A little boy, snot running down his face and tears flowing for reasons even he didn't understand, ran up to his savior, practically stumbling over his own two feet.
"Take a rest, big brother. You deserve it..."
The kid whimpered, stopping just a few feet away from the god-like figure who could've graced the cover of every romance novel ever written.
Kaisen, the man of the hour—who, by the way, looked like the universe's gift to thirst traps—chuckled.
He lifted his head, flashing a smile so blindingly seductive it could make nuns rethink their vows. It wasn't just a smile; it was a panty-melting, wallet-emptying, husband-cucking masterpiece.
Like, seriously, if this guy smiled at you, you'd probably hand over your life savings, your wife, and maybe even your dog, just for a chance to bask in his glorious presence.
"Not yet, little one," Kaisen said, oozing charm so thick you could spread it on toast. "There are still lovely creatures, like you, that need my help."
And then, in the most cliché savior move possible, he reached out and ruffled the boy's hair like some kind of action movie protagonist right after saving the world.
The kid's eyes widened in awe, as if he'd just been blessed by a god—well, because he kinda was.
"Please, mister... you're bleeding. You've done enough for us."
A woman suddenly chimed in. Now, this wasn't just any woman. No, this was a cougar who could turn heads at a nightclub filled with people half her age. She was pushing fifty, but damn if her looks didn't scream twenty-five.
The kind of woman whose very existence would make a Viagra commercial unnecessary.
Her dress was strategically revealing, the kind of thing that would give a half-dead grandpa with erectile dysfunction a sudden jolt of life.
Yet, Kaisen didn't even give her a second glance. Nope. Not even a hint of a side-eye.
This dude was the definition of grace under pressure.
She darted forward, grabbing his free hand and slinging it over her shoulders, practically pulling him against her.
"Please, mister, let me assist you."
His hand wasn't groping—oh, but the potential was there. And what the hell did he mean by "needs"? Water? Food? Or... needs like fucking her into next week?
Kaisen read her like an open book—an innocent woman who didn't even understand why her pussy was so damn wet, her thong barely holding things together down there.
Meanwhile, her husband stood off to the side, tears of pure joy in his eyes.
'My wife's touching a god,' he probably thought.
From his angle, it just looked like Kaisen's hand was hanging innocently above her boob, blissfully unaware that those fingers were secretly setting her nipple on fire.
"Any need, mister... any need you have, I will... will... take care of."
She stammered out, trying to hold it together, but her confidence was hanging by a thread as thin as her thong.
Kaisen smirked, and she almost fucking exploded right then and there. She didn't even understand why she was this horny, but oh, she was.
"That's all I needed to hear. And call me dear, okay?"
Hesaid, flashing her a playful, suggestive grin that screamed *double meaning*.
Then, just as she was about to protest him pulling his hand away, he grabbed a handful of her ass with a firm squeeze. That was it. She fucking came, her knees wobbling like jelly, barely holding her up.
"Thanks. I'll look forward to our... stay."
He winked, still gripping her ass like he owned it, his fingers digging in as if he was trying to pull her apart.
Then, with a devilish grin, he finally released her, limping forward, leaving her a trembling, horny mess.
The woman was practically sending thank-you notes to every deity she could think of, even the ones that probably didn't even have a clue who she was.
She was just thrilled to have met this man, even if it meant her village was currently under siege by a horde of rabid raccoons or whatever catastrophe was happening in the background.
Priorities, right? Who needs a peaceful village when you've got a hot guy to fawn over?