#white day contest

[nartml]

Some of you are trying to find misogyny where it doesn't exist because you want to be victims so bad

[i-tzi]

POKEDDEXY DAY 1: BUG TYPE (#988)

Another year, another Pokeddexy!! 🎉

I honestly don't know how much I'll be able to combine because objectively January is kind of a shitty month for me lol

But WHO CARES, enjoy my boys, see you again at the end of the challenge if I'm still alive lol o|-<

[miumiumanzo]

Reminder that this nasty ass contest bootkicked Russia. It doesn’t even make sense that it hellbent on keeping 1.) A country that is not located in Europe 2.) A country that commits genocide in broad daylight

And now this

[screampied]

you don’t really realize you’re growing old with satoru until you spot a grey tress inside the roots of your hair as you’re looking in the mirror. the thing about marriage and life itself was that time really doesn’t stop—for no one. as you entrap the lock between your fingers, you murmur out to satoru with a cheeky grin. “satoru baby, c’mere.”and as he’s lying in bed with a wrinkled nose, he reads some book titled ‘three men in a boat.’ as he flips a thick page, his cerulean blue reading glasses crook down the bridge of his nose before he turns his attention toward you.

“yesss, honey?” he rubs his eyes, bringing a palm up to his growing stubble. as he got older, you noticed how he moved a bit slower. satoru was still fit as he aged, but he’d have a bit of a waddle whenever he walked. it was cute—how his limbs were getting more and more fragile, but he was still labeled as the strongest despite his inevitable aging.

he makes his way behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. the two of you make eye contact through the mirror that reflects you both, a happy married couple. “look, we’re finally matching now,” and his face softens once you bring the silvery colored strand up to his view. ‘matching,’ because his hair was naturally a snowy white . . almost similar to the strand of hair you just showed him.

although as the years progressed, satoru was growing ashen grey streaks too.

“i guess we are,” he replied in a gentle tone, his hands remaining on your hips. satoru’s touch was always gentle and ginger. he presses his lips near the back of your nape before letting off a soft sigh. “you’d look pretty with white hair, actually.”

“prettier than you?” you hum, glancing at him through the mirror. satoru towers over you as he holds you, the band of his wedding ring grazing against your hip.

again, you watch as the corners of his lips crease into a smile. a toothy genuine one where his dimples show.

“haha, veeeery funny,” and as he buries his face into your neck, he deeply ponders to himself for a moment.

to think . . how much time has passed, out of all the countless tiresome battles he’s had to face—

all those years at trying to keep the world safe and now, he could finally relax. having his arms around you gave him a peace of mind, and in the end it was all worth it because at the end of the day, satoru gojo—the strongest, came back to you. you were his personal safe haven and he was yours.

“but honeyyy,” he yawns with rosy pouty lips, shifting his chin up to rest against your left shoulder. satoru starts leading you toward your side of the bed. “ ‘s pretty late, let’s getcha back to bed, hm?”

“okay,” you mumble, already feeling your eyes starting to get heavy again. satoru’s still got his burly arms wrapped around your waist as he leisurely guides you back to bed. he was clingy, and that never changed. satoru gojo’s always been clingy ever since the two of you met. as he pulls down the cover for you to enter, you crawl back in and he gets beside you.

satoru slings an arm around you, pulling you close as his hooded eyes starts a staring contest with the swaying wooden ceiling fan.

it’s moving slow. . just like time was.

whenever he was with you, it felt as if time stood still. and as the both of you cuddled against each other with your head resting against his beating heart, he sighs. it’s a content happy sigh, and satoru’s hands find their way near the top of your head. his thin fingers maze it’s way near your soft grey growing strand before he leans in, giving the crown of your head a goodnight kiss. “mwah,” and he watches as your eyes briefly widen before glancing away, growing sheepish. “get some rest, my love. i’ll be here when you wake up. promise.”

you nod, too drowsy to reply and he pulls you closer. satoru’s heartbeat was steady and slow, and each pulse that bested against your ear made you felt more and more protected. as he holds you firm and close, a hand of his softly caresses your forehead—brushing against the soft hairs that cling onto your skin.

as your breathing starts to relax and your eyelids finally close, he realizes you finally drifted off to sleep. satoru exhales lowly, almost forgetting to take off his reading glasses. as he places them near the nightstand, he lies back down, giving your sleeping state once last glance.

“i love you,” he whispers against your ear before reaching for the pearled lamp switch. “so much.”your head nuzzles against his chest and he assumes that was your non-verbal way of saying it back, even in your sleep. cute.

the only sounds that could be heard were the faint tick tocking of the grandfather clock that stood near the hallway and your soft breathing as you deeply slept. satoru feels a smile tugging against his glossed lips yet again, but this time it’s different . .

it’s not the same smile from when you showed him that you were graying, it was a more genuine smile that was satisfied at everything—primarily at life. satoru’s long crystalline lashes gradually flap shut as he smiles to himself, a thumb brushing against your forehead. all those battles was worth it in the end, because right now, he’s at the only place he wanted to be . . with you.

life wasn’t a competition, but satoru finally felt at peace, true peace—and that peace was being in your presence. he wasn’t one for believing in good endings, but maybe this particular one wasn’t so bad.

“i . . won.”

[alex51324]

So, the NDA signed by producers of The Apprentice just expired, and one of them has published a tell-all article. Most of the article is about how they used standard reality-TV tricks to portray Trump as being wealthy and intelligent, when in reality he was, and is, a deeply indebted buffoon.

The money shot, however, comes when Trump and the producers are preparing for climax of the final episode, when the winner will be decided.

Per the FCC's rules for game shows, producers could not be involved in deciding who would be fired each week, or who would ultimately win: it had to be Trump's decision alone, like contestants and viewers were told it was. The producers could, and did, give him a presentation about the strengths and weaknesses of the contestants each time he had to make a decision. These were recorded, in case questions ever arose about whether the producers had crossed the line.

So, for the final episode, there were two contestants remaining. Both were men, one white, the other Black. They'd both done well in the final challenge of the competition. As the producers were summarizing the points for an against each candidate, this happened:

“Yeah,” he says to no one in particular, “but, I mean, would America buy a n— winning?” Kepcher’s pale skin goes bright red. I turn my gaze toward Trump. He continues to wince. He is serious, and he is adamant about not hiring Jackson.

In the finished program, Trump chose the white contestant as the winner.

(Four years later, Trump would propagate the baseless conspiracy theory that Barack Obama was not a native-born US citizen and therefore had not legitimately won the presidency.)

The article also describes how women working on the production faced discrimination based on whether or not Trump wanted to look at them while they did their jobs:

While leering at a female camera assistant or assessing the physical attributes of a female contestant for whoever is listening, he orders a female camera operator off an elevator on which she is about to film him. “She’s too heavy,” I hear him say. Another female camera operator, who happens to have blond hair and blue eyes, draws from Trump comparisons to his own Ivanka Trump. “There’s a beautiful woman behind that camera,” he says toward a line of 10 different operators set up in the foyer of Trump Tower one day. “That’s all I want to look at.”

And there's a third anecdote where he pressures a woman producer to break the FCC rules, while being casually misogynistic toward a contestant:

Trump corners a female producer and asks her whom he should fire. She demurs, saying something about how one of the contestants blamed another for their team losing. Trump then raises his hands, cupping them to his chest: “You mean the one with the …?” He doesn’t know the contestant’s name. Trump eventually fires her.

This information is pretty unlikely to persuade anyone who wasn't already persuaded by any of the other things Trump has done and said, which would for anyone else be a career-defining scandal. But it is a useful reminder of who we're dealing with.

(Link is to Slate, an x-number-of-free-articles-a-month site, but the incognito window trick works.)

[seth-whumps]

I MADE A WHUMP EVENT: get ready for July folks

welcome to the Whumperless Whump Event of July! for your sickfic, situational, and completely apersonal whump needs--comfort included, of course. follow @whumperless-whump-event for more information and details!

Image transcripts, tagging rules, and guidelines under the cut!

RULES

Any and all art types allowed (GIFs, drawings, music, writing, etc.)

No AI generated content allowed

OCs and Fandom works alike are welcome :)

Trigger and content tags required, even if the prompt explicitly requires the content (eg. Vomiting still needs the emetophobia tag)

NSFT and NSFW are allowed, if tagged appropriately. This blog will not reblog them, as minors do follow it. However, you're still free to write as you please :)

If enough interest is shown, I will make an Ao3 collection (edit: ao3 collection is made and can be found here)

Side note: please let me know if there's anything I can do to make this post or event more accessible. Should I put the image transcripts on the ID too? Is the formatting causing issues? What can I do?

This is not a contest, just an event. The only awards will be announcements for people who completed the whole darn thing. My entries will not receive any announcements or awards, because I'm hosting

TAGGING

Tag with, per example: #whumperless whump event day 1; #whumperless whump event; and (optional) #whumperless whump event day 1: alcohol as a sanitizer

Tag @whumperless-whump-event please! If not, I may not see it or be able to reblog it!

If desired, tag the medium you used

Trigger tag and content warn (including nsfw/nsft)

If posting early, tag with #wwe early entry. If posting late, tag with #wwe late entry. If posting just for fun, no need to tag these!

IMPORTANT:

There are NO OTHER RULES. Do one prompt! Do seven! Do 'em all! Repeat the same prompt six days in a row! Switch them around and do them all out of order! Post them eight months after the event is over! Finish the prompt list early! Write one long-ass story that deals with every prompt or do a one-sentence drabble for each one! Recommend your favorite scenes regarding the prompt! Write, draw, sing, play music, make playlists, do fic recs or show recs or episode recs or book recs, fucking crochet or something! FOLLOW THE VIBE. DO WHAT'S FUN.

Prompts (text):

Emergency First Aid: Self-done stitches / Alcohol as sanitizer / “It's just a scratch, I've had worse.”

Does your insurance cover this?: Car accident / Bystander caretaker / “Eyes open, ambulance is almost here.”

Like a record, baby: Vertigo / Struggling to stand / “Is the room spinning, or is it just me?”

It's every day bro: Chronic pain / Massage / “I'm used to it.”

Stealing my breath (give it back): Wheezing / Light-headed / “I'll count, you just breathe.”

Summer is a curse: Heat Stroke / Panting / “Why don't we… find some shade, quick?”

Accidental Cryotherapy: Falling through a frozen lake / Hypothermia / “Hey, c'mon, you gotta stay awake.”

Put your head on my shoulder: Migraine / Light & Sound Sensitivity / “I can close the curtains…”

White and red handkerchief: Coughing up blood / Can't speak / “You just can't shake that cough, can you?”

Your work is never finished: Forced to work while ill / Workplace emergency / “...sit down, I'm calling HR.”

A minor annoyance: Stuffy nose / Hate to be sick / “I'm fine, I can work.”

It's going down (I'm yelling timber): Building collapse / Trapped under rubble / “I can't move my legs.”

It's just a pebble: Avalanche / Stuck in the mountains / “Well, this wasn't how I thought the hiking trip would go.”

Lay down your sword: Fighting back a cold / Cuddling / “Just let yourself be sick so you can get better.”

I'm going down (you're yelling timber): Passing out / Exhaustion / “I've got you, let's sit down, I've got you.”

Say goodbye to filters: Half-conscious / Delirious / “You would never say that in your right mind…”

In hot water: Dangerously high fever / Cool baths / “We have to get that number down somehow.”

I don't see it: Hallucinations / Fever dreams / “It's just a nightmare. You're safe.”

The whump morning after: Tending to injuries / Domestic hurt comfort / “Let's check the bandages, okay?”

It's not fun if you're panicking: Stuck in an elevator / Claustrophobia / “Get me out.”

Where's the exit: Lost / Stuck in the wilderness / “Surely someone will notice we're gone.”

Better out than in: Nervous Stomach / Vomiting / “I got your hair, it's fine.”

Well, that doesn't taste right: Accidentally poisoned / Allergic reaction / “My tongue feels like bees, is that normal?”

Be one with the fish: Drowning / Rescue Breaths / “Why did you think that was a good idea?!”

We didn't start the fire: Severe burns / Running into flames / “I know it hurts. Breathe.”

That's no barn spider: Venomous bite / Arachnophobia / “You'll be okay, we can help.”

What's your name again?: Concussion / Temporary Amnesia / “I don't remember what happened to me.”

Nothing behind the eyes: Fully unconscious / Force feeding / “It's just me, go back to sleep.”

Wrong place, wrong time: Robbery / One of many hostages / “Stay behind me, I can take a hit.”

I don't mean to get emotional: Fear / Breaking point / “I can't stop crying, I'm sorry--”

Only way out is through: Tunnel collapse / Accidental Journey / “We can't just sit here and wait.”

ALTERNATES:

Seizure

Choking

Withdrawal

Mugged

Wild animal attack

Hangover

Strain/sprain

Broken bone

Bloody nose

Panic attack

[wilwheaton]

Reasons Trump is Unfit for Office, with Sources.

From this comment on Reddit:

Top reasons why Trump should not be president.

⁠⁠⁠⁠ Lost the election and lied about it.Source

⁠⁠⁠⁠ Sent an armed angry mob to Congress and told them they need to fight like hell. Source

⁠⁠⁠⁠ Approved of the mob saying “hang Mike Pence”. Source

⁠⁠⁠⁠ Was found liable for sexual assault.Source

⁠⁠⁠⁠ Was found guilty of defrauding his university students. Source

⁠⁠⁠⁠ Was found guilty of inflating his assets to get favorable loans.Source

⁠⁠⁠⁠ Admitted to walking in on pageant contestants’ dressing rooms.Source

⁠⁠⁠⁠ Allegedly Raped and beat Ivana Trump. Source

⁠⁠ Stole from a kids’ cancer charity. Source

Received $413 million inheritance despite claims that he’s a self made man. Source

Blocked his chronically ill infant nephew from getting any of that inheritance. Source

Is the first president to receive votes against him from his own party during impeachment. Source

Led us into being one of the worst hit during Covid despite our head start and resources, leading to high inflation. Source

Said the Democrats do better with the economy.Source

Was ranked as the worst president in history by bipartisan presidential historians.Source

Pushed a plot to have fake votes created and then used to make him President despite losing the election.Source

Ordered republicans to block a bipartisan immigration billso Biden would not get a win before the election.Source

Is a convicted felon guilty of falsifying records to influence an election.Source

Told the Department of Justice to “just say the election was corrupt and leave the rest to me and the Republican congressmen.”Source

His VP, Mike Pence said Trump should never be president again, and that Trump asked him to put himself “above the Constitution”. Source

Got Fox News successfully sued for repeating/pushing his administrations election lies. A $787M settlement. Source

Said he’d be a dictator for one day Source

Trump lied to, or misled the public 30,573 times in the four years he held office. Source

Also, just regarding some of the Trump administration that have been convicted of crimes:

Donald Trump was charged, convicted, and is awaiting sentencing.

Trump’s former campaign chairman, Paul Manafort, was charged, convicted, and sentenced to prison.

Trump’s former campaign vice chairman, Rick Gates, was charged, convicted, and sentenced to prison.

Trump’s former personal lawyer, Michael Cohen, was charged, convicted, and sentenced to prison.

Trump’s former adviser and former campaign aide, Roger Stone, was charged, convicted, and sentenced to prison.

Trump’s former adviser and former White House aide Peter Navarro, was charged, convicted, and is currently in prison.

Trump’s former campaign adviser, George Papadopoulos, was charged, convicted, and sentenced to prison.

The Trump Organization’s former CFO, Allen Weisselberg, was charged, convicted, and sentenced to prison.

Trump’s former White House national security advisor, Michael Flynn, was charged and convicted.

Trump’s former chief strategist, Steve Bannon, was charged with wire fraud and money laundering, in addition to a conviction in a contempt case similar to Navarro’s. He’s currently awaiting sentencing.

Though he was later acquitted at trial, Trump’s former inaugural committee chair, Tom Barrack, was charged with illegally lobbying Trump on behalf of a foreign government. (Elliot Broidy was the vice chair of Trump’s inaugural committee, and he found himself at the center of multiple controversies, and also pled guilty to federal charges related to illegal lobbying.)

Two lawyers associated with Trump’s post-defeat efforts, Kenneth Chesebro and Sidney Powell, have pleaded guilty to election-related crimes.

Source

And if your vote is based strictly on economic achievements, here is a TikTok video comparing Trumps economy by the numbers. Tiktok link

[jupiterpilgrim]

Damage Control

Hyeju x Male Reader

word count: 12.8K

It's a very important day for her, and you couldn't care less.

The gallery is a monument to pretension. Pristine white walls, the kind that seem to say: if you don’t get it, that’s on you, with polished concrete floors, where every heel echoes like a hammer of self-doubt. The lights dangle from the ceiling at precise angles, spotlighting the photos with calculated exactness, but also highlighting the insecurities of the photographers pacing back and forth, trying to look more confident than they actually feel.

Hyeju, for example, is dressed in something that is clearly not part of her natural wardrobe. Normally, she’d be seen in practical clothes, loose coats, comfortable pants—something she could lose herself in while exploring the world through her camera. But tonight, oh, tonight she’s a woman wrestling with a dress that’s undeniably expensive and likely borrowed from a friend too rich to care. The dress is black, too tight in the wrong places, and shiny enough to make her feel like a piece of art—not the interesting kind. The heels are high, torturous, and with each step, Hyeju wonders if it wouldn’t be easier to take the photos lying on the floor, where, at least, she wouldn’t have to balance like a drunken acrobat.

Her hair, normally loose and wild, has been tamed into an elegant updo, something that seems more like a modern art attempt than a style choice. She feels as if she’s disguised as someone who knows what they’re doing, an impostor among the real artists—or at least those confident enough to pretend.

And yet, as she catches her reflection in the gallery’s display cases, she tries to convince herself she’s worthy. After all, her series is hanging on the walls, among the others, and maybe, just maybe, that means she belongs here, dress or no dress.

But deep down, all Hyeju can think is: this is too much champagne and too many heels for someone who just wants to be a photographer.

—

She’s standing in the corner, beside her exhibit, her fourth glass of champagne disappearing in nervous sips. She watches the movement around her, but her mind is too occupied to register any useful details. The selection hasn’t started yet, and the photographer, the main critic of the night, is running late. Of course he is.

Important people always are.

Hyeju aspires to be among the top five winners of the contest. The prize? Well, merely having her work published in one of the world's most renowned photography magazines, plus a special tour with her essay showcased in various galleries worldwide; the doors this contest could open for her are endless. And what makes things even more thrilling is that she genuinely believes she has a chance this time. Five people out of twenty will be chosen. She'll be one of them.

But...

Before basking in the glamour, however, she must face evaluation by a judge with an unknown temperament. Still, she's confident that anyone with an ounce of sense will recognize the exceptional quality of her work, transcending subjective interpretations.

She turns to her photos on the wall. The series, the work that might define her career, is there, fixed and unchanging, awaiting the unforgiving judgment of a room full of pretentious people. The black-and-white images of dockworkers—strong arms, faces weathered by salt and years of invisible labor, staring down containers that don’t ask questions. The world’s transience captured there, with cranes bearing the weight of global needs as if countries exchanged desires with the clasp of metallic hands. Each container holds a secret, a demand from the other side of the ocean, and the workers, small figures in the photos, turn the wheels of the world unnoticed.

Hyeju tries to find flaws. Maybe the lighting in this shot is too strong, or perhaps the framing is slightly off. Or maybe...

No, maybe it’s just the champagne.

“Excuse me,” a female voice interrupts, pulling her out of her self-deprecating thoughts. It’s a young woman, likely an assistant, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, with the programmed friendliness of someone who’s delivered the same news dozens of times today: “The selection is about to begin.”

Hyeju mutters something that could be a “thank you” and tries to steady her breathing, handing her champagne glass to a passing waiter with such force she nearly topples the tray. Each contestant will get their five minutes of attention. She surveys the other exhibits—some incredibly well-composed, others almost amateurish. She might have a chance, maybe, if the stars align and the critic isn’t a complete jerk—or worse, utterly pretentious.

Time passes.

Then, suddenly, the group appears. Journalists and other professionals in similar fields, all carrying that aura of critical wisdom. The same assistant from before is in front, efficiently guiding the flock. Hyeju sees them approaching her wall, and her mouth instantly goes dry. The assistant begins explaining the series’ theme. “The port as a hand reaching across the ocean…”

Hyeju smiles at everyone, trying to appear friendly, interesting, accessible. She barely hears the words, lost in growing nerves. But then… she sees him. The last person in the group, hanging slightly behind the others. An unreadable expression, with a gaze that seems to measure the worth of everything in the room—including her.

It’s you.

She trembles slightly as she shakes your hand, and the moment your fingers touch: Hyeju knows. It’s you the critic.

Great. Of course, it’s you.

But would you… nah, impossible. Completely impossible.

It was years ago.

Hyeju wasn’t anyone in the photography world then.

“It's a pleasure to meet you,” you say, in a gentle yet distant tone, almost too professional.

“Nice to meet you too, I am Hyeju,” she replies, trying to sound steady, but her voice falters slightly at the end.

"Yeah, I know."

You’re there, standing before Hyeju’s photos, pacing like an inspector evaluating construction work—only here, what’s being judged isn’t a building but someone’s soul. Each photo on the wall seems to scream in silence, as if trying to convince you of its importance, of its worth.

But you’re in no hurry.

You never are.

The first photo shows a gigantic crane, its mechanical arm hovering over containers like a titan ready to devour the world. The overcast sky in the background gives a sense of melancholy, of an industrial late afternoon, and there’s something intriguing in the way the black-and-white contrasts highlight the weight of the scene. Not bad.

You take two more steps, looking at the next image: a worker, face covered in sweat, calloused hands gripping a rope. The detail in his face is impressive, each worry line drawn with precision. The guy looks like he’s contemplating every economic crisis of the last century all at once.

Points for drama.

And then, of course, Hyeju tries to make small talk. Like they all do. As if conversation could save a photo that can’t defend itself.

“I chose black and white because I think it brings a kind of… timelessness, you know? Something that transcends the digital era we live in. Color can sometimes distract from the real meaning. I wanted the shadows to be… the main narrative.”

“Hmm.” You don’t look up, your eyes fixed on a third photo, an aerial shot of the port. The docks, packed with stacked containers, resemble a game of Tetris gone incredibly wrong. Thousands of boxes, ready to carry the anxieties of an entire world. “Transcendence, huh?... Got it.”

She watches you, uneasy, as you use your iPad, seemingly indifferent to her tense existence. Hyeju has that glimmer in her eyes all young artists have—a mixture of desperation to be seen and the faint arrogance of someone who thinks they’ve discovered something others missed. You’ve seen it so many times you could give lectures on the subject.

She continues nervously. “I know your work, by the way. I really admire your series, especially the one you did on the desert. The way you capture emptiness…”

“Oh, really?” Another note on the iPad.

“Yes! Actually, it was one of the biggest inspirations for this project. The way you captured emptiness, solitude… it was, honestly, brilliant.”

You finally look up, but not at her. At another photo. “Interesting.”

Hyeju clings to the chance to extend the conversation, like someone fallen overboard reaching for a piece of driftwood. “I really admire how you can convey so much with so little. I mean, the desert is literally… nothing. And yet, you make emptiness feel full of meaning. I tried to do something similar with the port, you know? A place of transition, of constant flux, but full of invisible stories.”

“Hmm.” Another silence. You step back, observing the photos with a clinical eye, as if trying to determine if the thread holding the world together is hidden somewhere within them.

“That’s why I wanted to focus on the workers,” she continues, clearly desperate to keep the contact. “They’re like… the gears no one sees. Without them, nothing would work. They move the world, but they’re always in the shadows.”

“Yes, yes, shadows. Fascinating.” You type something more into the iPad, your fingers moving across the screen as if her words carried tons and you were determined to move them quickly. “It’s interesting how black and white can create this illusion of depth. Or it can simply look… dated."

She blinks. “Dated?”

“Hmm, yes. Depending on the intent, of course.” Your eyes are back on the iPad. “But many photographers turn to black and white when they want things to seem deeper than they are. You know, to give that air of seriousness. It doesn’t always work.”

Hyeju laughs nervously. “Yeah, of course. I wanted it to have that seriousness, but also… you know, without being pretentious.”

“And isn’t that everyone’s aim?”

And that’s it. A rhetorical question that falls like a stone into a quiet pond. Hyeju looks at you, hoping for a more elaborate reaction, some sign that you really grasped the depth she wanted to convey, but all you offer is silence as you study the final images of her series.

Finally, you turn to the assistant. “Shall we?” you ask with the calm of someone who’s already made up their mind long before the end of the exhibit.

She gives a brief nod, confirming. "Yes. Let's move on to the next exhibits."

You pause, and then, as if it were just a minor detail, add, "Afterward, I'll speak with you privately, Miss Hyeju."

The group begins to move, but Hyeju lingers, feeling as though she's been left hanging, your words hovering in the air without resolution. She watches you walk away, the iPad still in your hand, typing something that could very well determine the fate of her work. But what unsettles her most is the way you treated her, and something about your distant posture makes her wonder if you know anything.

—

The gallery is noisier now. Artists, finally free from the duty of guarding their works, gather in small groups, praising each other with enthusiasm that ranges from genuine to visibly forced. Glasses of champagne are raised in toasts barely disguised as self-affirmations, and the hum of voices fills the space, echoing off the high ceiling.

Hyeju, however, doesn’t join in. She remains near the wall, watching from a distance as you, surrounded by journalists, finish evaluating the last of the exhibits. Her hands are clasped tightly, nervousness etched into each small movement. Her eyes track your every motion, trying to read the verdict that awaits.

From afar, she witnesses the first decisive moment. An older photographer, whose work felt like an ode to glorified boredom, receives a hug from you, smiling with a relief that only someone who’s faced countless failures can mask. Further ahead, a young woman with an eccentric look shakes your hand, her eyes sparkling with joy.

But not everyone is so fortunate. Some walk away from you with mixed expressions, caught between polite disappointment and the certainty that their work simply wasn’t understood. The more courteous ones offer faint smiles—the kind that are more social reflex than genuine feeling. Hyeju recognizes the tension even from afar. But when you finally start walking toward her, the anticipation becomes suffocating. Each of your steps seems to echo across the gallery like a solemn march, and Hyeju feels time slowing down.

You stop in front of her, a slight, formal smile on your face. It’s a smile she’s seen so many times that night it might as well be part of your uniform.

"Hyeju." Your voice is soft, almost cordial. "I liked your theme."

The words strike like an electric shock. For a moment, her world comes into focus. She smiles, surprised and, for a second, relieved. Maybe all that anxiety was for nothing.

"Thank you," she says, her voice trembling with barely-contained emotion.

You tilt your head slightly, as if acknowledging a job well done. But then, you continue, in that calm tone that only serves to prepare the ground for the fall. "However, I have to be honest... As I said, the theme you chose is already dated."

The word dated hangs in the air for a few seconds, like a blade poised to drop. Hyeju's smile falters.

"What do you mean... dated?" she asks, hope clearly trying to cling to something.

"Well, the port, the workers, industrialization... this idea was novel and revolutionary, let’s say, in the days of... the industrial revolution." You pause, looking at the photos on the wall as if re-evaluating the work for a moment. "Today, it doesn’t impact the audience the same way. It’s almost like you’re trying to remind us of something we all already know. In other words, the obvious."

Hyeju swallows hard, her mind beginning to race faster than she can handle. "But the point was precisely to show how these things are invisible today. People ignore what goes on behind the goods they consume, as if everything just magically appears on store shelves and—"

You raise a hand, cutting her off politely. "Of course, of course. But the problem is, in trying to revive this concept, you end up reaffirming what's already established. There’s no novelty, you see? The port as a symbol of global flow… it’s been debated to exhaustion. The challenge is finding a new perspective on the obvious, and, unfortunately, your exhibit got stuck in trying to remind the audience of something they’re already tired of hearing."

Hyeju blinks, stunned. "But… the black and white, the aesthetic I used… I wanted to convey a sense of timelessness, as if these figures were almost ghosts, invisibly moving the world…”

"Yes, timelessness." You nod, and the formal smile reappears, almost paternalistic. "The problem is, timelessness can also look like unintentional nostalgia. And, in the end, the modern audience wants something that speaks to the present, something that challenges them. We can’t just revisit the past expecting the same impact."

She tries, desperately, to find a loophole. "But… and the contrast? The shadows, the workers… I wanted it to be a reflection of the gears that drive the world, even today. Isn’t that relevant?"

You sigh, a bit more impatient now. "Look, the concept is good. I’m not saying it isn’t. It’s just that your execution felt… too predictable. Of course, you have a very competent technical eye, and your photos are good, but it lacks that element of… surprise, of innovation." You look at her directly, your patience waning. "It’s the kind of work we’ve seen many times before, understand?"

"But I can improve!" Hyeju insists, her voice a little louder than she intended. She seems on the brink of collapse, trying to cling to what little hope remains. "I know I can. If you’d just give me a chance to revise—"

"Look, Hyeju," you interrupt her, this time with a slightly firmer tone, tired of the discussion. "I really appreciate your passion. That’s great. But the decision has been made. Try again next year. Maybe with a different perspective."

There’s a long pause. Hyeju looks at you as if waiting for you to reveal that this was all an elaborate joke, that she’d actually won. But you say nothing of the sort. You simply extend your hand, ending the conversation with a smile that seems to say you did your best, but it wasn’t enough.

She shakes your hand, her grip firm, masking what she feels inside. As you walk away toward the next artist, Hyeju stands there alone, trying to grasp how, even with all her effort, it all ended like this: dated, predictable, insufficient.

But soon, that feeling of disbelief gives way to a growing rage, building in her chest like a volcano ready to erupt. Heat rises up her throat, making her face flush with anger, her hands clenched so tight her nails are nearly digging into her skin. Months of her life dedicated to that project. Endless visits to the port, earning the workers' trust, listening to their real stories, their calloused hands more genuine than any pretty, empty magazine spread. And now? Thrown in the trash. All because her theme was dated?

She’s not going to accept this. She can’t.

You’re heading toward Miyeon’s exhibit, and Hyeju, still fuming, decides to follow you. She already knows Miyeon is a fraud; the rich girl who travels the world and thinks snapping photos with her luxury camera is some kind of artistic statement. Pathetic. Hyeju’s sure you’ll see through it too. So, she waits, hides behind a column, and listens, her body still trembling with anger but with a hint of expectation. You’re going to tear her down too; it can’t be any other way.

"Miyeon, I really liked your theme."

Hyeju barely holds back a bitter laugh. Of course, liked the theme. You say that to everyone; it’s the prelude before you destroy them. She crosses her arms, waiting for the blow.

You continue, your voice sounding... more animated? Lighter?

"The flowers in the urban landscape, this attempt to create small pockets of nature in a space dominated by concrete, by modern life… it’s a powerful metaphor."

Hyeju raises an eyebrow. Powerful metaphor? Flowers?

Miyeon, always with that doll-like expression, smiles as if she’s about to receive a cherished jewel. "Oh, thank you! I wanted to show how, even in places where everything seems artificial, nature still finds a way to exist, to bloom."

"Yes, yes!" you respond, your voice clearly animated. "The idea that these flowers represent a little hope, a breath of life amidst the chaos of cities… it’s really touching. The audience is going to connect deeply with this vision; you managed to bring a softness that contrasts with the brutality of the environment."

Hyeju feels her stomach twist. She can’t believe what she’s hearing.

You go on, pointing to one of Miyeon’s photos: a lone flower growing from a crack in the pavement in Paris. "Look, here. This flower shouldn’t even exist, and yet, there it is, asserting its presence against all odds. It’s an image of resilience."

Miyeon sighs, almost enchanted by her own work. "Yeah, exactly! I wanted each photo to feel like... renewal, you know? That nature, no matter how small, always finds a way."

Hyeju, squirming behind the column, almost laughs. "Renewal?" Miyeon must have just passed by and thought, "Oh, this flower is cute, I’ll take a picture," without understanding anything about what it means to fight for something

But what disgusts her most is your next comment. “You did a wonderful job, Miyeon. Your photos truly captured that sensitivity. It’s one of the most unique approaches I’ve seen in this contest.”

Miyeon lights up like a Christmas tree. “Wow, I don’t even know what to say!”

And then, the bombshell.

“Well, I’m telling you—you’re one of the winners.”

Hyeju nearly chokes on air.

She… won? Idiotic flowers won?

Miyeon, of course, explodes with joy, throwing her arms around you like you just handed her the universe’s biggest gift. “Oh my God! Really? That’s incredible! Thank you so much!”

“You deserve it, Miyeon. I was really moved by how you found beauty in those small moments. And, you know,” you lower your voice, almost… casually, “I’d like to learn more about your creative process. What do you say to dinner tomorrow to celebrate your victory?”

Miyeon blinks, clearly charmed. “Oh, I’d love to! Wow, that would be amazing. You know, I’ve always wanted to learn more about what inspires you. Your work is so… deep.”

You smile, looking perfectly at ease. “Well, I try. And I must say, you look fantastic today. That outfit… elegant, yet simple. Really suits your style.”

Miyeon blushes slightly but takes the compliment easily. “Thank you! And, ah… you’re even more charming in person.”

Behind the pillar, Hyeju feels her pulse pounding. Each word feels like a slow, cruel stab. She was sure her defeat was already a massive injustice, but this… this is outrageous.

You keep chatting with Miyeon, now totally at ease, a brutal contrast to the coldness you offered Hyeju. She realizes, in that moment, what really happened here. He's a perverted son of a bitch. And Miyeon, with all her art girl pretense, is just another pretty fish he wants to hook and take to bed.

She can barely breathe, her anger suffocating.

Miyeon leaves, already brimming with plans for the dinner, and you follow, smiling just as brightly. Hyeju, however, takes a deep breath, trying to rein in the overwhelming fury overtaking her.

—

Hyeju looks at herself in the mirror, her reflection blurred by tears dragging away any dignity her makeup still held. The flawless eyeliner she spent so long perfecting now looks like a bad abstract painting. She dabs a tissue over her face, trying to erase the tear stains, but only makes it worse, smudging everything. Frustrated, she mutters to herself, too lost in her own ruin to notice the bathroom door opening.

She freezes, turning her back, trying to gather what little composure she has left.

“Oh, Hyeju! Hey, isn’t today amazing?”

Miyeon, of course.

Her sweet voice floats through the restroom like a sickeningly sweet perfume. Hyeju mumbles something unintelligible, anything to mask the sensation of being shattered.

Miyeon, radiant as always, places her bag and phone on the counter before going into one of the stalls. The metallic sound of the lock echoes louder than it should, which could mean something symbolic if this were a movie. Hyeju takes a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down, and walks over to the trash to throw away the stained tissue.

And then, she sees it.

Miyeon’s phone screen is unlocked, and Hyeju, despite herself, feels her gaze drawn to it like a magnet. Curiosity is a treacherous thing. She takes a step, then another. Just a little peek. She’s not really invading privacy, just… checking something that was already open.

And there you are. Your name at the top of her Instagram chat, with a thread of messages that makes Hyeju want to vomit in pure disgust. A time, an expensive restaurant, the promise of a dinner to celebrate Miyeon’s “big win.”

The stall flushes like an alarm. Hyeju jumps back, quickly distancing herself from the phone. She pulls herself together, struggling to control the torrent of emotions as Miyeon emerges.

The human doll opens the door with a casual smile, washing her hands while tossing compliments into the air. “Your photos, Hyeju, were so beautiful. Really, you captured the essence of the port workers in a way that was very… how should I say… real.”

Hyeju simply nods. “By the way, congratulations on your win, Miyeon. You deserved it.”

Miyeon dries her hands and finally looks at her, noticing Hyeju’s devastated state. The swollen eyes, the makeup entirely ruined. She tilts her head slightly, in an almost childlike gesture, and asks, “What happened? Are you… okay?”

Hyeju takes a deep breath, trying not to sound like she’s on the verge of a total breakdown. “It’s… nothing. Just… frustration, I think.”

Miyeon’s expression softens, as if dealing with a wounded child. “Oh, you’re sad you didn’t win, huh? I get it, it’s hard. But don’t be like that. There are so many opportunities left to show your talent.”

Hyeju wants to roll her eyes but holds back. Opportunities? This coming from Miyeon sounds like a bad joke. But before she can respond, Miyeon, ever helpful, opens her purse and pulls out a makeup kit. “Here, let me fix that for you.”

Before Hyeju can protest, Miyeon is already holding a brush, touching up the mascara smudges with efficiency that only irritates her more. “You’re so talented, you know? Your work has a depth that few have. Just need a little more luck, maybe? It’ll work out, you’ll see.”

Miyeon’s sweet, condescending tone feels like a silent scream to Hyeju. She can hear the fake sympathy behind the words, the barely hidden superiority of someone who’s never had to struggle for anything. Every brushstroke is a painful reminder of how absurdly far she is from Miyeon’s privileged world.

“All done,” Miyeon says, stepping back to admire her work. Hyeju looks at herself in the mirror. There she is, a sad, generic version of Miyeon. Even with the makeup fixed, she’s still just a shadow. “Looks better, right?”

Hyeju mumbles a “thank you,” but something in Miyeon’s sweet tone makes her want to scream.

Miyeon smiles, satisfied, and puts the kit back in her bag. “Well, see you around, okay? Don’t get discouraged, all right? You’ll get there.”

With a wave goodbye, Miyeon floats out of the restroom like she’s on a cloud.

Hyeju stands there, staring at the mirror. The makeup is flawless, but she doesn’t recognize herself. Only one thought passes through her mind in that moment as the heat of her rage boils beneath the surface:

This isn’t over.

—

Hyeju sits at an outdoor table, the evening breeze ruffling the menu in her hands. The restaurant, one of those gourmet traps with plates priced higher than any decent meal should be, offers a spectacular view of the city, the urban lights twinkling below like stars trapped in concrete. Exactly the type of place you’d choose to impress a girl like Miyeon. She’s not there to eat, of course, but she orders a glass of wine, something to keep up appearances.

Time passes slowly, and Hyeju watches as Miyeon arrives. She sits nearby, but with her back to Hyeju, making the plan even easier. Hyeju can barely contain a smile as she hides behind the menu, her eyes keenly watching the pampered, spoiled girl’s every move. Miyeon makes a quick call—obviously to you.

“Oh, of course, always late,” Miyeon sighs, her melodic voice tinged with slight annoyance. “It’s fine, I’ll wait for you. I’m at one of the outdoor tables, remember?”

Hyeju wonders if the lateness is part of the charm, like a cheap trick to make a grand entrance. Always the diva. She sighs. Nothing worth having ever shows up on time.

Miyeon continues to scroll on her phone, seemingly indifferent to the world around her, but Hyeju is on high alert. She lowers the menu just enough to peek, keeping herself discreetly hidden, especially now that a couple sits nearby, offering a bit more cover. She flinches as she hears your voice in the distance.

Finally, you arrive.

“Sorry I’m late,” you say with a smile that should be banned for public safety. And then, of course, a kiss on the cheek. A casual gesture, but enough to make Hyeju’s blood rise. “You know I’m naturally unpunctual,” you add, sitting down with the confidence of someone who’s sure the world revolves around them.

“Yeah, but I’m getting used to it,” Miyeon replies with a light laugh.

—

The conversation flows with a lightness that almost makes Hyeju shrink with discomfort. The two of you laugh at silly jokes, and the flirting... the flirting is ridiculously cringeworthy from a third-person perspective.

She also concluded that what you and Miyeon had for dinner was bad and ridiculously expensive (even without any real evidence).

"So," you say after a few glasses of wine, "I was really impressed with your work, Miyeon. It has a rare sensitivity, you know? The way you captured the delicacy of flowers in the urban environment... so poetic."

The only thing poetic about Miyeon is her endless privilege, which she doesn’t even know she has. Hyeju discreetly takes out her phone, pretending to be uninterested but already positioning the camera.

“Oh, thank you!” Miyeon replies, blushing in a way that seems rehearsed. “I really wanted someone to understand that, you know? You really summed up the essence of what I wanted to convey.”

Captured the essence… Hyeju practically screams internally. If that photo series had any more essence, it would become a perfume. She tilts her phone to a better angle and starts snapping discreet photos. Tiny clicks that get lost in the hum of the restaurant.

The two of you order dinner and keep talking, each word a dagger to Hyeju’s pride.

"By the way, you look stunning tonight," you say casually, and Miyeon smiles, lowering her gaze like a princess in a cheap fairy tale.

"Oh, thank you! And I have to say, you're so handsome. Well, I already knew because of the photos and interviews of yours that I watched, but when I saw you in person yesterday, wow..." Miyeon responds, throwing back the compliment like a golden frisbee.

Meanwhile, Hyeju continues to document it all, like a private investigator who decided ethics are optional. Every shared smile, every tilt of the body, every not-so-innocent wink. She watches the story unfold before her, barely containing her disgust.

This will be beautiful.

—

The night goes on with you and Miyeon in a dialogue that, to Hyeju, might as well be nails scraping a chalkboard. Sitting at a distance, she keeps her eyes on you, wondering for the thousandth time how the universe could be so cruel. It’s not like she wants to be in Miyeon’s place—of course not—but if you had to hit on someone, it could’ve at least been her.

At least her work was good.

"So, what's the secret?" you ask with a charming smile, leaning forward slightly, your voice low and intimate. "How does someone like you, so young and talented, manage to capture these... hmm... deep layers of meaning in your photos?"

Miyeon giggles, a sound that reminds Hyeju of coins clinking in a deep well. "Oh, you're flattering me! I don’t know if it’s all that. I just... observe the world, you know? Try to see what no one else sees." She gives a small sigh of exaggerated modesty, which makes Hyeju roll her eyes. What no one else sees? Is she kidding? Flowers on the streets? Everyone sees that.

Literally everyone.

You don’t back down, your attention fixed on every word from Miyeon as if she were the center of the world. “Humility... I love that in an artist. So many people out there are just pretentious. I already knew you were special just from looking at your photos, but now… well, I can see you’re as impressive as your work.”

Impressive? Hyeju nearly chokes on her wine, forcing herself to keep a neutral expression.

You’re practically drooling over Miyeon.

"Oh, you're very kind," Miyeon replies, blushing again. "I... I just try to do my part, you know? Show the world the beauty that's hidden. That people forget to notice. And I have to say, having your recognition is... well, it’s rewarding."

You smile and, without missing a beat, reach over to touch her arm lightly. "You know, Miyeon, I have to be honest... when I saw your work, I felt something I rarely feel. Like the photos were speaking to me, saying something I didn’t know I needed to hear."

Hyeju squirms in her seat. Speaking to you? About what exactly? 'Buy a flower vase'? 'Do urban gardening'?

Her work had explored the depth of human transience and the flow of life, while you let yourself be captivated by flowers and a rehearsed smile.

She bites her lip, growing anger as she thinks: If you had to pick a contestant to hook up with, you could at least have chosen someone with a decent series. Like mine. At least it would look like a fair and professional decision. Am I not attractive enough? Or maybe I just don’t have that... doll-like quality you seem to like?

You lean over the table again. “You know, Miyeon, I have to admit... I don’t usually feel this way at professional events. Honestly, I think I’ve lost patience with a lot of pretentious photographers. But you... you’re different.”

Miyeon pretends to be modest, covering her mouth with her hand as if she’s shy. “Oh, I just do what I love. Maybe that’s what makes me... different.”

Hyeju narrows her eyes. Different? Only if we’re talking about her bank account.

"Well," you continue, your tone softer, as if you were just chatting with a close friend. "I don’t know... there’s something about you. Your lightness. The way you see the world, through the lens and, of course, in person." You smile, clearly implying something deeper. "I’d love to see more of that."

Miyeon smiles sweetly, as if she doesn’t understand the double meaning that anyone within ten feet could catch. "I’d love to show you more of my work. I think there’s a lot we could share, not just as artists but as people."

Oh, wonderful, Hyeju thinks, holding her phone strategically, ready to capture the perfect moment. She almost feels her camera in her hands again, anger sharpening her focus in a twisted way. She wonders again why you chose Miyeon. What does she have that I don’t? Does this fool just like girls who look like dolls? Or is he afraid of a woman who won’t fall for this fake charm?

"This is perfect, Miyeon," you say, your voice sweet enough to sugar-coat a lemon. "By the way, I was thinking... we could continue this evening somewhere a bit more... peaceful." You lean a bit more over the table, your fingers sliding casually along the rim of her wine glass. "My hotel has an amazing view of the city at night. It would be a crime not to enjoy it."

Miyeon giggles, and Hyeju feels it’s the kind of giggle only someone completely clueless could give. “Oh, that would be wonderful, wouldn’t it? But... I have to go to that birthday party afterward,” she says, making that practiced pout again, like she’s breaking the heart of a poor little puppy. “From that friend of mine, remember? It’d be rude not to show up. I need to be there in less than an hour.”

“Oh, such a shame... I thought there’d be time...” Your tone is so forcedly disappointed that it almost sounds ironic. “You know, I’m leaving tomorrow. Who knows when we’ll get another chance to... enjoy the moment. It would be a pity to waste this night.”

Miyeon holds your hand with almost unbearable sweetness, leaning a little closer. “Oh, don’t worry,” she says, her eyes shining like she’s just made a solemn promise. “We’ll see each other again, for sure. And next time, no parties to interrupt.”

"I’ll hold you to that promise."

“You can count on it.”

Hyeju, until then lost in her thoughts of revolt and frustration, almost misses the moment. No way… Are they leaning in for a kiss? Her phone camera is already ready, and Hyeju quickly adjusts the focus. She almost fumbles but, at the last second, manages to capture the exact moment your lips meet. Bingo.

The kiss is brief, almost innocent, but enough for Hyeju to get what she needed. The final nail in the coffin of your reputation, or at least that’s what she hopes. She feels a wave of cold triumph wash over her. Now she had proof. Proof that you chose Miyeon not for her art, not for photographic genius (which was absurd enough), but simply because you were interested in her for... less artistic reasons, to say the least.

Miyeon pulls back with a rehearsed smile. “So we stay in touch?” she asks, already turning her attention back to her phone as if nothing important had happened.

“Yeah, sure. See you, Miyeon,” you say, your tone warm, but with a barely concealed note of frustration. “And I hope it’s soon.”

"Bye honey, thanks for this wonderful night."

Miyeon gets up, grabs her purse, tosses her hair back, and leaves the restaurant as if she’s walking off a runway. Hyeju watches her every step, feeling a strange mix of disdain and envy.

And there you are, still seated, momentarily lost in the direction Miyeon went, until you eventually come back to reality, calling a waiter to ask for the bill. And Hyeju, in that moment, knows she has the perfect weapon in her hands. A picture is worth a thousand words.

Revenge won’t just be sweet... it’ll be public.

You swipe your credit card, and as you wait for the receipt, your gaze lands on something interesting. Comical, really. There, sitting near you, hidden between two tables, is a woman trying to cover her face with the menu—a move worthy of someone trying to blend in like a plant in the middle of a desert. A mysterious woman, let’s call her that. You remember seeing her when you arrived; she’s been sitting there for quite a while without ordering anything, judging by the pristine table. You chuckle softly, intrigued by this peculiar figure.

Who acts like they're in a comedy film?

Maybe it’s the wine or perhaps the high that success brings, but you decide you have to find out what’s going on here. After taking the receipt, you stand up and approach her table. She hasn’t seen you, or maybe she’s pretending not to. Doesn’t matter. You throw yourself into the seat across from her with the confidence of someone who thinks the world revolves around them—because, let’s face it, for you, it does.

“Good evening,” you say in a casual tone, as if invading someone’s space were a natural extension of your personality. “Are you alone?”

She lowers the menu just enough to reveal her eyes, which are, incidentally, quite striking and sharp. But her expression shows the reluctance of someone who knows they’re about to enter a situation they don’t want but have no way out of. “No,” she replies, firm but a bit hesitant. “I’m waiting for someone.”

You smirk, a mix of mockery and sympathy, as if you’ve just heard the world’s lamest excuse, yet you’re willing to play along. “Ah, of course. Waiting for someone. Because, you know, I’ve seen you here alone for... what? An hour? I think, whoever this person is, they’re not showing up. Happens.” You sigh dramatically. “I know the type. Busy people, missed connections... But you know what’s worse? Being alone on such a lovely night.”

She looks at you as if you’ve just claimed the sky is purple. “I’m not alone,” she repeats, her voice sharpening. “My boyfriend is on his way.”

You raise an eyebrow, visibly interested. “Boyfriend, huh? Well, if he’s kept you waiting this long... maybe he’s not as interested as he should be.” You lean slightly forward, a faintly mocking smile on your face. “But if he doesn’t show, I could keep you company. I’m told I’m an excellent conversationalist.”

She gives you a look that suggests she’d rather have coffee with the Devil. “No, thank you. I saw you with a girl just now. Isn’t one enough, Mr. Meddler?”

You chuckle, as if she’d just accused you of a minor, harmless offense. “Ah, that lovely woman? Just a friend. Work-related, you know how it is. We just went out to celebrate her win in a contest she entered. Entirely professional.”

The way you say “professional” suggests the exact opposite, but she doesn’t comment, still skeptical.

“Can I know why you’re hiding your face like that? I’d love to see more than just those pretty eyes.”

“I’m shy,” she replies abruptly, trying to cut the conversation short. “Besides, when my boyfriend arrives, he won’t like to see you here.”

You raise your hands in an exaggerated surrender gesture, though the smile remains. “Alright, got it. I don’t want to cause any problems, especially with possessive boyfriends. It just seemed like you might have been... lonely, perhaps? But alright. Lucky you that he’s on his way, then. Hope you both have a magical evening.” You get up slowly, still keeping your eyes on her, clearly trying to decipher the enigma that is this woman with her face hidden.

As you walk away, Hyeju lets out a deep sigh, as if she’d just escaped a scene from a bad spy movie. That was too close, she thinks, her heart still racing.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have hidden,” she whispers to herself as a waiter approaches, still wearing that polite—and slightly irritated—smile he’d shown before.

“Ma’am, would you like to order something now?”

She forces a smile, though it’s obvious her appetite vanished long ago. “I... lost my appetite. Just the bill, please.”

The waiter walks away, and Hyeju remains there, looking at her reflection in the restaurant window, trying to understand how her day, which was supposed to be glorious, led her to this point.

“Well, since I won't be able to sleep tonight, then neither will he.”

—

You’re in the bathroom, brushing your teeth with more force than necessary, as if trying to scrub away the bitter taste of the evening. Miyeon is gorgeous, but empty, you conclude. It wouldn’t be the first time you regretted being led by your eyes instead of your head. After all, sleeping with her would’ve just been a tedious side note in your record of bad decisions. You finish, splash water on your face, and are about to settle into bed when a distinctive knock on the door interrupts your thoughts.

“Who the hell...?” You grumble, frowning. It’s late, and you weren’t expecting anyone.

You head to the door, ready to send away whoever’s disturbing you.

But what you see makes you hesitate. Standing at your door is Hyeju, eyes blazing with a fury you hadn’t seen before. Before you can process it, she storms into the room with the grace of a storm about to break.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You shut the door, stunned, as she strides in without so much as a glance, her presence filling the room faster than you can comprehend it.

“You’re fucked,” Hyeju declares.

You turn, confusion turning to indignation.

“How did you even get in here?” you demand, voice rising.

She pauses, as if savoring your disbelief. “Reception,” she begins, as if it were obvious. “I told them I was your assistant and had something urgent to give you before your trip tomorrow. People trust good lies.” She gives a small, humorless smile.

Trip? How the hell does she know you’re leaving tomorrow?

Forget it, doesn’t matter now. You just need to make sure you never stay at this poorly secured hotel again.

Your mouth opens and closes, trying to piece together the absurdity. “Let me guess, you’re here because of the damn magazine, right?”

“Exactly. I demand you put me among the winners.” She crosses her arms, her tone as sharp as a knife.

You laugh, but it’s a harsh, humorless sound. “You’re a sore loser, Hyeju. You lost. Failed. Were defeated. Accept it and stop bothering me.” You step forward, indignation rising within you, but she doesn’t back down.

She laughs, too, but it’s a bitter sound. “Lost? Of course, I lost. Because the brilliant critic was more interested in sleeping with one of the contestants than doing his job.”

The comment hits like a punch, and you freeze for a second. “What?” you stammer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I bet you know exactly what I'm talking about. I saw you two at the restaurant.” She says it with such certainty that a chill runs down your spine. The woman hidden behind the menu... Of course. It makes sense now. “I have proof. Took photos. I was going to expose it publicly, but first, I wanted to see your face... before I ruined your life.”

Your heart pounds, pressure building in your chest. “Proof?” The word barely makes it out of your mouth. Of course, she took photos. And of course, she didn’t just come here to provoke—you’re here to be blackmailed.

“Exactly. And my demand is simple: you remove Miyeon or any other winner and place me there. Though I’d prefer you remove Miyeon, if you don’t mind.”

You try to regain your composure, take a deep breath, and shoot her a scathing look. “You think you can blackmail me like this? I can’t change the results, Hyeju. Even if I wanted to. Besides, why the hell do you think you deserve to win? Besides being a crybaby, you also have a lot of arrogance.”

Hyeju’s grip on your shirt is as sudden as it is forceful. Her fingers curl around the fabric, pulling you closer, and for a moment, you’re so surprised you just freeze. She didn’t just confront you; she dominated you. The proximity is suffocating, and the fury in her eyes brings a sensation you’d never admit: a flash of fear.

“Why didn’t you choose me?” Her voice, low and laced with restrained anger, fills the room. The question isn’t just a demand for an answer; it’s an order. You, the esteemed critic, a giant in your field, feel small for a second.

You try to speak, but your mouth is dry. How did things spiral so far out of control? She pulls you closer, her breath hot against your face, and your heart races, not from fear of what she might physically do, but from her intensity. That intensity burns in a way you find disturbingly thrilling.

"I'm talking to you!" she says, each word leaving her mouth with a fierce heat. "Why did you pick her? The porcelain doll you wanted to take to bed? And why did you leave me out? Because I'm not as 'pretty' as she is? Because I don’t have the shiny veneer of someone who can spend money on stupid trips around the world?"

You feel your shirt tighten against your chest, and though your mind wants to resist, your body… obeys. There’s a pulse of adrenaline you didn’t expect, and for the first time, you genuinely don’t know how to handle this.

“No... that’s not it,” you attempt to protest, but your voice sounds weaker than expected.

"Oh, isn't it?!" Hyeju laughs, but it’s far from amused. "Then explain it to me, acclaimed critic. Why her and not me? Because if your excuse is that my series was outdated, then what was that farce with flowers on concrete? An insult to anyone with half a brain!"

The sarcasm drips from her voice, but you’re more focused on the growing pressure. She pulls you even closer, your faces almost touching, and you feel sweat trickling down your temple, your body tensed between panic and a strange exhilaration. She’s in control, and for the first time in a long time, you’re left without solid ground.

She stares at you with a fierce smile. "So, tell me. Why? What did I do wrong? Oh, let me guess: I’m not some rich doll with a perfectly symmetrical face? Is that it? That I'm not the kind of woman you'd want to take out to dinner and then have sex with?"

You try to regain control, because this is throwing you off balance. You let out a forced laugh, trying to project the confidence that slipped away minutes ago. "It has nothing to do with beauty, Hyeju."

"Oh, no?" She yanks your shirt again, and you stumble forward. "Then why did you pick her? Am I less of an artist because I didn’t give you a seductive glance? Speak up, because that’s exactly how it feels!"

Your body leans forward, practically collapsing under her strength, and for a second you feel the power shift. Her anger is almost tangible, like a force you can feel pressing against you. And you… are at her mercy. Your mind races, but every thought is drawn back to the grip of her hands, to the look in her eyes, a fury that threatens to consume her whole.

You make one last attempt. "You want to know the real reason?" Your voice comes out stronger this time, though still tinged with exhaustion. "Fine, I’ll tell you, you wild thing! I saw that damn tweet of yours."

Hyeju pauses, her grip loosening slightly, eyes narrowing. "Tweet...? What tweet?"

You finally exhale, your chest expanding with momentary relief, but the tension remains. "The one you posted years ago. Calling me a narcissist, arrogant, wedding photographer, saying I had no talent. Conveniently on the same day I won a big award. Remember that? Yeah, I saw it. And yes, I knew it was aimed at me."

She falters, surprised. The intensity is still there, but for a second, you see a flicker of doubt in those previously blazing eyes. "That… that was years ago." Her voice is lower now, almost unsure. "I was just a dumb teenager. I didn’t even know your work properly."

You take a step forward this time, the balance of power shifting again. "I don’t care, Hyeju. You think you can say whatever online and, years later, cozy up to me when you need something? Not to mention this sailor-level crudeness of yours, barging into my room trying to intimidate me. You’re a fake artist. And you know what? This is what you deserve. You’ve already lost. And if you don’t leave now, I swear I’ll ruin your career before it even begins."

She hesitates, biting her lip, her eyes darting toward the door. But the anger is still there, bubbling beneath the surface. "Oh, that’s it? You think you scare me?" she mutters, but her tone wavers a bit. “Fine, if that’s how you want to play it, then goodbye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She turns on her heels and heads toward the door.

You take a deep breath, thinking the worst is over, but then the memory of the photos hits you. You move quickly, locking the door, and Hyeju, surprised, takes a step back.

"Not so fast," you say, your tone laced with a new kind of certainty.

She hasn’t finished with you, but you aren’t done with her, either.

Hyeju raises an eyebrow, suspicious. She crosses her arms and looks at you as if she’s seen it all. The air between you isn’t exactly cold; it’s more like that stifling heat before a storm.

“Look,” you start, adjusting your collar as if that might ease your discomfort. “Maybe we started off on the wrong foot, really wrong. How about we try doing this right? Something positive, something that’s mutually beneficial.”

Hyeju narrows her eyes, unimpressed. “I’m not interested in anything other than you pulling Miyeon from the winners and putting me in her place.”

“I can’t do that. You know that. If I backtrack now, what would be left of my reputation? As a critic, I can’t afford to look... indecisive or, worse, corrupt.”

She laughs, but it’s not a pleasant one. It’s the kind that says you got yourself into this mess. “Maybe you should’ve thought of that before deciding to screw me over.”

You swallow, feeling the blow, but you persist. “I... I was immature, Hyeju. Honestly. When I saw that tweet... I don’t know, it hit me in a way I didn’t expect. It was stupid of me to hold onto it and let my bruised ego guide my decision. It wasn’t professional, and I know that.”

Hyeju seems surprised but tries to hide it. Her anger, which was so visibly intense before, seems to give way to an internal conflict.

"So it was all because of a tweet?" She lets out a disbelieving sigh. "A tweet? That was years ago! It was just a quick jab. I was frustrated at the time; nothing was going right in my life. Seeing someone around my age achieving so much… I didn’t really mean those things.”

“I get that. And I should’ve realized it. But I couldn’t. I was childish, let my pride get in the way, and ended up… I made a big mistake. And you didn’t deserve that.”

Hyeju hesitates, the words lingering in the air as she decides whether to forgive you. “And I... I don’t see things that way anymore. I criticized you before really understanding your work. What I said—or rather, tweeted—was shallow. I changed my opinion after, started admiring your work and being inspired by it. If it weren’t for that, I wouldn’t even be here. So... I’m sorry.”

She seems to swallow her words with difficulty, but there’s something genuine in the apology. You see it, and something in you softens.

“I’m sorry too,” you say, your voice lower, less defensive. “For the way I treated you. I could’ve been fair, but I let something petty from the past cloud my judgment. Now, I can’t just undo it all. But I can admit your work is excellent. You deserved more.”

Hyeju turns her face, looking out the window, contemplating her next words.

“Alright... so... what do you suggest?”

You take a step forward, seizing the small opening. “I suggest we do something together. A project, a collaboration. Something that shows your talent, without needing any favoritism, where nobody loses. A chance to prove you’re far more than just a frustrated competitor.”

Hyeju looks at you, her head tilted. She’s processing, considering the offer. “And how do I know you won’t screw me over again?”

You smile, tired but sincere. “Because, honestly, I don’t want to screw you over. I did it once and… frankly, it didn’t do me any good. I want to make things right.”

She shakes her head slowly, as if the idea is taking shape in her mind. “Okay. Okay, fine. But don’t think that makes you a saint. I still think you acted like an ass because of a tweet.”

You laugh, a light laugh, almost relieved. “I was. No doubt about it. A total ass. But one who now wants to make things right.”

Hyeju finally sighs, as if accepting that there’s nothing left to do but move forward. “Alright then. Let’s see where this goes.”

The atmosphere in the room starts to relax. You feel the tension drain away slowly.

“And, just for the record,” she says with a wry grin, “Miyeon’s series? Horrible. A disaster. You need to admit it."

You laugh. “You have no idea the sacrifice. I nearly drowned in metaphors trying to explain to journalists that it was at least acceptable.”

“Acceptable? For that series to be called bad, it still has a long way to go!”

“You’re tough with your critiques—I respect that,” you say. “Now, since there’s no more conflict, how about you be a good girl and delete those photos?” you add with a wink.

You watch as Hyeju reaches into her bag for her phone, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. She scrolls through her gallery until she lands on the shots she took of you and Miyeon, that innocent kiss in the restaurant now preserved in pixels. And when she turns the screen toward you, the sight of those images suddenly makes you painfully aware of your own foolishness.

“So, what do you think?” Hyeju teases, her tone laced with the knowledge that she has the upper hand. “Should I take up your collaboration offer, or… let these photos go public? It’d make for a juicy career-ending scandal, wouldn’t you say? The photography prodigy, brought down by a cheap affair.”

You laugh nervously, mostly because that’s what’s expected. Inside, your brain is already calculating the damage. “Alright, alright… Hyeju, let's not act on impulse...”

She shrugs, clearly enjoying your discomfort, then taps the screen and deletes the photos with a theatrical gesture. “Relax. I just wanted to see you sweat a little. Poetic justice, you know?”

You blink, caught off guard, unsure if you should feel relieved or resentful. “You really enjoy playing with fire, don’t you?”

“If you knew me, you’d know I do it all the time.” She slips her phone back into her bag, glancing around the room like she’s already bored. “Guess that’s that. I’ll be going, then.”

Something about her words gnaws at you more than it should. Almost on impulse, you reach out and grab her wrist. “Wait. Stay.”

She looks at you, half wary, half confused. “What are you doing?”

You chuckle softly, as if catching yourself in a slip. “I’d like to talk more with you. About… photography, art, whatever. You seem interesting. Now that there’s no drama, there’s no harm in getting to know each other better, right?”

“I still think you’re a jerk, you know.”

“I can live with that.” You smile—that smile that usually softens people up, the one that says, Yes, I’m a jerk, but a lovable one, right?

She hesitates, her gaze wandering to the mirror across the room. The reflection shows someone who clearly put effort into looking their best: the elegant dress, the perfect hair, all planned for an occasion that now feels like a waste of effort.

“Fine,” she finally replies, with a kind of resigned reluctance. “But only because I’m already here.”

You stand up, victory masked on your face, and head to the mini-fridge. Grabbing two beers, you gesture vaguely toward the bed. “Have a seat. I don’t bite… unless you ask, of course.”

She sits on the edge of the bed, still upright, as if ready to leave at any moment. You open one of the bottles and hand it to her as you sit beside her with your own.

“So,” you begin, taking a sip, “how does a promising photographer and an award-winning jerk end up here after a disastrous evening?”

Hyeju takes a sip, mulling over her answer. “Promising, huh? Look at that, the jerk knows how to recognize talent.”

“I always have,” you shrug, “but sometimes, circumstances… complicate things.”

“Circumstances like… sabotaging me over a grudge and favoring another girl just for a hookup?”

“In my defense she is as beautiful as she is empty, she has a beautiful smile and a lovely laugh… Fuck, you end up liking her…”

“That explains a lot. I knew your choice was questionable, but I didn’t know you had a fetish for wax dolls.”

“Ouch! And impressively accurate.”

Hyeju smirks, a small smile that carries a certain pride. “I’m good with words, as well as photos. Maybe I should consider a career as an art critic?”

“Oh, no, please. We have enough critics as it is. Most of them are bitterer than bad beer.”

She takes another sip, relaxing a bit more. “I don’t have the patience for it. I’d rather be on the other side, creating.”

“I can see it in your photos. They have soul.”

“Trying to impress me?”

“Maybe,” you admit, winking. “Maybe I’m just trying to make up for being a jerk earlier.”

“Keep trying, but it's not like I trust you anyway.”

You feign an offended look, hand dramatically on your chest. “Me? Incredible! Talented! Award-winning! Humble! And you still don’t trust me?”

Hyeju rolls her eyes so hard you almost expect her to get dizzy. “Award-winning? Congratulations on flattering people enough to get awards.”

“First of all, I never flattered anyone to get where I am. And, hey, look who’s talking about flattery,” you retort, taking a sip of beer. “Someone who’s already tried to ruin me with 280 characters and then spent the entire day trying to play nice. What happened to all that digital hostility, sweetheart?”

She leans in a bit, her lips curved into a smile that feels more like a threat. “You want me to be hostile again? Because I can.”

“No hostility,” you respond, smiling with a calm air. “But I’ll admit, I’m enjoying this side of you. Way more interesting than Miyeon.”

“Oh, so you like stressing people out?”

“Maybe,” you shrug. “You know… life would be boring without a good argument.”

She takes another sip of beer, like she’s deciding whether or not to keep going with this. “If it weren’t for the tweet,” she starts, in a casual tone, “would you have hit on me instead of Rich Girl Barbie?”

You chuckle, a little surprised by the directness, but not exactly bothered. “Hard to say. You don’t strike me as the type to fall for my usual charm. It would’ve been a challenge.”

“So right now I'm just a challenge to you?” she fires back.

“Hey, hey,” you raise your hands, grinning. “Not at all. But I admit I like someone who keeps me on my toes. Easy people… honestly, they put me to sleep.”

“So you sleep with Miyeon and literally fall asleep right after?” Hyeju shoots back dryly.

You burst out laughing, unable to help yourself. “Well, that’s pretty much what almost happened.”

Hyeju snickers, one of those laughs she tries to pass off as disbelief, but you catch the gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. “You’re pathetic.”

“I know,” you agree cheerfully. “But a charming kind of pathetic, or so they say.”

She shakes her head, smirking. “I don’t know how you can be so cocky and somehow a little likable at the same time.”

“It’s a rare skill,” you reply, leaning back a bit, studying her expressions as if trying to capture every detail. “And you, Hyeju, are very good at being… difficult.”

She meets your gaze, her expression firm. “Difficult? No. I’m just honest.”

“Yes, you say exactly what you think, all the time. And you know what? That’s kind of… refreshing. No one does that.”

“That’s because the world’s full of brown-nosers and idiots,” Hyeju replies, and you realize she genuinely believes that. “I don’t have time for that kind of people. If I think something’s crap, I say it.”

“Like my work,” you say, laughing. “You thought it was crap and tweeted about it.”

She takes a long sip, her eyes never leaving yours. “Exactly. And it wrecked you.”

“Wrecked? Me?” You raise a hand as if making a vow. “I thrive on criticism—it’s my fuel.”

“Didn’t look like it when you ignored me in the exhibition,” she shoots back.

“Maybe,” you admit, smiling. “But, honestly? That tweet was the best backhanded compliment I’ve ever gotten.”

Hyeju tilts her head, intrigued. “And how did you reach that brilliant conclusion?”

“Because you only went after me because you were envious of my accomplishments,” you say, looking straight into her eyes. “And I can assure you, I worked hard to get where I am.”

She pauses, biting her lip as if weighing her thoughts. “Okay, just as I'm honest about offending your work, I'm also honest about stepping back and reconsidering my opinion, so yeah, I admire your art. And maybe a hundred years from now I'll admire you too.”

“Oh, so there’s a chance you’ll change your mind?” you tease, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” she replies, feigning disinterest. “If you stop being a jerk, I might consider it.”

“Now I have a new goal,” you laugh. “Stop being a jerk for Hyeju. That’s a harder project than any photoshoot.”

“Good luck,” she says, raising her bottle in a toast. “You’ll need it.”

The toast feels like a silent pact. A truce between two forces who clearly enjoy challenging each other. And you realize, against all odds, that you’re genuinely enjoying the night.

"You know," you start, leaning in slightly toward her, "that impossible way you have about you... I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like that."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" she asks, crossing her arms like she's expecting another sarcastic remark.

"Good," you reply, serious for a brief second, before breaking the mood with a playful smile. "Good, but unbearable. I think you're getting me addicted to fights."

"It's an addictive drug, this whole 'brutal honesty' thing," she says, tossing her hair back. "But I can’t promise you’ll handle the addiction."

"Now I want to find out," you answer, not missing a beat.

You lean back on the bed a little, looking at Hyeju with a smile that's half-charm, half-tease. She stares right back, clearly unwilling to drop her guard, though the playful gleam in her eyes is undeniable.

"Look," she starts, still holding the empty beer bottle between her fingers, "You said I’m more interesting than Miyeon, but, let's face it, she's perfect. So perfect it's annoying. If she's your type, then I’m definitely not."

You raise an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. "Who said she’s my type? And who said you're not?"

She shrugs, as if it’s obvious. "If you like porcelain dolls, I’m definitely in a different category, dude."

"I'm a man of varied tastes," you counter, leaning in a bit. "And honestly? You’re very much my type."

"Oh, sure. I'll pretend to believe that."

You chuckle, but there's something more serious in your voice as you look at her a bit more closely. "I’m serious. You’ve got those eyes... those eyes that are hypnotizing. It’s like you’re a wolf, ready to pounce."

She lets out a low laugh, her skeptical expression barely shifting. "I'll really pretend to believe that."

"No, seriously!" you insist, laughing too, though your voice drops slightly, almost conspiratorial. "When you grabbed me by the shirt earlier, looked me dead in the eyes like that, I swear my heart skipped a beat. Really."

Hyeju looks at you for a moment, then one corner of her mouth curls into a mischievous smile. "You're saying you like dominant girls, is that it?"

"I’d say so, yeah. And I think a woman with enough power could put me in my place. Some people unfortunately only learn the hard way."

She is silent as she places the empty bottle on the nightstand, then she looks at you with an unreadable, yet quite sexy expression. "You make me laugh," she says, her voice a bit softer now, but with that sharp, mocking edge. "And it’s hard for a guy to make me laugh." You feel oddly complimented, but before you can respond, she continues, "But I think it's because you're kinda pathetic.”

"Pathetic, huh?"

She smiles back, eyes locked on yours as she approaches you on the bed. "Yes, pathetic. In a... charming way, as you said.”

You let out a short laugh, lowering your head for a moment before looking back at her. "Well, there’s something pretty sexy about the way you humiliate me. It makes me feel strange things."

"Oh, yeah?" Her tone is teasing, but her eyes study you with an intensity that wasn’t there before. "I make you feel that way, huh?"

You swallow, but keep the smile on your face. "You do. And I need to be honest, I’m enjoying it a lot more than I expected."

"Okay, you really are pathetic."

"Maybe," you answer, looking directly into her eyes. "And I think that's a good thing for a tough girl; you know, she can do whatever she wants with a guy like that." Hyeju stares at you for a moment as if she's deciding what to do next, but instead of saying something, she just smiles subtly. You feel the atmosphere in the room shift again, this time into something more electric, something that makes your heart beat a little faster. "Oh, and maybe," you add, your voice almost a whisper now, "getting under your skin was the smartest thing I did today."

"Smart or suicidal?”

“Well, I’m hoping to find out soon if it was smart or suicidal," you reply as you hand her your bottle so she can put it on the nightstand.

Hyeju, more relaxed now, slips off her heels and, without ceremony, puts her legs across your lap. You can't help but take a good look at her toned thighs before starting to massage her feet, noticing how tense they are. "You know," you start, your voice casual, "you would have been way better company than Miyeon at that restaurant."

“If you’d slept with Miyeon, you wouldn’t be saying that.”

You pause the foot massage for a moment, reflecting, before shrugging. “Maybe. But, honestly? I think I would’ve regretted it. She’s... well, pretty, but she’s like a hardcover book with blank pages."

“So, what? I’m the more interesting option, but clearly the second choice.”

“Second choice? Look, maybe you’re seeing this the wrong way.”

“Oh, yeah? And what’s the right way to see it?” She crosses her arms but keeps her legs on your lap.

You take a dramatic pause, your hand still resting on her thigh. "Well, who knows... maybe the universe got involved in this whole thing just to make sure we’d end up here, now. Maybe Miyeon was just the excuse."

"That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard. If that’s the best you can come up with, I think I understand why your art judgment is so... questionable."

You smile, charmed by how easily she can tear you down with a single line. "It might not work for you, but I’m good at adapting to circumstances. And speaking of adapting..." Your hand slides a little further up her leg, an almost innocent move, if not for the way your fingers rest on her soft skin. "I have to admit, you looked absolutely stunning at the exhibition yesterday."

“Oh, yeah? What exactly did you find so stunning?"

"Everything. Your dress, your hair, your perfume, you also look quite cute when you're nervous. It was hard for me to be rude to you… Seriously, I’m sorry for being such a jerk.”

Hyeju laughs, a low, almost gentle sound this time, like she's testing you. “You don’t apologize often, do you?”

“It doesn’t happen a lot,” you admit, feeling a wave of genuine honesty that doesn’t usually come up. "But now I want to apologize as much as necessary for you to forgive me."

She uncrosses her arms, and suddenly, the tension in the air shifts again. "It’s in the past," she murmurs, as if she's more focused on the present than on what happened before.

Then, before you know it, she takes her legs off your lap and leans in closer, your faces so close you can smell her soft perfume. "You know," she says, her tone half-mocking but with a hint of gentleness, "for a jerk, you’re actually pretty cute."

And without warning, her lips touch yours.

The kiss starts almost playfully, a silent dare that Hyeju seems intent on winning. She's dangerously close, her hand on your chest, and you can feel your heart pounding. She smiles between the press of her lips, as if she's reveling in your reaction. You feel the texture of her lips, soft yet firm, a kiss with that unstable tension that only makes things more thrilling. Then Hyeju decides to escalate, her fingers tracing the nape of your neck, and your hand squeezing the soft flesh of her thigh, absorbing that delicious heat. The sexual tension isn't just a spark; it's a full-blown inferno. You feel the heat rising from your lips to your face, to every inch of your skin. You try to hold back, to maintain your composure, because right now she's simply enjoying the game, and you don't want to spoil her pleasure. She pulls away for a moment, long enough for you to think the kiss is over, but it's just a cruel tease, because she's back, and this time the touch is gentler, as if she's toying with you, controlling the intensity with maddening precision. And you're convinced this is the kind of kiss that should be studied, because it's layered with meaning—a subtle provocation, a hint of irritating attraction, and an unexpected honesty that doesn't belong to two people who, just hours ago, could barely stand each other. Hatred transformed into pure desire, and it's in everything—the fine sheen of sweat, the exchanged saliva, the air, in the curious hands... The night is just beginning.

"Did you like it?" Hyeju asks.

You smile, that half-sly, half-entranced grin. “The universe definitely knows what it’s doing,” you reply.

“You’re a scoundrel, you know that?” Hyeju mutters, her voice low, as if she’s talking more to herself.

“Scoundrel? Yeah, a scoundrel with no salvation... unless some girl touches my heart.” You chuckle, that self-deprecating tone that just makes the moment even more fun.

She gives you a light slap on your chest. "Stop trying to be romantic. It doesn’t suit you.”

You laugh, genuinely, and run a hand through her hair, moving down to her shoulder. "Who said I’m trying?"

She looks at you with a mixture of disbelief and... something else. Something warmer. "Maybe you’re more interesting than I thought," she admits, almost reluctantly.

"And you," you say, your voice lowering slightly, “are much more than just interesting.”

Hyeju smiles in a way that can only be described as dangerously charming. Without warning, she moves quickly, and before you understand what’s happening, she’s sitting on top of you. Her weight on your lap is both comfortable and destabilizing, like at that moment, the control of the situation has shifted hands. And clearly, it has.

"Oh, so this is how you want to play?" you ask, trying to keep some control over your own voice.

She tilts her head, her hair falling to the side, that smile still firmly on her lips. "Me? Play? Honey, I already won."

And then she kisses you again, this time with an intensity that catches you off guard, Making you lie on your back in bed. There’s no hesitation, just desire carved into every move, every touch. Her tongue meets yours as if she's marking territory, and the sensation is electrifying. Your hands, as if they have a mind of their own, slide up her thighs, feeling the firmness and softness of her skin, moving up her waist until they reach her back.

She leans in more, her lips now moving to your neck, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. Every kiss feels like a small conquest, as if she’s claiming pieces of you inch by inch.

"You get goosebumps so easily, don't you?" Hyeju murmurs against your skin.

"Not my fault," you reply, your voice rougher than usual. "You know exactly where to touch."

She lets out a low chuckle, her teeth grazing lightly along your skin. "You haven't seen anything yet."

When she kisses you again, it's a mix of desire and absolute control. Her hands cradle your face, her lips moving with precision, and you can't help but think, in the heat of that moment, it's utterly addictive. Your tongues tangle frantically, as if every second holds a newfound urgency.

"I’m going to teach you a lesson," she murmurs between kisses, biting your lip gently. The brief pain only intensifies your longing.

You chuckle low, trying to keep a trace of your mocking personality amid the chaos. "And what kind of lesson would that be?"

She pauses, looking into your eyes with an intensity that almost undoes you on the spot. "The lesson that you can’t underestimate someone like me," she says, her hands sliding down your chest. "Because, in the end, I always win."

You give her a lopsided grin, still trying to maintain some semblance of control, but it's clear you've already lost. "Confident, huh?"

"More than you," she responds with a smirk, resuming her kisses as her hands explore every inch of your body. Your own hands are back on her thighs, moving up, feeling every curve, every line. She moves with a fluidity that can only be described as fierce.

For a moment, you try to catch your breath, but she doesn’t give you room. "You really love having control, don't you?"

Hyeju stops and looks at you, that mischievous smile still on her lips. "And you love losing it. Admit it."

"Maybe I’m learning to like it," you reply, your hand sliding along the curve of her waist.

Hyeju pauses, and slowly pulls away, as if she knows exactly what she’s doing to you, before climbing off your body. With a sly smile, she stands, eyes blazing with mischief.

"Hold on, bad boy, we’re doing this my way." She says, raising her hands to finally remove the dress. The zipper slides smoothly down, and with one firm motion, the fabric falls to the floor, revealing her flawless lingerie. Her body is a living masterpiece, the kind that makes your heart both skip and race.

You watch, mouth slightly open, unable to hide your awe. "Damn… I can't take my eyes off you, you're so fucking perfect, Hyeju," you murmur.

"And you think I don’t know that?" She steps toward you, her eyes locked on yours, stopping just in front of you. "Now take off those clothes. Quickly."

Her voice is firm, almost commanding, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. "Looks like someone’s in charge today, huh?"

"Are you still talking?" she counters with a half-smile, leaning over you. "I thought you’d already figured out who calls the shots here."

You laugh, but comply without argument. You start to take off your shirt and pants quickly, trying to keep your usual charm, though you know she already has the upper hand. When you're down to just your boxers, Hyeju gives you an appraising look from head to toe, releasing a playful sigh.

"Much better," she says, placing a hand on her hip as she assesses you critically, like she’s judging what's in front of her. "But it’s still not quite good enough."

"Care to give me a hand here?" you tease.

Hyeju shakes her head, stepping forward until your bodies are almost touching. “Are you really incapable of doing anything on your own?" she says, her tone cool, but her face still wearing that wicked smile. "Fine, I’ll help you with this."

She gives your chest a light shove, making you lie back on the bed.

Hyeju approaches, her steps slow, almost like a huntress, until she easily straddles you, pressing her body against yours.

She starts kissing you, her lips hot and hungry, and you respond in kind, running your hands along her back, feeling the delicate fabric of her bra. Her kisses travel down your neck, swift and sure, until she begins to explore your chest with her mouth.

"And to think all that anger at Miyeon was really jealousy," you say, laughing between breaths as she moves lower. "Gonna deny that seeing her with me drove you crazy?"

Hyeju pauses, her lips hovering over your abdomen. She meets your gaze with a sharp look, her smile dangerously mischievous. "Crazy? Yes. But don’t get cocky. It drove me crazy for all the wrong reasons."

She continues her trail of kisses along your body, unhurried, as if she knows exactly the impact she's having on you. Her warm lips slide across your skin until she stops just above the line of your boxers.

"Are you really going to make me wait?"

"I love watching you lose control," she murmurs, before trailing her tongue slowly along your stomach. "And it looks like it's already happening."

She places a teasing kiss just above the bulge in your boxers, pressing down lightly with her fingers, and you can’t hold back a low moan. "If you keep this up, I'll have to pay you back," you threaten, but it's clear you have no intention of changing the dynamic.

Hyeju laughs, squeezing a bit more firmly, her eyes never leaving yours. "I love when you try to act tough. It’s actually cute." She plants another kiss over your boxers before lifting her head. "But we both know who’s in charge here."

She leans forward, kissing your chest again, her skilled hands toying with your nipples as your body responds to her every touch.

"You’ll thank me later," she whispers, her mouth descending again to your boxers, eyes locked onto yours. "You can bet on that."

"Or maybe I’ll be the one making you thank me," you retort, trying to keep up appearances, but knowing she’s already winning.

"Nice try," Hyeju says with a wicked grin, her fingers hooking onto the waistband of your boxers. "Now, let’s see if you can last."

She slowly and deliberately pulls down your boxers, revealing your hard cock, completely at her mercy. She releases an exaggerated sigh, her eyes fixed on you, savoring every second of your anticipation.

"Well, look at this," she taunts, tilting her head slightly as she lightly trails her hand along the length. "All this, just for me? What an honor."

You chuckle, trying to keep your cool. "Feel flattered all you want, but I want to see what you're going to do with it."

She smiles, that familiar look of pure mischief flashing across her face, before lowering her head slowly. She stops just as her lips are about to touch the head, hovering mere millimeters away, and looks up at you. "You're going to learn to stay quiet."

And before you can respond with another joke, she wraps her warm, wet lips around the head of your cock, and you let out an involuntary moan. The sensation is instant, and you can barely hold back. Hyeju works with precision, starting slow, just the tip, swirling her tongue in circles that leave you breathless.

"Still feeling cocky?" she teases, pulling away for a moment, a thin line of saliva connecting her lips to your cock. She smirks, wiping the saliva with her finger and licking it off, maintaining eye contact. "Or have you given up on playing tough?" You try to reply, but with the pleasure surging through you, you only manage an incoherent mumble. This only makes her smile grow. "Thought so."

She goes back to sucking, now taking more of you, swallowing most of your length with ease, her eyes never leaving yours. She makes sure to stay in control, adjusting the intensity and speed according to what she wants from you. Every time you moan louder, she slows down, as if testing your limits.

"How are you feeling, baby?" she asks, pulling away briefly to stroke your wet cock. "I know you love it when I make you wait."

"Not gonna lie," you admit, breathless, your mind spinning from the building pleasure. "But... you’ll have to try harder if you want to break me."

"Oh, I’ll break you, don’t worry."

She leans back down, licking along the entire length, slowly, savoring every part of you. "I'll teach you the lesson you deserve."

Her pace begins to increase, the movements faster and more intense, her mouth sliding up and down in an intoxicating rhythm. She takes you all the way, the wet sound and her soft moans filling the room. You feel the heat and pressure building, as though she's drawing the life out of you.

"Getting close, aren’t you?" she asks between licks.

"You... you know it," you admit, barely able to speak.

"Then get ready," she murmurs, focusing on the head, sucking with intensity while her hand moves to cup your balls. "Because I want to watch you lose control."

And you do. The pleasure is overwhelming, your whole body trembling as she keeps sucking, relentless. The way she alternates between licking, sucking, and squeezing your balls pushes you to the edge. You feel the pressure mounting, your body preparing to explode, but she slows down once again, pulling away and chuckling softly.

"You want to come, don't you? But not so fast," she teases, her lips still grazing the tip of your cock. She kisses the head softly, almost like she's rewarding you for holding out this long. "I'm going to end up killing you with all this teasing, you know that?" She laughs, resuming with a slower, yet equally devastating rhythm.

Each time she takes back control, the intensity climbs gradually, until you're at a point where your mind can barely keep up. Her mouth doesn’t stop, her eyes fixed on you, as if savoring the power she has in her hands—or rather, in her mouth.

Hyeju intensifies her movements, her mouth sliding over your cock with a practiced ease, not letting up. The way she switches between firm suction and long licks is unbearably good, and you feel the pleasure building up to explosive levels.

She watches you from below, a sharp gaze that knows exactly what it’s doing. "I can feel you shaking. You’re almost there, aren’t you?"

"Fuck... yeah, almost," you moan, your body arching involuntarily as pleasure reaches a peak that feels impossible to contain.

She smiles, clearly reveling in the control she has over you. "I know you can’t hold out much longer. But you’re only going to come when I let you. Got it?"

"Got it..." you manage to reply, your voice breaking as your breathing grows heavier. Each second feels like an eternity, your body begging for release, but she keeps dictating the pace, keeping you on the edge.

She leans down again, sucking harder, as one hand wraps around the base of your cock, gripping and controlling every movement. Her other hand caresses your balls, squeezing lightly, pushing you even closer to the edge.

"You’re going to come so hard for me," Hyeju murmurs, pulling your cock from her mouth for a moment. "But only when I want you to. I want to feel that power I have over you."

"You already have all the power," you groan, practically pleading. "Please..."

"That's how I like it," she says with a satisfied smile, going back to sucking, as if she wants to consume you entirely. "Now, get ready. When I give the order, you’re going to give me everything you've got."

She picks up the pace, sucking with devotion, her wet, firm lips around you, each second bringing you closer to the edge. Her eyes never leave yours, as if she's feeding off your expression of pure desperation and ecstasy.

"Are you ready?" she asks, her voice low and commanding. You can only moan in response, already incapable of forming words.

"I want you to come for me... now!"

Her words are the final trigger. The control you’ve been struggling to maintain shatters completely. Pleasure overwhelms you, and you let out a loud moan, your whole body convulsing as the first wave of orgasm crashes over you. Hyeju doesn’t let up, continuing to suck with the same intensity, taking each spurt of cum with a blend of satisfaction and triumph.

"Yes... give me everything," she murmurs between movements, her voice muffled as she keeps sucking, swallowing every drop without hesitation, as if she's feeding off you. "Good boy... I knew you’d give me everything I wanted."

Your whole body trembles as she continues, pushing you beyond your limits, until pleasure melds with exhaustion. Hyeju finally pulls her mouth away, slowly licking her lips to clean off the last traces of your cum.

"Wow..." you gasp, unable to keep from smiling, your mind still reeling. "If that wasn't a perfect blowjob, I don’t know what is."

Hyeju laughs, satisfied, leaning over you, her body warm against yours. "I warned you I’d knock you out, didn’t I?"

You nod, still catching your breath. "I underestimated you. But now... I’m completely convinced."

Her lips find yours with renewed heat, the slight salty taste of your cum mingling in the kiss. She explores your mouth with an almost animalistic hunger, her body pressed against yours as your hands trace her back, sliding down to her hips.

You feel yourself respond again, your erection returning quickly under her touch, as if your body has been trained to react to the slightest stimulus from Hyeju. She notices instantly and smiles against your mouth, breaking the kiss to gently bite your lower lip, then sliding her tongue to your earlobe, nibbling it lightly.

"Is your dick getting hard again already?" she whispers, her breath hot against your ear. "But I barely let you rest."

You let out a sigh, somewhere between a smile and a moan, feeling the pressure in your cock build as she moves slowly over you. "You leave me no choice. With you, resting is impossible."

She chuckles softly, giving your earlobe another bite before pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, her smile full of mischief. "That’s how I like it, baby."

As you try to catch your breath, your mind still spinning, a thought crosses your mind, and you let out a low, teasing giggle. "You know, Miyeon would never swallow like you did... Not even if I paid her."

Hyeju raises an eyebrow, her smile turning into something more disdainful. "Miyeon?" She laughs, throwing her head back for a moment. "That little porcelain princess? Please... Not only would she never swallow, she’d never let you come on her perfect little face."

"Yeah, she’d probably have a meltdown just thinking about the mess," you respond, laughing along.

"Exactly," Hyeju says, bringing her face close to yours again, her lips almost brushing yours. "And do you think she could survive a second with me? I’d destroy the princess."

She kisses you, more intensely this time, as if to drive her point home. Her tongue plays with yours, and you taste a mixture of challenge and possessiveness that only she can convey. As the kiss deepens, Hyeju's hand slides slowly down to your erection, which is fully hard again. She strokes your cock with a skilled touch, but without rushing things.

You let out a sigh, breathless, feeling your body respond more and more to her touch. "And I won’t even lie... Cumming on your face would be way more fun."

Her body presses a little harder against yours, and you feel the rising heat between her thighs as the friction makes you throb even harder.

"You talk about cumming on my face like it's the ultimate goal," Hyeju murmurs against your mouth, while her hand continues working your cock, her fingers gripping lightly. "But you haven’t even started to discover what I can do to you."

You moan softly, your body reacting automatically to her touch. "Oh, I’ve seen enough. And what I’ve seen... has already driven me crazy."

She smiles, biting your lip lightly once again. "Then it's time to show you more, don't you think?"

Before you have the chance to respond, Hyeju lets go of your erection and pulls back just enough to slide her hands down to her panties. With a swift motion, she pulls the fabric to the side, revealing her wet pussy, and just the sight makes you harder than you thought possible.

She positions herself over you, her panties still pushed to the side, and without hesitation, she lowers herself until the head of your cock touches her lips. Her heat and wetness are almost overwhelming, and you bite your lip to keep from moaning. Hyeju looks into your eyes, that expression of pure control on her face, as she starts to sink down slowly, taking you in inch by inch.

"Ah... fuck," you gasp, unable to hold back. Her tightness is intense, her warmth making your head spin, and the way she moves down slowly, with total control, only heightens the torment.

Hyeju bites her own lip, letting out a quiet moan as she feels you fill her. "Feels good, doesn’t it? Damn, you got my pussy so wet..."

She begins moving slowly, riding with a steady, confident rhythm, her hips undulating as she dictates the pace. The wet sound of her body meeting yours is intoxicating, and you feel your hands instinctively gripping her waist, trying to keep up, but Hyeju doesn’t allow it.

"Oh no," she says in an authoritative tone, stopping her movement and placing her hands over yours, pushing them away from her waist. "I told you I’m the one in control here. Don’t even think about rushing me."

You obey, smiling with a mix of submission and provocation. "Yes, ma'am. Who am I to argue?"

She smiles back, satisfied with your surrender. "Good boy."

She resumes her movement, gradually increasing her speed, her body sliding over you with devastating precision. Each time she sinks down, you feel her tightness intensify, her whole body vibrating with pleasure as she controls every rise and fall. The sight of her bare breasts only heightens the eroticism and anticipation.

"This... has nothing to do with Miyeon," Hyeju says, her voice slightly breathless, but still with that commanding tone. "She’d never be able to leave you like this... completely at her mercy. You know that, right?"

"You’re right," you admit. "Only you can do this to me, Hyeju.”

She smiles again, her ego swelling with your confession, and begins to ride you harder, the rhythm now faster, the movements more intense. The sound of bodies colliding fills the room, Hyeju’s moans growing louder, but she never loses control.

“That’s it, go on… feel how much you’re mine,” she murmurs, eyes closed as she sinks into the sensation, yet never relinquishing command. “Mmm, your cock goes so deep in my pussy, fuck!”

Hyeju speeds up her rhythm, her body rising and falling over you with a near-cruel precision, each movement keeping you on the edge of pleasure, but still far from release.

Suddenly, she pauses for a moment, her hips pressed firmly against yours, and with calculated calm, she reaches up to her bra strap. Her gaze locks onto yours, a challenging smile forming at the corner of her mouth. She slides the straps off her shoulders and, with a slow motion, unclasps the back. The bra falls away, revealing the breasts you’d been dying to see uncovered.

She holds them briefly, squeezing them lightly, fingers teasing her own nipples before letting out a low, provocative laugh. “Do you like them, baby?” she asks. “I know you can’t take your eyes off my tits.”

You feel your breath catch, the sight of her bare breasts swaying slightly as she keeps you trapped beneath her, mesmerizing. “Well… as a photographer I'm always observing things, and I appreciate natural beauty, if you know what I mean..”

She resumes riding you, now with a more deliberate rhythm, her free breasts moving with the sway of her hips, and you can’t look away. The pleasure builds slowly, but she knows exactly how to keep you on the brink, never letting you fall into the abyss.

It’s delicious torture.

“Go on, say it,” she whispers, eyes locked on yours. “Admit you love watching them bounce while I use you. Tell me how much you love being my toy.”

You moan in response, your whole body arching with the rising pleasure, still holding back as best you can. “Damn… I love it. You know I do.”

She smiles, satisfied, riding with more intensity now, her movements faster, her hips slamming into you with force. Her breasts bounce with every thrust, the sight driving you to the edge of desperation. She leans back slightly, planting her hands on your knees, her body displayed in all its glory, moving with complete dominance.

“That’s what I like to hear,” she murmurs, her voice breathless yet filled with authority.

You bite your lip, trying to stifle the moans threatening to escape, the pleasure building slowly but still just out of reach.

Then, she slows down, her movements becoming a tease, provoking you. With an expression of pure authority, she leans forward, her breasts swaying lightly, almost brushing your face. She grabs your chin with one hand and looks directly into your eyes.

“Suck them,” she commands, her voice low and commanding. “I want to feel your mouth on my breasts.”

No further invitation is needed. Without hesitation, you raise your head and bring your lips to her breast, capturing her nipple and sucking devotedly. The soft taste of her skin and the sensation of her so close make you even harder, if that were possible. Hyeju lets out a low moan of satisfaction as you comply, her fingers tangling in your hair, guiding your head firmly.

“Yes… just like that,” she murmurs, her tone filled with pleasure. “I knew you’d be good at this. Go on, suck harder!”

You suck on her breast with more intensity, your tongue teasing her hardened nipple, while your other hand slides up to her other breast, gently squeezing it. Hyeju’s body responds immediately, and she moans louder, pressing her breasts against your mouth as if she wants to be devoured.

“You love this, don’t you?” she whispers, her breath ragged. “You love when I tell you what to do… when I put you in your place. You love being your mistress's toy!”

You only moan in response, unwilling to release her breast, sucking with even more fervor as your hands explore her body. Hyeju laughs, pleased with your dedication, her fingers tugging at your hair as her body starts moving over your cock again, now slower but still tight enough to make you see stars.

“Yes! Keep going… don’t stop,” she orders, moaning as she moves with a calculated rhythm, her breasts still firmly caught in your mouth. “I want to feel your mouth on me while I use you.”

You feel her body tremble slightly as she rides you, and you can’t help but let out a muffled moan, your mouth full of her breast. The pleasure is overwhelming, but you know Hyeju is still in charge, and you have no choice but to follow her lead.

Hyeju keeps riding you with absurd precision, each movement designed to bring you closer to the edge, yet still far enough that she maintains absolute control. Her breathing is heavier now, but the superior smile never leaves her face.

“You know you’re mine, right?” she says, biting her lip as she speeds up her thrusts. “My toy. My slave. There’s nothing you wouldn’t do for me.”

You smile back, breathless, but with that cocky look she seems to adore. “Oh, you know, Hyeju. I’d do anything you want. I don’t have a choice, not with you like this.”

She lets out a low, wicked laugh, her hips moving almost mechanically, each thrust driving you deeper, more tightly into the grip she has on you. “Of course you don’t have a choice. Because you love being used. You love when I command. When I make a fool out of you with just a look.”

You groan in response, your hands slipping along her waist, trying to keep up, but she immediately slaps them away, stopping for a second.

“No! I’m the one who moves,” she says, with that authoritative tone that makes you shiver.

You try to hold back, savoring each second of this delicious torture, but Hyeju doesn’t let you settle in for long. Suddenly, she stops moving and lets out a satisfied moan as she leans back, supporting her hands on your knees. Her body, still enveloping you, glistens with a thin layer of sweat, and the sight alone could drive anyone insane.

"Now, I want something different," she murmurs, her eyes narrowing with an idea that already seems to put you in danger. "I’m going to show you what it’s like when I really take control."

She lifts herself slowly, letting out a sigh as your cock slides out of her, and then, without warning, she turns her back to you. Her hair falls over her shoulders as she positions herself again, this time facing away, and in one smooth motion, she lowers herself down, taking you in completely.

"Oh... fuck! I love the tightness of your pussy," you groan aloud, the sight of her back, her hips swaying as she wraps around you again, the kind of torture you’d love to endure far longer than you can manage.

She begins to ride you backwards, the pace fast and relentless, and you find yourself at the mercy of her precise movements. Each time she descends, the grip of her pussy around you feels tighter, more suffocating. The sound of bodies colliding fills the room, and Hyeju lets out moans of pleasure, but you know she’s still in control, even as she’s barely holding it together.

"Now... you’re going to watch," she says, her voice breathy but full of authority. "I’m going to do whatever I want... and you'll just keep lying like this, holding on, like the good boy you are."

You try to grip her buttocks, but Hyeju won’t allow it, pushing your hands away again with a smack, harder this time. "No! I already told you... I'm the only one who can move here."

She speeds up, riding you with force and precision, and you feel on the brink of collapse, pleasure reaching an almost unbearable level. "Damn, Hyeju... you’re going to kill me like this."

She laughs aloud, glancing over her shoulder with that smug smile. "Kill you? I haven’t even started. You’re going to beg for more before I’m done."

Her hips start moving more violently, the wet sound of her body slamming against yours filling the space. The sight of her, those perfect hips, the way she rides with mastery—all of it is a reminder of how completely she dominates you. Hyeju leans slightly forward, bracing her hands on your thighs to gain more balance, and starts dictating the rhythm with unyielding strength, and you get lost in the sight of her pussy going in and out of your cock.

"Tell me, you scoundrel," she says between moans, "do you like being like this? Completely submissive? Seeing that I do whatever I want with you?"

"You know I love it," you respond with difficulty, the moans mixing with your words. "There’s nothing better than being your toy."

She smiles, satisfied, and speeds up even more, the pace now frantic. "That’s how I like it... you adoring me, serving me…" Suddenly, she pauses for a moment, and you can barely breathe from the accumulated desire. Hyeju looks over her shoulder, a mischievous smile on her face. "Now, smack my ass," she commands, her voice full of command. "I want to see if you have the guts to give me what I deserve."

Hyeju moans loudly when the sound of the first smack reverberates through the room, the shock spreading warmth through her body that seems to fuel her. She doesn’t slow down; on the contrary, with each thrust, she presses her hips harder against you, riding even harder as if the smacks were the spark missing to ignite something primal in her.

"Yes!" she shouts, eyes closed in pure pleasure. "More! Don’t stop!"

You obey, your hand finding the soft skin of her ass with a crack. The second smack is even stronger, making her whole body shake, but Hyeju only laughs through her moans, grinding on you, her hips rolling with a mastery that drives you to the brink of insanity.

"Fuck, that’s what I want!" Hyeju demands, looking over her shoulder with a smile that mixes pleasure and challenge. "Hit me harder, don’t hold back. You like seeing my ass marked, don’t you? Go on, hit harder!"

You smirk. "Begging, Hyeju? I thought you were the one in control."

"I’m the one who calls the shots here. And I’m telling you to hit harder!" Her voice is a mix of command and desire, her body moving with an intensity that makes you tremble with pleasure.

Your hand comes down with force again, the smack echoing even louder this time. Hyeju arches her back, moaning so deeply it seems she’s losing herself in her own domination. Her ass jiggles with the impact, but she keeps riding, the sound of bodies colliding louder than ever.

"Go, don’t stop!" she shouts, moving her hips like a machine, not missing a beat for a second. "I want to feel your cock and your hands at the same time! Make me feel like I’m your owner... because I am!"

You don’t hesitate, your hand striking her ass again and again, the sound of smacks mixing with Hyeju’s desperate moans. She doesn’t stop riding; every hit on her skin makes her moan louder, her breathing ragged and movements almost frenzied now. She’s in complete control, even while begging for more.

"More! It’s not enough!" she shouts, her body shaking wildly, hair flying as she rides you like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do. "Hit me until I can’t take anymore!"

You feel her body trembling around yours; each smack you deliver seems to bring her closer to an insane climax, but she doesn’t slow down. On the contrary, she grips you with an intensity that makes your head spin, the wet sounds of her pussy, the smacks and bodies colliding all you can hear.

"You’re going crazy, aren’t you?" Hyeju taunts between moans, her breath labored but her voice still firm. "I can see it on your face… Mmm, it turns me on so much that you obey me without hesitation, you're so fucking pathetic.”

"Yeah! I’d do anything for you, Hyeju."

She laughs, her satisfaction evident on her face. "I know you would. And you will. Right now."

Suddenly, Hyeju stops riding and quickly gets up, pulling your cock out of her. The emptiness is immediate and almost unbearable, but before you can protest, she turns, facing you, and deftly removes her panties and tosses them aside; without wasting any time, she climbs onto your chest, her knees braced at your sides, with that look of pure authority. Her gaze drops to your face, and you know exactly what comes next.

Hyeju doesn’t even need to speak.

"Open that fucking mouth and do as I say,” she commands, looking directly into your eyes.

She slowly lowers herself, her pulsing pussy hovering over your face, and you obey without hesitation. Your mouth finds her center of pleasure, your tongue sliding between the warm lips as you suck and lick with devotion, her taste filling your senses. Hyeju’s body trembles at the first touch, but she remains in control, pressing her hips down to force you to lick deeper.

"Ah, that... that’s how I like it," Hyeju moans, her voice filled with pleasure. "Don’t stop..."

You move your tongue with precision, exploring every part of her juicy pussy, sucking harder as your hands reach up to grab her ass, squeezing it as if it were your anchor. Hyeju moans louder, her body moving to the rhythm she dictates, grinding against your face, her moans now uninhibited.

"That’s it... keep going... Faster!" she cries, her fingers tangling in your hair, pulling your head against her as she writhes in pleasure. "You love doing this, don’t you? Say it... say you love the taste of your owner."

You try to respond, but the words get lost as you lick more intensely, your mouth fully occupied in fulfilling her every command. Hyeju laughs, pleased with your dedication, but doesn’t let up the pressure. She moves up and down on your face, grinding herself harder each time, as her body nears its climax.

"Ah, fuck... you’re perfect," she moans, breathless, her whole body trembling. "I’m going to cum... and you’re going to swallow every drop of my juice, got it? You’re going to savor your owner like never before."

You can only groan in response, your mouth trapped in the frenzy of her body. Hyeju begins to move faster, her moans becoming almost screams, her hands still gripping your hair tightly as her body trembles above you.

“Oh, fuck, I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna cum in your mouth! That's it! Suck my pussy, don't stop!”

She’s completely out of control, her moans filling the room as she cums in your mouth with an intensity you’ve never seen before.

"That’s it... swallow it all… fuck!" Hyeju screams, her body shaking with spasms. "Taste your owner... every drop!"

You do exactly what she wants, drinking her juice, sucking every part of her as Hyeju comes down from her climax, her movements finally slowing The taste of her pussy fills your mouth, along with the smell in your nose, and you can’t help but feel satisfaction from having brought her to this point.

Hyeju collapses beside you on the bed, her chest rising and falling quickly as she tries to catch her breath. But the smile on her face is one of pure satisfaction. Without a word, she leans over, her gaze fixed on yours, and in a slow, deliberate motion, kisses you deeply, her tongue finding yours, tasting herself in your mouth.

"Mmm... so good," Hyeju murmurs against your lips, chuckling. "That's my taste you're savoring... and I want you to never forget it. Every time you serve me, it’ll be like this... I'll reward you."

She lightly bites your lower lip, her gaze gleaming with pure mischief but also a hidden tenderness behind her control. "You did so fucking well, but there's still more. I can't get enough of using you. Now, tell me... how did it feel? I want to hear."

You take a deep breath, still recovering. "It was... damn, it was like I was in heaven and hell at the same time. And I’d do it all over again, just to see you like that."

Hyeju smiles, her gaze satisfied and possessive. "I know you would. Because you know I’m everything you need." She pauses for a moment, eyes locked on yours, before adding with a devilish smile, "If I let you, you'd spend the rest of the night licking my pussy. Confess."

Your breathing gets heavy, your fingers sliding down her back, and you can't help but respond. "Fuck, Hyeju, I'd do it all day if you wanted."

"I know you would. And that’s exactly what’s going to happen now."

She starts to move, positioning herself over you, and suddenly, you understand exactly what she wants. Hyeju lifts one leg, turning her body to face away from you, getting on her knees over your head again, but this time she leans forward, her hands already reaching for your still-hard cock. You feel her warm breath close, desire building in the air around you.

"Time for 69, baby," she murmurs, her voice both sweet and commanding. "I’m going to use you again... and you’re going to worship me like I deserve."

Without waiting for a response, Hyeju lowers her hips, pressing her pussy directly against your mouth once more, her scent consuming you. At the same time, she grips your cock with one hand, not hesitating to slide her mouth over it, sucking with that same devotion you felt before. But now, the rhythm is different—more controlled, slower, as if she’s savoring every second.

"Ah, yes... so good," she moans between sucks, her words muffled by your cock in her mouth. "You love it when I suck, don’t you? Say it!"

You try to speak, but your mouth is occupied, licking and sucking her pussy like your life depends on it. Each movement of your tongue seems to make her body tremble, and Hyeju responds by riding your face with more intensity, while her mouth moves slowly down your cock, deeper each time, reaching her throat.

She pauses for a moment, pulling your cock out of her mouth just to speak, her voice breathless. "Fuck, you're so delicious. I’ll never get tired of doing this to you... never."

Hyeju returns to sucking with more intensity, her tongue swirling around the tip, her moans blending with the wet sounds of the blowjob as you keep licking her pussy. Her legs tremble around your head, her body tensing with pleasure, but she doesn’t stop for a second. Even in the midst of an imminent climax, she keeps control, her moans getting louder but never losing that authoritative tone.

"Yes... make me come again, damn it!" Hyeju demands, her voice full of lust. "I want to feel your tongue inside me, until I come in your mouth again."

You obey, moving your tongue with more precision, sucking harder as Hyeju shivers above you. She resumes devouring your cock, sucking with an insane devotion, every movement of her mouth bringing you closer to your own climax. But you know the focus right now is her—Hyeju is in control, and she’ll make sure you know that until the last second.

Hyeju begins to lose control as the rhythm between you intensifies. The heat of her wet pussy pulses against your face, her skin growing hotter as her movements become more desperate, almost frenzied. The pleasure you give her with your tongue pushes her to a point where all her dominance blends with raw vulnerability, visible in the increasingly hoarse moans she lets out.

"Ah... fuck... yes..." Hyeju moans, her voice almost breaking as she keeps grinding against you, her legs trembling around your head. She tries to maintain control, to hold onto her dominance, but you sense that she’s on the verge of completely losing herself in the pleasure you’re giving her. "Don’t... don’t stop... make me come aga—oh fuck!"

Your tongue works with precision, every lick and suck sending Hyeju deeper into this spiral of ecstasy. She tries to keep sucking you, but her movements become uncoordinated, as if the pleasure is stripping away her ability to focus on anything but what she's feeling. Even so, she still tries, her warm mouth wrapping around your cock as her hands attempt to maintain rhythm, though it's clear she’s being overtaken by sensation.

"Ah... fuck... you... you drive me crazy..." Hyeju murmurs, her breath ragged, her moans growing louder as the pressure of her hips against your face increases. "I... I can’t... ahhh...!"

Hyeju starts grinding uncontrollably against your tongue, her movements erratic as pleasure consumes her. She tries to speak, but the words get lost in louder and louder moans, her body trembling uncontrollably. Her mouth barely manages to stay on your cock, the rhythm completely broken, with muffled moans escaping with each attempt at a suck.

"I... fuck, I’m going to come again..." she cries out, her voice loud and hoarse, almost desperate. "Don’t... don’t stop! I’m going... I’m going to come in your mouth again!"

Hyeju leans forward more, her legs trembling around your head, her body on the brink of collapsing under the weight of pleasure. You feel the exact moment when she loses all control. Hyeju’s body arches violently, her muscles contracting with incredible force, and she lets out a scream that echoes through the room as the orgasm tears through her with almost brutal intensity.

"Ahhh... fuck, fuck, fuck!" Hyeju screams, her head thrown back as her hands grip the sheets tightly. Her pussy pulses against your mouth, and you taste the hot rush of her climax on your tongue once again. Hyeju grinds uncontrollably against your face, moaning loudly as pleasure fully overtakes her.

"That’s it... swallow it all... feel me..." Hyeju commands, even as her body trembles uncontrollably. "I... I want to feel you devouring me... I need more... ahh, more!"

Her moans become almost incoherent, and you feel each shudder running through her body as she continues to come intensely, fully giving herself to the sensation. The pressure of her thighs around your head is almost suffocating, but the sound of Hyeju’s screams of pleasure, combined with her desperate movements, makes it all worth it.

She tries to stay steady, but her body gives in to the pleasure and collapses onto you, her hips still lightly moving as the aftershocks of her climax ripple through her skin. Hyeju’s mouth lets go of your cock, now forgotten as she struggles to regain control over herself.

"Fuck... that was..." Hyeju can barely form words between gasps, moans still escaping involuntarily. She leans back, slowly lifting her pussy off your mouth, her muscles still quivering, but a satisfied smile on her face.

You're breathing heavily, lungs burning as you catch your breath. Her taste still lingers on your tongue, and the memory of those last moments is seared into your mind. You take a deep breath, relieved yet wishing it hadn’t ended. The intensity of her pressure, combined with the thrill of nearly suffocating while making her climax, has left you in a nearly unbearable state of excitement.

"Wow, Hyeju... I almost came just from feeling you like that," you say with a raspy laugh, your voice still broken by the lack of air.

Hyeju, still recovering, turns to you. "Oh yeah? You almost came, did you?" She chuckles softly, eyes gleaming with mischief. "Maybe you like seeing me like this, huh? Losing control because of you."

She leans closer, hand brushing your jaw as her lips near yours, giving you a soft kiss. "But... you haven't come yet, and I'm not done playing with you."

Hyeju slowly stands, giving you a perfect view of her body, her skin glistening with sweat. You notice her gaze fixed on your hard cock, and the way she bites her lip makes it clear she already has something in mind.

"Stand up," she commands, and you obey without hesitation, feeling the anticipation build in your chest.

Hyeju turns her back to you, her perfect ass arched and inviting. Her body presses against yours in a way that’s almost suffocatingly delicious. Your hands naturally find her breasts, and you grab them firmly, feeling their weight and softness as your fingers brush her hard nipples.

"Now... pay attention, because I'm going to make you beg," Hyeju whispers, tilting her head back, the lobe of her ear brushing lightly against your lips. She slides a hand down, guiding your cock between her thighs, squeezing it between the soft, sweaty flesh. The heat of her body and the pressure of her tanned thighs make you let out an involuntary moan.

"Damn... this feels so good," you murmur, your voice coming out lower than expected, as the wet heat of her thighs envelops your cock. Every little movement she makes, slowly grinding, is a slow but delicious torture.

Hyeju starts to tease with small hip movements as she tightens you between her legs. "I know," she replies, her tone almost arrogant. "I know exactly what you like. You're trembling. Is it from wanting me so much? From being desperate to come." She squeezes more, and you moan again, feeling the pressure build as she continues to tease. "You're going to come on my thighs... and you're going to love it," Hyeju continues, moving her body with a precision that makes you see stars. Every muscle contraction around your cock brings you closer to losing control, but she doesn’t let you relax. Every time you get too close, she slows down, chuckling softly as she keeps torturing you with her body.

Your fingers tighten around her breasts, and you lean forward to kiss Hyeju’s neck, gently biting the sweaty skin, then licking; licks that melt Hyeju, tilting her neck to the side so you have full access to her delicate skin, to worship her as she deserves… All this while the feeling of being trapped between her thighs pushes you closer to madness. "Hyeju, I’ll come if you keep this up... it’s too much."

She lets out a low, teasing laugh, the sound echoing in your mind. "That's exactly what I want! I want all your load on my thighs!" She picks up the pace, her hips circling in small, precise movements.

You moan louder, starting to grind your hips frantically, pushing your cock between her thighs, brushing against Hyeju's wet pussy with a desperate fervor. The friction is maddening, each motion pulling a moan from you that echoes through the room.

"Fuck, Hyeju... I... I'm gonna come..." you murmur, words broken by pleasure as your hands slide from her breats to her hips, gripping her tightly as you rub faster, your swollen cock pressing against the lips of her pussy, each pulsating heat of contact pushing you over the edge.

"Go ahead, baby... show me how much you want me," she responds, her voice sweet yet with that underlying malice, almost daring you to lose control entirely. "Come for me... I want to feel how much you adore me."

Your body completely loses control. With each erratic thrust between her sweaty, tight thighs, you feel the pressure build to an unbearable level. Every frantic movement of your hips pulls another moan from you, a clear sign that you're teetering on the brink of no return. The soft, slippery friction of her thighs gripping your cock tightly.

"Yes, baby... I want to feel it all," Hyeju whispers with that malice, grinding relentlessly. The heat radiating from her makes your head spin. And she's loving every second of it. "I want to feel you explode. Come for me."

You moan, voice thick with desire and desperation. The rhythm of your thrusts becomes uncoordinated, desperate, as if your body has completely lost the ability to keep any cadence.

Your cock presses deeper between her thighs, sliding against the wetness already mingling with precum. Each time you feel her pussy getting closer, the pulsing heat makes you moan louder. Hyeju's pace remains relentless, her movements precise as she revels in your desperation.

“I want to feel every drop of your hot load dripping down my thighs." She tilts her head back, laughing as she senses the power she has over you, and it only heightens your urgency.

You lose the last bit of self-control. With a final thrust, your cock presses harder between Hyeju’s thighs, nearly slipping into her pussy.

"Oh, fuck Hyeju! I'm... I'm cumming!" you shout, voice overtaken by pure pleasure. The climax hits you like a violent wave, and you let out a deep moan, your whole body tensing. The orgasm slams through you with brutal force, and your hands clutch Hyeju's body tightly, holding her desperately as your cock pulses between her thighs.

Hyeju lets out a satisfied moan, squeezing her thighs around you as she feels the hot cum spill, running down her legs. "Yes... just like that, baby. Come for me. Give me everything." Her voice is low, almost a whisper, but full of control as she keeps grinding slowly, prolonging your orgasm.

You're in bliss, every fiber of your body vibrating with pleasure that feels unending. The stream of cum drips down Hyeju’s thighs, and you feel the hot wetness sliding down her sweaty skin. Your hands grip her even tighter, as if trying to anchor yourself as your world spins with overwhelming pleasure.

"Oh, baby... I can’t take anymore... My cock is so fucking sensitive," you groan, barely able to form coherent sentences as her body continues to drain you completely.

Hyeju laughs softly, pleased with the state she's left you in. "I told you I wanted every drop, didn’t I?" She squeezes her thighs one last time, pulling the last shivers from your body. "You came so hard for me baby, good job! You are such a good boy…" You let out an exhausted moan, body still trembling as the final wave of pleasure courses through you. Hyeju, satisfied, smiles and turns around. "You're done... but you liked it, didn’t you? Tell me, baby."

"Yes... yes. I loved it... you destroyed me," you reply, voice still shaking.

Hyeju leans in to give you a deep, warm kiss. Her lips press against yours with a mix of sweetness and possessiveness, as if sealing what just happened.

"I loved putting you in your place," she whispers, her thumb stroking the corner of your mouth, wiping away a bit of saliva. "Seeing you lose control like that… there’s nothing better."

You smile, still panting, your head spinning with exhaustion and pleasure. "Damn, I loved that lesson... I don’t think I’ve ever felt so good being put in my place."

She raises an eyebrow, amused, and lightly drags her nails down your back, sending a shiver that makes you flinch slightly. "Good to know you’ve learned. And the next time I'm pissed... well, I know where I'll take it out."

"Anytime you want. If you need someone to take it out on... I’m available."

Hyeju laughs, pleased with your response, and gives you another kiss. "Oh, baby, you're easy to break... and I love that.”

You're leaning against the window, taking a drag from your cigarette, watching the city below as the buildings flicker their lights like they’re laughing at your somewhat… peculiar life. The room is wrapped in a cozy dimness, and the sound of the shower turning off fills the quiet. Then, Hyeju steps out of the bathroom, wearing one of your shirts that looks more like a dress on her. You admire her as she approaches, hair still damp, her skin glowing from the hot water. She stops halfway and raises an eyebrow.

“What are you staring at?” she asks, her voice thick with exhaustion as she dries her hair with a towel.

“I’m just… happy I managed to convince you to stay,” you reply.

“Oh, really? You think you convinced me? I only stayed because I’m dead tired. Going home right now would be asking to pass out on the subway.”

She steps closer, takes the cigarette from your hand without asking, takes a long drag, and then hands it back, heading back to toss the towel in the bathroom. “And don’t think this is going to become a habit. This sleeping-together thing… it’s a one-time deal.”

“Of course, of course,” you respond, stubbing out the cigarette and moving towards the bed. “Just this once, I promise.”

She turns off the bathroom light and shuts the door, leaving the room partially dark, and as she fluffs up the pillows, you let out: “Since it’s just this once, would it be okay if I… lay on your chest?”

She looks over at you with a mix of disbelief and sarcasm. “You’re asking to use my chest as a pillow? Are you serious?”

“Completely,” you answer, lying down beside her. “They’re way softer than any pillow. A once-in-a-lifetime chance, as you said.”

“Fine, go ahead. But only because it’s the first and last time,” she accepts as she throws herself on the bed, feeling the weight of tiredness.

You cheer and kiss her cheek before turning off the lamp. With a contented sigh, you lie down next to Hyeju and rest your head on her chest, feeling a warmth and softness that puts any five-star hotel pillow to shame.

“Mmm, you’re very comfortable,” you murmur, pulling the blanket over both of you.

“Oh, shut up,” she mumbles, her hand already moving to your hair, giving you a clumsy head scratch, as though she might stop at any moment, but unable to help herself.

“That’s nice; don’t stop,” you whisper, eyes closed.

“Say it one more time, and I’ll stop,” she replies, but the scratching continues.

A pleasant silence settles over you both until, after a few minutes, Hyeju breaks the moment, suddenly asking:

“You know something?” she begins, her voice softer than before. “My chest is definitely better than Miyeon’s for sleeping, right? Just compare the sizes.”

You chuckle softly, head still buried against her. “Absolutely. No contest.”

She smiles, satisfied, letting out a small sigh of triumph. “I knew it.”

“And let me say,” you start, your voice drowsy but playful, “it’s true you lost the competition to her, but in bed… no doubt, you won.”

“Yeah, right? That’s really an honor. Too bad it doesn’t pay the bills.”

You smile, pressing a little closer to her, absorbing her warmth. “Look, after tonight, I’ll make it up to you. Next week, I’m giving an interview about the great photographers of this generation… and I’ll be sure to talk about a certain Hyeju. Praise her work and invite people to check it out, too.”

“Wow, thank you so much, Mr. Art Critic. What would I do without this boost?”

“That’s what I want to know,” you reply in a tone that’s exaggeratedly serious but teasing. “But seriously, I’m excited to work with you. I bet after spending time alone… you’ll want to work with me again.”

“Oh yeah? And if I want to punch you after two hours alone? Does that count as ‘wanting to work together again’?”

You snicker. “Hey, maybe that’s part of the creative process?”

Hyeju sighs, visibly tired but also amused by the whole thing. “Okay, now shut up. Seriously. I want to sleep.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you reply, obedient but with a hint of playfulness in your voice.

The room falls silent again, but you can’t shake the need to bother her just a little more.

“Hey, Hyeju,” you say softly.

She lets out a long, exasperated sigh.

“What now?”

“Hug me tighter. Please…”

Hyeju shakes her head, incredulous, and you can almost feel her eye-rolling even without seeing it. “If you open your mouth one more time, I’ll gag you.”

You can’t resist.

“Note to self: buy a gag for Hyeju to use on me.”

She gives you a light slap on the shoulder, but in the end, her arms pull you closer, wrapping you tighter, her body relaxing against yours.

And in the quiet that follows, with only the sound of her heartbeat and gentle breathing, sleep finally begins to claim you both. There’s something about this—this way you have of bickering and laughing at the same time—that, just before drifting off, makes you realize that, in the end, maybe this will be the best partnership of your career.

And her?

Well, by the way she’s holding you, even with her tough-girl act, maybe she’s not all that bothered either.

[bbyjackie]

𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐂𝐄'𝐒 𝐆𝐅 — ♡

one piece social media + dating pt.2 feat: ace

♡ liked by chef.thatch, marco_o and 11.4k others

_ynln: mad he lost a handstand contest to some kid 🥱🥱

tagged: ace

ace: tell me how i got rated a 6/10 and that rat of a human got 9/10 🫤

↳ marco_o: you definitely got bullied as a kid with that attitude (liked by chef.thatch, _ynln, yamatoto)

↳ _ynln: MARCO JWVFIJBVFQO 😭😭

↳ ace: just letting you guys know, i wasn't bullied. i was the bully 💪💪

↳ izou.u: that does NOT make it any better

↳ saaaa_bo: why are you proud of that, all you did was bully luffy

↳ ace: now i'm not saying i stand with bullying but.. ☝️

↳ yamatoto: BUT WHAT???

p1rateking_luffy: Hehe Ace remember when we used to have handstand contests and Makino was the judge! 😁

↳ _ynln: omg that sounds adorable

↳ ace: yeah and you would fall on your head

↳ ace: makes sense why you're so stupid

↳ p1rateking_luffy: what does that mean

↳ ace: see what i'm saying

↳ saaaa_bo: you're literally the last person that can say anything

♡ liked by nicorobin, p1rateking_luffy and 9.6k others

_ynln: girls don’t want no scrubs!

[music: No Scrubs - TLC ♫]

tagged: lovenami, nicorobin

nicorobin: had so much fun with you 💗

↳ _ynln: I MISS U ALREADY

ace: YOU ARE SO BEAUTIFUL I CAN'T STOP LOOKING AT THESE PHOTOS 😍😍❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥💝💞💕❣️❣️

ace: I AM NOT A SCRUB GIVE ME A CHANCE!

↳ _ynln: stop i have a boyfriend

↳ ace: screw him, i'll fight your boyfriend

↳ _ynln: he'll mess u up

↳ ace: HE PROBABLY STINKS

↳ _ynln: yeah he does LMFAOO (liked by saaaa_bo, marco_o)

↳ ace: 😐😐

ace: PLEASE ONE CHANCE PLEASE 😩😩

↳ _ynln: YOURE SO ANNOYING 😭😭

lovenami: WHEN CAN WE HANG OUT AGAIN

↳ lovenami: I MISS MY HUSTLE PARTNER ALREADY

♡ liked by iampops, sh444nks and 13.1k others

_ynln: i want to be that dog so bad

tagged: ace

marco_o: holy shit i've never been jealous of a dog

↳ ace: dw u can kiss me anytime 😘

↳ marco_o: bruh no i meant i want to sock you in the face

sh444nks: HAHAHA this is so good

↳ _ynln: omg i made it in life, redhair shanks commented on my post????!

↳ iampops: Yn I comment too

izou.u: first photo made my day, thanks yn

↳ yamatoto: real!!1!

p1rateking_luffy: AHAHHAHAH THIS IS SO FUNNY HAHAHHA

saaaa_bo: this photo is free therapy

ace: WOW THIS COMMENT SECTION MADE ME REALISE ALL MY FRIENDS ARE FAKES

↳ yamatoto: so glad ur self aware!!

↳ _ynln: love u i swear!

↳ ace: u r full of shit

↳ _ynln:❣️

♡ liked by saaaa_bo, iampops and 18.4k others

ace: my pookie dookie 💩 💗

tagged: _ynln

_ynln: words can't explain how much i hate that caption

↳ ace: my sweet white mocha frappuccino with two pumps vanilla, chocolate drizzle and one scoop of java chips

↳ _ynln: omg wow i was so close to pressing the block button

_ynln: rare photo of ace w a shirt on ‼️

saaaa_bo: @_ynln blink twice if u need help

iampops: W photo 💪

↳ ace: POPS WHAT

↳ marco_o: WHO TAUGHT YOU THAT

↳ iampops: Big slay ☝️☝️

↳ iampops: Yn no cap 🚫

↳ izou.u: someone literally needs to come get their grandpa 😭

↳ _ynln: pops using colloquial language needs to be protected in a museum (liked by ace)

p1rateking_luffy: Yummy food 😋😋

[im-ovulating]

For Kinktober: anything with Jasper Whitlock, but preferably size kink (short reader), voice kink, hand kink, and some on top of the clothes action / sex in the clothes. Choose all of it or one, I don't care, just having a brainrot about him: my ovaries explode every time I see this gif

(A/n: Kinktober Day 6/15! I wanted to keep all of this year's kinktober fics below 2.5k, but this one got away from me ;v;)

Word Count: 3,842

Summary- Well, you HAVE to take on his challenge -I mean, experiment. It's only the responisble thing to do as his study partner.

Warnings: Strip game, Fingering, PIV, Creampie, Cocky! Jasper, Not proofread

Age Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Jasper Whitlock x Fem! Reader: Study Buddy

----------------------

"Did you know that predators have front-facing eyes, but prey normally have eyes on the side of their faces?" You ask Jasper as you scan your textbook. He had agreed to help you study for an upcoming test. "It's because the prey has to be able to look out for danger."

Not only is evolutionary bio not your strongest subject, but your professor is an asshat so you really can't afford to fail this test.

"I did," he mumbles as he highlights a section that he thinks you should go through again. "Did you know that when two animals make eye contact, the first to look away is the submissive?" Jasper asks back.

"That's gotta be BS, right? What if one just doesn't want to look at the other's ugly mug?" Your retort is weak, but your tone has the confidence of a straight, cis, white man who's telling you what your own name means.

Jasper lets out a small, huffed laugh and finally looks up at you, warm gold meeting e/c. "I don't think animals think that way, darlin'."

"Are you an animal whisperer?" You snark, crossing your arms with a cocked eyebrow.

"Do you really think it's not real?" He gets back on topic. When you shake your head, he turns his chair towards you before doing the same to your own so you both face each other. "Really? Then, let's test that theory, hm? You seem pretty confident in yourself, so what's the harm?"

"I seem pretty confident because I am pretty confident." You mark your place and shut the textbook.

He chuckles with a small shake of the head. Leaning back in his chair with one arm thrown over the back, Jasper says, "Let's play a game."

"We're supposed to be studyin-" "It's a science experiment."

When you fall back against your seat, he continues. "We'll make eye contact, we'll stare at each other, and the first to look away loses. And if you lose..." he smirks a little, "you lose a piece of clothing. Best out of five wins."

You chew on your lip as you mull it over. You're confident that you can keep eye contact. And the submissive thing is bullshit, anyway, so it's not like your pride will take a hit. "So, strip poker but with a staring contest?" He nods.

"Exactly."

"...okay."

You meet Jasper's warm golden gaze, determination etched on your face. There's no way you're going to lose this little game of his.

"I know what's going to happen. You're going to give in; you can't take the pressure." You ignore him, zeroing on a small fleck of dark gold in his eyes to ground your thoughts.

As the seconds tick by, you resist the urge to look away, focused solely on holding Jasper's stare. His voice, low and smooth, sends shivers down your spine. "That's a good girl, keeping those pretty eyes on me."

Your breath catches at the sudden praise, your lips parting in a small, silent gasp. You won't let him distract you that easily, though. You're in it to win it.

Jasper's long, slender fingers drum lightly against his jean-clad thigh, drawing your gaze for just a moment before you force yourself to look back into his eyes. His lips curve into a knowing smirk.

It takes you a second to realize. "...fuck!"

"That's my round, darlin'." He goads.

With a small grumble and more force than necessary, you all but rip your socks off and throw them at his head. He catches them before they even get close. You're less coordinated in your attempt to dodge them, and all you can do is grumble more when they hit you square in the middle of your face.

"Stop looking so smug - there's still plenty of time for me to whoop your ass." You can't decide if you want to wipe that dumb-ass, unfairly charming smirk off his equally handsome face or if you want to pull him in and kiss him silly. Probably both... Yeah, both is good.

Jasper's eyes gleam with amusement as he watches your continued huffing and puffing. He leans back in his chair, his fingers still tapping against his leg.

"Don't be so sour, darlin'," he grins, his voice low and velvety smooth. "The game's just getting started."

You narrow your eyes at him, determined not to let his distracting voice and looks throw you off this time. "Just shut up and start the next round, Whitlock."

He chuckles, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he holds your gaze. The air crackles with tension as you both refuse to back down, each daring the other to be the first to look away.

The seconds tick by, the only sound the quiet rhythm of your breathing. You can feel the weight of Jasper's stare, intense and captivating, drawing you in. Your pulse quickens, palms growing sweaty, but you refuse to lose again.

Just when you think you might actually win this round, Jasper's lips curve into a slow, predatory smile. "You know you want to look away. You want to give in, to submit; it's in your DNA. C'mon... Just look away, prove what we both already know: that when it comes down to it, you'd do nothing but roll over and show your belly..."

You roll your eyes in a subconscious attempt to ignore how his words, no matter how much they were shit talking, made your heart leap into your throat. With a triumphant smirk, Jasper declares, "My round again."

"That's not fair! You shouldn't be able to annoy me into losing!" You lie through your teeth about the true effect he's having on you.

Barking out a laugh, he says, "The only rule was that we can't look away. We never decided talking or touching were off limits. You lost fair and square, sugar, so lose an item."

"But-" "Three seconds before i decide which one," he interrupts with a cheeky grin. "and you might not like what I choose... Three. Two-" You let out a frustrated groan, quickly removing your shirt and tossing it to the side. His laughter only serves to further stoke the flames of your competitive spirit. "There we go! Good girl."

"I thought we're supposed to be studying." You try to feign nonchalance as you sit there, bra exposed and with only three items left. Technically, you're tied in terms of clothing remaining, but it's also not lost on you that it's currently 0-2 in Jasper's favor.

"We are studying; this is a science experiment, remember? Unless you're ready to admit that you're wrong AND that you're submissive. That would be quite the win on my end." Well, shit. Now you can't back out. You'll be damned if you let him have something to hang over your head.

"Just you wait, Whitlock," you snap, trying to regain your focus for the next round. "I'm just getting warmed up."

You narrow your eyes at Jasper, determined not to let him fluster you again. The stakes are higher now, but you've got this.

Taking a deep breath, you meet his gaze once again. The tension in the air is palpable as you both refuse to back down.

Jasper's lips curl into a challenging smirk, his long fingers still tapping a steady rhythm against his thigh. You force yourself to focus solely on his eyes, blocking out everything else.

Seconds turn to minutes as you hold his stare, your heartbeat thundering in your ears but you refuse to waver.

Just when you think you're finding a groove and might stand a chance at winning, Jasper leans forward, his voice low and sultry. "You're doing so well, darlin'. But I can see it in your eyes - you're starting to crack."

A shiver runs down your spine at his words, but you grit your teeth and push on. You will not lose this round, no matter what underhanded tactics he tries.

The room fills with an intensity that almost makes it hard to breath as you continue your silent battle of wills. Jasper's gaze is unwavering, a predatory gleam in his eyes that makes your breath catch and waver.

Jasper's hand suddenly moves, his fingers slowly inching up your thigh. Your eyes widen and your pulse quickens but you refuse to look away.

"Good girl," Jasper acknowledges, his cool touch burning through the fabric of your jeans. "Just keep your eyes on me."

His fingers continue their slow, tantalizing trek up your thigh, causing your breath to hitch in your throat. His gaze is electric, drawing you in despite your best efforts to maintain composure. Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, but you refuse to break eye contact, stubbornly holding his molten stare.

"Jasper…" you breathe, unable to keep the quiver out of your voice. His lips curve into a knowing smile, fingers inching higher.

"That's it, darlin'," his voice is low and velvety smooth. "Just focus on me. Don't look away. It should be easy for you, right? You're a strong, dominant girl, after all."

The temptation to give in, to let your eyes slip shut, is nearly overwhelming. But you dig deep, summoning every ounce of willpower to maintain the intense eye contact.

Jasper's hand reaches the waist of your jeans, his fingertips dancing along the sensitive skin just above. Your pulse quickens and a shiver runs down your spine.

"J-Jasper…" you stammer, grip tightening on the arms of your chair.

His eyes shine with a predatory gleam as he watches you. "C'mon, sugar. Just a little bit longer… You can do it. Keep those pretty eyes on me.

"Or you can look away, let me take these pants off." he adds with a self-satisfied smirk.

You know you're teetering on the edge, your resolve rapidly crumbling under the onslaught of his touch and his words.

The seconds stretch on, the tension in the room palpable. Jasper's fingers continue their torturously slow ascent, and you find yourself struggling to keep your focus on his eyes.

His fingers dance along the underwire of your bra, "And after that, I'll pull those panties off of you with my teeth; maybe dive right in and see if that pussy tastes as good as I think it does." Your eyes flutter shut as a white-hot spike of arousal shoots straight to your core. He pulls his hand away and when you reopen your eyes, you see a triumphant grin has spread across Jasper's face. "That's my girl." Your eyes widen as you realize - you've lost. Again.

"You've got two chances left. Still think you're going to win?" Jasper asks. "I'm sure you can do it. Right? You can turn it around. Round 4."

As you settle in for yet another round, he gets in another jab. "You're gonna break. You're going to and it's going to be really fast."

His hand returns to your thigh; this time it only takes a second for him to reach the hem of your panties, his fingers dancing along the elastic. You swallow harshly, but keep his gaze. "You're not even trying to fight it; you're just letting me touch you."

"You're gonna keep looking me in the eyes when I move your panties to the side and slide my fingers in, aren't you?" Your breath hitches. "No, don't lose yet. Come on, look at me. Don't look away, I don't want you to look away." It's hard to fight against the urge to hide your face but you manage. You can feel how hot your cheeks are, and you can only imagine the expression on your face.

"Good girl," Jasper murmurs. "Don't look away. Don't you dare look away." You start to squirm a little, clenching your thighs desperate for some friction. "Why are you turned on?" He teases, his fingers still threatening to dip under the thin fabric. "Is it because you're submissive and you like losing? There's fight and flight, but you... you freeze. And you're gonna let me take what I want."

He finally tugs your panties aside and dips two fingers into you. your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you try to focus. You're so wet you swear you can feel it dripping down towards your ass. Fuck this is embarrassing but you realize you'd rather die than stop now; you want this. You want to just let go and let him take and take and take.

You crave his touch, crave to be used by him.

Jasper's fingers crook up into a spot that has stars dancing in your vision. Somehow you manage to just barely keep your eyes on him.

"C'mon, don't lose. I only have three pieces of clothing; you can still win this..." he taunts. "Don't look away, don't look away. Don't look away. Don't lose. Come on, look at me in my eyes. Good girl- don't look away."

"There it is..." He muses, pressing his fingers into your g spot as your back arches away from your chair and a debauched moan rips from your throat. "You lose again, darlin'." He brings his hand up to his mouth to clean your arousal off his fingers.

You let out a frustrated whine, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Jasper's smug grin only infuriates you further - he's clearly enjoying this power he has over you.

"That's not fair," you pant, your body still tingling from his touch. "You're cheating."

Jasper chuckles, leaning back in his chair as he examines you hungrily. "Darlin', I don't need to cheat to make you submit to me. You want this just as badly as I do. Like I said earlier- we never agreed 'no touching'."

You can only glare half-heartedly at him, knowing he's right.

"Hey," Jasper ducks his head to catch your eyes as you look at the ground to avoid his gaze. "You got one more. It's the last round. You're still in this; you can still win. You've got to get at least one piece from me. you can't lose every time - that would just be pathetic..." You go to smack his arm, but he avoids it.

With a resigned and frustrated sigh, you unhook your bra and let it fall to the floor. "Let's get this over with already." you grumble. you want this to end partly to stop the embarrassment of losing this badly, but mainly because the sooner this is over, the sooner you can fuck him.

As the final round starts, Jasper reaches up to grab your chin, tilting your head up to barely brush his lips against yours. His eyes never leave yours as he asks, "Why don't you just look away on purpose so I can take these off and fuck you?"

His other hand reaches down to press his thumb against your clit, causing your eyes to shut as you let loose a shaky moan. "Oh- you lost..." The grin he gives you can only be described as devilish.

Faster than you can process, he is picking you up by the thighs and setting you on the table.

True to his word, he drops to his knees between your legs and. after pressing a few possessive kisses along your belly and the apex of your thighs, he takes your panties between his teeth and starts to slide them off of you.

You shudder with anticipation as Jasper's cool breath ghosts over your most intimate area. With painstaking slowness, he tugs your panties down, revealing your glistening cunt. His eyes never leave yours, molten gold boring into your very soul.

A playful smirk graces his perfect lips as he tosses the flimsy fabric aside. Calloused hands caress the soft skin of your inner thighs, urging them to part further. You comply willingly, heart racing in excitement.

Jasper hums appreciatively, drinking in the sight of your exposed cunt. Leaning in, he trails feather-light kisses along your dripping folds, teasing you mercilessly. Just when you think you can't take the anticipation any longer, his talented tongue darts out, parting your swollen lips and delving deep.

An involuntary moan escapes your lips as pleasure courses through you. Jasper sets an agonizingly slow pace, savoring every twitch and tremble of your body. His hands grip your hips, holding you steady as he explores every inch of your most sensitive area. "Fuck, I knew you'd taste amazing..." His low groan vibrates against you and forces another small gasp to leave you.

Jasper's skilled tongue continues its agonizingly slow exploration, eliciting more breathless sighs and whimpers from you. His grip on your hips tightens as he senses your growing desperation for release.

With a low growl, he suddenly picks up the pace, licking and sucking with purpose. Your back arches as the coil of pleasure tightens, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

Just as you feel the first tremors of your impending climax, Jasper pulls away, leaving you panting and aching. He gazes up at you with hooded eyes, a smug expression on his face.

"Not yet, darlin'," he murmurs, his voice dripping with dark promise. "I have other plans for you."

Jasper's hands grip your hips firmly as he effortlessly maneuvers your body, guiding you to bend over the sturdy table. A gasp escapes your lips at the sudden change in position.

With your upper body pressed against the cool surface, you feel impossibly exposed and vulnerable. The long-forgotten books and scattered papers crinkle under your weight as Jasper's powerful frame looms over you, his presence radiating a primal dominance.

A shiver runs down your spine as his fingers trail along your spine, eliciting goosebumps in their wake. Leaning in close, he places a series of searing kisses along the back of your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin before pulling back and undressing.

Trembling with anticipation, you arch your back, silently begging for more of his touch. Jasper growls low in his throat, the primal sound sending a shiver down your spine. His large palms slide up your sides, calloused fingers caressing the curve of your waist.

You whimper, desperate for him to finally fuck you.

Jasper chuckles, the deep rumble of his voice sending sparks of desire through your body. "So impatient," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "Don't worry, sugar, I'm just getting started."

Jasper's grip on your hips tightens as he slowly, teasingly, presses his body against yours. You can feel the hard lines of his muscles and you ache to have him inside you. His hands slide up your sides, caressing and exploring your body.

Finally, after what feels like ages, he lines his cock up with your sopping pussy and starts to press in.

You gasp, arching your back as the head of his cock teases your entrance. "Jasper!" You moan, shuddering with anticipation.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, he slides into you, inch by delicious inch. You feel every millimeter of his legnth as he fills you up, stretching and claiming you. His grip on your hips tightens, and you can feel the way his forearms bulging as he struggles to maintain control.

"Fuck," he growls, finally bottoming out inside you. He holds still for a moment, his lips pressing against your neck as he regains his breath.

Then, without warning, he begins to move, pulling almost all the way out before plunging back in with a force that takes your breath away. Over and over, he thrusts into you, his hips slapping against yours in a rhythm that is both primal and possessive.

You drop your head to the table, letting out a long, keening cry as you feel his cock hit your sweet spot, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. "Jasper!" You cry out, your voice echoing in the room.

His hands move to your breasts, tweaking and pinching your nipples as he fucks into you harder and faster. You can feel the heat building between your legs, the sensation growing more intense with each passing moment.

"I knew you were a submissive little thing," he says between grunts. "We could've gotten here a lot quicker if you had just dropped the act earlier, darlin'." You can feel his shit eating grin against your shoulder.

"Really?" you gasp out, body sliding against the table with each thrust. "You want to argue about that now?"

His chuckle is low in your ear. "Just making a point, sugar." Jasper presses a kiss to the space just behind your ear before leaning back and fucking into you harder.

The rough wood of the table bites into your shoulders, but you don't care. All that matters is the feeling of him inside you, claiming you.

"Jasper," you moan, your voice filled with pleasure and desperation. "I need… I need you to cum inside me." You beg, your back arching impossibly more as he reaches around to toy with your clit.

He picks up the pace even more, slamming into you over and over again. "Almost there, doll," he says, his voice rough with lust. "Just wait for it."

You clench around him, trying to draw him deeper inside you. The sensation is almost too much to bear, but you're so, so close.

You feel your body tense and then release in a wave of pure pleasure. Your muscles clench around Jasper's cock, milking him as you experience your orgasm. A loud moan escapes your lips, and your hips buck against the table unconsciously. Sweat beads on your forehead, and your skin feels flushed with heat.

As your climax subsides, you feel a cool rush between your legs. Jasper's release. He groans deeply, his body shuddering against yours.

After a minute of him staying plastered to your back, keeping you bent over the table, you feel him slowly pull out of you, and you can't help but whimper in disappointment.

"Don't give me any of that, doll," Jasper gently chides. He scoops you up in his arms, cradling you against his chest. You wrap your legs around him, holding onto him tightly. The chill of his skin against your heated sex is comforting, soothing the ache.

He carries you to the couch, setting you down gently before standing up and pulling his boxers on and heading into the kitchen. While he's gone, you take the opportunity to catch your breath and compose yourself. When he returns, he has a damp cloth. He gently cleans between them, his touch soft and careful as he wipes up the remnants of your tryst. Neither of you speak as he cares for you, reveling in the comfortable silence that blankets the both of you.

Once your cleaned up, he helps you redress; he helps you pull your panties back on along with his shirt. He scoops you up into his arms again as he lays on the couch. As you curl against him once more, he kisses the top of your head. "There's my good girl," he whispers. "I've got you."

[ddejavvu]

one thing that has been all over my fyp is this girl basically babying her bf when hes sick. but ! im imagining reader doing this to bestfriend!james and sirius and remus watching like ???!!!

In your opinion, it's perfectly acceptable to spoon-feed James soup while he's sick. After all, his limbs are achy from being bent at awkward angles throughout the night due to his restless tossing and turning, so repeatedly bringing spoon after spoon to his mouth would only wear his joints out more.

It is, perhaps, only a little silly because you are using an actual baby spoon. It's green silicon with white plastic around the handle that grows warm beneath your steady touch. requested specifically by James who always has an aversion to the feeling of his teeth scraping against metal cutlery, but especially can't handle it when everything else in his body feels wrong.

He lets the hinge of his jaw open weakly as you press another spoonful of soup to his lips, humming warmly as the broth slides down his dry throat and rehydrates it. Remus's eyes flicker over at the sound, but dutifully return to his book.

Sirius is the shit-stirrer, as always.

"Remus," He whines, tucked into his own blankets, though not for sickness as much as for laziness, "I'm feeling ill. Would you heat me up a ba-ba?"

"Yes dear," Remus hums, attention still firmly on his book, "Would you like me to burp you afterwards as well?"

Sirius lets out a belch from beneath the blankets, then snickers at it, "Nah, I've got that one down m'self."

"Vile," James's face crumples into a grimace, and you very kindly don't bring up the countless burping contests the two have had with each other over their years of friendship, "Sirius, I'm already nauseous enough as it is, you don't need to make things worse."

"Oh," Sirius gushes, "Baby's tummy hurts."

"Leave him alone, Sirius-" You marvel at Remus's intrusion, a sudden flare of gratefulness warming your chest, until, "-It's not fair to antagonize infants."

"You are awful friends," You decide, eyeing the pair disapprovingly as you pat away sweat that's accumulated on James's forehead from the strain of simply breathing, "The poor man is sick, and he has no appetite, he's not been able to breathe through his nose for days, he's got a constant headache-"

"-he needs a diaper change, he's missed his naptime, and Mummy won't take him to the playground," Sirius croons in faux-sympathy, "James, my heart goes out to you, mate."

"You'll see," James croaks, only rejecting the spoonful of soup that you hold to his mouth in favor of ribbing Sirius, "I'll cough on your toothbrush Pads, then we'll see who's being dramatic."

[omedapixel]

MORE DEBUG OBJECTS

By poular demand, here are the rest of the prop and miscellaneous objects enabled for decorating! I don't have any pics right now, but the full list of objects is below the cut, and each package is merged by expansion pack.

As with my other debug objects, these can all be found under DEBUG > MISC. The catalog names are often something weird, because I haven't edited or added any strings.

These objects are technically not CC, it just allows you to access and decorate with objects that are already in game. Therefore you can uninstall these overrides, share worlds and lots using them, and they'll still remain wherever you've placed them.

Also, if you have a default replacement for any of these props, for example a plate default, then the object will also be updated to reflect that.

I highly reccomment using this in conjunction with my S3DT mod, since some of the objects are half sunk into the ground by default.

DOWNLOAD HERE

Object List Below

BASE GAME:

Guitar Case

Amplifier

Bottle Spigot (unused asset)

Child Ladle

Child Mixing Bowl

Cutting Board (slots do no work, unfortunately)

Fire Extinguisher

Fire Poker

Fire Lighter

Hammer

Bartending Bottle Prop

Ice Cream Cone

Microwave Meal

Paper Plate

Screwdiver

Sponge

Toilet Brush

Wedding Ring

Wrench

WORLD ADVENTURES:

Canteen

Chopsticks

Dig Site Brush

Flour Bag

Fortune Cookie

Map (looks like plain parchment)

Nectar Glass

Nectar Tray

Pamphlet

Pickaxe

Pungi (snake charming instrument)

AMBITIONS:

Chisel

Fire Axe

Blowtorch

Chainsaw

Detonator

Gnubb Bunny

Gnubb King

Junk Pipe Piece

Magnifying Glass

Notepad

Shovel

Tape Measure

Tattoo Gun

Triangle Ruler

Walkie Talkie

LATE NIGHT:

Drink Shaker

Drumstick

Party Glass

Round Party Glass

Bartending Bottle Prop

Juice Can

GENERATIONS:

Envelope

Love Letter Envelope

Cheap RAM Disk

Expensive RAM Disk

Beaker

Rolled Diploma

Flashlight

Game Controller

Greeting Card

Round Flask

Sparkling Juice (champagne)

PETS:

Hoofpick

Adult Pitchfork

Child Pitchfork

Plastic Pet Food Bowl

Cat Hunting Chip Bag

Cat Hunting Feather

Cat Hunting Leaf

Dog Treat

Foal Bottle

Horse Brush

Litter Scoop

Pet Brush

Stick (for playing fetch)

Freezer Bunny Ice Cream

Kitty Litter Pile

Rainbow Ice Cream

(forgot to do the chocolate ice cream, sorry!)

SHOWTIME:

CD Case

Record

Golf Ball

Juggling Pin

Microphone (grey)

Snack Bowl

Headphones

Golf Club Average

Golf Club Expert

Golf Club Old

Firefly Jar

FireflyJar Lid

Juggling Knife

Magician Sword

SUPERNATURAL:

Fly Swatter

White Glove

Bonehilda Key

Alchemy Bowl

Alchemy Package

Beehive Smoker

SEASONS:

Horseshoe

Child Rake

Adult Rake

Barista Bar Cup

Egg Hunt Basket

Trick or Treat Basket

Carving Knife

Fruit Punch

Hot Beverage Cup

Stack of Hot Dogs

Love Letter

Pie (from eating contest)

Snow Cone Syrup

Soccer Ball

Tissue

Spooky Day Candy

UNIVERSITY:

Clipboard

Red Juice Cup

Art Scanner

Bonfire Logs

Candy Bar

Cold One

College Letter

Energy Drink

Manilla Envelope

Macot Plushy

Ping Pong Ball

Ping Pong Paddle

Mistletoe (unused asset)

Protest Banners (3 versions)

Protest Flyer

Smartphone

Soda Can

Paint Sray Can

Suitcase

Whiteboard Eraser

Whiteboard Marker

ISLAND PARADISE:

Broom

Coconut Drink

Cold Beverage

Grim Reaper Trident

Pineapple Drink

Rescue Tube

Glass Bottle Pool Bar

Pool Bar Juice Can

INTO THE FUTURE:

Microphone (black)

OIl Puddle

Stardust

Paper Bag

[mapis-putellas]

Show off

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Reader

Words: 1400

Warnings: none

Summary: Alexia challenges you to a pull-up competition.

Notes: this was fun to write. Enjoy <3

[Prompt list]

"Amor, come on!" Alexia complains as she loops her arms around your waist and rests her chin against your shoulder, peppering your face with soft kisses.

You roll your eyes exasperatedly. "Ale, I've already said no. You only want to do it to prove how much stronger you are than me." You pat her hands placatingly as you step out of her arms to continue with folding the laundry.

"What? No. That is not the truth," she exclaims in mock offence as she clutches at her chest. "You have been practicing, yes? At the gym with mapi?"

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you turn to face her. "Yes, I have. But it's been a week. How much progress do you think I would have been able to make in seven days, ale?"

Alexia shrugs as she easily lifts herself onto the counter, "I do not know. A lot?" She kicks her legs absently, ignoring the way you glare at her when her feet -clad in shoes might you add, hit the white cupboards below.

You sigh in relinquishment. "For you, maybe, but I'm very much a beginner. You, my love, are not."

"Sí, I know. But por favor, amor? For me?"

Alexia wasn't one to beg. In your three and a half year relationship, you think you’d only heard her do so a handful of times and the majority of those were in the bedroom. Otherwise, she could be very convincing when coaxing you into doing what she wants, so there was ultimately never any need for her to beg.

"Ale..." You trail off.

Alexia slides off of the counter, her feet landing on the floor with a soft thud. She makes her way over to you, large hands rising to cup your cheeks before leaning down and pressing her lips oh so tenderly against your own. You sigh on resignation as your own hands rise to rest on either side of her waist, fully aware that she had once again gotten her way.

A few moments later you pull away, eyes rolling when you were immediately met with a smirk.

"Okay. We can do a pull-up contest. But I have one condition." You warn.

Alexia nods seriously. "Sí, mi amor. Anything."

"Any teasing, smack talk or bragging, you're on the couch tonight. Understand?"

"Smack talk?" She tilts her head to the side.

You cup her face, tracing the pads of your thumbs beneath her eyes. "It's the act of criticizing another person. Which you will not do to me when you win."

Alexia immediately shakes her head as she takes your hands and places a gentle kiss to the insides of your wrist. "I will not bebé. Promise."

Prior experience has you want wanting to believe her, but figuring you would be nice and give her the benefit of the doubt, you let out a quiet sigh before begrudgingly nodding your head.

You can't help but laugh at the way her face lights up as she all but yanks you into her arms, your feet now dangling in the air as your hands clutch to the back of her shirt.

God, you were such a sucker.

"Okay, okay. When?" You breath, wiggling out of her arms before turning and placing the folded clothes into the laundry basket to be put away later. Or, well, whenever you get around to it if you were being completely honest with yourself. Probably sometime next week.

Your hand was immediately grabbed the second it was unoccupied, and you allow her to pull you out of the kitchen and towards her small home gym. There was a pull-up bar fixed to the doorframe, yoga mats and dumbbells in corner of the room along with many other pieces of equipment you’d yet to learn the names of.

"I will go first, amor," she pulls off her shirt leaving her in a black sports bra and red shorts. "You count, yes?"

Your eyes whip up from where they'd fallen down to her six pack, and you nod silently, watching as she smirks before raising her arms and grabbing onto the pull-up bar with ease. She was going before you could blink, arm muscles becoming more prominent as she lifts herself up and down like it was nothing.

Your eyes somehow seem to drift down to her six pack again on their own accord, and you decide it would probably be best to ignore her laugh so her ego didn't get any bigger than it already was.

She was back on the floor before you could even notice she was done, slightly out of breath as she rubs her hands together and makes her way over to you. Your eyes slowly climb up her body until they were staring into her own.

"Amor, did you count?" She reaches up and closes your mouth, and you flush heavily as you push her hand away and cross your arms against your chest. “You did not, did you?”

"Yes, I did." You feign your assertiveness a lot more confidently than you felt, and Alexia rolls her eyes knowingly as she nods her head in begrudging acceptance.

"How many?"

"Huh?”

“Pull-ups, bebé. How many?”

“Uhh…”

"Let's say, twenty, yes?" She grins, and you sigh dejectedly before nodding.

"Sure. Twenty." There was no way in hell you were going to be able to beat that. Seemingly having more confidence in you than you did in yourself, Alexia coaxes you over to the bar with a gentle hand on the small of your back.

"Ready?" She braces a hand on either side of your waist, and you take a deep breath before nodding and reaching up your arms. She lifts you with ease, making sure you had a good hold before rounding your body and standing a little in front of you.

Ignoring the fact your hands were beginning to burn already, you use all your strength and pull your chin up and over the bar with a quiet grunt.

"Sí. Muy bien bebé." Alexia praises, and you smile slightly as you once again pull yourself up and over the bar. You mange to repeat this three more times before your arms start to burn. Feeling a little pathetic at only being able to complete five pull-ups in comparison to Alexia’s

twenty, you grit your teeth and somehow manage to pull yourself up two before times before sending Alexia a look that says get me down.

Alexia steps forward and loops her dams beneath your behind immediately, and you let out a sigh of relief as you let go of the bar and rub your sore hands together.

Supporting your body with ease, Alexia looks up at you with a proud smile on her face. You can't help but mimic it as you circle your arms around her shoulders.

"Buena chica," she praises, leaning forward and kissing your chest. You flush just slightly. "I did not think you could do that many."

"It was only seven." You shrug.

"No no." Alexia shakes her head as she bounces you up slightly to get a better grip, your legs now hooked around her bare waist. "How many could you do before?"

"One, I think?" you struggle to recall the specific number due to Mapi yelling at you. Carry on chica. You got this! Use those chicken arms! You’d been quite offended honestly.

“Maybe two?" You doubt yourself.

"Exactamente! And you did seven today. That is five more, no? You are getting strong." She grasps your bicep between her hand and gives it a squeeze, making you laugh quietly as your own hands tangle through the baby hairs at the nape of her neck.

"Soon I'll be stronger than you." You muse, wiggling your eyebrows playfully.

"No, amor," Alexia states seriously, and you tilt your head to the side. "No one is as strong as me."

"Oh, is that so?" You laugh, and Alexia grins smugly as she makes her way back over to the pull-up bar. You stare at her in confusion, aware she was up to something but not knowing what.

"Hold on tight." Is all she says in place of an explanation, and you can't help but yelp when she lets you go and reaches for the bar above you both.

Complying and wrapping your body completely around her own as tight as you physically could, you stare gobsmacked as she begins doing pulls-up with the same ease as before.

"Show off." You grumble, Alexia's laugh echoing around the room.

**

Tags:

@simp4panos @girlgenius1111 @goldenempyrean @codiemarin

[guillotine-drop]

Ranking New Vegas companions by their alcohol tolerance

Arcade - 6/10: Hear me out, Arcade is a fairly big guy and between his genetics and the work he does, he’s bound to have some weight behind him. Do I think he’s going toe to toe with the average Wrangler patron? No, but I do think you could sit him down with a bottle of wine and by the end he’d be juuuuust tipsy enough to follow you into that Nightstalker cave with minimal complaints.

Boone - 4/10: Despite being a miserable boot boy with a dead wife, I think Boone is on the lower end of alcohol tolerance solely because he’s a sniper; I feel as though the job description means that you can’t exactly be swaying with your shots, so his tolerance would be piss poor. You could probably get him to drink a 12 pack with you, but just watch out: he might start showing a human emotion, and that’ll be uncomfortable for both of you.

Cass - 8/10: There’s something to be said about the fact that you need at least 8 Endurance to be able to beat her at the drinking contest to recruit her. Obviously she can hold her liquor, but I WILL dock points for being sloppy about it. (Girl how did you manage to wake up with a random soldier after the battle??? Don’t you know what your mailman looks like???) Share the whiskey but make sure you loop her belt around a pipe or something so she doesn’t run off.

Veronica - 3/10: I love Veronica. I love her so much. I don’t think she can hold her liquor to save her life. I think Ronnie is a ‘3 drinks and she’s out’ kind of girl. That being said, I also think that she could probably get through most of a box of hard seltzers before she starts feeling it, and I think she’d shotgun them with her Power Fist to be funny.

Raul - 10/10: He’s a ghoul, he’s old, and he’s miserable 95% of the time. I think if you handed him a bottle of Dubious Liquid he wouldn’t even hesitate to drink it. I think he’s drank rubbing alcohol just to see what would happen. I think if you give him a totally intact, unopened, top shelf bottle of tequila, he’d have to excuse himself to the other room for a minute. Definitely the one I’d want to go drinking with.

Lily - 15/10: Mamaw’s 7 feet tall and 500 pounds of sheer muscle with a super mutant metabolism, I don’t even think conventional liquor would affect her tbh. I think she’s drinking that Jacobstown Moonshine that melts spoons and eats through glass. I think she could drink a can of turpentine and it would be like a White Claw. Go grandma, but for the love of god not to the bar. I do NOT have the caps for that.

Rex - 6/10: Okay hear me out (again). He’s an old as hell cyber dog who went through multiple owners, he’s probably got more metal than organs, and the last guys who had him were Elvis impersonators who do fuckall all day but day drink and watch each other do cabaret. You look me in the face and tell me that dog hasn’t had more booze pass through his system than the average wastelander. It’s still only a 6/10 because he shouldn’t be getting it, but are you gonna tell him no? Look at that face. And lower your glass.

ED-E - 0/10: Please do not pour liquor into the orb.

[yurinaa-world]

Sampo, Jing Yuan, Ratio and Gepard got body swap with female reader

"𝒲𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒾𝓃 𝓂𝓎 𝒷𝑜𝒹𝓎?!"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Sampo, Jing Yuan, Ratio and Gepard

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Body Swap?!

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling Mistakes

💫𝒩𝑜𝓉𝑒𝓈: Sorry Im not posting too much, I've got so much work 😔

💫𝒮𝒶𝓂𝓅𝑜 𝒦𝑜𝓈𝓀𝒾 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝒾𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓇-𝒯𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓊𝑒𝒹 𝒮𝒶𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓂𝒶𝓃"

This had to be some kind of nightmare, you shouldn’t have trusted Sampo at all, especially fighting a monster no less. Each breath you took felt like burning to your lungs while sharp pain hit your stomach.

Sampo, like the bastard he is, swoops in at the last second to take your glory, just to call it “teamwork.” Yet what both didn’t expect was the monster to explode and be sprayed like a fountain of gunk on both of your bodies, disgusting. Only to flicker your eyelids open to find a white-liquid-covered self staring back? Wait what’s happening?! 

Sampo doesn’t seem as freaked out as you do, honestly, he might just be enjoying this a tad bit too much, staring at anything that reflects your body, or saying things in your voice that you would never say! 

Yet, you’ll have to clean the gunk on your bodies soon. But that’s where the problem lies, it’s all Sampos fault.

It's funny, how you both stand in the bathroom, having a staring contest because you refuse to let him get in there, who knows what kinds of creepy things he’ll think about having all that “free access” To your body gives you the shivers. Your towel is wrapped around your chest even in Sampo’s body while he’s wrapped in a towel, note that it’s very loosely around your body as if it will fall off from a small gust of wind.

“You distrust me with your body that much? I thought we were close…”

No way this is going to work on you, not when your dignity is on the line.

“Not in the slightest do I trust you.”

“That’s just cruel, there’s gunk in my hair and there’s no way I’m spending my entire night smelling as if I’m from the streets.”

He was right, it’s not like you can avoid showering or he can either. The shower has been going in the background the whole time—it would be a waste of the already high water bill.

So the compromise is showering together, but you're pressed very close to each other, your chest against his—after all, he doesn’t want you to see his family jewels either…it feels weird holding yourself… so close, especially when it’s Sampo doing far too much while in your body.

“You call me a pervert but here you are…” you would never say that, never say in a tone like that, you would never make that expression…his hand goes to wrap itself around the back of your head, leaning down to only get the view of your face.

“Don’t…”

He was far too close, so close that you knew what he was thinking in that brain of his. Even when you tried to pull away he only pressed your foreheads together. “It’s just a secret deal between us,” He whispers in your voice, it feels weird looking at your face while in Sampo's body.

“Close your eyes.”

His lips still envelope your own, he made you experience from the outside in your body yet you, on the other hand, make him laugh with those shy, cheeks dusted with pink on your face.

“See, it doesn't feel so bad.”

The hand of your body lands on your chest while Sampo speaks through your voice in a sing-songy tone, which only gives shivers down your spine. “Don’t look down,”

💫𝒥𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒴𝓊𝒶𝓃 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓇𝒶𝓁 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒳𝒾𝒶𝓃𝓏𝒽𝑜𝓊 𝒞𝓁𝑜𝓊𝒹 𝒦𝓃𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈"

“Jing yuan! Could stop lazing around! I think I might die if this continues!”

You couldn’t last another day like this. Playing general while he lazed around in yours, is the worse! Honestly, you might just get charged with impersonation of The General of the Loufu. It’s bad that even Yanqing noticed the change and has been looking at you funny.

You're still determining how it happened. Like a blur in your memory, but you want out! Like right this instant! But again, Jing Yuan is having a relaxed time in your body, as if he’d already retired from being General. Laying in your shared bed, while wearing loose sleeping attire he would usually wear in his body.

It was too big for your body, falling down your shoulder, and buttons on the bottom of the shirt opened up showing your stomach. Yet all of this went over his head, does it matter what he’s wearing not as if he’s ever left the house looking like that, so no need to worry about your dignity. Just lay beside him and tell him your worries.

“Yanqing is always looking at me funny, I might be charged with impersonation soon! What will I do then!” you complain staring at the ceiling with vain on popping from your forehead. An expression that he would never wear but it’s funny watching you freak while he lays on the side, listening to complaints about your day as him.

“You worry too much, nothing will happen,” he chuckles,  “It must have been lonely without me right? I was feeling so alone in this house without you,” he mutters, pushing his body up with a soft grunt escaping from his lips. His face right against your own, funny, how you’ve switched places, him pleading for your attention. Things don't change.

Always thinking about affection even if your bodies switched, what difference does the feeling make? You still have that blush while he grins down at you, before stealing your lips for a taste, a little mishap won’t stop him from loving you.

💫𝒱𝑒𝓇𝒾𝓉𝒶𝓈 𝑅𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜 "𝑀𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝐼𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒾𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓉𝓈𝒾𝒶 𝒢𝓊𝒾𝓁𝒹"

“Looks like I’ve overpowered you this time, veritas.”

You seem to be having far too much fun with his body, far too much, looks like for the first time in your life you’ve actually “overpowered” him, in his body (not much of an achievement in life if you ask him). That smug expression you always make doesn’t suit the curvatures of his face in slightly. He would never act like that.

A scoff leaves his lips, crossing his arm, staring up at you with an intense gaze (that doesn’t suit you either) while you have him caged against the wall. He must commend you since you finally recreated a scene out of a romance novel under your current circumstances, you’ve probably been waiting to strike.

Yet even now, it seems like he’s overpowered you, giving you no satisfaction to your delusions. A scoff leaves his lips, well, your body's lips? Clicking his tongue while he’s at it. “You disappoint me with cheap tricks.” He mutters in your voice, staring at you like that, it’s bad that you can’t help but falter even though it’s coming to your body.

“Can’t you play along for once?!” You groan, feeling the awkwardness of his self-awareness. Completely letting go of your act just to complain about his unwillingness.  You truly are enjoying your time, so why doesn’t he as well? Even someone like you has advantages when it comes to your body.

After all, it isn’t all about strength, just a couple of cheap tricks (but it’s fine since it’s your body, so not too out of character). Watching you just roughly scratch the top of his head, ruffling the hair of his body. He just does the same thing you had done to him.

Pressing you against the wall, while his hand is beside your shoulder. Honestly, to anyone else, they would laugh hard at the sight of THE Dr. Ratio getting pinned against the wall as if it were a scene out of a romance novel.

“Veritas—“

“You talk too much, with such ignorance in your tone of voice.”

“Veritas! You put the shivers down my spine, seriously how did you do that in my body!?” You shriek like some kind of fan girl at a concert, just makes him frown at how you’re acting.

“Enough of this, are you even listening?”

💫𝒢𝑒𝓅𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝐿𝒶𝓃𝒹𝒶𝓊 "𝒞𝒶𝓅𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝒾𝓁𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓂𝒶𝓃𝑒 𝒢𝓊𝒶𝓇𝒹𝓈"

“I'm so sorry, I can’t!”

He can’t do this to you. Not when he’s in your body and you can’t do the same to him either. Both of you are a complete mess from the frozen dirt and snow, which is why you're like this right now, clothes wet (even after wearing so many layers), bodies cold (just asking to get sick), and both of you flustered because a body switch. 

Just looking at each other with red blush on your cheeks; your clothes soaked to the brim with cold water dripping down. You both have to take a shower, or you both are waiting to get sick. He feels it’s wrong to undress himself in your body, he can’t do that to a lady! He’s some kind of creep! 

“You can’t just stay like that, or else you’ll get sick,” you mutter with the same embarrassing mindset he’s carrying, your hands going to the shirt buttons of your body, he instantly snatched his head to the side, feeling the welt cloth shirt slowly whisks off his body leaving him shiver in the cold. He can’t force himself to look to the front. Not when your body has the top left on.

“Can you help me take off my shirt?” you breathed, feeling your ears and face get unbearable hot even when you were drenched in cold water. He kept his head high, not looking down for even a second when the hands of your body gently unbuttoned his shirt while your eyes shifted while gazing into his eyes, which made things worse for the both of you.

You could hear his breath hitch at a moment like this, the eye contact looked much, even in his body your eyes still told him what you were feeling, right now it was a bad thing, he felt his heart skip a beat.

“I won’t look anywhere but your eyes,” he reassures you once more.

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[tarjapearce]

Papa, You're Getting Old

Soccer Family! Miguel x Reader

Warning: Fluff, slight smut, suggestive towards the end, introspection, body perception and insecurities. Married couple rants and moments, no proofread.

Summary: Miguel finally notices his white hairs, comfort ensues.

A/N: Like Miguel, got a mini crisis when I spotted my first white hairs today 🫠. Then remembered mom had them around my age too so jsksk. Then remembered (x2) I had this one sitting forgotten in my files jsksk, been forgetting this AU lately :'). Help.

A/N 2: Nearly done with the moving. So we're back, I guess? jsksj.

Soccer Family Masterlist

Papa, you're getting old.

Gabi's words had unintentionally pierced through his skull, engraving with emphasis the old part in his brain after his girl found out the couple of white hairs peppering his wavy locks. He was getting older.

Fourty years of his life had gone by within the blink of an eye. When did time got itself some wheels to roll faster? Who gave it permission to do that? Yet Gabi's words lingered in his thoughts longer than they should.

He was getting old. And the silver strands popping here and there, discreetly in his gorgeous hair you loved sinking your hands into, were the irrefutable proof to understand time never stopped, not even a single second.

For the umpteenth time, he brushed his damp hair away to see if he discovered more of them, and to his bad luck, he did. Specially on the front and side bangs.

He scowled at his reflection and pursed his lips. His body still kept the musculature his younger self nurtured. He truly never believed people whenever they said that exercise kept you active and young looking.

And besides the greying hairs on his head and some on his chest, the fine lines turning a bit more prominent on his features, he looked almost the same.

The same man you had been sharing a good chunk of your life with. Almost sixteen years to be more exact if you counted those two dating years. And now he was growing old.

Miguel didn't want to admit it, but sometimes his age reminded him that his body wasn't the same anymore.

You'd often find him sleeping midway in the couch during movie nights, or his office, whenever work from home was done. Sometimes, his body would ache out of nowhere, but in truth it was mostly his bad posture due his size.

Other times, his grumpiness ran rampant through the day, leaving his coworkers to deal with it, cause he didn't have the heart to pollute his home with his bad vibes. A term  Gabriella kept including during the conversations at night to talk about her unlikeable classmates.

And now, he was glaring at his reflection for daring to do such thing as graying. Even the happy trail you loved to nuzzle had a couple of white hairs.

"You're winning that staring contest, mi amor."

Your little laugh, earned a brief chuckle from him as his shoulders slumped, and if almost sixteen years of knowing eachother had taught you something, was to perfect to a T the understanding of his body language.

You came closer and hugged him from behind, keeping his towel around his hips in place while spanking his plump ass in the process, earning another airy chuckle from him.

"Wanna tell me why, you're glaring harder at yourself this time?"

His arm wrapped gently around you and caressed your waist, pulling you closer to his chest. Yours and his reflection in the bathroom mirror staring right back.

"I'm... getting old, mi reina."

You blinked before looking up at him to have a proper view of what he meant.

"More like aging like a fine wine, Miguel."

"No. You don't understand. Look at this," he pointed at the pluck of white hairs peeking out from his roots, "I didn't have them a few months ago and now I've got a bunch of them. Everywhere!."

You smirked, "Everywhere?"

"Mi amor." He warned and you giggled, pulling him down for a kiss.

"Relax, they look gorgeous on you."

"Oh, do they now?"

With a sigh, you took his hands and gave him that look, he knew by heart as a 'really?'

"I've known you for... How long?" It was your turn to hold onto his narrow waist, holding him exactly the way his hands held yours at the beginning.

"Almost sixteen years." He mumbled, still glueing his eyes on the decaying version of himself.

You nodded and looked at the mirror. Together and close, like most of your pictures together. As always.

"Basically almost half of your life. I met you when I was twenty one, gave birth to our Gabibi by twenty three, enjoyed her for ten years, then we almost made Benjamin in the car."

He snorted and nodded, tittering silently at the sudden memory of the cops calling you out in the lookout spot.

"Almost." He mumbled and you nodded.

"Almost, yeah. But we made him! And look at him, being the smartest boy in his class."

Miguel nodded, fond of his boy's achievements.

"And now we have Rosie. Crawling and trying to walk up in every room we put her in."

"Remind me to baby proof the stairs."

You smiled and smacked his ass, "What I'm trying to get at, Papa. Is that, those white hairs in your head and body are only a beautiful proof that you've lived and loved the right way. Look at us."

You pulled him down for a peck, and cupped his cheeks, making him to look your way.

"You, Papa, mi amor, mi niño hermoso, are the best everything I've ever get to experience. And I'm honored to be the one that you're growing old with."

His eyes softened and his hands trapped yours to then kiss them.

"I'm having white hairs too! Like, the other day a kid called me señora to get me pass his ball. SEÑORA!"

His chuckle turned into a soft and genuine laugh.

"Like, the audacity!"

"You're my señora." He murmured in the side of your head, kissing it afterwards.

"Damn right I am." You nodded proudly," Like we're Mr. and Mrs. O'Hara for a reason."

His smile turned sweeter as he placed your hands around his neck and sat you before him in the sink, looking down on your eyes.

"Would you love me-"

"If you were a worm, yes. I would."

"Cállate" he laughed and cleared his throat, "I mean, you... You still want this?" He pointed at his graying hair and chest.

"That question is offensive in itself."

His eyes darted away, but your soft and gentle hands made his gaze to hold against yours again.

"I'd love you if you were bald, had extra pounds, all tattooed, piercings and stuff, a worm, hell, I'd love you the same if you were an alien."

His brow quirked, but snorted, genuinely amused at your rambling.

"I'd love you the same even if we're going through natural changes as growing old. And yes, I'd still fuck and make love to you all the same." Your hands rested on his hips.

"Oh really?"

"Obviously. That makes me worried though. You're entering a dangerous zone where women see you even more handsome. And I'm not one to be jealous, but all of this," You tapped his butt gently, "is mine."

He pecked your lips with a loving laugh. "I'm all yours. And you're pretty jealous."

"Well, yeah, I'm not sharing your dilfness with anyone. Not when I have these for myself." Your hands squeezed his firm butt and spanked it, he pursed his lips, trying his best to suppress a bashful smile.

"And I'm pretty sure in a future our caretakers would find us having sex in the most random of places in the hospice."

That pulled a merry laugh out of him to then kiss your lips.

"You're crazy."

"For you, always. But in all truth, they'll have to put me in quarantine, because I'm still jumping your bones. Even if I have to use a cane, or ask for assistance to the nurses."

"You'd be lucky if still works."

Your eyes rolled and your thighs pulled him closer to you, between your legs. His teeth bit softly his bottom lip as your hands roamed up his chest, eyes widening partially at the sudden bold move.

His soapy clean smell tickled your senses, after all, you had caught him post shower.

"Trust me, it works wonders."

He groaned when your hand slid between the folds of his towel, cupping him with a light squeeze.

"Yeah?" He half mumbled, half moaned into your lips with darkening eyes. Your touch ever delicious, and sparking the arousal only you managed to ignite in his body. Your scent remained forever etched into his brain, almost conditioning him into enter a needy mode whenever desire oozed from your pores.

You nodded with a needy 'hmm' while your hand stroked him, as if with every movement you'd jerk and caress away all those insecurities out of his mind and body.

"Definitely, mi amor."

His hips stuttered into your gentle grip, heaving a deep and shuddering breath hovering over your inviting lips, relieved and proud to see your eagerness to have him. Gray hairs and all.

The silver strands mattered little, specially when you were set into worshipping and honoring your vows.

"I think I'd love to test it's performance, just to make sure."

A crawl rolled down his spine upon your words. He loved when you talked in his language, it turned him on im such a way he didn't know it could make that part of his cortex tingle. But this moment, had him delivering sweet pecks and kisses down your neck, drunk in your softness and want for none else but him.

You still wanted him, flaws and all. He still made you a mess. And that made his cock to twitch.

"Shall we go to the testing area then, mi reina?"

His flushed and broad tip poked urgently between your clothed folds and inner thighs, hoping to slip in your scorching tightness and wreck you completely, like in his younger years.

However, as much as he wanted to take you right there, the privacy of your room offered him more space to bend and meld you at his whims. Without saying much, he threw you over his shoulder and rushed to your bedroom, thrilled for the upcoming long hours of exhaustive, mind splitting testing.