#to contrast the warm lighting on the other

[cuntphoric]

gojo satoru wasn't subtle. never had been, really. if he wanted something, he went for it. and tonight, that something was you, sprawled out beneath him with flushed cheeks and a chest that had been teasing him all damn day.

"you know, i think you wear these tops just to mess with me," he murmured, his voice was hushed as his fingers toyed with the straps of your bra. the fabric had been discarded somewhere near the foot of the bed, leaving you in nothing but lace and his undivided attention.

"i wasn't-" your breath hitched as his lips pressed against your collarbone, trailing lazy kisses downward, "-trying to mess with you."

"oh, sure. because i totally believe that," he drawled, though the smirk on his lips told you he didn't believe a single word of it. his hands cupped your breasts through the lace, thumbs brushing over the peaks with the kind of touch that made your body arch into him. "but that's okay. i don't mind being messed with by you, y'know?"

he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, the teasing light in his eyes softened by something far more. then, slowly, he leaned back down, his mouth trailing over the tops of your breasts. he reached the edge of the lace, he paused, his tongue flicking over the fabric.

"satoru," you whined, your hips shifting beneath him as heat pooled low in your belly.

"patience, sweetheart! i'm not done appreciating you yet. you're just so pretty all laid out for me like this, how can i not?" his voice was muffled against your skin, and before you could protest, he hooked a finger under the lace, tugging it down just enough to bare you to him.

the groan he let out was downright sinful. "god, you're perfect," he said, like he was talking to himself as much as you. his hands framed your chest, holding you steady as his lips closed around one of your nipples. the sensation made your back arch again, a gasp escaping your lips as his tongue swirled and flicked - his free hand going to knead your other tit.

he didn’t rush. he lavished your breasts with worship, switching from one to the other with no less intensity as his hand switched to the other tit once more. his teeth grazed your, in the moment, warm skin, a contrast to the slight coldness of his mouth but with the soothing strokes of his tongue.

"you're so beautiful like this," he mumbled between kisses, his hands never straying from your chest. his fingers kneaded the soft flesh, coaxing gasps and whimpers from you with every touch. "i could spend all night here, you know. just like this."

"you're so annoying, toru, i know you would," you managed, though the words lacked bite when your voice was this breathy and needy.

he chuckled, pressing an open mouthed kiss to the valley between your breasts before meeting your gaze again from down there, watching you stare up at him with a dazed look. "maybe. but you like it."

which is true!

you couldn't argue with that. not when his hands and mouth were driving you to the edge with nothing more than sheer devotion to your body. it was so pleasurable - your senses were overwhelmed, your body alight with the feeling of him smooching every inch of your boobs. every swirl of his tongue and press of his lips felt soft, calculated to pull you apart bit by bit.

[mattybsgroupie]

fitting | chris sturniolo

— CONTENTS: handjob (m receiving); mommy kink; milf!reader; virgin!chris; sub!chris

— NOTES: hi my loves! sorry i’ve been a little m.i.a, some stuff happening at home and not really in my best mood BUT i’m here! you give me strenght to keep going and doing what i love. did you guys miss him as much as i did :( chris my beloved!!! inspired by this blurb, thought i’d show how shy chris was before their first time! — btw this fic is part of the milf!au but you can it on its own! — not proofread, i apologize for any mistakes. enjoy ♡

walking around the mall after a busy morning at work, you spotted a familiar figure across the alley. it was quite impossible not to recognize chris — his long hair falling over his big eyes, wearing his shabby jeans and his old converse as he typed frantically on his phone, oblivious to his surroundings.

you approached him slowly, standing in front of chris and expecting that he’d notice you soon. when he raised his head, a smile spread from ear to ear, his blue orbs sparkling. it had been over two weeks since you last saw each other due to stacy staying at her father's place, therefore, chris had no excuses to visit you.

“chris? what are you doing here?” you asked in your usual sweet tone. he scratched the back of his head, as if he was a bit embarrassed about the situation he found himself in. “huh... actually, i was supposed to meet stacy” chris admitted, tucking his cell phone back into his pocket and standing up beside you.

“but she won’t make it” he said. a puzzled frown appeared on your face. it’s true that you couldn’t always keep track of your daughter’s schedule when she wasn't at home, but she wasn’t the type to miss dates or hangouts. 

“cheer practice” he explained. you nodded, realizing that the game season was about to start. it felt so wonderful to see chris again. “well, would you like a ride home? i just have to look for something real quick and then i’m all done”

“sure, c-can i keep you company?” he asked, eager for a positive answer. “absolutely, sweetheart”

you led the way to the store you were going to visit. a lingerie shop. chris gulped when he saw the bright sign, the pink lights contrasting with the black interior and then sighed. he knew you missed him just as much.

“that’s not fair, mama” he mumbled after a while. chris had been following you like a puppy, interlocking his index with two of your fingers, as if he could lose his way at any second. 

“making me so needy” he complained again. you stopped by a red, lace lingerie set and happily brought it to your chest, turning to chris. “what do you think of this one, chris? pretty, right?”

“mhm— really pretty” chris shook his head as he sunk his teeth on his bottom lip. he looked away from you and the way the bra rested perfectly against your chest. “what’s up, baby? are you having a little trouble down there?”

“mama… don’t do this to me” chris whispered. his hands started to get sweaty and he could feel the blood rushing to his cock. he was about to get hard in public just because he thought of you in lingerie, which was ridiculous, since he had seem you naked previosusly.

“i’m not doing anything, sweetie. i’m shopping and you’re keeping me company, isn’t that right? is it my fault that you can’t hold yourself back and got all worked up just because i got some lingerie?” your warm tone sent a shiver down his spine, his chest immediatly inflating with air. “‘m s-sorry i just keep thinking… of you wearing it” chris tried to explain himself as you chuckled, enjoying his embarassement.

“yeah? you wanna see me wearing a nice set for you? which one do you like better?” you asked, handing him three pairs of bras and panties in different colors.

“the red one” chris spoke, still not daring to look at you in the ways. you walked in slow, seductive steps towards him, the sound of your heels taking over the empty store.

“c’mere,  i’ll try it on for you” you continued, undoing the first button of your silk shirt. chris got a peek of your bra, it was the leopard print that drove him insane and made him kiss you for the first time, months ago. “but first we gotta fix this, hm?” you cooed, placing your palm against his boner and applying some pressure to it.

once again, you led the way towards the fitting rooms. chris followed you obediently, holding a bunch of hangers. you gaze scanned the store and with a naughty grin, you opened one of the curtains and quickly went inside, pulling chris by his wrist.

he didn’t even had time to hang your underwear. you pushed him against the mirror, smashing your lips together in a desperate, hungry kiss. a loud groan left his throat as you moved to his neck, gently sucking on his skin. “mommy i missed you so much” chris rolled his eyes, his hands going to your hair.

“i missed you too, my good little boy” you whispered, palming his cock over his jeans. chris squirmed against you, a moan slipping from his lips. you opened a satisfied smile as you pulled away, sitting on the stool next to the mirror.

chris whined in protest, already missing how you hand and your lips felt on him. “got all hard for mama? you poor little thing” he pouted, nodding “c’mon, touch yourself for me” you instructed him.

his eyes widened in surprise — you had never asked him that. he didn’t know how to do jerk himself properly. chris was a virgin and the first time he was actually able to reach an orgasm was with your help. how was he supposed to do it on his own, and in public?

“mhm, unless you wanna go out with that pathetic boner” you teased, crossing your legs. the red heel started to slip from your foot as you finished unbuttoning your shirt, fully displaying your bra. chris whined again, silently pleading.

“mama… i n-need your help” chris spoke under his breath. “can’t cum without you”

“you’ll have to learn how to take care of yourself, chris” you said, pulling chris by his belt. you helped him to undress, freeing his shaft, almost slapping against his own tummy. you wrapped your knuckles around his length, stroking it in slow motions. “do you expect mama to be there every time you get hard? what are you gonna do when i’m not around, hm?”

“nhng— can’t— can’t be without mama” chris whimpered, more to himself than to you. he twitched inside your fist, placing both hands on the mirror to hold his weight, knowing his knees would ultimately give up.

you moved your thumb to his tip, pre-cum leaking from his slit as you circled it. his hips bucked forward as he leaned his head down, trying to hold himself. chris didn’t want to cum too soon, it was humiliating. he wanted to last long for you, he wanted to get used to the feeling your fingers around him, to the sound of your voice whispering praises and calling him a good boy, but no matter how hard chris tried, he pathetically failed.

“cum! mama, cum!” chris whimpered. you tightened your grip around his cock, pumping it faster. “please!”

“cum for me baby” you allowed him. you knew chris would need a long time to get used to your touch. in fact, it was adorable that he couldn’t even last five minutes.

chris threw his head back, moaning as he came on your hand, thick spurt messing your fingers and his jacket. you didn’t move your hand, continuing to gently stroke his wet, sticky cock.

that’s until your phone rang. you reached for your bag, quickly picking it up and seeing the name on the screen. “i think stacy is back home” you told chris, whose dick immediately became soft at the mention of your daughter’s name. “would you like to join us for dinner?”

— TAGLIST ♡⊹𑄽୧ @thepubeburgler @submattenthusiast @pearlzier @mattsfavbitchhh @bugeyedgrl @sturncakez @riowritesitall @mattsturnswife @sturnsmia @sturnthepot @mattscoquette @conspiracy-ash @ilovemattsturn @lizzymacdonald06 @blahbel668 @fratbrochrisgf @sturnobsessedwh0re @cayleeuhithinknott @sturniolo04 @1c3b4th @mattsfavbigtitties @bellassturniolo @sturnsxplr-25 @ivammbb @shadowthesim @slutformatthewsturniolo @stefansring @teeheeomg @dystfopia @riasturns @faiyaz555 @sturnslutz @cvnntagious @alesturniolos @emely9274

chris masterlist | milf au masterlist

[echo-riot]

Short Drabble: Revealing clothing

The Leaky drop was unusually loud tonight, the clinking of glasses and overlapping conversations blending into a cacophony of sound that filled the smoky air. Sevika lounged in her usual booth, one arm draped over the back of the seat, a cigar smoldering between her fingers. Her sharp eyes tracked your figure as you moved through the crowd, wearing that damn tight dress she hadn’t seen before. It clung to you in all the right places, the fabric teasingly highlighting the curve of your hips and the line of your thighs.

Her jaw tightened as she took a slow drag from her cigar, exhaling a cloud of smoke. She loved the way you looked, but she hated the way others stared. Their eyes lingered too long, their gazes filled with a mix of envy and something more primal. Sevika’s possessiveness simmered just beneath the surface, her fingers tapping idly against the table as she watched you weave through the room.

You finally made your way back to her, sliding into the booth across from her with a playful smirk. “Enjoying the view, ma’am?” you teased, emphasizing the title in that saccharine tone you knew drove her crazy.

Her lips curled into a slow, wolfish grin as she leaned forward, resting her forearms on the table. The cigar dangled between her fingers, its ember glowing faintly in the dim light. “You trying to rile me up, sweetheart?” Her voice was low, rough, and laced with amusement.

You shrugged, feigning innocence as you took a sip of your drink. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Sevika chuckled darkly, shaking her head. “You know exactly what you’re doing.” She leaned back again, her sharp gaze still locked on you, watching the way your lips wrapped around the rim of your glass.

The tension crackled between you like electricity, the kind that made your skin prickle and your pulse quicken. Sevika thrived on that tension, on the way you challenged her in ways no one else dared. But tonight, you were testing her patience.

When you shifted in your seat, crossing one leg over the other, the hem of your dress rode up just slightly, exposing more of your thigh. Sevika’s metal fingers twitched, the sharp contrast of her prosthetic and her restrained desire making her jaw clench.

“Keep playing this game, and you’ll regret it,” she warned, her voice dropping into that dangerously soft tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

You tilted your head, your smirk widening. “Oh? What are you gonna do, boss?”

Sevika didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she stubbed out her cigar in the ashtray and stood, her towering frame casting a shadow over you. She extended a hand, her metal fingers glinting in the light.

“Let’s go,” she said simply.

You blinked, caught off guard by the abruptness. “But I haven’t finished my—”

“Now.” Her tone left no room for argument.

Reluctantly, you slipped your hand into hers, letting her pull you to your feet. Her grip was firm, her fingers warm against your skin as she led you through the bar and out into the cool night air.

The walk to her apartment was silent, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife. You could feel the heat of her gaze on you, her grip on your hand tightening slightly every time someone on the street glanced in your direction.

When you finally reached her place, Sevika wasted no time. The door had barely closed before she pushed you up against it, her hands bracketing your hips as her body pressed against yours.

“You think it’s funny, parading around like that? Letting everyone else get a look at what’s mine?” she growled, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

Your breath hitched, your hands instinctively gripping her arms. “Maybe I just wanted your attention,” you murmured, your voice trembling slightly under her intense gaze.

“Oh, you’ve got my attention, sweetheart,” Sevika said, her lips curling into that wolfish grin again. Her hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as she carried you to the bedroom.

She dropped you onto the bed, her eyes dark and hungry as she loomed over you. “You’ve been a brat all night,” she said, her tone a mix of frustration and amusement. “You think you deserve to be rewarded for that?”

You bit your lip, your cheeks flushing as you looked up at her. “Maybe,” you said softly, the defiance in your tone tempered by the vulnerability in your eyes.

Sevika chuckled, shaking her head. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you?” She climbed onto the bed, her body pinning yours as her lips crashed against yours in a searing kiss.

Her hands roamed your body, exploring every curve, every inch of skin that had been teasing her all night. She reveled in the way you trembled under her touch, in the soft whimpers and gasps that escaped your lips.

When she pulled back, her lips were curved into a smirk, her eyes glinting with mischief. “Now,” she said, her voice low and commanding, “you’re gonna do exactly what I say. Understand?”

You nodded, your breath hitching as her hand trailed up your thigh, her metal fingers cool against your heated skin. “Yes, ma’am,” you whispered, the words falling from your lips without hesitation.

Sevika’s grin widened, satisfaction flickering across her features. “Good girl.”

[arixella]

Tides of desire

╰┈➤ pairing: Luffy x GN! reader

a/n: none

summary: In a tender and passionate moment under the stars, Luffy and the reader share a deep, intimate connection, exploring their feelings for each other as they embrace the present and the chemistry between them.

wc: 1.1k

contains: suggestive, leading up to it but no nsfw

As the kiss deepened, you felt Luffy’s hands trail down your sides, sending shivers across your skin. The warmth of his touch ignited a fire inside you, urging you to pull him closer. A soft gasp escaped your lips when his fingers brushed against the hem of your shirt, teasing you with the promise of more.

“Y/N…” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “Is this okay?”

You nodded, breathless, as desire coursed through you. His playful spirit always made you feel alive, but in that moment, a raw intensity radiated from him that you had never experienced before.

With newfound confidence, you captured his face in your hands, kissing him again as if trying to memorize every sensation. You could feel his heart racing in sync with yours, a rhythm that matched the pulse of the ocean around you. The energy between you two was electric, and there was no denying the chemistry that crackled in the air.

His fingers slipped beneath your shirt, stroking the bare skin of your waist, sending delicious sensations through your body. You leaned into his touch, matching the urgency of his movements as your hands explored the contours of his muscles, feeling the strength he possessed.

Luffy hesitated, looking into your eyes as if seeking permission, and the intensity of his gaze sent your heart racing. You could see the mixture of affection and desire shining through, urging you to take that leap together.

"Don’t be shy," you whispered, emboldened by the moment. "I want this, Luffy."

At that, he grinned, the light returning to his eyes. It was a playful yet earnest expression, one that made your stomach knot with anticipation. His hands explored the curve of your body, inching under your shirt until he finally lifted it over your head, tossing it aside carelessly.

The cool night air caused you to shiver slightly, but Luffy’s warm hands quickly enveloped you again, igniting a warmth that contrasted perfectly with the chill. Every brush of his fingertips felt electric, stoking the fire inside you even more.

Without breaking the kiss, he shifted, laying you gently on your back against the deck, the stars and moonlight illuminating the space around you. The world was a blur, and all that mattered was this moment shared between you two—so intense and beautiful, wrapped in each other’s arms.

You could feel his breath against your neck, warm and inviting as he began trailing kisses down your jaw to the sensitive skin of your collarbone. Each kiss sent waves of heat through your body, intensifying the desire you felt deep within.

“Luffy…” you gasped softly, lost in the sensation.

He paused, looking up at you with those wide, innocent eyes that always melted your heart. “I want to make you feel amazing,” he stated earnestly, and your heart fluttered at the sincerity behind his words.

You smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek. “You already are.”

As the kiss deepened, you felt a rush of warmth spread through your body, igniting a fire within you that you hadn’t anticipated. You pulled back slightly, your forehead resting against his, both of you catching your breaths.

“Luffy,” you whispered, your heart racing. “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know, but it feels right,” he replied, his innocent smile melting your heart. “I like being with you like this.”

The sincerity in his voice sent shivers down your spine. You had traveled with him for so long, sharing adventures and battles, but this moment felt different. More intimate. It was as if the world outside the Thousand Sunny didn’t exist.

“Do you really mean that?” you asked, searching his eyes for the truth.

“Of course! I wouldn’t have kissed you otherwise,” he beamed, his gaze unwavering.

Encouraged by his words, you shifted closer, your bodies now just a breath apart. You could feel his warmth radiating, the excitement in his demeanor causing your own heartbeat to quicken. A playful idea crossed your mind, and you decided to tease him a little.

“Maybe I should kiss you again, just to make sure you really mean it,” you suggested with a smirk.

Luffy's eyes widened with anticipation, and without waiting for you to act, he dove back in, capturing your lips once more. This kiss was different—deeper and filled with a urgency that left you breathless. You reciprocated, your hands exploring the strong muscles of his arms as he pulled you against him.

You could feel his heartbeat matching yours, a rhythm that echoed the excitement and tension of the moment. The playful captain was still there, but he was also uncharacteristically focused on you, his attention solid and entirely consuming.

As he pulled away again, a hint of mischief flickered in his eyes. “So, what’s next?” he asked, his grin widening.

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly at his childlike curiosity. “Well, I guess we could try… this.” You leaned in again, kissing him softly, delighting in the way he responded instantly, as if he had been waiting for it.

Luffy’s hands slid down to your hips, gently urging you to straddle his lap. The position sent a thrill coursing through you, the realization of where you were and what you were doing sending your heart racing even faster.

His hands began to roam again, exploring the curves of your body with a gentle curiosity. You gasped softly, feeling bold and alive under his touch.

“I didn’t know you could be so… forward,” you teased, biting your lip at the sensations he ignited within you.

“Neither did I,” he replied, his laughter merging with the sound of the ocean waves. “But it feels so good. Just being close to you.”

You could feel the sincerity in his words, and as he leaned in to kiss you again, his lips brushing against your neck, you surrendered to the moment. Every touch, every kiss, deepened the connection you shared.

Lost in each other, time seemed to disappear, the world around you fading into the background. Luffy’s kisses turned more fervent as he pulled you even closer, wrapping his arms tightly around you as if you were the only thing keeping him anchored.

“Do you think the others will notice we’re gone?” you murmured, though part of you didn't want to break the spell.

“Let them!” Luffy said impulsively. “This is our moment.”

His words hung in the air, electrifying. With that declaration, you felt emboldened. You kissed him again, your fingers finding their way to the base of his neck, deepening the passion that ignited between you.

As the stars twinkled above and the gentle waves rocked the ship beneath you, you realized that this was exactly where you wanted to be—lost in the moment, lost at sea, with Luffy by your side.

♡♡♡

[thanoskin]

you belong to me

Pairing: Frontman x Reader

Summary: you’re the daughter of a volatile VIP, you draw the frontman’s attention during your visit to the games.

Warning: Smut (+18), Rough sex, Degradation kink, Age gap, Fingering, Dom! Frontman, Sub! Reader, vaginal fluids, overstimulation, Pussy slapping, Unprotected sex, no aftercare.

Word count: 1519 words.

The air was heavy with the scent of luxury-imported cigars, fine leather, and expensive cologne. You sat on a lavish velvet couch in the VIP lounge, nursing a glass of champagne that had gone warm in your hand. Around you, the other VIPs laughed and cheered as they watched the carnage unfold on the massive screen before them.

Your father, one of the most notorious and impulsive of the VIPs, sat at the head of the room, reveling in the chaos below. His booming laughter grated against your nerves, but you kept your expression neutral. You'd learned long ago how dangerous it was to show any weakness around him.

Still, the games didn't hold your interest. Not like they did for him. Your attention drifted instead to the enigmatic figure known as the Front Man, the creator of the games.

He was always there, silent, observing, his black mask concealing his face but not the sharp intelligence in his movements. You'd caught him watching you more than once, and though he never said a word, you felt the weight of his gaze.

Tonight was no different.

You glanced up, and there he was, standing at the edge of the room, his posture rigid, his presence commanding. Even surrounded by the chaos of the VIPs, he seemed untouchable, untamed.

Hours later, it was finally lights out.The VIPs eventually retreated to their private quarters, leaving you alone in the grand lounge, your father was too drunk to notice you were still around. The silence was a relief after the overwhelming noise, but it didn't last long.

"You shouldn't be here alone."

"I'm not afraid of being alone," you replied, your voice steadier than you felt.

He stepped closer, his boots echoing softly against the marble floor. "You should be."

You raised an eyebrow, meeting the dark void of his mask. "Is that a warning?"

"It's a fact," he said, stopping just a few feet away.

"Your father isn't the only dangerous man here."

You set your glass down, leaning back against the couch. "I think I'll take my chances."

The Front Man tilted his head, studying you. "You're not like the others," he murmured.

"No," you said, your lips curving into a faint smile. "I'm not."

He didn't respond, but the weight of his gaze was palpable. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence crackling.

"What do you want from me?" you asked finally, breaking the stillness.

The Front Man stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "What makes you think I want something?"

You stood, closing the distance between you.

"Because men like you don't get involved unless there's something in it for them."

He chuckled softly, the sound distorted through his mask. "Maybe you're right."

His hand came up, the black leather of his glove brushing against your cheek.

The touch was surprisingly gentle, and it made your inner thighs warm.

"Careful.” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, you thought he might pull away. But then his other hand slid to your waist, drawing you closer. His mask pressed against your forehead, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat radiating between you both.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured.

You didn't. Instead, your fingers moved to the edge of his mask, your breath hitching as he allowed you to lift it just enough to see his lips.

The kiss was slow at first, testing, but it quickly deepened. His hands tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him as his lips moved against yours. The weight of his mask and the secrecy of the moment only heightened the intensity.

He pulled back, his breathing uneven, his voice rough. "My quarters. Now."

The room was stark, utilitarian, a sharp contrast to the opulence of the VIP lounge. But it didn't matter. The moment the door closed behind you, he was on you, his mask discarded, his lips capturing yours with a ferocity that left you breathless.

You clung to him as he backed you against the wall, his hands exploring, his touch possessive yet careful, as if he were afraid you might vanish.

"You don't belong here," he murmured against your skin, his voice raw.

"Neither do you," you replied, your fingers tangling in his hair as he chuckled at your innocence.

His lips trailed down your neck as his hands slid beneath the fabric of your dress, and he gripped your ass, hard, causing you to gasp in surprise.

Suddenly, he lifted you by your hips and tossed you on the bed, not giving you a chance to breathe as he crawled on top of you like a predator hunting its prey. You were face to face with him now.

He slowly pulled off his mask to reveal an older, handsome man with dark and determined eyes. You kissed him deeply, almost savagely, he let you for a couple of minutes before placing his hand on your throat, pinning you beneath him.

You whined softly, your breaths ragged as you adapted to his strong grip. He let you go, his hands now roaming over the thin fabric of your dress, and tracing over your hard nipples.

“You’re not wearing a bra…” he whispered teasingly, and you blushed as he removed your dress.

He stared at your naked body, ignoring your horny whimpers as he ran his hand through your wet folds. You moaned softly as his thumb grazed over your clit. He smirked teasingly and began to use slight pressure as he moved his thumb in a circular motion on your sensitive ball of nerves.

You moan and writhe, attempting to close your legs from the pressure. Suddenly, you feel two cold fingers enter your aching hole, and you gasp in surprise.

“You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

He asks, his gaze curious and intense, causing you to look away.

“Answer me when I speak to you.”

You feel his fingers curl against that spongy spot, and you cry out.

“Yes! Please don’t stop..” you begin to squirm, moaning uncontrollably as he continues to curl and thrust his fingers into your virgin hole.

You dig your nails into his back and start to get louder and louder, your moans desperate, and your pussy soaking wet.

Suddenly, he pulls his fingers out and begins to remove his belt, staring at your sprawled and exposed form.

“I need your cock please.” You murmur, and he doesn’t reply, he tosses his belt on the far end of the room and removes his pants and underwear, crawling towards you again. His cock wasn’t too big, but wasn’t too small either.

You found yourself terrified, but your arousal only grew as you stared at his hard, throbbing cock.

He roughly grabs your thighs, spreading them wide, digging his nails into your sensitive skin, causing you to whine.

You closed your eyes and he immediately pinched your inner thigh.

“Open.”

Your eyes flew open at his command, and you whine as you feel his tip against your throbbing clit.

“Look at me while I take you.”

you obeyed, he began to enter you, and you hissed and cried out from the pain. He didn’t respond, but you were grateful for his patience, and his gentle touches as he stroked your legs while he broke you in.

Suddenly, he hit a spot, causing you to moan loudly. He began to thrust quickly, causing you to moan uncontrollably.

“oh fuck!” You cried and used your free hands to try and push his shoulders, desperatey feeling the need to cum already.

he growled and pinned your hands above your head, his strong hands nearly breaking your wrists as you moaned loudly and sobbed.

“Look at me!” He shouted, he was panting, his eyes locked into yours as he fucked you mercilessly.

“I’m gonna cum!” you cried out, trying to close your legs.

“Don’t you fucking….”

you squirted all over his cock, and he stopped moving inside of you. He sighed and pulled out, and you’re rewarded with a harsh slap to your clit.

“You cum when I tell you to, not a moment before that. Understood?”

You cry and before you can respond, he enters you again, pinching your sensitive nipples and tugging the skin as he fucked you hard, and fast.

“Fuck…” he whispered, before pulling out and panting.

He yanks your legs apart again, only to rub your throbbing clit, with force and speed.

You’re overstimulated, and on the brink of cumming.

“Please, let me…” you cried and moaned.

“Come on, squirt all over my fucking hand.”

You squirted hard and he groaned in delight as you coat his fingers in your juices.

“Such a good little…”

He groaned again, kissing your thighs. You’re exhausted and sore, you lay limp and spent, your eyelids suddenly heavy, and before you knew it, you hear the rustling of his clothing being put back on, and the door closed behind him.

[aventurineswife]

Between Logic and Passion

Summary: You navigate the delicate balance between Kaveh's emotional idealism and Ratio's sharp intellect. Though they often clash, you help them realize how their shared passions make them stronger together. As the three of you reflect on your relationship, a quiet harmony settles over your lives, promising a future built on love, creativity, and understanding.

Tags: Kaveh x Reader x Ratio, Emotional Bonding, Found Family Dynamics, Mutual Pining to Domestic Fluff, Reader as the Emotional Anchor, Banter and Gentle Humor, Hurt/Comfort (Subtle).

Warnings: Light mentions of financial and emotional stress, Subtle references to self-doubt and overworking, Alcohol briefly alluded to (Kaveh’s coping mechanism, not depicted).

[Req by/inspo]

Kaveh had always been a whirlwind of emotion, while Ratio was a storm of intellect, a calculated force that could dismantle an argument with precision. You, however, had always seen how the two mirrored each other more than they would ever admit. Perhaps that was why you had found yourself at the center of their unusual, sometimes chaotic, yet undeniably tender relationship.

Tonight, you sat in the alcove of Kaveh's latest project—a breathtaking garden terrace filled with fragrant blossoms and intricate stonework. Ratio stood nearby, analyzing the structural integrity of a carved archway. Kaveh, by contrast, lounged on the soft cushions next to you, gesturing animatedly about his vision for the space.

“Can you believe he questioned my choice of materials?” Kaveh huffed, shooting Ratio a pointed look.

Ratio didn’t even glance up. “Marble is inefficient for the load-bearing pillars, given the humidity here. My calculations are sound.”

You smiled at their familiar banter, interrupting before it spiraled into another heated debate. “Both of you bring something unique to the table. Ratio, your precision ensures the structure lasts for centuries. And Kaveh, your artistry ensures people will remember it for just as long.”

Kaveh leaned closer to you, his eyes softening. “You always know how to make everything sound so balanced.” He paused, a teasing smirk creeping onto his face. “But let’s be honest, you’re on my side, right?”

Ratio finally turned his attention from the archway, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. “Don’t put them in the middle of this.”

You laughed, leaning back against the cushions. “I’m on our side. I’m just saying that both of your strengths work best when you complement each other.”

Kaveh tilted his head, his expression shifting to something more thoughtful. “You know, they’re right. As much as it pains me to admit it, your critiques do push me to do better, Ratio.”

Ratio’s lips curved into a faint smile. “And your emotional investment reminds me why these creations matter in the first place.”

It wasn’t often that the two of them shared such open affection, and it made your chest warm to see them acknowledge their similarities. Kaveh’s idealism and Ratio’s determination were two sides of the same coin—both driven by a deep passion for bettering the world in their own way.

As the night wore on, the three of you found yourselves huddled together, sharing quiet laughter and whispered musings about dreams and ambitions. Kaveh’s head rested on your shoulder, his golden hair soft against your cheek. Ratio sat on your other side, his arm draped over the back of the cushions, fingers brushing yours in a rare display of vulnerability.

You spoke softly, your words cutting through the gentle hum of the night. “The two of you are more alike than you realize. You both care deeply about leaving the world better than you found it—Kaveh with beauty, Ratio with knowledge.”

Kaveh chuckled, his voice low and warm. “And you, dearest, hold us together when we’d otherwise tear ourselves apart.”

Ratio’s hand briefly tightened over yours. “It’s true. Without you, I doubt either of us would have found the balance we needed.”

In that moment, the harmony between the three of you felt unshakable. As Kaveh drifted into a soft slumber against you, Ratio leaned closer, his steady gaze meeting yours.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “For understanding us.”

You smiled, squeezing his hand gently. “Always.”

The moonlit terrace seemed to shimmer with the quiet promise of a future where the three of you—so different, yet so deeply connected—would continue to build something extraordinary together.

[justice4gyeongsu]

━━━ 'CHAPTER THIRTEEN' [WHEN DAWN BREAKS]

SYNOPSIS ➢ the power of being stuck in a storage closet makes some come together while others seem to stray away.

PAIRING ➢ lee suhyeok x male!reader

AU ➢ enemies-to-lovers au!

CONTENT WARNING ➢ this chapter contains; flashbacks, violence, alot of angst, signs of depression, jealousy, mentions of bullying, death, depression, some fluff, reoccuring ptsd, mentions of gore, blood, cannibalism [let me know if i missed any!]

NEXT I PREVIOUS

as morning breaks, the storage closet transforms. sunlight pours in through the few high windows, casting a warm glow on the space. the air is filled with the sweet sounds of birds chirping and crickets falling silent, a serene contrast to the chaos that has unfolded.

one by one, the group stirs, each person slowly rising to sit across the room in contemplative silence. the weight of the past few hours hangs heavy, as they process the loss of loved ones and the turmoil that has brought them to this place. but amidst the somber stillness, one figure remains motionless. you lie sleeping underneath a chair, wrapped in the gentle protection of onjo's sweater. your face is turned away from the windows, away from the world outside, as if seeking refuge from the pain and exhaustion that has consumed you.

in this moment, sleep is a welcome respite, a fleeting escape from the overwhelming emotions that threaten to engulf you. and as you rest, you can't help but feel a sense of resignation, a tempting desire to simply stay hidden away in this storage closet forever, shielded from the uncertainty and heartache that lies beyond.

onjo sits vigilantly beside you, her presence a gentle comfort as she watches over your slumber. she feels an overwhelming urge to care for you, to shield you from the world and its cruelties. her eyes soften as she gazes at your peaceful form, her heart filled with a deep affection for you and cheongsan, who sits quietly to her right.

as she looks at you, she's reminded of a young deer, vulnerable and alone, struggling to find its footing in a vast and unpredictable world. your tired, fragile appearance evokes a strong maternal instinct in her, and she feels a deep desire to protect and nurture you, to help you find your strength and resilience in the face of adversity.

wujin turns to his sister, his voice laced with concern, "noona, you didn't fail in the preliminaries, did you?" he asks, his eyes searching for reassurance. his sister hesitates, her gaze drifting away as she responds slowly, "no, i did really well." her voice is measured, but the lack of conviction is notiecable. wujin's curiosity is piqued, and he presses for more information, his tone gentle but insistent. "well, then what happened? why did you come back to the school if you won?" he senses that something is amiss, and his doubts begin to simmer just below the surface.

mijin, sensing the unease, intervenes with a light, conversational tone. "you're her brother?" she asks, sitting up a bit straighter, her interest piqued. wujin nods, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern, "yeah, i am."

mijin's face glows with pride as she gazes at hari, a smug smile spreading across her features. "you should know then that she got a perfect score, so she made it to the nationals," she reveals, her voice dripping with satisfaction. she adds a casual remark, "i saw her," to lend an air of authenticity to her statement.

wujin's eyes widen in awe as he turns back to his sister, a bright smile illuminating his face. "really?" he asks, his excitement palpable. "no way. you're really in nationals? does mom and dad know?" he presses, sitting up even straighter, his enthusiasm bubbling over.

however mijin's sarcastic tone quickly deflates his excitement. "gosh, you rascal, how could they know now? look around," she scoffs, her words a harsh reminder of their current circumstances. wujin's eyes dart away, his face flushing with embarrassment at his oversight. cheongsan's gentle reprimand interrupts the exchange, "hey guys, quiet down. y/n's still sleeping." wujin nods, chastened, and turns back to his sister, ready to ask another question, but mijin catches his eye, a warning glint in her own.

mijin's expression turns stern, her voice tinged with a mix of disappointment and amusement. "yah, she jumped out of the archery bus and ran to the school to find you. you little..." she trails off, smacking her lips in a gesture reminiscent of a disapproving aunt.

wujin's face contorts in disgust as mijin continues, her gaze drifting to hari, who remains lost in thought. "you be good to her," mijin instructs, her tone softening slightly. she pauses, a hint of pride creeping into her voice. "...and to me too." her eyes sparkle with amusement as she looks away, a subtle smile playing on her lips. wujin attempts to whisper to his sister, his voice barely audible as he tries to convey his confusion. "who is she and why does she keep talking for you?" his words are laced with a mix of curiosity and annoyance, but mijin's sharp ears pick up on the hushed conversation, her gaze flicking back to wujin with a knowing glint.

hari's gaze shifts to mijin, a faint smile playing on her lips. "she's my friend," she says, her voice soft and gentle. mijin's heart skips a beat as she processes hari's words, a thrill of excitement coursing through her veins. "yeah, we're... fucking besties," mijin agrees, her tone shy and hesitant, but her eyes sparkling with delight. wujin's reaction is immediate, his face contorting in distaste as he looks away, clearly uncomfortable with the exchange.

his gaze falls on daesu, who stands before them, a solemn expression etched on his face. wujin's eyes widen in surprise, and he mutters, "shit, you scared me." daesu's presence is unexpected, and wujin's words hang in the air as daesu prepares to speak, his expression somber and serious.

daesu clears his throat and looks down at his feet awkwardly. “i..” he trails off. “..you?” mijin tries to help him finish his sentence.

daesu's words tumble out in a rush, his voice barely above a whisper. "i think you're the perfect girl," he confesses, his chest rising with a deep breath, as if he's been holding the sentiment inside for far too long.

wujin's eyes dart between his friend, his sister, and back again, his expression a mix of shock and incredulity. "you freak..." he whispers, his voice laced with disbelief. the room falls silent, with all eyes fixed on the unfolding scene, except for two people - suhyeok and you.

suhyeok's gaze is captivated by your shoes, which lie neatly on top of each other, a testament to your orderly nature, even in rest. he sits transfixed, his eyes drinking in the sight of your belongings, his presence drawn to yours, even as you sleep. without drawing attention to himself, he subtly shifts his position, inching closer to your shoes, and by extension, to you. though he doesn't touch them, he feels a sense of comfort in being near, as if your presence is a soothing balm to his soul.

suhyeok's emotions are a tangled mess, a jumble of shame, regret, and self-reproach. his anger, a familiar companion for most of his life, has turned inward, and he's consumed by the memory of how he spoke to you the night before. the weight of his words hangs heavy, and he's tormented by the thought of how he treated someone as fragile yet resilient as you.

as he sits, his arms fold over his knees, and his head bows, resting on his arms. his gaze drifts upward, drinking in the sight of you, sleeping peacefully. his mind is a cacophony of recriminations, a constant, piercing criticism that echoes through his thoughts. the turmoil within him is a palpable, almost overwhelming force, as he struggles to come to terms with his actions and the emotions that drive him.

daesu's voice echoes through the room, his words tumbling out in a desperate, anguished cry. "why don't you understand? i really like you!" he shouts, his emotions raw and unbridled.

suhyeok's gaze had been fixed on you, lost in thought, but daesu's outburst snaps him back to reality. he's missed the chaos that erupted moments before, when hari's temper flared in response to daesu's confession. he's unaware of the punches and slaps that flew, or the way hari trapped daesu within a makeshift prison of metal racks, their wire mesh confines overflowing with sports balls of every shape and size.

but suhyeok's attention is riveted on you now, as your body jerks in response to daesu's sudden, ear-piercing shout. suhyeok's head snaps up, his eyes locking onto yours, his expression a mask of concern and alarm.

you stir, pulling your legs up and sliding out from underneath the chair, as the sudden shouting jolts you awake. your head darts wildly around the room, struggling to comprehend the chaos that's erupted. your eyes scan the space, drinking in the scene before you, as you try to shake off the remnants of sleep.

in your haste to stand, onjo's sweater slips off your shoulders, and you instinctively reach out to catch it, clutching it tightly to your chest. onjo and namra rush to your side, their hands extended in a calming gesture, as they try to reassure you that there's no danger.

but you're still disoriented, half-asleep, and struggling to process the mayhem that's unfolded. your gaze darts around the room, confusion etched on your face, as you try to make sense of the shouting, the commotion, and the worried expressions of those around you.

hari's voice drips with sarcasm as she turns to daesu, her eyes blazing with annoyance. "now look what you did. you woke up y/n, my dear husband," she says, her tone heavy with irony.

she lunges forward, trying to grab daesu, but he dodges and weaves, avoiding her grasp. "you attacked me first!" daesu protests, trying to reason with hari, but she's having none of it.

instead, she begins to hurl volleyballs at him, her aim true as she tries to pelt him with the balls. daesu ducks and dodges, desperate to avoid the flying projectiles as hari's anger continues to simmer, threatening to boil over at any moment.

mijin's voice is low and casual as she issues a gentle command, "yah, kid. go back to sleep." she slips her hands into her pockets, her demeanor nonchalant, as if trying to downplay the chaos that's erupted. your mind is still foggy, struggling to shake off the remnants of sleep. you nod slowly, your gaze drifting around the room in confusion. onjo seizes the opportunity, grasping the hem of your pants and gently tugging you down to sit beside her. you follow her lead, still disoriented, and settle in next to her.

meanwhile, suhyeok's eyes hold a glimmer of hope, a fleeting wish that you might glance in his direction. but even in your tired, bewildered state, your instincts don't lead you to seek him out. suhyeok's gaze lingers, a mixture of longing and resignation, as he watches you settle in beside onjo, his hopes dashed, if only for the moment.

onjo gently cradles your head in her lap, softly laying her sweater back over you. your eyelids grow heavy, and you succumb to sleep once more, the warmth and comfort of onjo's lap a soothing balm to your exhausted mind and body. the transition is seamless, and you're asleep again within mere minutes, a testament to your deep fatigue.

mijin's voice cuts through the din, her tone detached as she ignores the ongoing commotion between hari and daesu. "gosh, i never thought i'd see that brat again," she remarks, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes.

hroryeong's curiosity is piqued, and she asks, "you know y/n?" her confusion evident, as she tries to piece together the connection between mijin and you. mijin's response is smooth, a subtle smile playing on her lips. "yeah, we go way back," she says, the statement a blatant fabrication, but one that goes unchallenged in the moment, even by you, who slumber peacefully, oblivious to the conversation.

mijin's gaze sweeps the group, a small smirk still playing on her lips. "glad to see the guy actually has some other friends," she says, her tone laced with a hint of dry humor. the group exchanges small smiles, a sense of warmth and camaraderie evident in their expressions, as they reflect on the bonds that have formed between you and them over the past few days.

wujin's voice cuts in, a hint of smugness creeping into his tone. "y/n and i were childhood friends, actually," he says, crossing his arms over his chest, a self-satisfied smile playing on his lips. mijin's gaze lingers on wujin, her expression unreadable. after a beat, she responds, her voice measured, "oh yeah?" her tone invites wujin to elaborate, and he nods, still not meeting her gaze. "yup, spent almost every day together," wujin says, a faraway look creeping into his eyes, as if he's genuinely reminiscing about fond memories. however, the hint of smugness still lingers, suggesting that wujin might be embellishing the truth, or at least, enjoying the attention.

mijin lets out a dismissive scoff, a proud smile spreading across her face. "yeah, well, y/n and i are pretty close," she says, her voice dripping with confidence. "i mean, we're practically family. you know, he calls me noona instead of sunbae?" she adds, the claim a blatant fabrication, but one she delivers with conviction.

joonyeong and suhyeok exchange a look of annoyance, their expressions a testament to their skepticism. they return their attention to the exchange between mijin and wujin, their gazes neutral.wujin responds, a hint of smugness creeping into his tone. "i mean, that's cool, but i think since i've known him longer, i'd say we were closer." he adds a casual "just saying" to his statement, but the underlying competitiveness is palpable.

mijin's gaze snaps to wujin, her eyes narrowing into an annoyed glare. the air is thick with tension as the two engage in a silent stare-down, each attempting to outdo the other in their claims of closeness to you.

mijin's eyes narrow, her gaze piercing as she scrutinizes wujin. "that's funny," she says, her voice laced with skepticism. "last time we spoke, he told me he didn't have any friends." her tone implies that wujin's claims of a close relationship with you are dubious, at best.

wujin hesitates, his eyes darting around the room as he searches for a response. but before he can speak, mijin presses on, her words dripping with challenge. "honestly, he never even mentioned your name." the statement hangs in the air, a gauntlet thrown, as mijin awaits wujin's response.

wujin's chuckle is nervous, a forced attempt to diffuse the tension. he's clearly caught off guard by mijin's revelation, and his mind is racing to come up with a plausible explanation. the room falls silent, all eyes fixed on the exchange between mijin and wujin, as even daesu and hari pause in their argument, intrigued by the sudden drama unfolding before them.

mijin's voice rises, her anger and frustration simmering just below the surface. "actually, he said everyone was pretty much against him because he's..." she begins, her words trailing off as she meets wujin's gaze. suddenly, she realizes what she's about to reveal, and her expression freezes. she gulps, her throat constricting, before clearing her throat and looking away, her anger and frustration boiling over. "ugh, nevermind, you little brat," she mutters, her voice laced with irritation, as she scratches her cheek in frustration. the tension in the room is palpable, until cheongsan speaks up, his voice calm and soothing. "we know," he says, his eyes drifting to your peaceful form, still slumbering away. "it's not a big deal, so let's not make it one." his words are a gentle rebuke, a reminder to mijin to let the matter drop.mijin's eyebrows furrow, her eyes narrowing suspiciously as she turns to cheongsan. "you know... what?" she asks, her voice low and even, as if daring him to reveal how much he really knows.

daesu's voice is barely audible, his words whispered as if sharing a secret that's too sensitive for outsiders to hear. "he's gay," he says, his tone conspiratorial, as if the storage closet is a confessional.the room falls silent, with no one responding or reacting. joonyeong breaks the silence, giving a thumbs up, a subtle acknowledgment of daesu's revelation.

mijin's expression transforms, her suspicion giving way to a warm smile. she nods, seeming to accept the information, before sitting up, a mischievous glint in her eye. "okay, thank god," she says, chuckling to herself, "cause i wanted to ask him more questions about his love life, and it would've been hard with all you brats here."

hroryeong and onjo exchange a look, their expressions bored, before shrugging and focusing on their skirts, playing with the fabric as if seeking distraction from the conversation. their nonchalant attitude is a stark contrast to mijin's enthusiasm, and the tension in the room begins to dissipate, replaced by a sense of mundane normalcy.

suhyeok abruptly rises to his feet, his eyes fixed on the metal ball containers stacked below him. with a sudden burst of energy, he begins to kick and clang against the containers, testing their sturdiness. the loud rattling noise fills the room, causing everyone to turn their heads in unison, seeking the source of the commotion.

joonyeong is the first to react, getting up from his seat to approach suhyeok. "what's going on?" he asks, a hint of curiosity in his voice. suhyeok pauses, his chest heaving slightly, as he explains, "i was just wondering if we can move these things."

joonyeong's expression changes, a spark of understanding igniting in his eyes. he begins to think critically, his mind racing with the possibilities. he starts to envision ways to utilize the metal containers to their advantage, his gaze drifting back to suhyeok, a nod of appreciation on his face.

suhyeok's words spark a flurry of activity, as everyone rises to their feet, united in their efforts to create a makeshift shield. "we can tie all the carts in a circle, then we can use them as a shield," suhyeok explains, his idea igniting a sense of purpose in the group.

as the others begin to work together, gathering zip ties and securing the carts in a circular formation, suhyeok's gaze meets onjo's. onjo's eyes had been fixed on your sleeping form, a look of quiet contemplation on her face. suhyeok's eyes lock onto onjo's, and onjo responds with a subtle nod, as if acknowledging suhyeok's unspoken understanding.

onjo's hands gently cradle your head, her fingers stroking your hair with a soothing gentleness. the calm, peaceful atmosphere surrounding you is a stark contrast to the bustling activity around the makeshift shield. as the group works together, their movements become a blur of efficiency, united in their determination to protect and defend.

the storage room transforms into a flurry of activity, as everyone works together, pooling their resources and skills to create a formidable barrier. tool boxes and crates are raided, yielding a treasure trove of random supplies that are quickly repurposed for their defense.

joonyeong, wujin, and hroryeong scour the room, gathering an assortment of ropes, including jump-ropes, to secure the carts in place. meanwhile, cheongsan and daesu work in tandem, holding the carts together in a circular formation, as they await the ropes to tie everything together.

suhyeok, ever the climber, attempts to scale a nearby shelf, his eyes scanning the top for any equipment that might aid in their defense. his movements are agile and precise, as he searches for anything that might give them an edge.

nearby, namra, mijin, and hari engage in a heated discussion, debating the merits of adding a top section to their makeshift shield. "we should add a top part," namra suggests, "so they can't climb over." hari nods in agreement, while mijin chimes in, her voice filled with determination. "yeah, we can't let those zombies get the drop on us." the trio continues to brainstorm, their conversation flowing easily, as they work together to fortify their defenses.

the sense of harmony and cooperation is shattered in an instant, as onjo's leg jolts, startling you awake. you sit up with a jolt, your eyes scanning the room, and your ears assaulted by the sound of screaming. but it's not hari's voice that fills the air - it's mijin's.

"you piece of shit! who do you think you are?" mijin's words are venomous, her face twisted in rage, as she shoves joonyeong with all her might. suhyeok attempts to intervene, but he's no match for mijin's fury.

you leap to your feet, your voice ringing out across the room. "yah! what's going on?" you demand, your eyes scanning the scene before you. mijin's anger is still simmering, her finger jabbing accusingly at joonyeong. "ask your idiot friend," she spits, her tone dripping with malice. joonyeong's face is a mask of anger, his eyes blazing with a fierce intensity. wujin steps in, his voice laced with annoyance. "we shouldn't fight like this, especially not now," he says, his words a plea for calm in the midst of chaos.

suhyeok tells them both to stop but joonyeong pushes his hand away from him, “who the hell is she to tell us we have to redo it?”

mijin's expression twists in scorn, her voice dripping with venom. "your fucking nightmare, that's who!" she retorts, her anger and frustration boiling over. she attempts to take a step forward, but suhyeok once again intervenes, his body positioning itself between mijin and joonyeong.

suhyeok's voice rises, his tone firm but calm. "look, we're in this together, so let's not make it harder than it needs to be," he says, his eyes darting between mijin and joonyeong, as he strives to mediate the conflict.

your gaze falls on suhyeok, and for a moment, the tension between mijin and joonyeong fades into the background. memories of the previous night's encounter with suhyeok come flooding back, and your face flushes with a mix of desire and embarrassment. the feelings are still raw, and you're not ready to confront them. your anger and frustration serve as a convenient shield, allowing you to push those memories aside, at least for the time being.

“youre gonna die out there if you don't listen to me,” mijin sneered at joonyeong who rolled his eyes. “you think im putting it up cause i wanna die? no!” joonyeong responded back, “stop acting like you're better than us just because you're not in the same grade as us.” he huffed in annoyance at mijins fiery spirit. however mijin took that as disrespect.

the atmosphere is electric with animosity as mijin and joonyeong engage in a heated exchange. but your calm and authoritative voice cuts through the chaos, bringing the argument to an abrupt halt. "both of you stop, we can discuss this in a better way than screaming at each other," you say firmly, your words commanding attention.

the room falls silent, with all eyes on you. you notice namra's gaze fixed intently on you, her eyes having been on you the entire time. you flash her a soft smile, accompanied by a subtle smirk that only she can see. "what do we do, class president?" you ask, your voice low and gentle.

namra's expression remains serene, but she raises her head slightly, her eyes locked on yours. "we'll vote on it," she declares, her voice clear and decisive. the room remains silent for a moment, before namra instructs everyone to gather around, her words sparking a sense of anticipation and expectation.

you position yourself beside cheongsan and mijin, leaning casually against the cart as namra begins to outline the options. "one, we split up," she says, her voice clear and concise. but instead of sparking a debate, her words are met with an uncomfortable silence. no one raises their hand, the reluctance to split up palpable in the air.

namra's expression remains neutral, her eyes scanning the group as she continues. "two, we stick together," she says, and this time, the response is overwhelmingly in favor. one by one, hands begin to rise, some more hesitant than others. the consensus is clear: sticking together is the preferred option, and the group's collective relief is almost tangible.

namra's voice is calm and authoritative as she announces, "alright, that means we are staying together." but before she can continue, daesu and mijin's disagreement threatens to boil over into a full-blown argument. you intervene, firmly telling them to "shut up and listen." they both reluctantly comply, their faces still stormy with discontent. namra seizes the opportunity to press on, her voice steady. "anyways, one, we make the outside higher." joonyeong's hand shoots up first, followed by suhyeok, onjo, and cheongsan. you hesitate, weighing your options, and just as you're about to raise your hand, mijin's death stare freezes you in place. you flash her a small, conciliatory smile before lowering your hand.

but you're not willing to abandon your opinion entirely. when mijin's attention is diverted, you slyly mouth to namra, "count me too." it's a subtle gesture, one that allows you to register your support without openly defying mijin's glare. namra's eyes flicker to yours, a hint of understanding in their depths, before she continues with the discussion.

namra's voice continues, steady and clear, as she presents the second option. "two, we fold the lids to make a box." mijin's hand springs up instantly, followed by hroryeong, wujin, and hari. mijin's eyes dart to you, expecting to see your hand raised in agreement. but your hand remains still, and you deliberately avoid her gaze, pretending to focus on something else.

mijin's reaction is immediate and intense. she mutters a curse under her breath before elbowing you sharply on your injured arm. the pain is sudden and intense, and you can't help but groan in response. but despite the discomfort, you lift your other arm in a show of solidarity with mijin, though you carefully shake your head at namra, indicating that you don't actually support the second option. the gesture is a delicate balancing act, one that aims to placate mijin's temper without compromising your own opinions.

namra's announcement is met with a mixture of reactions. "majority votes for option one. we'll be building the barricade higher," she declares, her voice firm and decisive. some members of the group rejoice, seemingly pleased with the outcome, while others remain stoic.

mijin, however, speaks up, her voice tinged with a hint of challenge. "what about your vote?" she asks, her eyes fixed intently on namra. the question hangs in the air, implying that namra's own vote might have swung the decision in a particular direction. the group's attention is now focused on namra, awaiting her response to mijin's inquiry.

namra's blank stare speaks volumes before she finally announces, "i go with one." the decision is met with a mixture of reactions, but mijin's disappointment is palpable. she lets out a curse under her breath, clearly unhappy about losing the vote.

you try to offer some comfort, patting her back as everyone starts to build the shield. "hey, if you ever get mad again, just know i was on your side," you whisper with a small smile. but mijin isn't buying it - she knows you're lying, and she gives you a small glare to prove it. "you moron, this is what i get from treating you so well?" she says, hopping off the cart and motioning for you to help her drill the boards to the carts. despite the tension, you can't help but notice the way mijin's eyes sparkle with annoyance, and you can't help but feel a twinge of amusement at the situation.

"hurry up," you say, following mijin with a small smile. you're trying not to laugh at how adorable she is when she's sulking. it's been a whirlwind few days, and to say you've built a lot of things is a massive understatement. you've been pushed to your limits, and your skills have been put to the test.

as you work alongside mijin, you can't help but think about the future. once this ordeal is over, you're going to have a slew of new skills to add to your resume. you're not sure what kind of job you'll be applying for, but you're confident that your experiences will make you a strong candidate. the thought is a comforting one, and it gives you the motivation to keep going, even in the face of adversity.

as you kneel down to drill the wood panels, mijin holds them in place, her hands steady and firm. your focus is solely on the task at hand, the sound of the drill filling the air. around you, the others are working on different aspects of the barricade. namra is carefully holding down a nail that will secure a makeshift mattress to the metal cart's pole, while suhyeok is supposed to be attaching a zip tie to hold it in place.

but suhyeok's attention is elsewhere, his gaze drifting across the room to settle on you. he's noticed little things about you as he's spent more time with you, like the way you react to mijin's teasing. she calls you a moron, and you don't bat an eye, but when myungwhan used to say the same thing, you'd get defensive. suhyeok's observations are subtle, but they reveal a deeper understanding of your personality and dynamics within the group.

suhyeok's observations of you have given him a glimpse into your emotional intelligence. he's realized that you're able to distinguish between people who are genuinely trying to hurt you and those who are simply joking around. it's a subtle but important distinction, and one that speaks to your ability to navigate complex social dynamics.

just as suhyeok is lost in thought, namra's soft voice breaks the spell. "staring isn't going to help us get done faster," she says, her tone gentle but pointed. suhyeok's head snaps towards her, his expression a picture of innocence. he blinks slowly, his eyes wide with feigned nonchalance. for a moment, suhyeok tries to come up with an explanation for his behavior, but he quickly thinks better of it. instead, he focuses on tying down the zip tie, his movements sudden and deliberate. it's clear that he's trying to avoid an unwanted conversation, and he's willing to do whatever it takes to steer the focus back to the task at hand.

namra's gaze lingers on suhyeok for a moment, her eyes sparkling with a hint of amusement. she seems to sense that there's more to suhyeok's behavior than meets the eye. slowly, she looks around the room, taking in the sights and sounds of the group's industrious efforts.

her eyes scan the space, lingering on mijin and you as you work together, before moving on to joonyeong and the others. finally, her gaze comes back to rest on suhyeok, who's still intently focused on securing the zip tie. namra's voice is low and casual as she asks, "suhyeok, do you... like y/n?" her words are dropped like a stone into a still pond, causing ripples of tension to spread through the air. suhyeok's hands freeze, the zip tie momentarily forgotten, as he struggles to come up with a response. suhyeok's ears turn a brilliant shade of red as namra's question hangs in the air. he's frozen in place, his body as still as a statue, as he struggles to process his emotions. it's clear that he's unsure of how to respond, and the silence that follows namra's question is oppressive.

just as it seems like suhyeok is about to implode from embarrassment, daesu ambles over, a look of annoyance on his face. "hey, suhyeok, can we switch?" he asks, patting suhyeok on the back. "wujin keeps yelling at me, and i'm getting tired of it." daesu's interruption is a welcome distraction, and suhyeok's frozen state begins to thaw. he blinks slowly, his eyes darting towards daesu as he tries to process the sudden change in conversation. namra's question is left hanging, unanswered, as the group's attention shifts to daesu's complaint.

wujin stands up from his kneeling position, a look of exasperation on his face. "he's always complaining that he's hungry," wujin says, his voice tinged with frustration. "i'm trying to focus on getting this done, and all he can think about is his stomach."

daesu shoots back, "hey, i'm starving! we've been working for hours, and i haven't eaten anything since..." he looks around the group, hoping to garner some sympathy, but wujin just rolls his eyes. "you're always hungry, daesu," wujin says, shaking his head. "it's like you have a bottomless pit for a stomach." the group chuckles at wujin's comment, and the tension is momentarily broken. suhyeok, still looking a bit flustered from namra's earlier question, takes a deep breath and tries to compose himself. as the sound of your drill momentarily stops, cheongsan suddenly speaks up, his voice low and barely audible. he mutters something underneath his breath, and you strain to catch the words. at first, you're not sure what he said, but then you pick up on a single word that makes your ears perk up: "chocolate". you're not sure what cheongsan is talking about, or why he's mentioning chocolate out of the blue. but the word itself is enough to spark a sudden craving within you. you can't help but wonder if there's any chocolate to be found in their current surroundings, or if cheongsan is just taunting you with the mention of it.

as everyone turns towards cheongsan, they're met with a surprising sight: he's holding an unopened chocolate bar in his hand. the room falls silent for a moment, before suddenly erupting into a flurry of activity. people start gathering around cheongsan, their eyes fixed greedily on the chocolate bar.

you can't help but be drawn in, your curiosity getting the better of you. daesu is the first to make a move, quickly snatching the chocolate bar out of cheongsan's hand. "let me see," he says, examining the package with a critical eye.

after a moment, daesu looks up, a hint of disappointment on his face. "it's expired," he announces, as if that's the final nail in the coffin. but suhyeok is undeterred. "who cares?" he says, a mischievous glint in his eye. "we can still eat it."the room falls silent again, as everyone considers suhyeok's words. then, slowly, a murmur of agreement starts to build. "we can take small bites," someone suggests. "just to calm our hunger a bit."

the discussion quickly gains momentum, with everyone chiming in with their opinions. it's clear that the prospect of sharing the chocolate bar is a tantalizing one, and no one wants to miss out.

the group forms a circle, the chocolate bar placed in the center. one by one, each person takes a small bite, savoring the sweet, rich flavor before passing it on to the next person. as the chocolate bar continues to make its way around the circle, you find yourself standing between suhyeok and cheongsan. you can't help but stare at the chocolate, your eyes fixed on the decreasing size of the bar. with each passing bite, your mouth waters more and more, and you can feel your hunger pangs growing stronger.

the chocolate bar is getting smaller and smaller, and you can feel a sense of urgency building up inside you. you hope that there will be enough left for everyone to have another bite, but as you glance around the circle, you realize that might not be the case.

as suhyeok brings the chocolate bar up to his mouth, you're completely entranced, your eyes fixed on the sweet treat. but as he pauses, his gaze meeting yours, you realize that you're staring directly at him, your eyes locked on his lips. the air seems to freeze around you, and for a moment, it's as if time has stopped. suhyeok's eyes narrow slightly, his expression unreadable, as he takes in the sight of you staring up at him with an unguarded intensity. your eyes, wide and unblinking, seem to be begging for something, and suhyeok's gaze lingers on yours, his face inches from yours. for a moment, it's as if the entire room has melted away, leaving only the two of you, suspended in a moment of charged anticipation.

the room falls silent, with everyone staring at suhyeok and you with a mixture of confusion and awkwardness. it's as if they're all waiting for something to happen, but nothing does. except for namra, who seems to sense that something is off. she elbows suhyeok gently, as if to snap him out of a trance. suhyeok blinks, his expression unchanged, and looks down at the chocolate bar still clutched in his hand.

and that's when he realizes, with a flush of embarrassment, that you were never actually looking at suhyeok's face. you were still fixated on the chocolate bar, your eyes glued to the sweet treat. suhyeok's face hadn't moved, and you were just... staring at the chocolate.

suhyeok clears his throat, a faint blush rising to his cheeks. he hesitates for a moment before offering you the chocolate bar, his eyes locking onto yours with a hint of uncertainty. "here," he says, his voice a little softer than usual. "you can take a bigger bite. it'll count for both of us."

daesu's eyes widen in protest, and he lets out a dramatic whine. "hey, no way! that's not fair!" he complains, his hands on his hips. "we're supposed to be sharing equally!" the group chuckles at daesu's outburst, and suhyeok shoots him a wry glance. "it's just a little more chocolate, daesu," he says, his voice tinged with amusement. "don't be so greedy."

you take the chocolate bar from suhyeok, your fingers brushing against his as you do so. but as you're about to thank him, you suddenly remember the words he spoke to you the night before. "i'm just gonna leave you alone." the memory of those words sparks a flicker of anger within you, and you feel your expression harden.

"no thanks," you say curtly, your voice devoid of gratitude. "i'm not that hungry anymore." you quickly pass the chocolate bar on to cheongsan, who takes a bite with a look of enthusiasm. suhyeok's eyes narrow slightly, a hint of confusion and hurt flickering across his face. but you don't meet his gaze, instead turning away and focusing on the task at hand. the tension between you and suhyeok is palpable, and the group's mood seems to shift in response.

suhyeok's eyes linger on you, his expression a mixture of surprise and curiosity. he seems to be studying you, trying to read the emotions behind your actions. and then, it clicks. he realizes that you're not the same person you were before. you're not the pushover people thought you were. he can sense that you've built a wall around your heart, a high, impenetrable barrier that's guarded with military-grade weapons. and he knows that those weapons are aimed directly at him.

you walk past suhyeok, your eyes fixed on namra, who's leaning against one of the metal racks, a look of quiet observation on her face. you make your way towards her, your footsteps echoing through the room.

as you approach, namra pushes off from the rack and watches you with a concerned expression. you sit down on the floor, your back against the rack, and close your eyes, taking a deep breath. the cool air fills your lungs, and you feel a sense of calm wash over you. you can hear the muffled sounds of the others, but they seem distant, unimportant. all that matters is this moment, this breath, and the sense of peace that comes with it. namra sits down beside you, her presence a comforting silence. she doesn't say anything, doesn't try to offer words of comfort or advice. she simply sits with you, a steady, reassuring presence in a chaotic world.

as you sit there, eyes closed, focusing on your breath, you're not even aware of namra's presence beside you. you're too caught up in your own attempt to escape, to temporarily forget about the dire circumstances that surround you.

mijin sits down in front of you and namra, her eyes scanning your faces as she takes in your calm expressions. for a moment, she just looks at you, a hint of curiosity on her face. then, as if drawn in by the peaceful atmosphere, mijin closes her own eyes and takes a deep breath. she sits down, her back straight, and begins to focus on her own breathing.

the three of you sit in silence, your eyes closed, your faces serene. you look like a meditation class, with you as the instructor guiding your students through a peaceful exercise. mijin and namra seem completely absorbed in the moment, their breathing slow and steady. meanwhile, wujin whispers to joonyeong, nodding discreetly in your direction. "what's going on with them?" he asks, his voice barely audible. joonyeong looks up from his project, his eyes squinting slightly as he takes in the scene. he shrugs, his expression uninterested. "no idea," he says, his voice equally quiet. "maybe they're just really into... breathing."

wujin raises an eyebrow, but joonyeong's already gone back to his project, his focus solely on the task at hand. he's still nursing a grudge about not getting any chocolate, thanks to daesu's sneaky snacking. the memory of that injustice still rankles him, and he's not about to let some mysterious meditation session distract him from his work.

as the three of you continue to sit in silence, the rest of the group begins to take notice. daesu, still licking his fingers from the last bite of chocolate, looks over at you with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. cheongsan and suhyeok exchange a glance, their expressions unreadable.

but joonyeong remains focused on his project, his eyes fixed intently on the task at hand. wujin, on the other hand, can't seem to tear his gaze away from the three of you, his eyes fixed on your peaceful faces with a mixture of fascination and confusion.

as you sit in silence, your mind begins to wander to a different time and place. you visualize yourself sitting on the couch in your living room, surrounded by the warm and comforting familiarity of home. your father is sitting beside you, a big smile on his face as the two of you laugh together.

the memory is so vivid, so real, that you can almost feel the softness of the couch beneath you, and the warmth of your father's presence beside you. you can almost hear the sound of his laughter, deep and rich, and feel the way it makes you feel happy and safe.

but as the memory washes over you, it's followed by a wave of sadness and longing. you realize that it's been a while since you last thought about your father, and that's a painful admission. you miss him dearly, and the not knowing - not knowing if he's even alive - is a constant ache in your heart. your eyes begin to sting, and you feel a lump form in your throat. you try to push the emotions away, to focus on the calm and peacefulness of the moment. but it's hard to shake the feeling of loss and longing that's settled over you.

namra's eyes remain closed, but a subtle smile plays on her lips as she visualizes herself sitting on top of a high building. the wind blows gently, carrying warm rays of sunshine that dance across her skin. she feels carefree, unencumbered by worries or responsibilities.

in her mind's eye, she's alone at first, savoring the peace and quiet. but then, she notices a presence beside her. she doesn't need to look to know it's you. she can sense your calm energy, your quiet contemplation. as she "sees" you standing beside her, looking out at the other buildings, a soft smile spreads across her face. it's an unconscious gesture, a reflexive response to the sense of comfort and companionship she feels with you by her side. the smile lingers on her lips, a gentle, serene expression that reflects the peace and tranquility of the moment.

mijin's eyes remain closed, a subtle nod of her head the only outward sign of the vibrant scene unfolding in her mind. she visualizes herself in her own room, surrounded by the familiar comforts of home. her headphones are clamped firmly over her ears, the rich sounds of her favorite rap tracks pulsating through the speakers.

as the music washes over her, mijin starts to rap along, her lips moving silently as she mouths the words. her hands begin to gesture, weaving intricate patterns in the air as she channels the swagger and confidence of her favorite artists. the bass thumps and bumps, the vibrations resonating deep within her bones. mijin feels alive, energized by the music and the freedom of expression it brings. her entire being seems to vibrate with the rhythm, her very essence infused with the raw energy of the rap.

in this private world of sound and motion, mijin is unstoppable, a force of nature unencumbered by the worries and cares of the outside world. she's lost in the music, and the music is lost in her.

wujin walks over to the three of you, his eyes scanning your peaceful faces with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. he squats down in front of you, his voice loud and jarring as he speaks. "what's going on here?" he asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "are you guys having some kind of meditation party or something?" he gazes at each of you in turn, his eyes lingering on your calm expressions. "you know, i didn't realize we were in a zen monastery. i thought we were stuck in a storage closet in our school gym." wujin's words are like a splash of cold water, disrupting the peaceful atmosphere you'd managed to create. you feel a jolt of annoyance at his interruption, but you try to maintain your calm demeanor.

namra lets out a soft sigh, her eyes still closed, as if reluctant to leave the peaceful state she'd achieved. mijin, on the other hand, smacks her lips in annoyance, her eyes snapping open to glare at wujin. "men ruin everything," she mutters, her voice dripping with exasperation, as she gets to her feet. namra follows suit, her movements graceful and fluid. as she stands up, she turns to you and smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners. it's a warm, comforting smile, and you feel a sense of solidarity with her. you take a deep breath, feeling the calmness begin to seep away, and get to your feet as well. the three of you stand there for a moment, a sense of shared understanding passing between you, before

mijin turns and walks away, namra following close behind.

wujin's face reddens as he stutters, "w-wait,!" he takes a step forward, his eyes darting between mijin and namra as he defends himself. "y/n is a man too!" he exclaims, as if that somehow justifies his behavior. just then, hroryeong walks into the conversation, a sly grin spreading across her face. "a good one!" she says, as she rolls her eyes at wujin. “the special treatment is getting out of hand..” wujin sighs defeated while going to cheongsan who patted him on the back.

you shake your head, a smile still playing on your lips, as you watch the exchange between wujin and hroryeong. your hair falls across your forehead, partially covering your eyes, and you absently brush it aside, your fingers grazing your skin.

as you move your hair, you catch a glimpse of yourself in your mind's eye, and you can't help but think that your hair must look completely flat and lifeless. you've been cooped up in this place for who knows how long, and you haven't exactly had access to a salon or even a decent hairbrush. you sigh to yourself, wondering what you must look like to the others.

as mijin swiftly changes the subject, the atmosphere shifts and everyone begins to prepare for what's to come. the room fills with the sound of rustling fabrics, clicking buckles, and the occasional grunt as people struggle to get into their gear. knee pads, chest padding, and elbow guards are all being strapped on, each person determined to be ready.

you, meanwhile, are rummaging through a box tucked away on a high shelf, your fingers searching for the perfect pair of protective gloves. as you pull out a pair of worn leather gloves, you wonder if they're from a hockey set – the padding on the palms and the reinforced fingers seem to suggest it. you quickly lace them up, tightening the straps around your wrists until they feel secure. a quick flex of your fingers confirms that you can still grasp objects without issue.

just as you're finishing up, your gaze falls upon a mysterious object tucked away between two crates. it's a thick, metal... something, and it seems to be beckoning you. without thinking, you reach in and wrap your gloved hand around it, feeling a satisfying weight to it. it's heavy, but not unmanageable. as you pull it out, you can't help but wonder what it is, and what it's used for.

as you grasp the mysterious object, you notice a white cover enveloping it, shaped like a long, slender stick. your curiosity piqued, you search for a zipper and, upon finding it, slowly unzip the cover. the sound of the zipper giving way is followed by a collective gasp as the object within is revealed: a sword.

at first glance, it's reminiscent of a fencing sword, but the blade's thickness tells a different story. as you carefully pull the sword from its cover, it emits a clear, ringing sound – a "shling" that sends shivers down your spine. you can't help but stare in awe, the sword's beauty and craftsmanship leaving you breathless.

this is undoubtedly an upgrade from the hammer, and you can't wait to try it out. your friends, equally captivated, gather around, their eyes wide with wonder. "wow!" mijin exclaims, her voice barely above a whisper.

joonyeong, meanwhile, rushes over to you, his glasses slipping down his nose as he takes in the sight of the sword. "where did you find that?" he asks, his voice filled with excitement.

daesu, not one to be left out, chimes in, "yah! see if there's one more!" but before you can respond, joonyeong speaks up, his eyes still fixed on the sword.

"there isn't another one," he says, his voice laced with a mix of disappointment and reverence. he looks up at you, his eyes shining with excitement. "do you know what this is?" he asks, but you can only shake your head, feeling a bit like a deer caught in the headlights.

joonyeong turns to the others, a sly grin spreading across his face. "this, my friends, is a damn hanwei katana." wujin and cheongsan spring to their feet, their eyes wide with astonishment. "you're telling me someone just casually stashed a limited edition katana in our school's dusty auditorium?" wujin asks incredulously, his voice dripping with skepticism. "what an idiot," he mutters under his breath, shaking his head. "that belongs in a glass case, not collecting dust in some forgotten corner of the school."

hari rolls her eyes good-naturedly at her brother's outburst, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "it's gotta be destiny that you found it here," she says, her voice filled with a sense of wonder.

joonyeong's expression turns serious as he looks at you, his eyes burning with intensity. "this is no ordinary sword," he says, his voice low and measured. "it's a powerful symbol, one that demands respect and caution."

taken aback by joonyeong's solemnity, you clear your throat before offering a awkward smile. "i guess it's about time i had some good karma," you say, trying to lighten the mood.

joonyeong's expression remains serious as he hands the sword back to you. "listen, you need to be careful if you're going to use this," he warns, his voice firm but concerned. "one wrong move, and you could slice someone's hand off." you nod soberly, feeling a sense of responsibility wash over you as you take the sword back.

you carefully slide the sword back into its cover, the sound of the zipper echoing through the air as everyone around you scrambles to arm themselves. metal baseball bats and sharp objects are distributed among the group, each person preparing to defend themselves. you tie the sword's belt around your waist, tightening it until the weight of the sword feels secure against your hip. suhyeok hands a baseball bat to cheongsan, his voice low and serious. "i'll take point, you cover our backs." cheongsan nods, his grip on the bat tightening as the group begins to form a tight circle.

metal crates are pushed into place around them, forming a makeshift barricade. mijin's voice trembles slightly as she speaks, her fear protruding. "you better be right about this,” joonyeong nods, “we've seen so many zombies already... they're not smart enough for this." joonyeong's expression remains calm, reassuring.

“lets do this!”

everything unfolded in a chaotic blur, your brain struggled to keep pace. fragmented images sear themselves into your mind: joonyeong's face contorted in agony, hroryeong's tears streaming down her face as she cowers beside you. your legs tremble beneath you, muscles screaming in protest as you push with every ounce of strength you possess. cheongsan's frantic yells echo in your ears, urging you to keep pushing, to keep fighting.

as the chaos subsided, you're left sitting in stunned silence, exhaustion washing over you like a wave. the same feeling of numbness, of detachment, that you experienced when you were trapped in that car comes flooding back. it's as if life itself has lost all meaning, leaving you feeling empty and hollow. why has this feeling returned? what triggered it? the questions swirl in your mind, but the answers remain elusive. what even happened? what is happening now.

you're lost in a world of silence, oblivious to mijin's repeated attempts to rouse you. but then, as if a switch has been flipped, your hearing suddenly returns to normal. "y/n!" mijin's voice cuts through the fog, and you turn to her in confusion. she's standing beside you, her expression a mix of concern and urgency. "cmon, we need to go," she says, trying to sound harsh but failing miserably. she knows all too well what you're going through, and her words come out laced with empathy.

you blink once, twice, and suddenly the world around you snaps into focus. you're sitting outside the gym, the bright sunlight a stark contrast to the darkness you'd faced just moments before. and then you see him - onjo's father, embracing cheongsan in a tight hug. memories come flooding back, and you recall the desperation, the feeling of being trapped. the doors had been locked, impassable... until they weren't. a man in a green bomber jacket had appeared, his face etched with the same exhaustion and terror that you felt. he'd been through the same hell, and somehow, he'd managed to unlock the doors and save you all.

you gaze down at your hands, surprised to find them steady and still. normally, they'd be shaking uncontrollably, but not today. today, they're calm, serene even. you can't help but wonder why. everyone around you seems to be trembling with fear, their eyes wide with anxiety. but you... you're numb. your gaze drifts up, past mijin, to suhyeok, who's staring down at his feet with a look of shame etched on his face. you've seen that expression before, just last night, when the two of you were arguing. the memory replays in your mind like a broken record, refusing to be silenced.

mijin's gentle tug on your arm breaks the spell, and you allow her to help you up. as you stand, you try to shake off the haze, to regain some semblance of clarity. but your mind remains foggy, refusing to cooperate.

mr. nam's concerned voice cuts through the din, "are you kids alright?" he scans the group, his eyes lingering on each of you before moving on. when his gaze falls on you, it pauses, and you sense a flicker of surprise. you follow his gaze to your shirt, and your eyebrow twitches in confusion. a portion of the fabric is torn, leaving a gaping hole. not again. you try to recall when it happened, but your brain refuses to cooperate. you grasp the torn fabric, willing yourself to remember, but the memories remain elusive.

mr. nam's voice cuts through the silence, "okay, are you all able to run?" the group exchanges hesitant glances before nodding in unison, still refusing to speak. mr. nam sighs, a mix of relief and concern etched on his face. "good."

he takes a deep breath before issuing instructions, "if you go straight through the tennis courts and pass the construction site, you'll hit the mountain." he points behind you, and you turn to follow his gesture, taking in the makeshift plan he's devised.

but before you can even process the information, your hand is grasped, and you're suddenly pulled into a sprint. you stumble forward, regaining your balance as you take in the chaos around you. everyone is scrambling, running up the hill near the gym, desperate to escape the horrors behind them.

you glance back, and your heart sinks. more of the infected are closing in, their twisted faces contorted in a snarl. you whip your head back around, focusing on the path ahead. your legs pump furiously as you push yourself to keep up. it's then that you notice suhyeok's hand still grasping yours, his grip tight as he pulls you along.

mr. nam's voice echoes from behind, "the tennis courts! run!" the sound of heavy footsteps and ragged breathing fills the air as your group sprints towards the gate. daesu's shout of "c'mon!" urges you on as wujin finally reaches the door and flings it open. everyone pours inside, a chaotic tide of panicked bodies.

you release suhyeok's hand as you enter, taking a moment to ensure everyone makes it in safely. hari's struggling to fend off an infected with her bow, but she's suddenly tackled by another. mr. nam leaps into action, saving her from the brink of disaster. "hurry!" you shout, relief washing over you as hari stumbles through the gate, unscathed.

mr. nam slams the gate shut behind her, and the group takes off, racing towards the far end of the tennis court. but as you run, you realize with a sinking feeling that the zombies can still see you, their moans and screams growing louder as they give chase. everyone skids to a stop, frantically scanning their surroundings for an escape. "oh fuck.." you gulp, a cold dread creeping up your spine.

wujin's voice trembles as he asks daesu, "what do we do?" the group's panic is palpable, and you can't help but wonder if you've simply traded one trap for another. in an instant, the gates that had been locked just moments before burst open, succumbing to the crushing pressure of the zombie horde. the bloody, snarling mass surges forward, their eyes fixed on you with an unrelenting hunger. you react instinctively, grabbing hroryeong's arm and pulling her close as you take off in a sprint.

cheongsan leaps into action, wielding his bat with deadly precision as he smashes aside the zombies that aren't tangled in the tennis net. the sound of crunching bone and snapping metal fills the air, a grim testament to his determination.

meanwhile, mr. nam rummages through his bag, producing a red stick that he flicks open with a practiced motion. a blazing red flare erupts from the stick, its intense light and ear-piercing whistle drawing the zombies' attention like moths to a flame. the creatures inside and outside the court converge on the flare, their mindsless bodies driven solely by their insatiable hunger.

seizing the distraction, you spin hroryeong around, shouting to the others, "c'mon, guys!" the group gives chase, hot on your heels as you make a beeline for the opposite door.

just as you're about to grab the handle, a tan, larger hand clamps down on yours, holding you back. suhyeok's eyes scan the surrounding area, his gaze darting back and forth before nodding in satisfaction. with a gentle tug, he opens the gate, allowing you and hroryeong to slip through, the others close behind.

you spin around, ensuring everyone's safe exit, but your gaze falls upon a scene that makes your heart sink. mr. nam has closed the gate behind onjo and cheongsan, trapping them outside. onjo's face contorts in desperation as she rips away from cheongsan's grasp and slams into the gate, frantically trying to reopen it.

her words trail off as she notices the bite mark on her father's hand. tears well up in her eyes, and her face crumples in anguish. you watch, frozen in horror, as the reality of the situation sets in.

you tear your gaze away, looking toward the trees that lie ahead. you take a few hesitant steps forward, trying to get a better view of the path ahead. the trees seem to loom before you, their branches creaking ominously in the wind. you pause, unsure of what to do next, as the sounds of onjo's despairing cries echo through the air.

you take a few more cautious steps forward, scanning the trees for any signs of zombies. your eyes dart back and forth, searching for any movement or telltale signs of danger. but for now, the coast seems clear. the trees are so dense that you can't even see any buildings in the distance, which means it'll take some time to reach the construction site mr. nam mentioned.

just as you're starting to feel a sense of relief, you catch a glimpse of someone peeking around a tree. your heart skips a beat as the person quickly ducks back out of sight. a wave of unease washes over you. who - or what - was that? could it be a zombie that hasn't noticed you yet? or is it someone else, someone who might be a threat? you instinctively crouch down, trying to make yourself as small and quiet as possible.

you take slow, deliberate steps towards the nearest tree, trying to be just as sneaky as the mysterious person. your senses are on high alert, ready for whatever might be lurking just out of sight.

you focus intently on the person, your eyes squinting as you try to make out any distinguishing features. the person darts to another tree, using it as cover. you hold your breath, waiting for them to make another move.

and then, in a flash, the person takes off again, giving you a better look. it's a man, dressed in a plaid shirt that's even more tattered than yours. his baggy jeans are torn and frayed, and he's clutching something in his hand, though you can't quite make out what it is.

just as you're taking in this information, you hear the sound of footsteps rushing towards you, accompanied by heavy breathing. you swiftly move behind your tree, out of sight, and signal for your friends to stop. you press a finger to your lips, warning them to be quiet.

daesu, who's in the lead, looks at you with confusion etched on his face. you slowly point in the direction of the mysterious man, and your friends quickly hide behind nearby trees, thinking that zombies are approaching. namra slips behind the same tree as you, her voice barely above a whisper. "it's a human." she breathes, confirming your suspicions. you glance at her, nodding in agreement.

with a slow, deliberate movement, you draw out your sword, holding it with both hands as you press your back against the tree. you're poised, ready to swing into action at a moment's notice.

wujin mouths to you from his hiding spot behind a large tree, where hroryeong is also concealed, "you don't even know how to use that!" his eyes sparkling with frustration. you roll your eyes good-naturedly and mouth back, "it's gotta be the same as a baseball bat." wujin's expression turns incredulous, and he rolls his eyes in response. just then, the sound of snapping branches and crunching leaves fills the air as the mysterious person approaches. you tense, ready to react. with a swift motion, you step out from behind the tree, sword at the ready. the blade comes to rest against the person's adam's apple, and they freeze, eyes wide with fear.

the person hastily drops their weapon and raises their hands in surrender. "wait!" they exclaim, taking in the sight of multiple young adults emerging from the trees. "i mean no harm to any of you!" they declare, attempting to sound brave despite the quiver in their voice.

his eyes meet yours, and you take in his features. he's gotta be older than you, with that strong, toned build and a few scratch marks on his face. despite his rugged appearance, there's something about him that seems... put together. hroryeong asks quietly, "w-whats your name?" breaking the silence. she suddenly feels like speaking for some reason.

wujin gently pushes down on your hands, signaling for you to lower the sword. you realize you're still holding it up and begin to sheathe it. the boy takes advantage of the distraction to slowly retrieve his axe, his movements cautious. “kyungho, im a senior at bomoon high.” as he stands up, you can't help but notice his stature. he's tall, with broad shoulders and a rugged build that makes him look like an actual lumberjack. cheongsan steps forward and asks, "is bomoon high infected too?" but you're too busy taking in kyungho's appearance to focus on the conversation.

daesu whispers to suhyeok, "how is he still so handsome even though he's all dirty like us?" but his voice carries, and the whole group hears him. kyungho's face flushes, and he looks down, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. he smiles awkwardly, his eyes meeting yours, and you feel a flutter in your chest.

kyungho's eyes lock onto yours, and he says, "hey, i know you." you're taken aback, unsure of what to say. "me?" you ask, incredulous. the group's attention shifts to you, their faces filled with curiosity. mijin steps forward, her arm crossed, her expression skeptical. "you know him, y/n-ah?" she asks, her tone implying she doesn't quite trust kyungho. you shake your head, "n-no, i don't think..." but kyungho interrupts, taking a step forward. "you're that kid in the bike store!" he exclaims, a smile spreading across his face.

daesu whispers to suhyeok, "he called him a kid when they're only a year apart.." his voice is laced with amusement, as if he's watching a show. suhyeok's eyebrows furrow, his expression unreadable as he takes in the interaction between you and kyungho.

the memories of kyungho come flooding back, and you're surprised you didn't recognize him at first. he looked so beat up, but now that you remember, you recall the cute boy you had followed into the bike store. your face grows hot as you realize everyone is still staring at you, awaiting your response.

"right... i remember now," you stammer, trying to play it cool. "it's good to see you." you manage a small smile, but you can't help the way your heart skips a beat as kyungho's eyes lock onto yours. you feel yourself melting under his gaze, and you look away, trying to compose yourself. but you can't shake off the feeling that kyungho's eyes are still on you, and you sneak a glance back at him. his expression is soft, and he's smiling at you, making your heart flutter even more.

“why is y/n so shy..?” daesu's whisper is cut off as suhyeok steps forward, his tall, athletic build positioning him slightly in front of you, as if shielding you from kyungho. the two of them are almost evenly matched in height and build, although kyungho appears slightly more muscular.

suhyeok's gaze is skeptical as he asks, "so you're saying you made it all the way from bomoon high, by yourself?" kyungho's eyes flicker to suhyeok, and he nods calmly. "yeah, today was the day some of the seniors went into the city for a project, and suddenly a bunch of those zombies got into the cafe we were at. luckily, i escaped through the back door," kyungho explains, pointing back in the direction he came from. "so i traveled all this way to find someone, and i've been on the run since."

wujin and daesu nod in unison, seeming to accept kyungho's story. you, however, are intrigued by his survival skills. "how could you survive by yourself for this long?" you ask, your curiosity getting the better of you. kyungho holds up a finger, as if to say "wait," before slipping off the long tote bag he'd been carrying on his back. he rummages through it, revealing a stash of food and snacks that makes everyone's eyes widen in surprise.

"i managed to break into a convenience store," he explains, a hint of pride in his voice. "so that's where i've been staying. i've been looking for people who survived, but you guys are the first people i've seen in days." the group's reaction is immediate. everyone's eyes light up at the sight of food, and they exchange excited glances. kyungho's face breaks out into a warm smile as he continues, his words tumbling out in a rush of excitement. "we can all head back! i'll show you guys. you can eat and sleep for the night." his enthusiasm is infectious, and the group's mood begins to lift at the prospect of food and shelter.

kyungho tosses a loaf of bread to daesu, who catches it and immediately tears into it, savoring the taste. hroryeong speaks up, "that'd be great," but cheongsan cuts her off, his expression apologetic.

"we can't," he says, his words hitting you like a ton of bricks. "i'm sorry, but we're trying to get out of the city." your heart sinks, realizing that you won't be able to rest and eat in a safe place after all. kyungho's face falls, but he quickly recovers, his expression curious. "oh, well, me too!" he exclaims, zipping up his bag. "where are you guys headed?" suhyeok takes over, explaining, "there's a construction site down that way. we need to pass it to get to the mountain." kyungho's eyes light up with interest, and he nods, as if considering something.

kyungho glances back in the direction he came from, a thoughtful expression on his face. "i mean, i can go with you guys if you'd allow me," he says, turning back to the group. "but the store isn't that far from here. we could make it and go first thing tomorrow. come on, you guys look like death." he tries to persuade the group, his eyes locked on cheongsan.

you turn to cheongsan, your eyes pleading. "we won't survive long out there if we don't eat and rest properly. one night," you beg, your voice barely above a whisper. the rest of the group's bodies seem to be echoing your plea, their tired and starving eyes begging for relief.the group falls silent for almost a minute, the only sound the heavy breathing of exhausted bodies. cheongsan looks at suhyeok, who's shaking his head in disagreement, but then his gaze sweeps the rest of the group, taking in their desperate expressions. finally, he nods. "lead the way," he says to kyungho, who grins triumphantly.

"awesome, come on," kyungho says, gesturing for the group to follow him. "if we move quickly and quietly, we'll get there in no time." you thank cheongsan before falling in behind kyungho, who takes the lead. suhyeok crosses his arms, looking disbelieving, but the rest of the group follows kyungho, their footsteps quiet and hopeful.

[poetry-protest-pornography]

Oh, they're in love love

This pinky-golden light that all their other world boyfriendism is cast in is so soft and cozy and glowy. It really sells the soulmate thing, because it makes it all feel intimate and warm and soft.

Especially contrasted with the darkness/cold that we see Cir in (and Phu, briefly, before they meet).

[grlsbstshot]

listen to james lucas's newly released double album, midnight & dawn

Also! Don't miss his appearance on everybody's favorite podcast, Rhythm & Tea

Chapter 12 of Neon Lights debuts this Wednesday

The cozy studio was a blend of modern and vintage aesthetics: warm wooden panels, sleek microphones, and an inviting couch that contrasted with the walls adorned with vinyl records and photos of past guests. James Lucas sat in the middle of it all, leaning back in his chair with a casual ease that belied the intensity of his thoughts.

He wore a crisp black turtleneck and dark jeans, his watch catching the light every time he gestured. Across from him sat the podcast hosts, Tasha and Lea, both vibrant and intrigued— clearly starstruck but maintaining a professional demeanor that James could respect. The interest in the room palpable as they volleyed questions back and forth.

It didn’t matter what he said, they probed for more. His charming quips bringing giggles and swooning from one of the hosts. The other just seemed to enjoy how unnerved her friend and partner was to be in front of a man they both admired.

“So, James,” Tasha began, her voice smooth and welcoming, “Midnight & Dawn has been called a masterpiece by a lot of critics already. Two disks, two distinct vibes—what made you decide to take on something so ambitious?”

Jameson smiled, a little shyly. “It wasn’t really a decision at first. It just…happened. EJ, my producer and writing partner, was working with me on an album but it didn’t feel done. So we pushed it back by a year. Everybody got on my ass about it but it felt right to push it. We took a break and then went back to it. When we started back work on it, I was an entirely different place and the music sort of split itself.”

“Can you give the people -- not us because I've already heard it and I'm obsessed with you...I mean, the album. But can you give them a little hint of what each side is about?” Lea spoke up, leaning forward in her chair.

When Jameson redirected her gaze to her and laughed, she blushed.

"How'd you hear it? It's not out until February 6th." "Don't worry about me, James Lucas. I got connections."

He laughed louder and she flipped her hair over her shoulder, proud of herself for it. “Midnight is about the darker emotions—grief, heartbreak, anger. Over time, I ran out of those emotions. So Dawn became about finding hope again. It’s a journey, you know?”

She nodded. “That makes sense. You can really feel that duality in the music. Was there a moment where you knew the project had to be a double album?”

“Yeah,” Jameson said, his gaze distant for a moment. “After we wrote ‘Simple Things’. It was incredibly different from anything that we’d done before. A little lighter. I stepped out of my personal experiences and just spoke broadly. It didn’t fit fully into what we were crafting. It was the other side of it. Originally, we were going to shelve it but EJ thought it was a shame to do that to a song we both liked so…we kept it on the track list. The more it started to expand, that’s when it came to me. Double album. I couldn’t tell the story in just one part.”

Tasha tapped her notepad, intrigued. “Speaking of storytelling, your lyrics are incredibly personal. Do you ever worry about being too vulnerable?”

Jameson chuckled softly. “No. I think that’s the point, right? Vulnerability is what makes music resonate. If I’m not honest, then what’s the point of any of it?”

"Okay, let’s get into details. It’s called Rhythm and Tea. Where’s the tea?” She teased him. “We love your new single, Burn. We have to know, James, is it about anyone in particular? Because we have our theories."

"Let me hear the theories." "One of our producers think it's about your latest break up with our girl, Imani. Is that true?" He hesitated before offering a chuckle in response, "Yes, we wrote it a year or so ago. Around the time we broke up."

Lea’s eyes went wide and she said “Ooooh.” Much to the amusement of her co-host but Jameson continued. “But I mean — it's Mani. She's a phenomenal woman. You lose someone like her, you feel it. For a long time. But I'm lucky. She and I have managed to be friends. I respect that so that's all I'll be saying."

The hosts exchanged a knowing glance, but they didn’t press further.

Tasha changed the subject. “Alright, we got enough tea. For now. Let’s talk process. Are you someone who writes every day, or do you wait for inspiration to strike?”

“I try to write every day, even if it’s just a few lines or a melody,” Jameson said. “But the best stuff usually comes when I’m not expecting it. Like, I’ll be driving or making coffee, and suddenly a lyric will hit me. I have a hundred voice memos of me humming into my phone while swerving through the streets because I got the phone to my ear trying to catch this random ass melody.”

The room erupted in laughter.

As the conversation continued, Jameson grew more animated, talking about the producers he’d worked with, the late-night recording sessions, and the risks he’d taken musically. But even as he spoke, there was a part of him that felt detached, like he was watching himself from a distance.

Tasha nodded, making a note of his answer. “Have you seen yourself transforming through your music?”

Jameson took a deep breath, considering the question carefully. “Well, when I first started out, I was just trying to make music that people would like. I was 18 when I signed my first deal. 19 when the album came out. What the hell did I know about life? But as I’ve grown and experienced more. I’m a few months from 30. My music has become much more personal and reflective of my own journey. I learned very quickly how powerful it can be. I learned how to express myself and my emotions in a way that I never could before.”

Lea jumped in excitedly. “And we can certainly hear that transformation in your new album. It’s raw and honest.”

“Thank you,” Jameson said with a smile. “I think that’s the beauty of music – it connects us all through our shared experiences.”

Tasha nodded in agreement before leaning in with another question. “Speaking of shared experiences, critics have been buzzing about one song in particular – Confessions. Can you tell us more about the meaning behind it?”

Jameson’s expression turned serious as he thought about how to articulate his thoughts on the track. “Confessions is a very personal song for me,” he began. “It’s about coming to terms with my mistakes and taking responsibility for them. Realizing you’re the villain in your own story is….hard.” He looked down at his wrist, fiddling with his watch nervously before continuing. “Whether it's infidelity or some other kind of betrayal -- to be able to face ourselves and confront our fuckups is needed to move forward. And Confessions is my way of doing just that.”

The hosts nodded understandingly, giving him a moment to gather himself, nodded appreciatively, thanking him for his time as the recording ended. As the studio lights dimmed and the crew began packing up, Jameson stayed seated for a moment, lost in thought. His mind wandered to Imani—her laugh, her stubbornness, the way she always saw through him. He wondered if she’d listen to the album. If she’d understand. With a deep sigh, he stood and shook hands with the hosts, thanking them for having him before making his way to the next promo opportunity, the weight of her absence pressed heavier on his chest each time he heard the music.

[salemoleander]

Creator Commentary / Explaining Elements

I don't normally do this, but there's SO MUCH going on in this one that I actually wanted to do a commentary on it and why I picked what I did! I put a LOT of thought into elements and how they contribute to the overall effect of a piece, so I thought it might be fun to lay some of that out.

That all got (predictably) incredibly long, so it is under its own cut! I've labeled each bullet by what I intuitively called that element, rather than the actual title/author/etc, to make it easier to follow which bit I'm talking about. (For example, rather than "Président de la nuit", I've labeled it "Chair painting".)

Also, you seem unstable… speech bubble

Chosen because it evokes superhero comics (which is the AU we’re in) and gives a humorous/light-ish start to the piece.

Could genuinely be said from either of them.

Overlaid on the wound-tending image to form a kind of tableau

Bandaging hand art

The hands being Grian/Scar’s isn’t sensical per the fic (they only had the 2 hands during the backstory) but the theme of helping/dependence due to injury really benefits from it.

This art also works bc it ties in the seafoam green & skin tone/reddish hues that appear in the chair & other hands. (The right side of the piece is blue/black, bc it’s about Scar’s “betrayal” of evicting Grian from his body)

in his eyelids poem excerpt

Contains the idea of existing inside another person, as well as the fear - one last nakedness, one last level of being exposed to the possible judgment or harm from someone else. 

The words ‘sleep until dawn’ create an image of soft/warm affection, and the mention of nakedness also leads well into the nude man with blank eyes below it, what happens when Grian is kicked out of that body.

Broken glass

Needed a low-contrast bg image that would blend well into the art below, and to enhance the idea of superheros/danger/risk/fighting without just chucking another wounded hand into the mix. 

When you/ bend and kiss the rotting wings poem excerpt

The rest of the poem is much longer, and even this stanza is longer, but it had several bits I found either redundant or less-applicable for this use. 

The final line in full is “Even now I still need something better to say/ than this hush love creates between two people” but ending it at “better to say” hits harder. The hush love creates is being created by the other pieces & its placement over a cozy house scene, no need to belabor the point.

He tugs gently on my towel… poem excerpt

I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO USE THIS FOR FOREVER Fjords is a phenomenal collection but the poems create such a specific feeling that they’re very hard to use well. 

The full poem POV is referred to with she/her, which isn’t a dealbreaker but I found I could cut around those lines & still get the core image I wanted to steal for this.

Again emphasizing this gentle/warm/caring nature that still results in unclothing (a last nakedness!) the POV character, in reminding them they are not human, and an assumption that that is a flaw.

Blood decanter

This was one of the last additions - I like to break up horizontal/vertical edges when I can, and that middle edge was VERY unbroken. 

There are a bunch of other vein-style carafes by the artist, but this one had an alien/baby-animal-taking-its-first-steps spindliness that I liked.

The recurrent blood motif is partly my own personal bias towards it but also bc it turns out it is VERY HARD to visually convey ‘guy who is living inside another guy’, especially if you, the artist, have a phobia of parasites. So, blood/veins/connections through tendrils it is. Vaguely mold-like but not bc I am a big baby.

Red wings

Again, wanted to break up that vertical line, and also this Grian does have wings, and also also I figured I could maybe do a sort of tableau thing w/ the guy sitting. Not trying to do true collage there, but the implication of his having wings is good enough for me!

Would you murder me texts

Needed something small/with simple or no text to go over the cozy chair. At one point Grian mentions basically ghosting Scar for almost a year?? And it seemed like an appropriately funny-but-not-really thing to include.

Chair painting

I needed the coziest, most Scar-tastic living room (with a balcony/night view bc superhero au obvs) and Ms. Carole Rabe fucking delivered. All of her paintings are so richly done!! Go look at them!

Scar colors, and also blends between the seafoam/pale green & orange -> sunset tones that play so well with the red and dark blue.

Also. There’s only one chair, and it’s empty. 

Give until I’m… poll

I originally used all 4 of the results from this, bc imo they fit REALLY well to Scar Grian Xisuma and then one aimed at recovery. In the fic it’s clear they’re all kind of.. different flavors of too-altruistic, different flavors of lighting themselves on fire to keep someone else warm.

However that ended up dominating the feeling of it/ adding too much gray, so I dialed it back to ones that convey the fears/themes of the work. 

Scar refuses to become hollow, refuses to be a home for someone else; Grian trusts and trusts and that breaks him, gives up his own body until it is a shell for Scar to carry out; Xisuma has seen everyone he loves die and keeps going, doggedly continuing a heroic fight that nearly ended with him dead on a warehouse floor.

Sitting on floor guy painting

GO LOOK AT DENIS SARAZHIN’S ART. NOW.

Okay - the blue with touches of red at the toes was the right color for what I needed. He’s in the dark, almost veiled by the quotes around him.

Mostly I picked this for his expression. Go look at a full-res version of this - his eyes are intelligent but veiled, mouth slightly hardened and fist clenched. 

I also think the title has some very good synergy with the themes.

love me enough to drown me out

I don’t do easter eggs, but this is about as subtle as I’ll let things get. Depending on screen brightness a lot of people won’t even see this element to the right of the sitting man, which is intentional.

With this I was both thinking of Grian’s need for Scar (love me enough to ignore your misgivings, to let me be part of you, to escape the pain of being alone in my own head, drown me out) and Scar’s implied request in return (love me enough to drown out the distrust, to let me see you, to eclipse your fear of not being enough).

It’s hard to see bc this is the point in the story where they are the least communicative - Grian made into an insensate thing, Scar never even telling him what he was planning. 

Think of visible red/blood in this collage as representing ‘wear your heart on your sleeve’; the text is obliterated because the idea it contains is obscured.

I return to the site of injury

Trying to let some pieces be more/less easily legible, letting smaller/more private thoughts exist with less contrast.

They are each others’ sites of injury; Scar literally could not have lived without him, and Grian cannot forgive the wound of separation.

to have & to hold

This might as well be the thesis statement. To have - to possess, to contain, to consume, to be - is incompatible with to hold - to comfort, to exist beside. Wanting doesn’t make them synonyms.

happiness is…

Gonna be real, I just saw that title on an old blood donation ad and was like ‘LOL yeah that works’.

Like yeah happiness is helping other people despite the risk to yourself, reaching out will always be nobler than stagnation, etc etc.

Birds and smoke

I love the bright red of the birds against the smoke, and the sky/smoke mimics the blue of the top right side excellently.

Needed something to subtly set the scene (there’s a fire in the warehouse, it’s nighttime, etc) without being too muddy bc there’s so much stuff in the foreground.

Veins and Bones Arm Embroidery

MAYBE MY FAVORITE ELEMENT

The artist (if I’m understanding correctly): Photographed her own arm. Printed it on fabric. Drew on her bones. And then embroidered her veins!!! Sick as hell!!

I wanted something that used veins, that showed the entry/takeover of Grian into X’s body while also avoiding gore. I had a cool old blood-drawing illustration that I decided to abstain from bc I thought it might be a bit much (and also it wasn’t colorful and I didn’t wanna have to do Yet Another Filter)

The tracing of bone underneath - the implication of something permanent and solid that veins are woven around/ latticed on - felt like a good choice to convey what Grian does in the fic.

with all the holes in you already…

Abjection, baby!

No seriously, go read some Kristeva and then come back. 

Jenny Holzer the text artist of all time tbh. 

Needed something to convey injury/damage/mutualistic parasitism/’you’re afraid but you don’t have to be’ and unfortunately just pasting in a scene from the Xenogenesis trilogy would take too much room.

Also the pale mirrored silver/red fit great with the arm embroidery and bloody hands.

Car headlights

Wanted to convey city/bright/hard to see, and the moment they stepped out the door with Grian piloting X, the need to stand up to news & paparazzi, just a bunch of things related to ‘bright light in my eyes ouch’

I did not hunt down the moment

I am SO SAD scatterghosts deactivated. Wonderful TMG edits.

So this already had the perfect colors and was itself a city scene, it felt very logical to overlay it on the car headlights.

I was mostly thinking about how after a year of avoiding him, this reunion comes upon Grian without warning. 

Also thinking about dreams/waking, potentially suppressing X’s consciousness, and a blurry-eyed attempt to determine What Is Happening.

Bloody hands

\o/ HANDS WITH BLOOD (Do you have any idea how hard it is to get good art with blood/gore that isn’t 1. Guro (very.) 2. Irl photos of dubious provenance 3. Medical photos again of dubious provenance??)

There’s a whole set of hands with blood in that series, actually! I chose these bc I wanted 2 hands (Grian and X), and I wanted X’s to be lax, with Grian’s active.

I thought the way the thumb is digging into the lower arm seemed evocative of the connection/penetration of letting your cells start to breathe for somebody else.

The blood is blood but the way it coats one hand while marring the other also brings up contamination/spreading, like we can see Grian’s cells flowing down?

Do you have a question…? poem excerpt

Again, slightly harder to read than I might normally do!

A question that can’t be answered is about keeping secrets, as well as Grian’s refusal to ask Scar why, to confront him, to have that conversation.

Mercy being difficult to understand is the other side of that coin - if Scar wasn’t being cruel, why did becoming hurt? Why is he willing to risk his life for X, despite knowing the incredible danger? He wants to be a pigeon again.

A piece of burned meat poem excerpt

This is Xisuma’s POV to me, post-fic. Not much of it, but I wanted to explore both the idea of ‘my body is HURT and I am not in control’ and also ‘I am so tired. I have been so tired. At least this isn’t up to me anymore.’

catching signals that sound in the dark webweave

Created as a gift for @droidofmay for her incredible fic!

// Sources under readmore //

What is a webweave? Previous art: Third Life | Void Falling | Attempt 33 | Limited Life | Nightingale | solving counting sheep | Hunger au

Also, you seem unstable… speech bubble / via imperiuswrecked ◆ Naka-Choko [the inherent homoeroticism of wound tending] / @dontbelasagnax ◆ Excerpts from Your Lover (The Galloping Hour: French Poems) / Alejandra Pizarnik via @feral-ballad ◆ Constellation No. 26 / Zhao Zhao via @psikonauti ◆ Excerpt from Hush / C. Dale Young via @grocerystoredean ◆ Excerpt from Refrigerator General (Fjords I) / Zachary Schomburg ◆ Carafe Nº6 / Etienne Meneau ◆ Red wings / Natalia Karna ◆ Would you murder me… texts / sparklebussy (deactivated) ◆ Président de la nuit / Carole Rabe via @huariqueje ◆ Give until I’m… poll / @orewing ◆ Out of touch / Denis Sarazhin ◆ fill me up, fill me full up / @taohun ◆ Excerpt from Heed the Hollow / Malcolm Tariq via @geryone ◆ Excerpt from No I Don’t Want to Connect with You on LinkedIn / Emily Skaja via @serratedpens ◆ Happiness is- / National Institutes of Health ◆ Fire reflected on birds in smoke / Coen Robben via @theanimalblog ◆ Constructual 5 / Juana Gomez ◆ With all the holes… (Survival series) / Jenny Holzer via @valtsv ◆ New York Winter 2014 2015 / Lina Scheynius ◆ I did not hunt down the moment edit [[Need More Bandages / TMG | Night Lights, Berlin / Lesser Ury]] / a-doctor-not-a-fangirl (deactivated) ◆ Lie (Peripety series) / Jen Mazza ◆ Excerpts from From The Book of Time (Devotions) / Mary Oliver via @liriostigre ◆ Excerpts from Having It Out with Melancholy / Jane Kenyon via @cithaerons

[your-turn-to-role]

i am not immune to colour palette

[mo-ok]

Toku Summer Day 5 - Favourite Sun Themed Villain

So long, the person I was until today! Welcome, the person I'll become tomorrow! The High School Heroes: Sun Halo Majin

[silverskyeline]

'messy' 18+

oneshot (request) - logan learns that you can squirt, he indulges in that information (1.8k words) pairing - logan howlett (xmen) x f!reader tags - established relationship, fingering, petnames: babygirl, baby, good girl, praising, kind of overstimulation, squirting, lots of squirting, a little rough, he talks reader through it, wet mentions, reader orgasm, dirty talk, fingers in mouth, logan makes reader taste themselves.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

you're splayed out on his lap on the sofa just how he likes you to be, nestled on top of his plush, firm thighs. your knees are bent with your ankles resting over either side of his legs, your back flush with his warm chest, your whole body exposed, open, for him.

logan's thick, calloused fingers lazily stroke your clit, earning soft mewls from your lips as your head tilts back over his shoulder. his other hand is ensuring his middle finger pumps in and out of you at a slow pace, your body craving those broad digits stretching your tight walls.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

you're moaning, gripping his arm for dear life as you squirm in his lap, rolling your hips instinctively. it was beautiful, the way he could make you sing for him, the way he could make your body move for him with just a few simple strokes, almost like a puppet, pulling your strings. he would never consider himself your 'master', but god, you'd let him control you whenever he liked.

he smirks, nuzzling his fuzzy beard into the side of your cheek, his lips finding their place at your ear, "that feel good, baby girl?" logan asks, his voice a deep purr. he already knows the answer.

you gasp at his low-toned voice, gruff like gravel but sweet like honey, "yes. . ."

"mh, that's what i thought. . . think you can take a little more though." he huffs, slipping another finger inside.

your walls clench around the sudden new presence and you moan, loudly, craving the feeling of being filled by him in whatever capacity he's willing to give.

"that's it," he coos, picking up the pace, "good girl, gooood girl. . ." logan loves how easily he can slip inside of you, how he'd always find you dripping, cunt aching, core throbbing for him. his sensitive ears perk up at the sweet sounds of your wet pussy taking his fingers in, the wet schlick sounds filling the room.

your cheeks flush, looking down at the way his fingers are making light work of you, your shirt hiked up to expose your breasts. with the pace increasing, and the way he's so sweetly purring filthy words into your ear. . . you feel a sensation start to build.

it's. . . new, almost uncomfortable but not quite. not the same as an orgasm but almost. it pools low in your belly, just a little out of reach.

but his fingers pick up again, slamming deep inside of you, curling just enough. his fingers circling your clit remain slow in contrast, creating a dizzying combination of sensations that have you clenching around him and calling out his name over and over in some desperate plea. desperation for him to continue, for the building feeling, for him, full stop.

the feeling returns. fuck, it almost feels like you need to piss. your cheeks flush, eyes rolling back as you fight back the feeling, but he's rubbing you and touching you and fucking you too good for you to hold anything back.

"logan," you gasp, arching your back, "l-logan wait-"

but it's too late, before he even has the chance to slow down, you squirt. your juices coat his hands, his fingers, dripping down along his arm and onto the sofa below earning a gasp from both of you.

his eyes widen, stopping his movements immediately causing you to whine at the sudden lack of friction.

then there's silence, save for the lewd wet dripping from the sofa onto the hardwood floor.

your head is reeling, did. . . did you just squirt? fuck, you'd never done that before. heart pounding, you swallow hard, instinctively wanting to apologise for the mess, "shit, sorry i-"

"holy fuck. . ." he whispers shakily before you even have the chance to finish your sentence, "where were you hidin' that from me?" you can hear the smirk in his voice clear as day as he talks into your ear.

"what?" you whisper.

he smirks, kissing your ear, "you didn't tell me you could make cute little messes like that, baby."

"i didn't know i could. . ." you admit, biting your lip as you feel the cool air of the room brush against your dripping sensitive core.

logan's eyes widen, the implication of your words nestling deep in his brain, and groin. he was the first ever to make you squirt, the first to make you feel so good that you couldn't help but make a mess for him. pride swells in his chest, manifesting in a low rumbling smug chuckle at the back of his throat.

". . .think you could make another mess for me?" he hums, his fingers on your clit slowly resuming their movements.

you whimper, the new sensation you experienced was foreign but surprisingly welcomed. you had no idea it felt that good, that you could ever do that. but logan has a way of coaxing everything out of you, cock and fingers playing you like an instrument he's mastered.

"don't know. . ." you mumble, suddenly feeling skittish.

it's then that his fingers start fucking you again, gliding in and out easily, your fluttering hole welcoming the movement. "you can, i know you can." he encourages, nibbling at your ear, "you'll be a good girl, you'll make another mess for me, won't you?"

fuck, his words. his fucking words. every single time they had you acting crazy, letting out sounds you didn't know you could make. and he drinks them in, drinks up all those sweet little sounds from that pretty little mouth of yours that he loves so much.

you simply nod, feeling his digits pumping rougher, curling to find that sweet sweet spot once more. you're not sure if you can even do it again, but logan seems pretty fucking set on making him gush for you at least once more.

he scissors his fingers slightly, stretching you, the motion making you whine with pleasure. but when he pushes in a third finger? that's when you really start screaming for him.

"that's more like it, huh?" he grins, breathing deeply through his nose from how hard he's working you, "just needed a bit more, cus' i know you like it thick baby, don't you? like it thick like my cock?"

you want to gasp, to react to his words, but your eyes are rolling back again, mouth stuck open in an 'o' shape as you feel that sensation build once more. your body is tensing, thighs clenching, back arching, eyes squeezing shut. subconsciously you hold your breath as if that'll help. he's got you right where he wants you, right where he knows you want to be.

seconds later you're gushing, more this time - it lands on the hardwood below with a crude splash and coats his hands nicely. logan laughs, a deep dirty laugh as you writhe. he gives a gentle slap to your clit, then a firmer one, causing more to spill from you along with some squeaks.

"there we go, good girl, what a good girl. . ." you can hear the smirk in his voice, the wide grin he's wearing, the smugness lacing every word that leaves his lips, "feels good to make a mess for me, doesn't it?"

you're breathless, panting, overwhelmed in the best way. and then he speaks again.

". . . i think you can handle one more." logan purrs, movements suddenly fast and hard. his fingers fuck deep into you, curling to hit your g-spot with each calculated thrust. the fingers on your clit speed up, rubbing in practiced circles sending sparks of electricity throughout your body.

you want it too, you'd give it to him over and over again, create messes all night long if your body let you.

god you'd do anything for him, especially in that moment, and how could you not? the way his fingers play with you, toy with you, slide into you. . .

"d-don't know if i can!" you admit, huffing, trying to get more air.

but he shakes his head, "yes you can." is all he says, firmly.

and he's right. moments later you feel it pooling in your belly once more, the accompanying orgasm approaching that threatens to throw you overboard. you're lost in a sea of sensations, stars in your vision, his voice in your ear the only anchor you have to reality. you let it guide you, until you're drenching his fingers and jeans once more, voice ringing out within his bedroom as his voice coaxes and praises you softly.

his fingers on your clit come together to slap down against you, each smack against your sensitive bundle of nerves causing more to spray. you're making such a big mess, his jeans are damp. he doesn't care. this is what he wants, and fuck, if you don't feel the best you've ever felt in your entire life. . .

he keeps going, his fingers steadily pumping into you roughly, desperate to get every last drop as he feels you clamp down around his fingers. you're moaning, gasping, gripping onto his arm for dear life as you ride out your orgasm. it's too much, but it's also perfect. logan watches on in deep satisfaction as you writhe on his lap, his bulge pressing against you above him, cock twitching and rock hard just from touching you.

as your body relaxes, so do his movements, slowing down. he glides his fingers in a few times, enjoying the slick sounds they make before pulling them from your still-fluttering hole. he lazily drifts his damp digits along your tummy, leaving a trail of wetness up to your chest until it finds your mouth.

you part your lips gladly, turning your head to look up at him through hooded lids as you take his fingers in your mouth. diligently, your tongue laps at his fingers, reeling at the taste of yourself on him, dripping from him.

"good girl, you're always so fuckin' good for me. . ." he smiles, kissing your forehead as he watches you, his free hand resting on your tummy. you enjoy the feeling of his large palm against you, making you feel comforted whilst also grounding you after that whirlwind of release.

you pull his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop, instead kissing along his fingers and down across the sensitive skin of his knuckles. a silent thank you, for making you feel so good.

logan watches keenly, growling quietly at the stirring in his groin. his eyes flash with something. you'd call it mischief.

your eyes flit up to his, knowing what he's thinking before he's even said it.

"wonder what else you can do. . ." he smirks, "keeping any other secrets from me?" logan asks as he rolls his hips against you, prompting you to feel how hard he is for you and you exhale, relaxing back against him.

it was funny, how he could always push you right to the edge when you think you're spent.

and yet have you craving more. . .

you grin, biting your lip, "wanna find out?"

[oreo-creampie]

“𝐬𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬! caught fucking and neither of you stop, sugar baby!reader, ceo au, light exhibitionism, light voyeurism, degradation/praise, impact play with a belt, choking with a belt, handjob, face fucking, satoru stick his thumb in your ass, cream pie, pain kink, collar and leash (they make one with the belt)

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧! Ceo!satoru gets caught fucking his sugar baby at work but he doesn't stop

The heavy door of Satoru’s office automatically slides open with a small click. On the other side is a beautiful man in a black suit with angular dark brown eyes and long black hair.

His smooth, gentle voice contrasts his cocky smirk. “Thought I drop by for a surprise visit, didn't expect to be the one surprised.”Walking into Satoru’s office, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. “Suguru Geto.” Standing in front of you giving you an eyeful of the outline of his thick cock.

Your pussy sinfully clenches, you want them both. Looking up at Suguru pleading with Satoru, “Don’t stop! Don't stop! Nnn feels ‘s fuckin’ good.” Your messy cunt lewdly squelches, fluttering around Satoru. Getting off on Suguru watching you take Satoru’s cock.

Satoru’s long, veiny cock is making a mess out of your cunt. You’re dripping down your thighs as he wrecks your cunt with quick hard thrusts. Filling you with intense body-tingling pleasure making your knees weak.

It’s hot the way Satoru grunts, “Fuckin’ cumslut,” Clenching Satoru, biting your lip when he needy whines. “Her cunt got wetter, she’s a beautiful cock hungry whore.” Sharply smacking your ass, making your cheek jiggle. Crying as sweet hot pain spreads from your cheeks to your needy cunt.

Suguru unbuckles and tugs on his black leather belt. Biting your lip when he loops it, holding it out to Satoru. “Use my belt on her slutty ass. We can see how long it takes for her cheeks red.” Fondling Suguru’s hard cock through his pants. His cock is so heavy and thick, his balls are large.

Satoru slowly drags the leather belt along your cheek. Anticipation builds, “Best pussy sleeve I’ve paid for. Don’t fuck her mouth yet, I wanna hear her crying.” Gliding his cock out.

Smack! Smack! Smack! The desk keeps you from running away from the fourth.

Satoru groans, “It’s so hot when she tries to run away." Smacking your ass harder with the belt. "Where do ya think you're going? Stupid whores like you get their asses spanked for being dirty cock loving sluts.” Jerking forward with each sharp belt crack, clutching the desk.

Another click of the sliding doors. “Damn choke her out with it too while you at it.” A handsome man dressed less formally in white collar and black slacks. Short black hair hangs in his dark ocean blue eyes. His lips have a defining scar.

Satoru informs, “The meeting is delayed by an incoming flight.” Your cheek is warm with sweet white hot throbbing pain. The desk is the only thing keeping you up. “Beautiful,” Smack! “Here is helping me release a little stress.” Satoru massages your aching cheek, dragging the belt along your spine to your other cheek.

Looping the belt around your neck, lifting your head up, and choking you. “Her mouth is free to use.” Satoru lines himself up, swiping his head between your wet lips. Rutting his cock in with a harsh thrust of his hips and a loud smack of skin.

Suguru undoes and pushes down his pants with his underwear. His cock is beautiful, pale with a soft tan at his cockhead. There are two thick puffy veins close together. You want to choke, suck and gag on Suguru's fat dick.

Opening your mouth for Suguru, Satoru squeezes the belt around your neck. You hear the clank of a belt hitting the floor. A rough hand grabs your wrist, and he spits on your hand wrapping your fingers around his cock. Thicker than Suguru, swirling your hand stroking his cock, your fingertips don't touch.

Satoru spreads your cheek apart with one hand. Spitting on your other hole, swirling his thumb then sliding it in. "Since you got here late you can have the glory hole when after Suguru." It's all going to your messy cunt, getting off on being their slut. Hoping all three of them cum in your cunt leaving a mess to drip down your thighs when you head home.

Clenching Satoru's cock, gagging on Suguru's, stoking Toji. You're a mindless, cock hungry mess with spit dripping down your chin. Slick trickles down your thighs smearing onto Satoru's balls when they hit your clit.

Tears drip down your cheeks, Suguru buries his cock in your throat. Your cunt clenches Satotu with each gag.

Suguru croons "Awww she's crying!" Sliding his cock out, you gasp for air but nothing. Toji slides your hand off his cock when Suguru steps aside. Toji smacks his heavy cock against your cheek smearing your tears. Taking your mouth in slow deep thrusts.

Lying limp, trembling on Satoru's rocking desk. Your lungs are screaming for air. Toji's warm cock dragging along your wet tongue. Stuffing his head into your tight throat with a rough grunt.

Satoru holds your cheek with his thumb in your ass. “Fuck! Using her like this! She’s the perfect pussy sleeve.” Loosening the belt around your throat, Toji pulls his cock out giving you a moment to breathe.

Holding your hand out for Suguru’s cock, still slick with spit. Slowly sliding and swirling your hand along his cock. Staying close to his sensitive head, swiping your thumb every so often to smear his pre-cum.

Suguru asks “Do you think she will be ready for round two when we finish work?" Following it with a breathy moan when you pump your fist faster.

Cupping Toji’s balls take his cock in your mouth looking up at him. Your back is arched, cheeks jiggling. "Look at her, she a greedy cock hungry whore." Gagging you with his cock the spasming of your cunt has Satoru whining. As he tries to keep his pace steady, fucking you harder.

The soft twitching of his cock and the pulsing of his veins with his thumb inside your ass gets you closer. It's his hot thick cum spilling inside you that makes your squelching cunt cum.

Satoru tugs the belt wrapped around your neck like a collar with a short leash fucking his cum deep into you. Smearing some of it cum with sloppy slow thrusts.

Satoru's hips smack your ass one last time before he bottoms out. Stuffing in some of the cum that follows his cock back in with his fingers. "She'll be at the door kneeling in lingerie waiting to be fucked like the slut she gets off on being." Thick cum dripping from your cunt as Suguru takes his place.

Oreo’s m.list

[whytheylosttheirminds]

blue sweater - r.c.

(season 4 bf!rafe x gf!reader blurb, 2.4k words)

content smut, p in v, this gorgeous man and his afformentioned blue sweater, 18+ minors do not interact!!

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠂

You’d fallen asleep on the couch, waiting up for him again. You didn’t fault Rafe for working so hard, you just miss him so fucking much when he’s in back-to-back meetings all day. 

The couch dips below you, pulling you from your dreams. A large, warm presence settles next to you on the sofa. You didn’t have to open your eyes to know it’s him.

“Hey,” you mumble sleepily, eyes still closed.

He’s smirking down at you, you know him so well you can picture exactly how he looks without actually seeing him. 

“Hi,” he leans forward, planting a sweet kiss on your cheek. “I’m sorry, that last meeting ran so long.”

Finally opening your eyes to meet his, you’re almost startled by the sight. Somehow, in the dim evening light, they’re more deeply blue and beautiful than ever.

“Nice sweater,” you say, reaching up to run your fingers along the hard edge of his shoulder. Even though he looks so soft and pretty right now, he’s tense, and you wish you could ease the worry that furrows his brow.

He smiles knowingly, the skin at the corner of his eyes crinkling in the cute way that makes your heart ache for him.

“Thanks, my girlfriend got it for me.”

“She has good taste,” you joke as your run your hand gently up and down his bicep, the soft fabric such a contrast to the hard muscle below. 

“Yeah, she’s all kinds of good,” he winks.

“Then why’d you make her wait for you all night?” You pout, sticking out your bottom lip so he’d know you’re just teasing.

“I said I’m sorrrrry,” he whines as he leans over you more, adjusting to bring his legs onto the couch. You make room for him instinctually, his body fitting into yours like you were designed for each other. 

He lets his full weight down slowly, sinking you both deep into the cushions. Nuzzling his head into your neck, he drags his lips against the skin below your ear so gently, it sends goosebumps racing across your skin. He can feel your excitement and starts kissing you more firmly, leaving little wet spots up the column of your throat.

Your hands splay out over his big, firm back, rubbing circles into the tight muscles. You press deep, working out his stress, and he groans at your firm touch. Your hands work slowly down his back, pressing as you go. When you reach the hem of his sweater, you slip your hands underneath. Rafe flinches at your touch, a shudder running through him.

“Your hands are cold!” He exclaims, his voice muffled.

“Oh sorry, love!” you start to pull them away, but he reaches his arm behind him and pins your palms to his skin.

“No, it feels nice, don’t stop.”

You obey, the pads of your fingers digging little figure eights into his lower back, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“What’s got you so stressed baby, hmm?” You ask.

“Just got too much going on,” he shakes his head so his buzzed hair tickles your earlobe. You giggle at the sensation, his head rising and falling with the shake of your chest.

“Poor baby,” you coo, making him smile against you. “Just need a little help to relax?”

Rafe nods against you, moving slightly to lay his head against your chest so you can run your nails along his head like you know he likes. You bring one hand up, the other still under his shirt, the motion making you open your legs wider so you can stretch. He slots between them perfectly, and when you drag your nails over the fuzzy hairs right at the nape of his neck, you can feel him twitch against your core, already half hard.

“Someone’s needy,” you hum, delighted that you can make him so hot just by touching him tenderly like this. “Want me to make you forget all about your bad day?”

“Please,” he groans into your collarbone, pressing his hips down harder so you can feel him fully against you now. Your wetness pools immediately, soaking through your panties as you arch your back and return the pressure. 

“Shit, baby, that’s so nice,” he praises.

“‘I’ve been waiting for this all day,” you confess.

“Then we better not make you wait any longer.”

Swiftly, he lifts his head from your chest and finds your lips with his. It’s hungry and sloppy, the wet skin of his lower lip sliding against yours as your mouths collide. You’re fully grinding up into him now, and there is nothing semi-soft about him, his hard cock threatening to rip the seams of his pants. You writhe, desperate to feel his length. You know it like the back of your hand, picturing his perfect cock clearly as you rock against it. You’ve got every vein, every throbbing, pink inch memorized. 

“Take your pants off,” you breathe into his open mouth.

With a cocky grin that makes you impossibly wetter he drawls, “now who’s needy, huh?”

You roll your eyes and reach for his waistband, if he’s gonna be an ass about it you’ll just do it yourself. He mirrors you, undressing you with the same shaky fervor. Your shirt goes first, he’s delighted to see you’ve opted for no bra. In the cold evening air, your nipples harden immediately, and he can see the goosebumps spreading across your torso. 

“Ohh baby, you really are freezing.”

“Mhm,” you nod, lip pulled between your teeth. “Warm me up, Rafe.”

A throaty groan rises from his chest as he takes over your work on his pants, ripping them off as best he can without standing, his boxers following. You slip your thumbs under your shorts, doubling up to slide your panties down with them until you’re bare for him. Only one piece of clothing remains between you, the soft blue sweater you bought for him. He starts to pull it off, but you stop him, your hand wrapping around his wrist.

“No, leave it on,” you instruct.

“Whatever you want, angel,” he smirks at your unusual request, but obliges without complaint.

He lays down on you again, his lips hovering over yours as he lets his cock press into your inner thigh. He’s so hard you gasp, inhaling sharply at the sweet pressure against your leg. He kisses you again, more tenderly this time, like he’s trying to imprint the taste of you onto his tongue. As he lets his weight settle on you, the soft threads of his sweater rub over your sensitive nipples, the sensation making your eyes squeeze shut and a strained moan echo from your chest.

“Y’okay?” He asks.

“It feels so g-good,” you croak out.

“What does, baby?”

You blush, feeling silly for it, but something about the soft material against your hardened skin is so delicious, you’re sure your pussy is dripping onto the couch by now. 

A little embarrassed, you admit, “the sweater on my tits feels really good.”

“It does?” He questions, amused.

“Just stay on me baby, don’t stop.”

You and Rafe have been known to argue about almost anything, but he never argues when you tell him how to make you feel good. He flattens his chest against you fully, rutting his dick against your leg, causing his chest to rub against yours as requested. Your head falls back into the throw pillows. You let him continue to move you both until you almost can’t stand the friction anymore.

“I love that,” you whimper, eyes still squeezed shut. “But I need you inside.”

“Can’t wait any longer, huh?” He chuckles. Once again, you don’t need to see him to know what he looks like, his eyebrows are surely arched high and his lips quirked to the side as he looks at you in amusement.

“Rafe I’ve been waiting for like twelve hours,” you complain.

“I know, baby, I know,” he quells you. “I got you, alright?”

Propped on one arm, his sweater leaves your chest for a moment so he can line himself up at your soaked entrance. You wait with closed eyes, bracing for impact as you know it will take a minute to adjust to his size, it always does. But he doesn’t enter you, just grumbles with annoyance as he shuffles above you.

Your quizzical eyes open to find him fumbling with the collar of his sweater, preparing to pull it off.

“What’s the problem?”

“I want to see you, but this fucking sweater’s in the way,” he explains. You lift your head and look down to where your bodies should be meeting to see the hem of his sweater hanging in the way, blocking the view. “I’m just gonna take it off.”

“Nuh-uh!” you object. 

“Baby,” he whines.

A solution comes to you, causing you to break into a wide grin.

“Open up,” you say, and he’s never looked more confused.

But then, you reach down and pull the hem of the sweater between your fingers, making his stomach flinch as you brush against it. You lift the hem up to his mouth, revealing the sight of his dick dangerously close to your entrance. He puzzles it together, and teasingly rolls his eyes before letting you place it between his teeth. He bites down on it obediently, considering a protest before looking down to see he now has a perfect angle to his favorite sight in the world.

It feels so good when he finally slides in, stretching you so deliciously and filling you like only he can, that you almost actually cry. He moves gently, considerate enough to know there’s probably an edge of pain to your pleasure.

“You don’t have to go slow,” you assure him. “Take your stress out on me, I can take it.”

“Yeah?” He tries to sound cocky, but it’s muffled from the fabric between his teeth.

The way his jaw clenches in frustration makes you giggle. Rafe usually does most of the talking, knowing the sound of his low voice in your ear makes you come so much faster.

“I’ll do the talking, just focus on my voice while you fuck me, m’kay?” You purr.

He nods in agreement, picking up the pace until he’s rocking into you, continuously hitting the perfect spot that makes you both shudder with pleasure. He’s going so hard you have to lift your arm above you and steady yourself against the arm of the couch. His eyes flit between the sight of you taking him in so perfectly and the way your tits bounce with each thrust.

You keep your promise to talk him through it, starting with, “just like that, Rafe- mmmph- feels so good. God, I can feel you so deep.”

His brows furrow in concentration, thrusting harder, desperate to drag more praises from your kiss-chapped lips. Your eyes train on the veins in his neck, throbbing with effort. You reach your other hand up and grab his chin, pulling his face so his eyes pierce yours.

“Shit, you look so good, fucking me like you needed to,” you cry.

As much as he loves the eye-contact, he’s still wearing this stupid sweater for a reason, and he needs to remind you. He matches you by placing his hand on your face, soft but firm, and directing your gaze down to see him pistoning into you.

“Oh my god, that’s so hot,” you smile, admiring the creamy mess you’re making on his shaft. “You’re fucking covered in me, baby. Made me so wet comin’ in here looking this good.”

He removes his hand from your head, looking for a non-verbal way to thank you for your compliments. He presses his thumb to your tongue, and you don’t need words to know what he’s doing. You get it nice and wet, swirling spit around his thumb with your tongue. Once it’s ready, he lowers it to your clit, rubbing back and forth a few times before forming steady circles.

“Ah- fuck- yes, Rafe that’s so-” Your commitment to keep talking falters as pleasure floods your mind, robbing you of your voice.

He knows what you need, he always knows what you need. He pulls your hand from his chin and places it on his chest, you bunch the fabric of his sweater so he can release it from his teeth.

“There ya go,” he coos. “Need me to talk you through it, huh?”

You nod desperately, confirming what he already knew.

“Couldn’t even concentrate in my meetings,” he begins, panting with the effort he’s putting in, not letting up his pace. “Thinkin’ about you here waiting for me, walking around the house in those little shorts. How am I supposed to close deals when I can’t stop thinking about bending you over the kitchen counter and fucking this perfect pussy, huh?”

His words have exactly the effect he was hoping for, you are beside yourself, moaning and squirming beneath him. Letting out the sweetest little “oh, oh, ohs” as his cock rocks your whole body. He's losing tempo, both of you nearing the edge. You bring your other fist up to bunch his sweater, too, grasping so tightly you're afraid you're gonna tear it. You clench around him as he keeps talking.

“That’s it, baby, squeeze me as hard as you can - fuck!” He's unraveling, needing to find the words to get you there so he didn’t finish first. “Fuck, that’s my good girl.”

Just as he expected, that’s what finally did it for you. You cry out his name as sparks exploded in your tummy, coming so hard you have to bury your face into his chest to keep from screaming. He follows behind you almost immediately, his hot cum spurting into you as his primal groans and grunts echo through the room.

A few minutes later, you’re cleaned up and cuddled in his bed, now wrapped up in his sweater, the stretched-out fabric engulfing you. He smirks as his hands run over the material, rubbing over your stomach and waist lovingly.

“Might have to wear this thing every day if that’s how you’re gonna react,” he teases you.

“Uh-huh,” you giggle. “Good luck getting it back.”

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a/n: omg i'm so sorry I just literally couldn't not, the chokehold this sweater has on me is unnatural like y'all don't even need to read this it was just a passion project for me. all hail Blue Sweater.

[tojigasm]

Thinking about Logan fully smoking in the middle of fucking you.

He's got you laid out amongst his bedsheets, face warm and thighs spread, one leg resting on his shoulder as he rolls his hips into you.

You're a complete mess beneath him, and you struggle to concieve how he still seems so composed after pulling what feels like the third orgasm from you in the span of an hour and a half. The dark tufts of his hair are still pointed upwards, and his skin silky in a sheen of sweat.

"Y'still with me?" The rough of his voice pulls you from the foggy headspace, vision blurring slightly as you refocus on him, letting out a choked whine when the girth of him stretches you in just the right way.

You give a weak nod, "mhm," you twist your hand into his silk sheets, stretching the fabric downwards.

"Good girl."

Logan smirks above you, turning his head he keeps his eyes on yours as he presses a gentle kiss to your ankle.

You damn near cum at the swift contrast between his brutal thrusts to the softness in his touch. The action almost feels merciful.

And in the same moment you bask in the soft of it, you can feel Logan reach for the nightstand.

He moves back to stand between your thighs again, holding a cigar he'd left on the ashtray. Using his free hand, he readjusts you by the plush of your hip, pulling you further down the bed until your ass cheeks rest on the very edge.

Hand still twisted in the sheets, you pull them down along with you.

Your eyes settle on him as he blows a pillow of cloudy smoke past his lips, thick brows furrowing as he takes another inhale before blowing another cloud from between his teeth.

For a moment, you're captivated at the sight. The amber light from your shared bedroom in the mansion glows around him in almost halo-like essence.

He looks so beautiful.

"Y'so pretty, Lo," you whisper, smile evident in your tone.

He smirks down at you, rivets of smoke trailing in the air. A thick brow raises in tease.

"Oh, yeah?"

You nod, giggling as you pull the sheet over your mouth.

"Hey, don't twist the sheets." He scolds, unwinding your hand from the wrinkled fabric and placing the cigar back on the ashtray before slipping your other thigh over his arm before threading his fingers with your own "Hold on t'daddy, fr'me, yeah?"

You keen at that, choking on a gasp when his cock strokes the gummy walls of your cunt in a way that has tears bubbling over your cheeks.

You're passed overstimulated, legs trembling in his hold as he sinks to the hilt before twisting his hips.

"Oh!" You squeal, instantly grabbing ahold of him.

"There we go." Logan kisses the curve of your jaw as he rolls his hips into you.

He places soft kisses to your temple and down your face to your neck before licking a stripe up from your collarbone to the curve of your ear, chuckling when a line of goosebumps rise in wake.

"Gonna cum, Lo" you sob through a shiver, turning to press your head into his forearm.

He nods along with you, "I know." He cocks his head some, leaning down some, "Give daddy a kiss."

On command, you're leaning into him with what little strength you have left to sloppily meet his lips as your gummy walls tighten around his girth.

The two of you moan into one another's mouths and leave messy trails of drool along your chins as he fills you.

Logan waits a moment before slipping out of you gently before lying down against the headboard, helping to guide you to lay your back against his chest.

"Y'okay, kid?" He asks, running his knuckles down the side of your arm softly.

You nod against him and he grunts. You can feel him reach for the nightstand again before you hear the puff of the cigar.

A cloud of smoke circles to the side of the room.

He nudges you.

"Words." Is all he says, somewhat muffled by the cigar held in his mouth.

"M'okay." You say, turning your head upwards to meet his eyes.

Logan takes the cigar from his mouth, holding it between the fingers of his left hand.

His right hand comes up to cup your jaw, gently running the pad of his thumb over the skin of your jaw to your chin before he's leaning down and meeting your lips in a kiss.

He tastes like tobacco and smells of leather.

"Gonna let me take care of you?" He asks softly, still stroking the skin of your jaw.

And you know how he means it.

You nod.