Kim Possible – After-Hours Protocol (317 photos) (Patreon)

The mission ended twenty minutes ago. The comms went quiet. Wade already signed off.

Kim stayed on the roof anyway.

The new battle suit was Wade’s latest “upgrade” — white polymer so thin it looked poured on, cyan circuit-lines pulsing every time she breathed. It tracked her vitals, absorbed impacts, and hid absolutely nothing. She’d complained about that during testing. He’d said it was a feature.

She sat on the ledge with one knee up, city lights smearing gold and pink behind her, and ran a gloved hand along her own thigh just to feel the suit move with her. The glow lines traced her chest, her hips, the exact curve of her ass when she stood and looked back over her shoulder. She already knew what it looked like. She’d seen the reflection in every glass tower she’d swung past tonight.

Kim Possible used to save the world in a crop top and cargo pants.

Now she saved it in something that made every rooftop feel like an invitation.

She dropped to her knees on the balcony, palms on the rail, back arched, hair falling over one shoulder. The suit creased between her legs and across her ass like it was painted there. A slow, knowing smile. The same one she used to give when someone asked if she was “really” that good.

She was better now.

Older. Stronger. And very aware of what this suit did when she bent over the railing, when she sat back on her heels, when she reached both arms over her head and let the neon catch every line.

The city could wait.

She wasn’t done showing off yet.

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