A deep sigh leaves your lips as you slowly push yourself up by your knees, about to turn away—but fingers wrap around your wrist, latching on. 

A surprised yelp escapes you as Jungwon tugs you down onto the couch. You fall into place, into the spaces where his body hadn’t already taken up. A sputtered protest is about to leave your lips, one about him being awake the whole time and ignoring you, but it dies on its way out when you feel his arms wrap around your waist. 

Frozen, you blink. It amuses him, based on the way the corners of his lips quirk up ever so slightly. The tip of his nose is cold when it brushes against yours.

“You look pretty,” he mumbles sleepily.

Ten years apart wasn’t enough time for your eyes to learn to handle the sight of Yang Jungwon. They were still so overwhelmed by him—darting everywhere, trying to process his eyes, nose, lips. Trying to process the parts of him that had changed, like his cheeks that are less round than they were when he left for Seoul.

And maybe the fact that the only version of him you remember and truly know is the one from high school—that you had watched him grow up, but not in a way that your insecurity told you actually mattered—is what causes you to fixate on certain things.

Like how his less round cheeks still carry that lingering, rosy tint that you remember. That you try to hold onto.

You strain yourself to harden your gaze. It fails miserably.

“Jungwon, what are you doing?” you whisper urgently. “Jake is right there—”

“He’s asleep,” Jungwon murmurs in response. “Out cold.”

Gaze flitting over to the coffee table, he regards you with a raised brow. “Iced coffee? In winter?”

You glare at him. “What does the temperature of my drinks have to do with the season?”

One of his hands leaves your waist to gently flick your nose, returning to its original post when you open your mouth in protest. “Stupid girl. No wonder you get sick so easily.”

Scoffing, you grumble, “You should go back to Seoul. Piece of shit.” 

You know it’s an empty threat. A miserably thin veil, trying to keep him from looking too closely at the fragment of your heart that physically shakes with fear at the thought of losing him again. Of unknowingly handing him over to a city that doesn’t welcome him. To people who hurt him.

So after the words leave your lips, you curl a little tighter into him. Trying to get his warmth to swallow you and rejuvenate the parts of you that have been aching dully since the day he’d left.

Jungwon watches you through half-lidded eyes the entire time that you’re silent. He carefully takes in the way your fingers grip the fabric of his shirt.

His first instinct is to pry, but he decides that you probably don’t want his first instinct.

“Kiss,” he murmurs instead.

The request catches you off guard, snapping you out of your bleak thoughts. “No,” you purse your lips, trying to push down the small smile that threatens to surface. “No. You’re drunk and you smell.”

“I kiss you when you’re stinky and you won’t do the same?”

“What are you even talking about? I’m never stinky, unlike you right now.”

Jungwon only chuckles, and in the blink of an eye, his lips are on yours in a fleeting kiss. When he pulls away, he’s looking at you again, a pretty smile on his lips at how caught off guard you look.

“You— you can’t just do that—” 

“Says who?” He tilts his head at you with a soft click of his tongue. “Apparently I have a girlfriend who doesn’t know the concept of free will.”

Girlfriend. The idea still makes your head spin. 

You glance over your shoulder to check that Jake is still dead to the world before coming back to Jungwon. “Come on,” you whisper, hand coming up to rest on his hair, twirling a small piece between your fingers. “We’re gonna be late. My dad will get worried and start blowing up my phone again.”

Nodding against the pillow, Jungwon’s cat-like eyes flutter closed again. “Okay.” 

A pause. “Love you.”

Spinning, spinning, spinning.

“Mm,” a coherent part of you manages to hum back. Your lips press a quick, soft kiss to the corner of his eye, not before taking one more precautionary glance at Jake. 

“Love you, Won.”

[neuvilette-tea-party]

˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎ Il faut être deux... Part 1 ❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Steb x F!reader

You get home, excited to visit the Montains like you are sure Steb does each year for his leave! But when you discover your lover, you realize you're going to climb something different...

Tags: Some fish anatomy quirks, established relationship, heavy making out, pining, sexual tension, caresses, mating season (yeah, I'm going that route, sue me!), Steb is selectively non-verbal and that never prevented him from asking/respecting consent, lovey-dovey

Request open for Best boy Steb <3

You sigh entering your little house, unclipping your helmet. You throw the house keys in the bowl and put your helmet next to Steb’s who did not move an inch the entire day. 

You plan your leaves whenever you feel like it, but Steb goes like clockwork and always takes two weeks of leave at the same time of year. Everyone at the barracks knows that those two weeks are his and he will not leave them to anyone else no matter their arguments or urgencies.  

He goes completely no-contact and vanishes without a single trace. 

What does he do during those two weeks? Beats you! He does not speak, and especially not about that. The first year under his tutelage you got to his home for a friendly chat, trying to break the ice with your mentor, but you found his house completely locked, shutters closed and mail piling up in the mailbox. 

Your best guess is that he goes to the mountain to bathe in the rivers and lacs of fresh, pure water to soothe his scales bruised by the water of Piltover soiled with chemicals. 

But now that you live together, you will discover his little secret! You have already put some clothes discreetly on the side for packing. When you got home a minute ago, the shudders of the second floor were already closed, just an inch ajar to let pass a thin ray of sun for you to finish packaging this evening and then swiftly jump into a train, to the Mountains you go! 

You turn your head as you open your boots, hearing piano music from the living room. Steb must be playing.  

You smile to yourself, taking off your boots. You love listening to Steb’s music, you could spend hours doing nothing but listening and watching him play his electronic piano. You always wanted to learn music and Steb patiently teaches you short simple melodies that you play on repeat until you can’t bear a single more note. 

Steb doesn’t mind it, he appreciates the waves and vibrations of music with his sensible Vastaya ears, apparently, it feels pretty close to sounds underwater for him, helping him relax after a long day.   

“Hi, Steb!” You chant entering the living room as you take off your harness holster, “I managed to take one week’s leave matching yours!” You announce your little surprise. 

You stagger as you hear Steb slams his hands on the key brutally. You turn to him to see him, his back turned to you, frozen still, shirtless, his large shoulder moving up and down like after an intended exercise. 

“Steb?” You ask gently, cautiously approaching the Aquatic Vastaya.  

You frown. What the...? 

You get closer, squinting. 

Is that...? 

“Oh my goodness, Steb! Are you all right?!” You shout. 

You grab his shoulder to make him turn towards you. Red scales all over! Steb’s deep green stripes are now invaded with a deep red shade, the same for the tip of his fins and ears. You’re no aquatic Vastaya expert, but a sudden change of scale color patterns cannot be a good sign. 

Steb looks at you with eyes rounded in surprise, cheek rosy, and with a feverish gaze. 

“Are you sick?! Since when?! Did you go to the hospital?! Did you visit a physician?!” You drown him questions as he slowly gets up, grabbing your hand in his. 

You detail his chest, covered in sweat and new red scales, parasitizing his lovely green stripes. His chest rises up and down deeply and when you raise your gaze to look into his ocean eyes, you discover them febrile and dark. 

“Oh Steb... Are you all right?” You beg.  

Steb details you, remaining silent, slightly disheveled, his cheek fins waving repeatedly. His gaze lowers slightly to your lips and he licks his teeth. He raises your hand to his mouth and reverently kisses your fingertips and your palm, closing his eyes as a purr starts resonating in his chest. 

“...Steb? I am worried for you!” You insist, voice cracking in fear for your lover. 

Color change so swiftly is surely the prelude to a blood disease or even an organ failure... You know he pushes himself so much! Never allows others to see when he is tired or in pain, preferring to suck it up for his team’s benefit, but now it catches up with him! 

You try to resonate with him but he looks... out of here, like in some sort of daze. 

His large hand sneaks around your lower back and pulls you close to him, pressing his forehead against yours, purring deeply. You try to control your breath as he only blinks with his third eyelids,  his attention solely on you. 

He starts to cradle you, swaying your hips together gently, intertwining your fingers together. He brushes the tips of your noses together as he slowly dances with you in your small living room. 

“Steb... Is that an illness?” You ask, recovering your calm to think logically. 

He slowly shakes his head, blue eyes dead focused in your eyes. 

“Should I be worried?” His eyes lower down to a corner as he thinks, before returning to yours and shrug, his purr deepening. 

You gulp and nod, rationalising the situation. 

“Can I know what this is all about now?” You put your hand on his pec, strangely warm to the touch and vibrating with the purr. 

He takes a fistful of your hair and kisses your forehead, squeezing your hand in his. He lowers himself to kiss the tip of your nose tenderly and he releases your hair to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing your lower lips fondly, parting them just a bit. 

This is his usual move to ask for a kiss.  

Patiently waiting for your consent, devouring you with his blue eyes. 

You gulp, feeling his heartbeat against your palm, beating rapidly but steadily in his ribcage. 

He releases your cheek to take your chin between two fingers, still playing with your lower lip, and tilts your head as he brushes your nose tips together again, his lips hovering tantalizingly over yours, teasing you as you think he will close the gap several time, feeling his breath on your lips. 

But he remains patient. 

Simply toying with you, but never trespassing the limit without a clear ‘Yes’. 

His eyes are dark, a storm rages on inside of them, but an emotion pierces the fog. 

Imploration 

Despair 

Begging... 

You never saw him in such a state... 

You weakly nod once and close your eyes. Maybe acceding to his demand will relieve him a bit... 

He releases your hand to circle your hips and press them hard against his loins as you feel the ghost of his lips on yours.  

As to taste the water he leaves a single, trembling peck on your lips. 

Then another 

And another 

And one more  

Soon enough he is devouring your lips, giving demanding kisses, licking your lips to earn access. You open your mouth for him and his tongue enters, hugging and dancing with yours like a first time. 

He kisses you deep like he never did before, robbing you both of your oxygen. He bites down your lip with a growl as he pushes you until the back of your knees hits the sofa, unbalancing you and you fall with a yelp of surprise. 

Steb follows you easily, never letting go of your lips, you feel his weight pining you down the sofa, keeping you caged under him as his hands explore your back freely.  

You grab his side, his shoulders, his arms, his cheeks... You have no idea what to do with yourself when he treats you in such a way... 

You try to breathe in those demanding attentions while he lets escape a deep, rumbling sound between a purr and a growl, coming from the very depths of his chest. You start feeling dizzy, you have never been kissed like that by anyone, especially by Steb who prefers delicate touches and soft little attentions as he is a tender soul himself... 

Your ears are full of your gasps and pants and his subtle growl, your nose is invaded by his natural salty musk, getting straight into your head and making your heart palpitate even harder! His ears shake, and all his fins are coursed by a shudder, making him hiss. 

You take an immense breath when he finally lets go of your lips, a string of saliva connecting you together. He observes you panting, caressing your cheek with his knuckles so delicately. He reverently kisses your forehead once more before kissing your temple, your cheek, your jaw, your neck, and then taking a big lap with the flat of his long tongue on the entire length of your exposed throat. 

You lower your gaze as you feel Steb pulling on your jacket. He is looking at you while fiddling with the buttons, awaiting your go. 

You feel a fire in your cheeks and one starting between your legs. He never was so forward and demanding. Steb likes to take things slow for both of your comfort. 

He likes taking his time, appreciating each little step of the way...  

You just started exploring each other’s body after moving in together and if at first you felt frustrated it took so long to move things on, you started to get used to it, and even appreciated his method, reveling in the simple little things with delight. 

And now he is the one being impatient, confusing you in your newfound pace! 

The thought of stopping everything to get a straightforward answer crosses your mind, but you only have to dive into the agitated waters of his eyes to know. 

He had to hide from everyone in the dark each year, dealing with that storm all alone, without the warmth of a lover or a friendly shoulder that could understand his turmoil without judging him.  

Him always so composed, irreproachable, so well put together... 

What would they say if they ever saw him in such a state? Like an animal? 

They already have so little respect for non-humans... 

You cup his cheek tenderly, tracing the quivering gills on his jaws with the tip of your fingers and all his fins and ears tremble terribly instantly as he grits his teeth. You do it again and he exhales deeply, brushing his cheek In your hand with a relieved expression. Instinctively, you bite down the tip of his ear, licking the frills teasingly and you feel his grip tightening around you with a deep rumble, threatening to tear your clothes apart entirely. 

You release his ear, your hand cupping his cheek lowering down to the gills on his throat, and start caressing them as he captures your lips again, opening your jacket’s button expertly with one hand, your tongues entangled in a sensual embrace. 

He opens your jacket rapidly and opens your blouse a bit, just enough to create a cleavage that he tenderly kisses, before pressing his ear to your sternum and closing his eyes. 

Savoring your heartbeat while hugging you tight. 

You circle his shoulders and kiss the top if his head, diving your nose in his green strands.  

Steb did not close the shudder of the first floor, letting the sun’s rays bathing the living room illuminate his large back, making his red scales shine like they were real flames. You admire his powerful muscles rolling under his skin, creating waves of light on his scales, hypnotizing you entirely. 

He is absolutely stunning with theses shiny shades of red and green. 

You caress his hair as he deeply inhales, nudging his face between your bosoms, listening to the melody of your heart as you feel his finger digging into your flesh. He rolls his shoulders, agitated but evidently trying to control himself the best he can. 

You close your legs to hug him tight inadvertently putting pressure on his groin, which you now realize is really warm despite his pants and considerably swollen, making him hiss in response, his cheek scales shaking in tandem with the sound. 

Everything comes to a halt as Steb curls into your embrace, tightening his grip on you while you press your smaller body against his on the small sofa of your home. 

For a fleeting instant, both of your hearts beat at the same rhythm, like a single being. 

“I love you, Steb...” You confess, inhaling his salty scent deep into your lungs as you caress the top of his beautiful head, “You are my everything.” 

His purr peaks to higher notes at your words and he spins his head to reverently kiss your sternum again, soft pecks like butterfly wings, going higher and higher until he reaches the crook of your neck and he bites down the sensitive skin, nibbling it between his teeth, sucking on it, making you gasp. 

He parts from you, brushing his lovebite you feel flourishing on your skin. A chance you are on leave, you would have difficulties explaining this one to your colleagues. 

Steb tightly smiles, satisfied with what he sees on your delicate skin. You purse your lips and lunge forward to bite down his own neck, paying him back in his own coins. He lets out an audible gasp of surprise and a long moan as you suck the crook of his neck, holding the back of your head to keep you there. 

You part from him spitting little scales off your tongues, trying to scrub them off with your fingers, prompting him to chuckle, thoroughly amused by your demeanor, as he loudly purrs. You look up at him, leaning domineeringly over you, but his eyes spill love and adoration. 

”Mon amour...” He whispers like a secret, for your ears only. 

You nudge your noses 

But the storm still rages on in his ocean eyes... and between your legs. 

He looks into your eyes as one of his hands takes a handful of your thigh, slowly slipping under the fabric of your skirt, asking a silent, fated question  

You circle his shoulders and hips, locking him in your embrace and peck his nose, and extra sensible part of his face, like all aquatic Vastaya, and his purr skips a bit, like a hiccup. 

“Take me to our bedroom, Steb...” 

He reverently kisses your lips and lifts you up from the sofa, easily carrying you up the stairs toward your bed, both hearts palpitating in anticipation... 

[mediumgayitalian]

"Try some."

Nico wrinkles his nose. "It looks like plastic."

"And you look like someone who's getting on my last nerve." Will shakes the offending -- thing. At him. Nico leans back, refusing to let it touch him. "Oh -- it is not contagious, you goober!"

"It's gross!"

"You've never even tried it!"

"I can tell!"

"You're a priss!"

"You are a human trash can who ate a strawberry that fell on the floor last week!"

"Hey Nico. Quickly. Where do strawberries grow from."

"It is a different thing!"

"In your grand delusions, maybe."

Nico kicks Will in the shoulder, sending him sprawling. He is unfortunately a weird noodle and absorbs the impact easily, shifting so he's lying backwards on the bed, head upside-down over the edge, feet tapping on the wall. Nico pinches him in disgust, only Will catches his hand so it doesn't work. Nico huffs louder.

"For someone with as much of a sweet tooth as you, it is crazy that you have a candy superiority complex."

"Not everyone is addicted to Twizzlers."

"...I'm not addicted. I could stop any time."

Nico looks pointedly at the two empty -- family sized, he would like to add -- wrappers, and the third pack currently being worked through. If it was possible he'd make himself sick off it. Instead he lives in hubris. And shamelessness; he meets Nico's eyes and sends him an exaggerated wink.

(Which.)

(Because he cannot wink.)

(Is just this. Really endearing. Hard blink.)

(Gods, he is so stupid.)

(Nico hates him.)

"You're such a humiliating dweeb that being around you makes me less cool by proxy. Not addicted, he says."

Will shoves another seven -- seven. -- Twizzlers in his mouth. He does not bother to chew before speaking.

"I'm not!"

"You are in actual debt! To the entire Hermes cabin! For the rest of your life!" Nico takes a Twizzler, for the sole purpose of using it to emphasize his point, and also smack Will in the leg with it. "Do you know how hard that is? I have tried to gamble away your debt four times! I have not put a chunk into it!"

"Well, maybe you suck at gambling."

Nico's eye twitches. Will does not even pretend to keep his snickering to himself.

"I was stuck in a casino for seventy fucking years --"

"Damn, and you still can't play poker. Embarrassing."

"I CAN FUCKING --" Nico stops. He takes a deep breath. He stands, putting his book to the side, and does several deep breathing exercises. Will laughs until he cries, because he is a word Hazel made him swear not to say even in his own head.

"Your face," Will wheezes. There is a thump as he falls off the bed and crumples to the floor.

"Kill yourself," Nico says calmly. A muscle in his jaw jumps and he starts his exercises anew. "Better yet, let me."

Will blows a kiss at him. Nico mimes catching it and throwing it on the floor and stomping on it, which makes him genuinely gasp in offense, which is gratifying. Except there is enough hurt in the action that Nico panics a little and hurries to grab the kiss off the floor and brush off the dust and stuff it in his pocket. And then he realizes what he's doing, and that Will is full of shit and is going red with the effort of trying to hold back his giggling, and he goes so violently red himself his vision swims a little.

"That was very cute," Will manages, snickering.

"I am going to blow up this camp and everyone in it," Nico seethes, hotter technically than a red dwarf star.

Will swallows back his giggles. It doesn't work, exactly, and what happens instead is he tries very hard to keep his face pleasant and neutral, except every few seconds his shoulders shake and his chapped lips twitch and his blue eyes sparkle like playful frost. And he stands, and steps towards Nico, and Nico is frozen, and his heart hammers, and his palms, suddenly, get very very sweaty.

"I mean it," Will says, and the worst thing is that he really does sound sincere, even as he smiles teasingly. "It was very cute." He steps closer. What is left of Nico's rational brain leaks out of his ears and fizzles through the floorboards like acid. "You're very cute."

He has no shame. None. Surely it's his damned father's fault; Will gets like this, sometimes, determined and bold and affectionate like all the flailing gangliness that afflicts him every other day of his life disappears, cowed in the grandness of his affectionate determination. He steps closer, enough, and now he is close enough that Nico can hear him humming, can hear the rocking of his heels. Can smell the artificial strawberry on his breath, can almost taste the sweetness in the air between them.

His lips part.

He swallows, dry.

His palms are clammy, and he curls them into weak fists.

"Very cute," Will repeats, leaning closer. "I like how much you care about people even though you are embarrassed about it. Makes me think of a groundhog."

"You are such a weirdo," Nico says weakly, but there is no wit to it, because he cannot taste anything but the wanting behind his teeth, and cannot see anything but the huge pools of Will's sparkling eyes, and the quirk of his red-stained lips. "Genuinely, it's --"

"Hey."

Will ducks down. He's breathing, suddenly, milimeters from Nico's mouth, and Nico stops breathing at all.

"If I gave you some now, would you try it?"

"Yes," Nico says, small and strangled, because that would be the answer for anything Will asked him right now. "Yes, fine, you can --"

But Will does not produce a licorice rope from his pocket. He does not reach over and dart across the cabin to where the open bag lay, abandoned, on his bed, he does not tease out any of the strands curled around his fist. Instead, he -- drops them. And then he reaches his wide, open palms forward, and he --

Nico squeaks.

Will doesn't move, for a moment, lips still pressed to his, eyes open, head tilted, observing.

Nico's eyes flutter closed.

He feels Will's smile, against his lips. Feels the smugness in his warm hands, curled around his jaw, feels the sweet satisfaction sticking to his teeth.

They don't taste so bad after all, Twizzlers.

"Told you," Will murmurs. "See, they're good, they're --"

Nico backs him against the wall, and kisses him until they candy taste is gone from his tongue.

[gf2bellamy]

part three: prophetic synchronicity

— ★ in a dream shaped like a library, spencer finally sees that love was never sudden—instead it was breadcrumbed in the form of coffee dates, late-night chess games, and the scent of citrus on a borrowed sweater.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: mention of serial killers and working in the field

masterlist - part one ✦ part two ✦ part four

Time became measured in stolen touches and suppressed confessions.

Spencer had always been protective of you—perhaps to a fault—but now it bordered on obsession. Every field assignment left his nerves frayed, his focus splintered between the case and you. He hovered like a shadow, positioning himself between you and potential threats.

It escalated until Hotch pulled him aside, that familiar stern crease between his brows. "Reid, you’re distracted. More than usual."

The words were professional, but the look in his eyes said everything else: I know. And you need to get it together.

Spencer couldn’t even argue. He just nodded, guilty.

But even paperwork became an exercise in restraint.

He dragged out reports well past necessary, lingering in coffee shops just to watch you scribble notes with your tongue peeking between your teeth. He took you to Drip Drop Brew three times in one week, each visit punctuated by your delighted grip on his arm, your gasp of discovery as you scanned the menu. The way your entire face lit up could've powered entire cities. 

Spencer would’ve built you ten coffee shops if it meant seeing that expression again.

Then came the legs.

It started innocently enough—a brush of knees beneath the conference table, fleeting and accidental. But then he did it deliberately, hooking his ankle around yours during a briefing, pressing his calf to yours as if tethered by an invisible string.

You'd looked at him then, really looked, your pen freezing mid-sentence. But Spencer just kept working, his face the picture of academic detachment even as his pulse roared in his ears.

The need was unbearable.

To touch. To confirm. To claim.

Every casual contact burned like a brand, every moment apart felt like withdrawal. He was drowning in you, and the worst part? He didn't want to come up for air.

But the universe wasn't subtle tonight.

You'd fallen asleep somewhere between the opening credits and the first act of the movie, your head sliding onto his shoulder. Spencer froze, the remote clutched in his hand as your breathing evened out against his collarbone.

Carefully—so carefully—he paused the movie. The sudden silence made your sigh louder, your warmth more palpable.

His fingers moved on their own accord, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his thumb tracing the arch of your cheekbone. When he tucked the strand behind your ear, you nuzzled closer in your sleep, your nose pressing into the hollow of his throat.

That's when he saw it.

Frozen on the screen, the subtitles screamed at him in stark white letters:

"Sometimes you don't see that the best thing that's ever happened to you is sitting there, right under your nose."

The irony wasn't lost on him.

Not when your shampoo—something vanilla and citrus—filled every breath. Not when your hair tickled his actual nose. Not when your heartbeat thrummed against his ribs like a second pulse.

Spencer's lips parted on a silent gasp before he pressed them into a firm line.

The universe had a cruel sense of humor.

But then—because he was only human, because he was so desperately in love—he let his head fall back against yours, his cheek resting against the crown of your hair. The subtitles blurred as his eyes stung.

He fell asleep like that: nose buried in your hair, the words burning behind his eyelids.

Dreams were rare for Spencer Reid.

When sleep came, it usually brought nightmares—his mother's fractured voice, crime scene photos that bled into each other, visions of you hurt in some alleyway he couldn't reach.

But tonight, curled around your warmth on the couch, his subconscious offered him something extraordinary.

A library materialized around him, the scent of old paper and lemon oil thick in the air. Mahogany shelves stretched endlessly in every direction, their contents glowing under soft golden light.

Spencer turned in his armchair, the leather creaking beneath him—

—just as you peeked around a shelf, grinning.

"You like it?" You were exactly you, yet not. 

You were wearing a soft pink sweater, the kind that he immediately recognized—because it was his. Well, sort of. It was like one of his favorite cardigans, but in a pale shade of pink.

The sight sent something warm and possessive curling through his chest.

"Like what?" He rose slowly, a little confused as he glanced around the library, taking in the shelves, the stacks of books.

The air hummed with static, the way it did before rain.

"The library." You gestured broadly, your nail polish chipped exactly as it had been yesterday. When he didn't respond, you pouted—that pout—and nudged a book toward him. "Check them out."

The volume had no title. When he opened it, the pages moved.And immediately, his breath caught. The pages weren’t filled with words.

They were filled with memories.

The first memory Spencer saw was of when you and he met. He recognized it instantly. It was so vivid, like it was happening all over again.

There you were: frozen in the BAU bullpen on your first day, all nervous energy and bright eyes, that ridiculous ladybug hairclip holding back your hair. He'd nearly knocked you over while muttering about fractal patterns, too distracted to notice the new profiler standing awkwardly with a box of files.

"You're... not Hotch," you'd said, and something in his chest had gone click.

In the dream, his throat tightened. He remembered everything: the way your laugh lines appeared before the sound left your lips, how you'd bitten your bottom raw that first month from stress, the shy smile that formed on your face when Garcia complimented your shoes.

The book trembled in his hands.

The You in the dream leaned against the shelf, watching him with tender amusement. "Keep going," you murmured. "The next one's better."

The book’s pages fluttered like a living thing, revealing another memory—the first case you’d worked together.

There you were on the jet, tucked into a corner with your bottom lip caught between your teeth, fingers drumming an anxious rhythm against your thigh. Younger Spencer had slid into the seat across from you without a word, unfolding his travel chess set.

“Do you know how to play?”

"Not even a little," you'd admitted with that self-deprecating laugh he'd later learn meant you were overwhelmed.

For two hours, he taught you—the way knights moved in L-shapes, how pawns could become queens, why the Sicilian Defense was his favorite opening. He remembered the exact moment your frown of concentration melted into triumph when you captured his bishop (he’d sacrificed it on purpose, though he’d never admit it). The way your laughter had bounced off the jet’s walls when you realized too late that he’d cornered your king.

Checkmate.

The memory shimmered as the pages turned again, this time to something more intimate—a museum date disguised as a casual outing. You’d researched every painting in advance, scribbling notes in the margins of the exhibit pamphlet like you were preparing for an exam. 

His exam.

He remembered how he had looked at you when you added something to what he’d just rambled on about—how proud he felt, how surprised he was that you not only listened but also wanted to engage with him.

Page after page, the memories unfolded—each one a revelation.

The late-night work sessions where you’d fallen asleep on his couch, your cheek smushed against his copy of Atonement. The way you always saved him the last bite of your dessert, even when it was your favorite. That time in New Orleans when you’d traded your umbrella for his soaked-through jacket because “You’ll get sick faster than I will, genius.”

The realization struck him like a physical blow:

There was no single moment he’d fallen in love with you.

It was every moment.

Every shared glance, every inside joke, every time you’d looked at him like he’d hung the moon—they were all threads in the same tapestry, woven so seamlessly he hadn’t noticed the pattern until now.

The warmth in his chest wasn’t new. It was just you—constant as gravity, steady as sunrise. And it had been there all along.

He turned another page, but this one was blank.

Spencer frowned, flipping faster—empty, empty, empty. The fancy pages mocked him, their whiteness glaring under the library's golden light.

"You have to fill those." 

Your voice, sudden and close, made him startle. You'd been watching him the whole time, leaning against the shelves with that knowing smile he'd never been able to decipher—until now.

You plucked the book from his trembling hands, your fingers brushing his as you traced the pages he had just looked at.

"These are the moments you liked me," you said, tapping a memory where his younger self stared at your ladybug hairclip. "And now that you've finally realized you're in love with me—"

Spencer choked on air.

"—these pages," you continued, pointing at the blank pages. "will be filled with all the ways you love me." You snapped the book shut and slid it back onto the shelf with care, your pink sweater riding up just enough to reveal the dip of your waist.

Before he could protest, you pressed a new volume into his hands, this one heavier, its cover embossed with golden gilded letters he couldn't quite read. You nestled against his arm, your cheek warm against his sweater sleeve as he opened it.

Blank again.

"This one," you murmured, your breath ghosting over his wrist, "gets filled once you admit it to me. Out loud."

Spencer's pulse roared in his ears. "Admit it to you?"

You tilted your head up, so close he could count your lashes. "Yeah," you said, like it was the simplest truth in the world. "That you love me."

The library held its breath.

Your voice was soft, but the words struck him like a lightning bolt—crackling through his ribs, scorching his lungs. He had to squeeze his eyes shut to ignore the fantasies his brain already started forming. The idea of this volume being filled with memories of you waking up in his arms, of you holding hands on actual dates, of you—

Spencer blinked down at the book in his hands.

Blank cover, blank pages, yet it weighed more than any tomb in the Library of Congress. It thrummed against his palms, a living thing starving for the confession lodged in his throat.

"I..." His voice cracked. For once, his brilliant mind offered no equations, no statistics—just static.

You smiled that smile—the one reserved for his darkest moments, the one that had pulled him back from countless edges.

"It's okay," you murmured, leaning forward to brush a stray curl from his forehead. Your fingers lingered, warm against his temple. "I know it's scary." you grimaced slightly, as if speaking from experience.

Spencer closed his eyes, exhaling a shaky laugh. The book creaked slightly under his tightening grip. "This is the weirdest dream I've ever had," he admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

You grinned, all mischief and moonlight. "But it feels real, doesn't it?"

He couldn't answer. 

Because it did.

The way your thumb traced absent circles against his skin. The way your lashes caught the golden library light. The way you smelled like home—like worn paper and that citrus shampoo you'd accidentally left at his apartment months ago and never reclaimed.

It felt more real than the waking world ever had.

"You can take your time," you said, pressing a kiss to his cheek—so casual, so certain. "I'm always going to be here."

And for the first time in his life, Spencer Reid believed something without evidence.

He believed you.

[roshni99]

इस रोमांचक दूसरे हिस्से में, डॉ. खुशबू मत्तू के साथ कंधों की मोबिलिटी के दुनिया में डूबें! इस विशेषज्ञ व्यायाम टिप्स से फ्रोजन शोल्डर की समस्या को दूर करें और लचीलापन और बल को बढ़ाने के लिए डिज़ाइन किए गए व्यायाम योजना का पता लगाएं। इसमें से उन चर्चात्मक व्यायामों का अन्वेषण करें जो फ्रोजन शोल्डर को प्रभावी ढीला करने के लिए तैयार किए गए हैं। इस अवसर को न छोड़ें, गति के साथ चलने की स्वतंत्रता को पुनः प्राप्त करने और बिना दर्द के जीने की दिशा में इस यात्रा में हमारे साथ शामिल हों! 💪✨ #स्वास्थ्यऔरकल्याण #विशेषज्ञसलाह 💡 **जो इसकी आवश्यकता है, उसे टैग करें! मिलकर, चलिए हम फ्रोजन शोल्डर से मुक्त होकर और गति और शक्ति के जीवन का स्वागत करें। 💪 #शोल्डरस्वास्थ्य #DrMattooकेसाथस्वतंत्रता #शोल्डरमुक्ति" 🌟"व्यावसायिक समर्थन और आवश्यक साधनों के लिए हमारे मोबाइल ऐप को डाउनलोड करें: 📲 Android: http://bit.ly/3JACQOb 🍏 Apple: https://apple.co/3I0QKbe हमारी वेबसाइट: www.raphacure.com यहां से ऐप डाउनलोड करें और अपने व्यावसायिक और स्वास्थ्य आवश्यकताओं का समर्थन प्राप्त करें। एक सुरक्षित और सुचना-पूर्ण अनुभव के लिए हमारे ऐप का उपयोग करें।" frozen shoulder exercises,frozen shoulder treatment,frozen shoulder exercises at home,frozen shoulder exercise,frozen shoulder physiotherapy,shoulder frozen treatment,shoulder pain relief exercises,frozen shoulder recovery,how to treat frozen shoulder,sukoon physical therapy,dr varun wasil,frozen shoulder pain relief,shoulder pain relief,shoulder mobilization techniques,frozen shoulder stretches,swami ramdev,baba ramdev,ramdev,yog guru,yog,yoga

[tacobacoyeet]

operation: just kiss already | jake peralta x reader

a/n: thank you for the request @glennussy! did you know that not only are you responsible for my first suits fic, you're also resposible for my first brooklyn nine-nine fic? how cool is that?! here's a short, silly little thing.

warnings: nothing really, but i tried to capture the cadence of an episode of brooklyn nine-nine with this, so it's not my usual writing style.

The bullpen was quiet.

Suspiciously quiet.

Which should’ve tipped you off, but you were too busy arguing with Jake over the objectively superior Die Hard sequel. (It was the third one. Obviously.)

“No way,” Jake was saying, leaning so far back in his chair that it teetered on two legs. “Die Hard 2 has snow. Explosions. A villain who looks like the guy who sells hot tubs at the mall. It’s festive and explosive.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s derivative and soulless. John McClane deserves better. Die Hard with a Vengeance has buddy cop magic. It has riddles. It has Samuel L. Jackson.”

Jake gasped. “You only like that one because of the riddles.”

“Correct. And also because it’s better in every possible way.”

He grinned at you, all teeth and ridiculous enthusiasm. “You’re so wrong, and it’s adorable.”

Unbeknownst to either of you, Rosa had entered the bullpen mid-debate. She stood frozen for a second, eyes narrowed as she watched Jake scoot his chair closer to yours under the guise of making a point. You were both laughing now—loudly, obnoxiously, obliviously.

She turned on her heel, marched into the briefing room, and slammed the door open. Amy looked up from her planner.

“They’re flirting again,” Rosa said. “Loudly. About Die Hard.”

Amy let out a strangled noise and flung her highlighter across the room. “That’s the third time this week!”

“I can’t take it anymore,” Boyle said, his voice cracking with emotion. “It’s like watching two golden retrievers discover love but never actually go for the tennis ball.”

Terry looked up from his yogurt. “They need a push.”

“No,” Holt said firmly from the doorway. “What they need is therapy. But I’ll settle for a strategic intervention.”

Rosa raised an eyebrow. “Sir?”

He sighed. “Mandatory team-building. Effective immediately.”

Amy clapped her hands. “I’ll make the schedule.”

“Operation: Just Kiss Already is a go,” Terry muttered.

Boyle was already crying.

-----

The next morning, you walked into the precinct, coffee in hand and zero suspicion in your heart. Jake appeared beside you like a particularly handsome ghost.

"Morning, partner," he said, stealing a sip of your drink without asking. You let him, as always.

“Morning, parasite.”

“Aw. You say the sweetest things.”

You were halfway through bickering over who would win in a fight between Bruce Willis and a sentient vending machine when Amy called out: “Everyone to the briefing room!”

Jake perked up. “Ooh, emergency? Murder? Vending machine uprising?”

“Worse,” Rosa muttered, brushing past. “Icebreakers.”

You shot Jake a look. “Should we run?”

“Too late.”

Inside the briefing room, Holt stood with a large poster behind him that read: TEAM-BUILDING WEEK: PRECINCT UNITY AND COHESION.

Boyle had decorated it with glitter pens.

Jake leaned toward you and whispered, “That poster feels like a trap.”

“You feel like a trap,” you muttered back.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Welcome,” Holt said, deadpan. “This week will consist of a series of exercises meant to bolster teamwork and deepen interpersonal bonds. Participation is mandatory. Complaining is futile.”

Terry stepped forward, clapping once. “We’re starting with a classic: Trust Falls.”

Jake groaned audibly. “Oh no. No, no, no. I have very little trust and a lot of fall-related trauma.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Amy chirped, already pairing everyone up. “You’re with Y/N.”

Jake turned to you, giving a mock-solemn nod. “If I die, avenge me.”

“Noted.”

You stood behind him, arms out. He looked over his shoulder suspiciously.

“You’re not gonna let me hit the ground just to prove a point, right?”

“Depends. Do you admit Die Hard 3 is superior?”

He gasped. “You would let me die.”

But he let himself fall anyway—and you caught him.

Jake blinked up at you from your arms. “Huh. I didn’t die. That’s kind of romantic.”

You laughed. “Don’t push it, Peralta.”

Across the room, Amy wrote something down in her binder and underlined it three times.

Boyle wiped away a tear. “They’re so beautiful.”

-----

The next activity was announced during lunch.

“Desert Island Scenarios,” Terry declared, holding up a laminated packet. “Each pair will be given a list of items and a survival scenario. Work together to decide what to keep, what to ditch, and how you’d make it off the island. It’s about problem-solving and cooperation.”

Jake immediately raised his hand. “Are we allowed to weaponize coconuts?”

“No,” Amy said flatly.

“Fine. Then I call dibs on building our shelter.” He nudged you. “You good with palm fronds?”

You smirked. “As long as I’m not the one weaving them.”

The two of you were given a scenario card that read: Shipwrecked on an uninhabited island. No rescue expected for two weeks.

Jake read aloud: “You may choose only five of the following ten items: a hatchet, a tarp, a fishing net, waterproof matches, a flare gun, a pot, a deck of cards, duct tape, a mirror, or a radio with no batteries.”

You both immediately said, “Matches.”

Jake beamed. “We’re so in sync.”

You rolled your eyes. “Calm down, coconut buddy.”

By the end of the exercise, you had drawn a map of your imaginary island, built a fantasy hut, and decided you’d survive by fishing, drinking boiled rainwater, and arguing over who got the hammock.

Jake looked disturbingly pleased with himself.

“Honestly?” he said, stretching his arms over his head. “I think we’d make a pretty great apocalypse duo.”

You didn’t say anything.

But you didn’t look away either.

Across the room, Rosa whispered, “They’re doomed.”

Boyle sobbed quietly into his lunch.

-----

“Next up,” Amy announced the following day, with barely restrained glee, “is the Compliment Gauntlet!”

Jake looked alarmed. “That sounds suspiciously emotional.”

“That’s because it is,” Amy said. “Each person will be tethered wrist-to-wrist to a partner while offering increasingly specific compliments. The rope only comes off when both people have given a compliment that makes the other physically blush.”

You stared at her. “What kind of twisted Hallmark-bootcamp is this?”

“Justice,” Rosa muttered. “Sweet, calculated justice.”

Jake grinned. “Well, looks like we’re stuck with each other. Again.”

“I’m starting to think that’s intentional.”

“You think?” he said, already extending his wrist toward you. “I’m shocked, truly.”

The rope was tied. Amy set a timer. “Begin.”

Jake smirked. “You have the best taste in snacks and the most expressive eye rolls I’ve ever seen.”

You blinked. “You remembered my snack order?”

“Down to the exact number of gummy bears.”

Your cheeks warmed. Damn it.

“Your hair looks really good today,” you said quickly, deflecting.

He tilted his head. “That’s cute, but not enough. We both know it.”

You exhaled. “You’re the most annoyingly observant, big-hearted disaster of a detective I’ve ever met, and it drives me insane in a way that’s... weirdly endearing.”

Jake blinked.

The tips of his ears turned red.

The rope fell to the ground with a dramatic snap.

Boyle audibly gasped.

Amy fist-pumped. “YES!"

Rosa nodded, satisfied. “Finally.”

Jake looked down at the rope, then at you. “So… we blushed.”

You stared back. “We did.”

His grin grew slow and dumb. “That means we’re... great at this.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Yet here you are.”

-----

The final activity arrived with all the subtlety of a bombshell.

“Tonight’s exercise,” Amy announced, trying not to visibly vibrate with excitement, “is called ‘The Trust Maze.’”

Jake squinted. “Is this about corn mazes? Because I got lost in one as a kid and accidentally joined another family.”

“No,” Amy said. “This is a communication challenge. One person wears a blindfold. The other gives verbal directions to guide them through an obstacle course set up in the evidence room. Minimal lighting. Maximum confusion. The only way out is teamwork.”

Jake turned to you, grinning. “So basically, I stumble around in the dark while you yell at me?”

“Pretty much,” you replied. “Sounds like a Tuesday.”

Boyle handed Jake a blindfold. “Godspeed, buddy.”

Moments later, Jake was standing at the starting line of a makeshift maze made of overturned chairs, file boxes, and caution tape, blindfold secured. The lights were dimmed.

“You ready, Y/N?” Terry called from the corner, stopwatch in hand.

“As I’ll ever be,” you muttered, stepping beside the tape.

“Go!”

“Okay,” you called. “Take two steps forward. No—your other forward. Right.”

Jake flailed and corrected himself. “You need to define directions better!”

“Maybe if you didn’t walk like a baby deer on ice!”

Laughter echoed from the bullpen.

“Turn left! Now duck—DUCK!”

Jake dropped to a crouch as a mop handle swung above his head.

“Holy crap,” he breathed. “You’re actually trying to kill me.”

“Only if you keep making Die Hard 2 references.”

He stumbled forward again, miraculously avoiding a stack of boxes. “You know, this would be a lot more romantic if I weren’t sweating profusely and fearing death.”

You hesitated for half a second, voice quieter now. “Romantic?”

Jake stopped. “Wait, did I say that out loud?”

You didn’t answer. He tugged the blindfold up just enough to peek at you.

The room fell quiet.

“I mean,” he started, his voice suddenly more genuine than it had been all week, “this whole thing’s kind of ridiculous, right? Everyone trying to make us figure out what we apparently can’t?”

You looked at him, soft and stunned. “You think we’re that oblivious?”

Jake smiled sheepishly. “I don’t know. Maybe. But I also know I like arguing with you. I like drinking your coffee. I like... the way you always catch me.”

Your heart was hammering.

“I like you,” he said. “A lot.”

You took a slow step forward until you were right in front of him. “Then maybe,” you murmured, reaching up to pull the blindfold fully off, “you should stop letting everyone else tell you when to do something about it.”

Jake’s breath hitched.

And then you kissed him.

The entire bullpen erupted.

“FINALLY!” Boyle screamed.

Amy high-fived Rosa. Holt closed his office door with a muttered, “About time.”

Terry just grinned and marked something off on a clipboard.

Jake pulled back slightly, dazed. “So... uh... do we win team-building week?”

You grinned. “We just might’ve broken the scoreboard.”

[batsandbirdbrains]

I’ve been reminded that the reverse robins trope exists

The one where Damian has custody of Dick (reverse robins au)

I think it’s even better if most of the world doesn’t realize there are other Gotham vigilantes. Somehow, they’ve all stayed under the radar, but Robin is the one who goes out with Batman once he joins the Justice League. The others aren’t really interested in joining or even meeting them. They’re fine doing their own thing in Gotham & Blüdhaven.

But Bruce wasn’t actually around when Dick became part of the Wayne family. He’d been lost in time or whatever, and it was Damian who was at the circus that night. It was Damian who saw the Graysons fall. It was Damian who rushed to a tiny, frozen little boy who was kneeling in his parents’ blood and wrapped him in his coat, pulling him away and hiding his face in his shoulder.

Alfred thought the circus would maybe help Damian relax after all the pressure from taking over the Batman mantle. Give him something to smile about.

Instead, Damian gets in the car that night with a traumatized little boy, police and ambulance lights flickering from outside, and he looks Alfred dead in the eyes and says, “Congratulations. You’ve turned me into my father. The Commissioner and an agent from Child Protective Services will be stopping by the manor in about two hours.”

Alfred isn’t even all that surprised.

Damian adopts Dick immediately. He doesn’t want Dick to feel like his place in the manor is uncertain, like his place in the family isn’t permanent. He’s one of them now. He’s a Wayne.

Dick even agrees to hyphenate his last name when he sees how much Damian is fighting for him, when he hears him yell at the cops and the CPS people who call him a dirty gypsy and try to convince Damian to throw Dick in juvie, insinuating that Dick probably already stole valuables from the manor.

Nevermind the fact that Dick has barely moved or spoken a word in three weeks following his parents’ deaths.

Aside from sneaking out at night to interrogate criminals on Tony Zucco and what they know about him. But Batman finds him and foils his plans every night, bringing him back to his room at the manor.

It takes Dick less than two weeks to figure out it’s Damian behind the cowl. Damian is actually impressed, and he eventually agrees to train Dick to join the bats.

Tim thinks it’s an awful idea. But Tim and Damian clash with most things, so Damian considers his opinion invalid. Jason just thinks it’s funny that the kid wants his costume to have shorts.

And after a couple months of intense training, Robin is seen on the streets of Gotham beside Batman.

But then Bruce comes back, and he takes over the Batman mantle again, and Damian goes back to being Nightwing. Dick wants to stay Damian’s partner, he doesn’t know Bruce that well, he wants to stay with his Baba. But Bruce insists that he take over training Dick, and that since the public outside of Gotham became aware of Batman and Robin due to a high profile case, that Robin has to stay Batman’s partner.

Damian convinces Dick that it’s alright, because Damian is still going to be his Baba. They’re still going to live together in the penthouse. He doesn’t have to move, he doesn’t have to start calling Bruce dad, “none of the others do, anyway. Besides, you’re still my son. You’re still my Robin.”

So Dick continues going out on patrol with Batman, even if he insists to Damian that, “he’s not my Batman. You’re my Batman.”

Damian only ever lets Dick see how happy that makes him. He has a reputation to keep up, after all.

It’s Damian who agrees to let Dick join the Young Justice team. It’s Damian who gives permission for missions and training.

It’s Damian who uses an override code to enter Mount Justice when Dick is long overdue to be home from “a simple training exercise” that Bruce planned.

It’s Damian who finds his son limp on a stone slab, stuck in a psychic simulation.

It’s Damian who holds Dick’s hands and whispers in his ear that he’s alright, it’s not real, he needs to come back now when Dick is the only one who doesn’t wake up right away once M’gann loses her psychic grip on the simulation.

And when Dick shoots up, brow covered in sweat, breathing so labored that Damian is afraid he’s going to pass right back out, he just continues holding him and whispering to him that it’s alright, everything is alright, Baba’s here now. And Dick clings to him, holding on so tight his knuckles turn white, whispering into Damian’s chest that he thought Damian had died, he thought everyone died. I saw it, I saw them zap you, you were all just gone.

(As a side note, I don’t think this Bruce would want to be called Grandpa. It makes him feel too old. Bruce is supposed to be Jewish, right? Let’s have him go by Saba.)

And Damian is livid. Because how dare his father make his son live through what is essentially his worst nightmare. He snaps his head towards Bruce and seethes, “I told you no psychic simulations.”

“Saba said you agreed.”

The catch in his voice damn near breaks Damian’s heart. But it only serves to make him that much angrier with Bruce.

“You what?” He snaps at Bruce. “You told him I did what?”

“It was perfectly safe,” Bruce tries to reason with him.

“Clearly it was not!” Damian bites back. “I heard what the Martian said, Robin’s mind thought he was dead! Your ridiculous training exercise could have killed him!”

“He was perfectly safe. There was no real danger.”

“Stop,” Damian says, his voice perfectly calm. He tugs Dick close to him, as if letting him go would make him disappear into thin air. “Just stop.”

“Nightwing-“

“This is not the first time you’ve ignored my boundaries for him,” Damian tells him. “He is my son. He was my Robin before he was ever yours. And yet you stomp all over my limits for him time and time again. He is thirteen, he is not a soldier.”

He stands up, still holding Dick close, keeping an arm tight around his shoulders. As they pass by Bruce, Damian tells him in a final hiss, “Batman and Robin are done.”

“You’re being unreasonable,” Bruce barks at him.

“And you are being like Ra’s al Ghul,” Damian hisses back, tightening his grip on Dick’s shoulder. “Count yourself lucky I’m not keeping you from your grandson entirely.”

Damian moves to leave, but Dick tugs at his arm and whispers, “Wait, wait Baba, wait,” then he throws himself at Bruce, hugging him tight. Bruce kneels down to hug him back, and maybe he finally realizes how much he fucked up when Dick whispers to him, “I’m glad you’re not really dead.”

But then as quick as he was to hug Bruce, he’s quick to let go and mutter, “Bye, Saba.”

Bruce just runs a hand through Dick’s hair before he can fully pull away, and he says back in a gentle tone, “Bye, Robin. Be good.”

Dick gives him a little smile and wave before attaching himself back to Damian’s side.

Idk I just want Damian being a protective dad and Bruce realizing he was kind of a shitty grandpa.

[joshslater]

Resizing

Similar stories and bonus material on my Patreon.

"Care to make it more interesting?" the guy said. We were both about the same age, size, and build. Me, a ginger electronics engineer student dedicated to exercise for years, and recently getting serious with bodybuilding, and he, a Latino who obviously didn't skip gym or his meal plan too often. I guess that was why he'd asked me to spot for him at the barbell. He returned the favor and I felt the need to use the same weight as him and do his reps plus one. That led into testosterone fueled adventure hunt through the gym where we one-upped each other on various equipment and exercises. No one else was in there at this hour. Very mature behavior conducive to optimal results, not. We'd likely regret this the rest of the week.

"Interesting how?" We were standing under the pull-up bars.

"Most pull-ups win muscle and size."

"Isn't that always the prize?" I asked.

"I suppose it is. Chin must come above the bar and then the head fully below it for it to count. Are you in?" He held out his hand. I shook it.

"I'm game," and took a small jump up to the bar and started without any hesitation. I could feel fatigue from what we had done previously, but I tuned it out best as I could. He was counting. I came past eight pretty smoothly, but then I started to struggle. I would have hoped to at least would be past twelve by that point. By thirteen I had to really push it to get number fourteen above the bar, but then I had to give up. I felt a bit disappointed, as I normally can go past fifteen, but he should be just as tired as I.

"Strong going," he congratulated and slapped my shoulder. Then he leaped to the bar, also trying to show off, and began. While it didn't look easy for him, I couldn't see him struggling too bad either, rhythmically going up and down, perhaps slowly getting closer to the agreed limit above the bar. "Ten. Eleven. Twelve." His pace didn't falter. "Thirteen. Fourteen." He made a little smirk. "Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen." That last one wasn't perhaps a legal pull-up, but I had already lost. Perhaps he felt it too, so he dropped down to the floor.

"Fuck, I'm tired," he said, no need to pretend anymore. "Well, at least I won. I shall claim my prize," and he grabbed my hand again. Suddenly I was in agony. It felt like the dull day-after-soreness after a particularly grueling gym session, but there was more to it. It felt like I couldn't move anymore, at least not much. I wasn't frozen in place, but my body refused to detach from him, refused from stepping away. I was hot. I could feel droplets of sweat running down my body, and my eyes were watering up, making the entire room hard to see. But I could see that everything was somehow shifting.

Once he let go I felt unsteady, my body still in flames and sore as hell. His face however wasn't in front of me anymore. Instead I stared right into his chest. I looked down at my body. Years worth of work was gone. It was still an athletic body, but all definition in arms and legs were gone. Pecs and shoulders like any track and field student. "What the hell did you do!" I shouted.

"Muscle and size," he said calmly and flexed his now much larger arm. He looked down at me. "Don't worry. Girls like short boys with abs. Boys too I guess."

"Fuck you! Turn me back!"

"Or what? You're going to tell someone a guy you don't know stole your height at the gym?"

He had a point there. If I hadn't just seen it happen it would be completely unbelievable to me too.

"Just be the bigger man," he said and walked towards the showers.

[demonic0angel]

Heyyyy

Look I know I keep asking for Dick x Dan, and I swear I try to restrain myself, but there’s just so little out there, and every time you write them, I devour it like a starving woman at a feast.

Sooo… if you ever feel like blessing the world (and me) with more, just know I will be here, waiting, possibly vibrating with excitement and ready to eat it up the second you drop it. No pressure, of course—but also, please?

(Nah, I love Bad Humor and I appreciate your asks and replies XD)

Dick smiled as he waddled inside of the Far Frozen's medical bay. Once inside and warmed up, he immediately shed his various jackets as one of the beings there greeted him.

"Are you here for His Highness?"

Dick smiled and nodded. The other being gave him a smile of bared teeth before they said, "I shall bring you to Frostbite. Please follow me."

Dick was eventually led into another room, where he finally found who he was looking for. Dick beamed and called out, "Dan! How are you?"

The moment Dan saw him, tears flooded his eyes and then he started sobbing and whimpering. He tried to mumble something but was unable to. Alarmed, Dick crossed the room and checked over him. Dan looked normal, so what was wrong?

Dick immediately switched tactics and cooed, "Aww, Danny, what's wrong? Can you talk? Does it hurt? Did the procedure go badly?"

Frostbite was the one who answered, "The procedure went well. I believe he is emotional and a tad out of it from the amount of anesthesia we had to use to subdue him in the end."

Dick grinned, gently hugging Dan's head. Dan cuddled against his stomach, still sobbing and whimpering words, wrapping both arms around him. "Awww! Are all four of them out?"

Frostbite nodded seriously. "Yes. All four of His Highness' wisdom teeth have been removed."

Dick struggled not to laugh as he looked at Dan's loopy self. At some point, everyone had realized that because Dan was so isolated at 14 years old and onwards, that he hadn't gotten his wisdom teeth removed. He had picked up a fight at the idea, but Dick was able to convince him to get Frostbite to do the procedure for him.

Hopefully, he wouldn't be angry enough to go on a rampage after this. Dick shook his head at the thought but was a little happy that he got to witness such a cute, whiny version of Dan.

He gingerly pulled Dan to his feet. Dan wobbled and then burst into another wave of tears, leaning over him and clinging on like an octopus. Dick rubbed his cheek against his head with a delighted coo as Dan cried into his shoulder before he helped him move along.

"I'll bring him home now. Thank you for taking care of him, Frostbite!" Dan made an audible growling noise at this.

"Of course! He should heal very quickly from the surgery due to his ghostly nature, but he may be sore and irritable for a few days after the procedure! For the first day, make sure that he doesn't get dry socket and no vigorous exercise!"

Frostbite reached over but before he could even do anything, Dan swiped at him with his claws. He growled lowly, glaring at him with teary, accusing eyes like Frostbite had personally done him wrong. Dick cooed again, almost squealing.

So cute! Dan being so pouty was a treat that he hadn't realized he needed!

Dick grinned and hugged Dan, ensuring that he wouldn't attack anyone else. "I'll take care of him. Thank you again!"

As they slowly moved to the vehicle that Dick used to get to the Far Frozen, he kissed the top of Dan's head as he helped him move his sluggish legs. Dan gave a small purr, squeezing his arms around him.

Dick felt his heart swell at the sight of him, vulnerable and endearing.

"Don't worry, Danny, I'll take care of you until you get back to normal, okay? C'mon, Alfred made soup for you at the Manor."

[angel-writes-here]

Lovers Quarrel

Daesung x AFAB! Reader Synopsis: Jealousy can be ugly, but it can also be a whole lot of fun Warnings: SMUT! Kind of rough, unprotected p in v, somewhat public sex, light degradation, praise, sort of getting caught. Prompt #6 "We wouldn't be stuck in here if it wasn't for you" A/N: Thank y'all for the requests and follows and love! I appreciate every single one of you! I'm so grateful for you. Life is being life right now so I'll upload when I can. I appreciate your patience.💖

You had gone to get a drink, leaving your boyfriend unattended for only a few minutes, and when you came back, you seen him laughing with another girl. Now on the regular this wasn’t a big deal, except for the fact that this girl was none other Park Jin Hyo, his latest ex-girlfriend. Your jealousy rises up, getting the better of you, and you march over to the two of them, Daesung’s hand on the small of her back as they smile at each other.

“No, no, I was just saying you look really, really good. You must be working out,” she goes to touch his biceps and Daesung just stands there. You notice a light shade of pink begin to dust his ears.

He chuckles nervously, still not spotting you.

“Thank you,” he says sheepishly, “But it’s not a big deal. Just some normal exercises.”

“Well, it’s showing,” she smirks as a hand runs down his chest. She tosses you a nasty glare and your done.

“Maybe we could hang out sometime? Drinks or even a meal at my place. Catch up some more?” She giggles as she bats her eyelashes.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” you ask from in behind him, grabbing his arm before he can fully turn around.

You drag him off to a hall closet, just a bit away from the main noise of the party.

“What the hell, y/n?” Daesung asks.

“Seriously? You seriously were just going to let her flirt with you like that without so much as a mention of my name?” Daesung rolls his eyes.

“Don’t roll your fucking eyes at me!”

Daesung sighs.

“She was just being nice,” he tries to say but you won’t have it.

“Nice huh, yeah whatever. Just take me home. Go hang out with Jin Hyo,” you spit as you go to pull the closet door open. Nothing. You pull the handle, shaking it slightly as the small bulb of the closet light casts a faint golden glow.

“Move, let me try,” you back away, throwing your hands up folding your arms across your chest.

Daesung mimics your motions but the door doesn’t budge.

“I all ready tried that,” you grumble and Daesung’s shoulders tense.

“Excuse me for trying to help.” He barks. Your jaw ticks.

“You really don’t get it do you?” Your blood is boiling as Daesung leans against the wall.

“Get what y/n? That your insanely jealous?”

“Your such an ass sometimes!” You scream but with the music of the party it’s no use, no one will hear you.

“Y/n, you brought me in here, jealous as hell and got us locked in the damn closet, so I may be an ass, but it’s the truth.”

“We wouldn’t be stuck in here if it wasn’t for you! If you had brushed her off, mentioned my name, told her to back off or anything else other than what you did we wouldn’t be here!”  

“Oh so it’s my fault you’re jealous?” he throws his hands up.

“Fuck you!” you scream at him, he comes up closer to you, eyes dark, your noses barely scraping each other.

“What did you just say?” You can hear it, the anger but there’s something else mixed in his voice.

“Fuck. You.” Your eyes narrow, emotions high as your blood bubbles in your veins. Before you can register anything else, Daesung’s lips are on yours, rough, raw, desperate and possessive. You stand frozen for a moment.

“Dae,” you gasp against his lips.

“Shut the fuck up,” he says against your lips, passion and anger mingling together. He pushes you back against the wall.

“You think I don’t fucking want you, huh?” he asks breathlessly.

“I still have to prove to you that you’re all I want after all this time? How’s that fair to me? Hmm?” His hands run up and down your sides. His mouth is back on yours before you can answer. Your heart rate erratic as heat floods down between your legs.

His hands reach down, bunching up your dress, pulling it up to your waist, revealing your underwear underneath.

His hand dips into your panties, fingers spreading your folds, finding you already wet.

"So this is a turn on for you?" He muses sadistically.

"Getting me riled up, forcing me into a small space and wanting me to fuck you dumb," he purrs in your ear. You arch into his touch as his fingers barely brush your clit.

He rips the underwear down and you step out of it. His fingers rubbing tight circles onto the sensitive bud.

Your hips grind down, eyes shut, lip between your teeth as you hold back a moan. He smirks at you.

"Look at you, so fucking pathetic. If you wanted me to fuck you, all you had to do was ask. He slips a finger into your entrance, your walls clenching around his digit.

"Mm, you're gonna feel so good on my cock," he whispers in your ear, earning a whine from you as his fingers curl up at the perfect angle.

He can feel the way your walls are fluttering that you're close, and judging by the tightening in your stomach, you know it too.

"Oh, such a needy little thing, my little slut's gonna cum on my fingers." he smirks as he kisses your neck, teeth grazing the skin as your orgasm hits you rough and hard. You cry out, legs shaking, almost falling to the floor before Daesung catches you, holding you between him and the wall. He slowly pulls his fingers out. He lets you catch your breath as he licks his fingers clean.

He slides his pants down just enough to free his hard, aching cock.

He hoists you up, your back trapped between him and the wall. His cock slams into you, no warning, no teasing.

You cry out in pleasure as your body arches off the wall.

Daesung wastes no time, immediately his body slams into you like he needs it. Like he’s desperate to prove his point; and he is.

Your head hits the back of the wall as your body is jolted upwards from the velocity of his thrusts.

“Look at me,” he grunts as your walls begin to clamp around him.

“Tell me you love me,” he says breathlessly.

“I love you,” you whimper, fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt around his shoulders.

“I’m yours, do you understand me? I don’t want anyone else- fuck you’re so tight,” he groans as his head falls to your tits. Your fingers curl into his hair, your walls clamping around him.

“Ah, fuck, y/n,” he groans again.

“Fuck I’m gonna fill you up so good,” he pants. Your fingers grasp at his hair harder, the feeling of your orgasm on its brink.

"You want that? Want me to fill you like the dirty girl you are? Walk around here with me dripping down your thighs?" You gasp as his hips go faster, hitting the spot harder.

"Fuck yes," you groan as your head falls down a little, face in his hair.

“Say you’re mine, again,” you pant. You pull his head up from your chest by his hair.

“Say it, Daesung.” You say as you intentionally clamp around him drawing a moan from his throat.

“Fuck, baby. I’m yours. Only yours. Only you make me feel this good.” His hot breath is felt against the sweat slick skin of your chest. He leaves open mouth kisses there, tongue gliding over your skin. The room in the closet fills with the sound of your heavy breathing and the smell of sex and sweat.

“Fuck,” you breath as your lips come down to his, Daesung’s hips sputtering, impossibly faster. His hand comes around your throat, cutting off just enough oxygen, holding you against the wall as he uses you for his own pleasure.

“Touch yourself,” he commands and your hand in down between your legs.

“Fuck look at you, so fucking obedient and hungry for my cock. So fucking jealous that you can’t see I’m in love with you. Getting yourself off while I fuck you like a good little toy.” He grunts as he watches your mouth fall open and eyes screw shut.

Your muscles start to tense as your orgasm crashes into you, pleasure overriding every sense and emotion. A scream erupting from your throat. Seconds later Daesung’s own orgasm isn’t far behind.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moans out as he shoots his hot sticky load into you. The two of you take a moment to come down from the high, bodies sticking together as you pant, the air in the closet now humid.

“You love me?” you ask peering down at him. He looks up at you, still huffing slightly.

“Of course I do, y/n. I thought you knew that.” He cups your cheek.

“You never said it, I just, I don’t know,” you look away from him trailing off.

“Hey,” he pulls your face to look at him.

“You’re the only girl for me. Do you understand that? I don’t want anyone else but you. You’re my girl. My one and only.” He rises up to press a sweet longing kiss to your lips before pulling out of you, setting you back down. You get your underwear back on and pull your dress down.

“I think they’re in here,” you hear someone say before the door to the closet is open.

“What the,” Jiyong says as he notices your sex hair. A smirk appears on his face instantly. You blush as walk out ahead of Daesung who follows behind you.

“Daesung!” Jin Hyo starts to walk over but he puts his hand on your back and leads you out of the party.

“Let’s go home.” He says as you walk out the door.

Tags: @breakmeoff @thelovelybireader

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