#trapped under a collapsed building

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whump Prompt #1291

Whumptober #23: "Who's there?"

“I  can’t see inside - who are we missing? Did everyone get out? Who’s hurt?”

"The smokes too thick - stay close everyone. We should do a headcount."

"One, two, three, four - where's [whumpee]?"

"I- I dont know."

A second explosion occurs, and all eyes turn to the entrance of the collapsing building.

[apocryphics]

what is poetry to most of you? i get the sense that for some it’s about the cutting, the search for the visceral, the re-membering (or perhaps reopening) of the wound. i ask this because these days i wonder if people read poetry for the music of it all. the sound. the enchantment that comes primarily via the aural element of poetry. no judgement, just curious—i feel as if reading has shifted to becoming a mostly visual act, which could in the long run amputate poetry in some respects. would love to hear some responses, thank you and sending love.

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

The Rain is Especially Loud Tonight

Synopsis: The Prefect gets hurt due to Crowley's negligence.

TW: Injury, Stitches, Medical Stuff, Prefect gets caught under a collapsed Ramshackle

Part 1 (here), Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10 (coming soon), . . .

Tick Tick Tick Tick

The room would be completely silent were it not for the ticking of the clock on the wall.

The environment was more comfortable than your usual medical setting, but it still felt cold in a way.

The door creaked open and in stepped professor Crewel. "Hey, Pup." His voice lacked its usual stern tone one would hear in the classroom; instead, his voice was gentle and almost hoarse.

The hoarseness was no doubt a result of him screaming at the headmage in a roar you shiver even recalling. He had spent hours tearing into the man for his gross negligence and irresponsibility.

"Pup?" His voice became more worried when you failed to answer.

"Sorry." A meek, rasped voice leaves you throat. Your throat burns with dryness despite the 6 glasses of water you already drank, and it feels like every syllable echoes through your head and causes an intense, throbbing pain. You don't recognize the voice that claws its way out of your throat as your own.

You hear the soft scrape of a chair on the floor next to your bed. "No. Don't apologize, Pup." Rocking your gaze slowly over to him its clear to you, with the way his jaw clenches and unclenches while his eyes search the blanket covering you, that he wants to say something, but isn't sure what.

You slowly rock your head to look forward again. "Everyone's been in such a panic. . .and it's my fault, I-"

The man cuts you off as you choke on your words: "Pup. This is not your fault."

"But-" Your throat feels like its been given a massage with a thousand razor blades. The coughing your attempts to speak cause only make the pain worse.

Crewel quickly grabs another glass of water and holds it up to your lips for you to drink. "But nothing, Pup- Keep those arms down or you'll re-open the wounds. That old building was bound to collapse at some point. We all knew it. If the fault is on anyone it's on us staff. Crowley made you stay there, and we didn't stop him." The glass cup clinks slightly too harshly onto the nightstand as he sets it down.

Silence falls between the two of you.

Tick Tick Tick Tick

The ticking of the clock numbs your thoughts. You force your mind to stop focusing on the pain radiating from every inch of your body and instead listen to the steady ticking of the clock. The only other sound that can be herd is the occasional hurried footsteps outside the door as the other staff do their best to take care of the situation.

Your injuries have already been treated by a specialty team sent from STYX the moment the news got to them. They were the only ones aside from Grim, Leona, and the staff that had seen your mangled form before you were wrapped up like a mummy. You didn't have to ask how bad it was. Seeing Crowley throw up at the sight of you was enough to tell you it was bad.

The STYX team had spent nearly a whole 24 hours stitching you back together like some ragdoll and rearranging the many pieces of you that had been ripped and jostled out of place. If not for them. . .well, you don't want to think about it. If you looked like a mummy on the outside, you were sure that under the bandages you looked like Frankenstein's monster. There really wasn't a single bit of you that got out of that death trap unscathed.

You were kept in the school infirmary instead of being carted off to some high-tech STYX facility only because they needed to operate on you as soon as possible and didn't want to move you too much after the initial procedures. They made do by shipping a ton (literally speaking, more like 3 tons) of medical equipment to the school, most of which was now littered around the infirmary in a rushed yet professional way.

Despite your closeness to your friends, the only people who had come to see you were the staff. It's not that none of your friends wanted to see you, but that they weren't allowed to. The doctor's worried having them in so soon, when they were still full of hysteria from the news, wouldn't be the best idea. They weren't able to text you either as your phone had been crushed in the collapse.

"How's Grim?"

Professor Crewel hums: "Physically, he's pretty unscathed. He just has a few scrapes and bruises. Mentally, he's a bit traumatized."

You supposed that made sense. You didn't remember much, but what you did remember was Grim's voice. He had been returning to the dorm from after school detention when he found the building in shambles on the ground. He called out to you but your lungs were filled with debris and your torso was being crushed by layers of rubble. The dorm ghosts met Grim at the edge of the junk pile that used to be a dorm and confirmed that you were inside and that you needed help. The ghosts talked to you as you laid there, not being able to physically move anything off you themselves. They kept you awake and assured you that Grim was getting help.

Not long later you heard shouting. Two of the ghosts stayed with you while the third went out to meet the staff and fill them in. You were told after the fact that that's about the time they called up Leona to use his unique magic so they could get you out as soon as possible (that was the first time many saw the lion run).

You were blanking in and out of consciousness when they found you, but you remember them finding you. The feeling of the weight of the rubble lessening as it was methodically turned to sand and removed (in order to not end up crushing you with sand instead), the small grains dripping on your face, and eventually, the full force of the pouring rain battering your face as the last of the rubble was removed from above you. You remember Leona's manic eyes turning horrified, Crowley puking, and worst of all, Grim's face.

"STYX sent over a few trauma counselors. There are ones assigned specifically to Leona and Grim as well since they saw some of the worst of it." Crewel finally broke the silence again.

"And you? You and. . .the other teachers were there too. . .and Sam."

"Calm down, Pup. We've all had evaluations done to assess how we're handling it. We'll be fine.

"What about. . ." Your voice trails off, but from the look in your eyes, Crewel can tell what you were about to ask.

"What about the headmage?"

You nod, wincing slightly when the motion disturbs an injury on your neck.

"He's under investigation." Crewel responds after a brief pause. He knew that you surely couldn't be all that fond of the crow, but as you saw it, he was probably also your only ticket home. Crewel looked up to gauge your response, but your face remained neutral.

"And you, Pup? I obviously know you aren't doing particularly well physically right now, but what about mentally?"

"Hm?"

Crewel hesitated, not wanting to dig around in a mental wound and make it worse, "You were. . .under there for a while. I'm sure it must've been. . .scary."

You think for a moment before responding: "Was I really under there that long? It didn't feel like it. . .I think I passed out a few times." Your mumbled words put Crewel at ease in a way. He's not happy that you had been passing out, but he was at least glad that you weren't stuck under there fully conscious and feeling every second tick by as if it were an hour.

"Hmm. I see." Crewel nods. "I ought to let you rest now. A counselor will stop by tomorrow to talk to you about what happened." He stands up as he says this, his knuckles still white from how tightly he'd been gripping the fabric of his pants. "Rest well, Pup."

You simply nod, this time more carefully as to not disturb your wounds, and watch him walk out. When the door closes you swear you hear a choked sob.

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[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

[🤍] imagine being hit with an aphrodisiac and trying to hide the effects it had on you during a mission with phainon and Mydei oughhh.

Like they notice something was up but the reader is too embarrassed to admit it until they collapse onto the floor a beg for help.

Sopping wet cat energy….. literally LMAOOOO

MISSION : SOAKED.

❦ paring : phainon x cat fem!reader x mydei. (mdni)

❧ synopsis : You get hit with an aphrodisiac mid-mission and end up begging Phainon and Mydei to stuff both your holes full.

❦ tws : nsfw/smut, aphrodisiac, overstimulation, size kink, bulge kink, tail pulling, pet-names, dumbification, semi- public desperation, teasing, embarrassment, hybrids, sopping wet, creampie (vaginal & anal), threesome and mild breeding kink.

The worst part wasn’t the heat pooling between your legs.

It wasn’t the way your thighs squished together every time you took a step, or how your soaked panties clung to your pussy, sticky and slick under your uniform.

No, the worst part was that they noticed.

You could feel it—Phainon's eyes on your swaying ass, Mydei’s smug little smirk every time your breath hitched.

“Awfully quiet, kitty,” Mydei purred, casually brushing past you in the dim, dusty corridor. “You’re not sick, are you? Or are you just shy?”

“I-I’m fineee,” you stammered, voice breathy and high, your tail twitching behind you like it had a mind of its own. “M’jus’—mhm—focused!”

Phainon snorted under his breath. “Focused. Sure.”

You tried so hard to act normal.

To not sink to your knees and rub against the cool floor.

To not whimper at every vibration of your heels against the ground.

But the aphrodisiac was relentless. You didn’t even know where it came from—some weird gas trap, probably. All you knew was that you couldn’t stop squirming. Couldn’t stop thinking about their fingers. Their voices. Their cocks.

“Aww, look at your ears twitching,” Mydei cooed behind you, voice syrupy sweet. “You’re dripping, huh?”

“I’m not—!” you gasped, turning around too fast and stumbling. “I’m not—mmh! N-Not d-dripping!”

Drip.

The sound was real.

So was the way your slick trickled down your inner thighs.

So was the heat building too fast to handle.

You dropped to your knees with a soft, dizzy moan, pawing at the front of your uniform.

“Please…” you finally whimpered, tears welling in your big glossy eyes. “S’too much… c-can’t think… need help…”

Phainon crouched down, slow and cruel, tilting your chin up with two fingers. “You couldn’t even ask properly, kitty.”

“Didn’t wanna be messy…” you sniffled, face flushed, lips glossy from where you’d been sucking on them trying not to moan. “Didn’t wanna ruin the mission…”

Mydei leaned against the wall with a chuckle. “Too late for that, sweetheart. You’re a mess. A cute little sopping mess.”

Phainon’s gloved hand slid between your thighs and you yowled, body jolting as his fingers brushed your soaked panties. “She’s drenched.”

“Aww, she is,” Mydei laughed. “C’mon, little kitty. Say please.”

“Please!” you gasped, tail curling helplessly as you humped Phainon’s hand like a needy thing. “Please fix me…I need it—need you!

Your pupils were blown wide, tongue poking out, your head rolling back against Phainon’s chest as he pulled you into his lap. Mydei sauntered over, crouching beside you, licking his lips.

“Don’t worry,” he said, brushing hair from your sweaty forehead. “We’ll help you, baby.”

Phainon chuckled darkly. “But after this? You’re never going out on a mission with us unsupervised again.”

Phainon had you spread out on the cold floor, your legs trembling in the air, panties ripped to shreds and tossed somewhere behind him. Mydei sat behind you, big hands stroking your tail, watching your slick hole clench around nothing.

“Aw, look at her,” Mydei murmured, rubbing circles around your twitching rim. “All floppy. All loose. She’s not gonna remember her own name after this.”

“Mmnh—‘m (Name)…” you whimpered weakly, though your voice sounded dazed and high and sooo faraway.

“Not right now, you’re not,” Phainon muttered, lining his cock up with your soaked pussy. “Right now, you’re just a dumb lil’ kitty.”

You moaned out loud when he slid in—slow at first, stretching you open inch by inch while your insides clenched desperately around him.

“Fuck, she’s sucking me in—she needs this,” he growled, grinding deeper until his tip kissed your cervix.

“I think she’s ready for two,” Mydei said lazily, spitting into his palm before lining himself up with your other hole. “Hold her still.”

You could barely even gasp before your back hole was breached, your pussy already full and pulsing. Your eyes rolled back the second Mydei pushed in behind Phainon, both cocks pressing snugly inside your overstimulated body.

“Uhhnn—too full—!!” you sobbed, toes curling, ears flopping down against your head.

“S’okay, baby,” Mydei cooed, licking the shell of your ear. “You’re made to be full. You’re made for us.”

Phainon grabbed your tail and tugged. Hard. You squealed, tightening deliciously around both of them.

“That shut her brain off,” he smirked, pulling back just enough to thrust in hard. “Let’s see how many times we can make her squirt before she passes out.”

They fucked you in perfect rhythm, your pussy squelching with every thrust, your ass stretched wide, spit and slick dripping down to the floor beneath you. The mission was long forgotten. All that mattered now was taking it—their cocks, their cum, their filthy words filling your fuzzy, aphrodisiac-soaked brain.

Your belly bulged where they pressed inside, and you whimpered, pawing uselessly at Phainon’s chest.

“C-cumming—again—can’t—!!”

“Take it, kitty,” Phainon growled. “Be a good little thing and let us fill you up.”

You cried out when they finally came together, Mydei first, stuffing your ass full of hot cum while Phainon buried himself to the hilt, spurting deep into your fluttering cunt. Both loads overflowed—your pussy gushing a messy creampie that dripped down your thighs, your ass twitching as thick white cum leaked from your hole.

You collapsed bonelessly between them, your eyes glossy and lips parted, drooling a little.

“Mission complete,” Mydei said smugly, patting your head.

“Barely,” Phainon replied, pulling you into his arms like a ragdoll. “Let’s get her back to the ship. She’s not walking for days.”

“Mmhm…” you mumbled, tail wagging weakly, still twitching around both their loads. “Love… my boys…”

© 2024-2025 blueberrisdove-sideblog all rights reserved. pretty please, do not steal my dividers, translate and plagiarize any of my works, or either repost my works in any other platform without asking, thank you!

[yanderenightmare]

2024 collection part one

January

Condescending boyfriend:

♡ HOPELESS

Yandere kidnapper is a sexual sadist:

♡ RIBBED CONDOMS

Yandere kidnapper throatfucks you after anal:

♡ ATM

Awful nasty incel:

♡ drabble

Boss uses his assistant whenever he wants and however he wants:

♡ BOSS

Yandere captor using you as his pretty rope-bunny:

♡ ROPE-BUNNY

Simpy boyfriend is unabashedly obsessed with your ass:

♡ ASS

JJK—Hunter Gojo traps Nymph reader in the woods:

♡ FORBIDDEN FRUIT

Ex-boyfriend kidnaps you:

♡ LOVE ME

Yandere captor staking claim to all your holes:

♡ STUFFED

JJK—Gojo x maid darling:

♡ drabble

Yandere captor has too much libido:

♡ REMINDER

Another day waking up next to your yandere captor:

♡ MORNING WOOD

JJK—Senpai Gojo teasing Kohai reader:

♡ TRUTH OR DARE

You break up with your fuckfriend, and he doesn't take it well:

♡ FUBU

Creep captor dresses you up like a doll and takes pictures of you:

♡ DOLL

JJK—Yandere Gojo with a reader who is immune to his techniques:

♡ FINITE

Yandere captor loves watching you cum:

♡ THAT SPECIAL PLACE

BNHA—Childhood friend Deku never stops crushing on you:

♡ WHAT ARE FRIENDS FOR?

You're a popular airhead, and he's your loser tutor:

♡ BLIND TRUST

JJK—Immature bully Gojo picks on reader:

♡ MILK

You become the spoiled prince's personal maid:

♡ FARM ANIMAL

Poly yandere captors make you cum for them:

♡ A ROCK AND A HARD PLACE

Yandere plays the good guy:

♡ GOOD GUY

Stepdaddy puts you in your place:

♡ BRAT

Businessman yandere comes home to his little trophy wife:

♡ STRESS BALL

JJK—Childhood friend Gojo doesn't want to share you with anyone:

♡ TOGETHER FOREVER

JJK—Boyfriend Suguru shares you with his best friend Satoru:

♡ FAVORITE PEOPLE

Poly wolfboys x bunny reader:

♡ BUNNYHOLES

Beast boyfriend x human reader:

♡ INSTINCTS

February

You try running away from your two poly yandere captors:

♡ ROPE OR BAT?

You're an older guy's pleasure pet:

♡ BEDTIME FEEDING

Omega reader tries running away from Alpha mate:

♡ SILLY LITTLE MATE

Jock bully asks you to tutor him:

♡ NERD

BNHA—Childhood friend Bakugou and you:

♡ NO ONE ELSE

JJK—Asylum patient Mahito x psychologist reader:

♡ EAT

Massive warrior claims you as his war prize:

♡ WAR PRIZE

Step-daddy puts you in your place:

♡ TRAINING

JJK—Bully Suguru is not like other bullies:

♡ BULLY

Snugglebug boyfriends who're just so clingy and hopeless:

♡ VIRGINAL

HAZBIN HOTEL—Adam is an entitled prick:

♡ GENESIS

JJK—Noaya falls for his favorite brothel whore:

♡ WHORE

Spending Valentine's Day with your incel kidnapper:

♡ HAPPY VALENTINES

Poly wolfboys x bunny reader:

♡ GROOMING

Delinquent childhood friend x reader:

♡ SUCKER

Businessman x trophy wife:

♡ TASTE OF MONEY

Rich boyfriend is condescending:

♡ SNOB

Pet collector buys bunny reader:

♡ BOUGHT & SOLD ♡ THE OTHER PETS

Sweet boyfriend won't stop talking about anal:

♡ SECOND VIRGINITY

March

Aromantic psychopathic yandere kidnaps you:

♡ NUISANCE

JJK—Okkotsu Yuta x mean girl curse:

♡ MEAN GIRL

Reader owes the mob:

♡ PROPERTY

DEATH NOTE���L is fascinated by you:

♡ PAPER SWANS

Your college roommate rubs you the wrong way:

♡ PERFECT STRANGERS

When the playboy finally falls in love:

♡ PLAYBOY

BNHA—You and Bakugou survive under a collapsed building together:

♡ SHARED TRAUMA

You let your bully fuck you in exchange for him leaving you alone:

♡ WORSE OFF

Boyfriend is embarrassed:

♡ POST NUT CLARITY

Ex-boyfriend wants you back so badly:

♡ UNFAIR

April

Ghost month! This month doesn't exist!

May

Rich husband owns everything you have:

♡ BARBIE

Ex-military yandere kidnaps you:

♡ EX-MILITARY YANDERE

Teacher teaches you a hard lesson:

♡ HARD LESSON

Your boyfriend is down bad, and it's threatening:

♡ BRUISER BOYFRIEND

Your toxic boyfriend is a little old-fashioned-minded:

♡ BENEVOLENT SEXIST

June

JJK—Sukuna adds virgin!nun!reader to his harem:

♡ UNHOLY

Breaking up with your bad boyfriend:

♡ BAD BREAKUP

BNHA boys as mythic creatures x darling:

♡ MYTHIC

JJK—God!Gojo x human sacrifice:

♡ DIRT POOR

Your childhood bully tracks you down:

♡ APOLOGETIC BULLY only avaliable on AO3 ♡ PART TWO

You make the big angry alpha blush:

♡ BIG ANGRY ALPHA

You were certain you were an Alpha, but as it turns out...

♡ TWIST OF FATE

Can two Betas do the work of one Alpha?

♡ TWO BETAS, ONE OMEGA

JJK—You stab Gojo. He kinda likes it:

♡ KNIFE

The old-fashioned boss with intern reader:

♡ NEW INTERN

JJK men as mythic creatures x darling:

♡ MYSTIC ♡ MYTHIC

You're not cheap, but you're worth it:

♡ FAVORITE WHORE

You open your heart to your fuck-friend:

♡ DAMAGED

Your Alpha Mate is so in love with you it's a little exhausting:

♡ LOVEY-DOVEY ALPHA

JJK—Gojo Senpai won't leave you alone:

♡ TAKE A HINT

JJK—Soft boyfriend Gojo headcanons:

♡ BOYFRIEND GOJO

♡ 2024 COLLECTION PART TWO ♡ ALL MASTERLISTS

[ditzyrafe]

— blue collar!rafe has a fetish for ur thighs

warnings — crurophilia, lewd language

the heavy thud of rafe's work boots hitting the porch floorboards is your first warning. the front door opens moments later, and he fills the frame, looking tired. his eyes, though weary from a long day, find you instantly across the living room, and they don't linger on your face. they drop immediately, hungrily, to your legs.

"there they are," he breathes out, the words rough, coated with the exhaustion of physical labor. he kicks off his boots without looking down, shedding his worn jacket onto the nearest chair, his focus entirely, intensely on you — specifically, your thighs, bare beneath the hem of the lounge shorts you wore knowing he'd be home soon.

he crosses the room in a few long strides, exhaustion momentarily forgotten, replaced by raw need. he doesn't say hello properly, just sinks onto the couch and pulls you down onto his lap, positioning you immediately so you're straddling him. his rough denim jeans are abrasive against your skin, his belt buckle cold where it presses against your stomach.

"god, been thinkin' 'bout this all damn day," he groans, his calloused hands immediately going to your thighs, gripping them firmly, possessively. his thumbs trace patterns on your inner thighs, making you shiver despite the heat radiating from him. "drivin' me crazy out there, just picturin' these wrapped around me."

his erection is already thick and hard beneath you, pressing insistently against your core through the layers of your clothes and his. you shift slightly, the movement eliciting a low growl from deep in his chest.

"you gonna make a long day worth it?" he asks, his voice low and demanding.

"you know i am," you whisper back, already anticipating what he needs, what you need to give him. switching positions so your back is facing him now, you help guide his hardened length, slick with pre-cum, to nestle right between your thighs, just close to your entrance but not inside. his jeans are halfway down his legs, his belt now discarded on the floor. his breath hitches. this is it. this is the spot.

"alright, baby," he urges, his voice thick with anticipation. "show me. squeeze 'em on my cock."

you take a breath, focusing your energy, then clamp down hard with your thigh muscles. the pressure envelopes him, a tight, muscular embrace that's purely friction and containment. rafe throws his head back against the couch cushions, a sharp, guttural sound ripped from his throat. "fuck… yeah, just like that," he grits out, his hands tightening on your thighs to help guide you. "hold it right there, move your hips f'me."

you maintain the pressure, feeling the frantic throb of his cock trapped between your flesh. the heat builds rapidly, intensified by the denim rough against your skin and the sheer force of his need pressing up against you. you rock your hips slightly, a subtle back-and-forth slide against the head of his cock, adding another layer to the friction.

"tighter," he gasps, eyes squeezed shut, lost in the sensation only you can provide this way. "you're gonna milk me dry so fast, baby,"

you obey, putting more strength into it, feeling the satisfying burn in your own muscles as you clamp down harder. his hips give an involuntary buck beneath you. he's panting now, short, sharp breaths fogging the air slightly.

he's close, you can feel it in the tremors running through his body, the way his muscles tense under your grip. you give him one final, powerful squeeze, tightening your thighs with everything you have, wanting to milk him so badly.

a strangled roar tears from his chest as he comes undone beneath you. his body goes rigid, shuddering violently as hot, thick spurts of his release jet against your inner thighs, soaking your skin. he pulses against you, emptying himself completely into the warm space between your thighs.

he collapses back against the cushions, utterly spent, chest heaving. you slowly relax your muscles, trembling slightly from the effort and the intensity of his climax. his eyes flutter open, glazed and unfocused, finding yours. his hands remain on your thighs, finger stroking the slick, sticky evidence of his release almost reverently. "fuck, baby," he sighs, a weary but deeply satisfied smile touching his lips.

"worth rushin' home for this."

taglist ; @13hischiers @rafesprecious @mayanqueenxx @bbshann @zoenighshade555 @feverg1rl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @onxlyemery @yncoded @millie--billie @laniirackssss @slut4you @g3t2kn0w @kravitzwhore @dollyfiles @kild4re @zzhenyac @sparklyananas @dsfault @athaliahxoxo @allislths @nonbeliever1 @drewsephrry @soft-starr (join here) | divider creds ; @/anitalenia @/fairytopea

© written by ditzyrafe — do not steal or claim as ur own, stealing will result in me blocking u, any resemblance to any other story is simply coincidental!

[screamlet]

fic: road to nowhere (8x18 spec)

buck and tommy trapped under some concrete and dreaming of other places. 1.2k.

---

Tommy came to rescue them, Buck and Ravi, about an hour ago. That's about as long as Tommy and Buck have been trapped under a concrete slab that collapsed on Ravi's way out.

"Help is on the way," Ravi called through the gaps letting them breathe.

"Are they actually gonna be any help, though," Buck wonders, and realizes he said it out loud.

"I can't believe you'd doubt them over a little building collapse," Tommy says, wheezing more than Buck likes to hear. "That's your team, they've got your back."

Buck's smiling to himself and, for some reason, that catches Tommy's attention.

"Don't they?"

"Everyone deals with grief differently," Buck says.

There's a beat, then Tommy says, "Fuck them. Whatever they did. Or haven't done."

Buck shakes his head. "It's fine, I'm just." And he doesn't have a way to end that sentence. "Ignore me, okay? I'm—I'm being a snitch."

"A snitch? What are you, 12?" Buck smiles to himself again, and Tommy grumbles. "Never thought I'd see the day when I hated to see you smile."

Buck glances at him. "You hate it?"

Tommy's being too honest for how not-hurt he claims to be. "Those smiles don't reach your eyes." He didn't think Tommy would notice. "What are you thinking about? What are you gonna do when you get out of here?"

"We." Buck sends him the most threatening look he can manage.

Tommy acquiesces. "When we get out of here," he repeats.

"I'm thinking of going on a road trip, actually," Buck says. "Getting out of LA for a while. I've got the PTO for it and even if I don't—"

"You'd leave? The 118?"

"I need some space," Buck says slowly. "And Eddie got a job offer in El Paso, but he's thinking of not taking it and moving back, so I'd have to give up the house."

"Uh, no you wouldn't."

Buck makes a face. "Tommy, I'm not gonna let Chris be homeless."

"Do you think firefighter and former Army medic Eddie Diaz, a tax-paying adult with a child, is incapable of fucking apartment hunting?"

"Look, it just makes sense," Buck says.

"It doesn't, but keep talking." Tommy stifles a wince. "The rage will keep me from going into the light."

"It's all lining up, Tommy, honestly," Buck says. "They can take the place off my hands and I can do what I did when I dropped out of college: get in my Jeep and go see the country again."

"What do you mean again?"

Buck smiles at him; it looks like Tommy still hates it. "I got kicked out of college, then out of community college, then Maddie gave me some cash and her Jeep and I ran away from home. Well, I was like, 21, I don't think you can run away from home at that age."

"I don't think there's a statute of limitations on running away from home," Tommy says dryly. "As long as you have a home. Which you do."

Buck looks away, bites the inside of his lower lip. "I did. I don't know if it made it out of the lab, though. I think Bobby took it with him."

Buck whips his head around when Tommy doesn't respond. He's awake, though, but staring at Buck with his lips in a fine, frustrated line. "If losing Bobby means losing your home—losing them—then I don't think you really had it after all."

"Don't say that," Buck says softly. Tommy looks away. Agree to disagree.

"I haven't seen the Milky Way in like, 10 years," Buck says. "I should fix that."

"You think it's changed much?"

"I'm sure it has, even if we can't see the changes. Earth is moving, our solar system is moving, space is moving—"

"Is it?"

"Well, it's expanding, as far as we know," Buck says. "Maybe it doesn't look any different but—but I'm different. So."

Tommy's quiet, then says, "It's been 20 for me. Years. Since I've seen the Milky Way. I'm outdoorsy, but I don't get out to those really remote areas. Haven't for a while."

"It sounds like a good idea, right?"

"It does." Tommy clears his throat, shifts as much as he can under the rubble. "You're going alone, huh?"

"Yeah," Buck says, then pauses so he can look at Tommy. "I—I was planning on it."

Now Tommy smiles, a small thing that lights up the darkness in Buck. "No room for a co-pilot? Someone with awesome taste in music who can help out with the driving sometimes? If—" Tommy motions to the slab. "Provided I've still got a body and everything."

Buck feels sharp pinpricks behind his eyes, at the edges, emotion swelling in his throat. "I keep thinking: this isn't it. This—is this what I wanted? I'd have a home, but I could never leave again?"

"From a homeowner's perspective," Tommy says, always making him laugh. "It's not much of a home if it crumbles the moment you step outside. You can't be the only thing holding it together." He hesitates. "Bobby couldn't be the only thing holding it together."

"Yeah," Buck agrees. "And you?"

"What about me?"

"What are you running from?" Buck knows his smile is too mean, too slick. "If not me, I mean."

Tommy makes a little ha fucking ha face at him, nose crinkling because he can't help being amused. "I wouldn't be running. I'd be coming with you."

"Oh."

"If you wanted the company," Tommy repeats. "Gas money, too. Gas gets expensive."

"Why now?" Buck looks down at his hands. "What's changed? Besides I said something really shitty to you and—and I didn't get to apologize."

"I know you didn't mean it," Tommy says. "And I didn't mean to leave."

"So you want to test out your staying power by trapping yourself in a Jeep with me?"

"Yes, Evan, that's exactly it. You saw right through me."

"Around you," Buck says. "I've gotta shift a little to see past the slab that's gonna suffocate us."

"So it's all hypothetical anyway," Tommy replies.

Buck wonders if Ravi's eavesdropping or if maybe they've been left to die, buried alive. Maybe they're not worth the effort. That sucks; Buck would think Tommy was worth the effort, at least. He has a pilot's license and the people at Harbor probably like him a lot more than the 118 likes Buck right now. In any case: it's quiet and the glimmer of a road trip, taking a breath outside the city limits, feels like it's slipping away.

"Think we're running out of oxygen," Buck comments. "I'm kinda losing the will to live? Is that science? Less oxygen, more hopelessness?"

"Evan," Tommy sighs. "We're gonna get out of here, and then we're gonna get out of here."

Buck takes the hand Tommy reaches out. He's not sure either of them believe that, or each other, or that they'll go anywhere together or apart, or that things will get better but—but for now they can keep each other awake, thinking of other ways and places to be.

[youngpoetpoe]

Birthday Descent: Part 2 – A Tangled Trap

Hanni x Haerin x Male Reader

Buy me a ko-fi.

The day’s been a grind—back-to-back meetings, emails piling up, and a commute that felt like wading through molasses. Your shoulders ache, and all you can think about is collapsing onto the couch with Hanni, her warmth and laughter melting the stress away. You fumble with your keys at the apartment door, the metal cool against your fingers, the faint jangle breaking the quiet of the hallway. It’s late afternoon, the light dim and gray through the building’s windows, casting long shadows. You push the door open, expecting an empty living room, maybe the faint hum of the TV or Hanni’s humming from the kitchen.

Instead, your heart skips. Haerin’s there, lounging on your couch like it’s her own, her long dark hair spilling over the cushions, catching the soft glow of a nearby lamp. She’s in a fitted crop top that hugs her slim frame, denim shorts sitting low on her hips, and black socks that contrast her pale skin, one leg tucked under her, the other stretched out casually. Her cat-like eyes flick up to meet yours, sharp and curious, a faint smile tugging at her lips—subtle, inviting, but not over the top, like she’s just happy to see you. Her presence is a quiet jolt, her look polished yet relaxed, every detail—her smooth midriff, the slight curve of her hips—making her seem effortlessly tempting, ready for whatever might unfold.

You pause in the doorway, keys dangling, bag slung over your shoulder. “Haerin?” Your voice comes out rough, caught off guard, a warmth creeping up your neck. “Didn’t expect you here.”

She sits up slightly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, her crop top shifting to reveal a sliver of toned stomach. “Hey,” she says, her voice soft, almost shy, but her eyes hold yours a beat too long, a spark of playfulness beneath the calm. “Hanni said I could stop by. I was nearby, so… here I am.” Her smile grows, small but warm, and she tilts her head, letting her hair fall just so, like she knows it’s distracting.

Your cock twitches, unbidden, and you shift your stance, hoping the growing bulge in your jeans isn’t glaringly obvious. “Cool, cool,” you say, tossing your bag onto the floor with a soft thud, aiming for casual but feeling the air thicken with her presence. The apartment feels smaller, her scent—something light, like vanilla and clean laundry—drifting toward you. “Hanni around?”

“Not yet,” Haerin says, leaning back, her hands resting loosely in her lap. “She’s probably stuck at practice. I figured I’d wait, keep you company.” Her tone’s easy, friendly, but there’s an undercurrent, a subtle invitation in the way she shifts, her shorts riding up just enough to draw your eye. She’s not blatant, just… available, her vibe saying she’s open to whatever you might want to make of this.

You nod, scratching the back of your neck, trying to keep your thoughts from spiraling. “Rough day?” she asks, her voice pulling you back, her eyes scanning you like she’s genuinely curious.

“Long one,” you admit, stepping toward the couch, settling on the armrest to keep some distance, though it’s not helping much. “Work was nonstop. Just want to chill.” You force a grin, but her smile—small, knowing—makes your pulse kick up, your cock stirring harder now, the denim feeling tighter.

“Same,” she says, stretching her arms above her head, her crop top lifting to show more skin, smooth and taut. “We’ve been killing ourselves wrapping up the new MV—How Sweet. It’s not out yet, but it’s gonna be big. Been tweaking choreography, outfits, all that.” She pauses, glancing at you, her lips twitching. “Bet you’d like the vibe. It’s got this… flirty energy.”

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued despite yourself. “Flirty, huh? Can’t wait to see it,” you say, keeping it light, but the idea of Haerin in some sultry MV outfit isn’t helping your situation, your bulge straining more, your mind already picturing her moving to a beat.

She laughs, soft and easy, shifting to sit cross-legged, her black socks barely shifting. “Yeah, it’s fun. Tour prep’s kicking our asses, though. Minji’s got us on lockdown—rehearsals every day, fittings every night. Hyein keeps sneaking snacks to keep us sane.” Her voice is chatty, warm, pulling you in, and you find yourself relaxing, leaning closer despite the heat building in your core.

“Sounds intense,” you say, genuinely interested now, though your eyes keep flicking to her midriff, her thighs. “You holding up okay?”

“Barely,” she says, her smile turning playful, her eyes catching yours again, lingering. “Could use a break. You know, something to… unwind.” The word hangs there, not explicit but heavy with suggestion, and she leans forward just a bit, her elbows on her knees, closing the gap between you.

Your throat tightens, her closeness making the air feel charged, your cock throbbing now, painfully obvious if she looks down. “Yeah, I get that,” you say, voice lower, trying to keep it together. “Maybe I should grab a drink or something. You want one?” You stand, needing to move, to break the tension before you do something reckless.

“Sure,” she says, her voice still soft, her eyes following you as you head toward the kitchen. “Water’s fine.” You feel her gaze on your back, a prickle of awareness, and you take a second to adjust yourself, willing your erection to calm down as you grab two glasses.

When you return, she’s shifted, leaning back on her hands, her crop top riding up higher, her shorts showing more thigh. “Thanks,” she says, taking the glass, her fingers brushing yours for a split second, enough to send a jolt through you. She sips slowly, her lips wrapping around the rim, and you catch yourself staring, your mind flashing to what else those lips could do.

You sit back on the armrest, sipping your water, trying to steer the conversation somewhere safe. “So, tour’s coming up fast, huh? Got any big plans?”

She nods, setting her glass down, her movements slow, deliberate. “Yeah, it’s gonna be huge. We’re hitting a bunch of cities—Seoul, Tokyo, LA. Danielle’s already stressing about packing. Says she needs a whole suitcase just for her hats.” She laughs, and it’s genuine, pulling you in, making you forget the tension for a moment. “You should come to one of the shows. Hanni’d love it.”

“Definitely planning on it,” you say, grinning, but the mention of Hanni twists something in your chest—not quite guilt, but a reminder of boundaries. Still, Haerin’s here, her vibe screaming take me, and your cock’s not letting you ignore it, the bulge tightening your jeans as she shifts again, her hair falling across one shoulder, framing her neck.

The conversation lulls, the silence heavy, her eyes locked on yours, and you feel the shift—like the air’s holding its breath. “Long day, huh?” she says, voice softer now, almost intimate, her fingers trailing along the couch’s edge, close to your thigh. “Bet you could use a break too.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, your voice dropping, the room feeling smaller, her scent—vanilla, clean—hitting you harder. “Something like that.” Your heart’s pounding, and you know you should move, get some space, but she’s magnetic, her smile pulling you closer.

“I should probably clean up,” you say, standing abruptly, needing to break this before it snaps. “Bathroom’s calling.” You force a chuckle, heading down the hallway, your cock throbbing, your mind racing with Hanni’s words from weeks ago: What if we got Haerin over here? Could be fun. A tease then, but now it’s real, and Haerin’s on your couch, her eyes saying she’s game for whatever.

In the bathroom, you splash cold water on your face, gripping the sink, staring at your reflection. Chill the fuck out. Hanni’s cool with this idea, but Haerin’s here alone, and that look wasn’t just friendly. You unzip to piss, the act grounding you for a second, but you’re too distracted to lock the door—a dumb move. Mid-stream, the door creaks open, and Haerin slips in, quiet as a ghost, her black socks silent on the tiles. Your pulse spikes, but before you can speak, her hand’s on your cock—small, cool, and bold as hell—holding it steady as you piss, her fingers wrapping with a confidence that steals your breath. Your stream stutters, dick twitching, hardening fast under her touch.

“Haerin?” you choke, voice rough, caught between pulling away and the raw, filthy thrill of her hand, her audacity freezing you in place.

She steps closer, her body brushing yours, her crop top grazing your arm, her scent flooding your senses. Then she kisses you—sudden, fierce, lips soft but hungry, tongue darting in with a need that sets you ablaze. Guilt hits like a punch—Hanni’s your girlfriend, the one who suggested a threesome, but she’s not here, and this feels like betrayal. You try to pull back, mumbling, “We can’t,” against her lips, but Haerin’s relentless, her mouth searing, her hand stroking you now, slow and slick, turning your half-hard cock to steel. Lust drowns the guilt, and you kiss her back, deep, hands finding her waist, yanking her against you as she moans, a soft, needy sound that makes your head spin.

She breaks away, eyes glinting with mischief, and drops to her knees on the tiles. Your cock’s still out, wet with a stray drop, but she doesn’t hesitate. Her tongue flicks the tip, slow and teasing, tasting you with a hum that vibrates through you. “Fuck,” you groan, gripping the counter as she swirls her tongue, lapping at the slit, her lips brushing the head like she’s savoring every inch. Then she opens wide, swallowing you whole, her mouth tight and hot, throat closing around you as she bobs, no gag, just pure, eager skill. Her crop top’s riding up, nipples faintly visible, and the sight of her—kneeling, devouring you—has you reeling.

You’re lost—wet slurps, cheeks hollowing, fingers grazing your balls—when she pulls off, lips glossy, a shy grin replacing her earlier boldness. “Hanni’s gonna love this,” she murmurs, stroking you with her spit, her hand gliding smooth and fast. The mention of Hanni twists the guilt again, but before you can dwell, she’s back on you, throat deep, tongue flicking wildly, driving you toward the edge.

You can’t take it. You grab her shoulders, pulling her up, her shorts hitting the floor in one rough tug—no panties, just her slick, bare pussy, glistening. You hoist her by the hips, slamming her against the wall, her legs wrapping around you, black socks dangling as she locks on, eyes pleading. “Fuck me,” she gasps, voice raw, nails digging into your neck. You don’t pause—just thrust, raw and deep, her tight virgin heat swallowing you, so wet you slide in effortlessly. Her moan’s sharp, echoing, and you’re hooked, her pussy gripping you like it was built for this.

You’re relentless, pounding her against the wall, each thrust shaking her, her cries loud and desperate. Her nails claw your shoulders, her breath hot against your jaw as she rocks into you, matching your pace. The bathroom’s too small, the air thick with sex and sweat, but you’re too far gone. Her phone buzzes on the counter, cutting through the haze, and she grabs it, panting, eyes flicking to the screen. She answers, voice shaky, pressing it to her ear. “Minji-unnie?” she says, biting her lip to stifle a moan as you slow, grinding deep to keep her quiet, letting her feel every inch.

Minji’s voice is faint, concerned. “You okay? You sound… off.”

Haerin presses a hand to her mouth, muffling a whimper as you grind into her, deliberate, her walls fluttering. “Just… hanging out,” she mumbles, voice tight, her free hand clutching your neck, fighting to stay steady. “Kinda busy.” She’s sweating, her crop top sticking to her skin, her thighs trembling as she clings to you, desperate to keep Minji in the dark.

You smirk, testing her, picking up the pace just enough to make her gasp, and she covers it with a fake laugh, nails digging in. “You sure?” Minji presses, and Haerin’s laugh falters, her pussy clenching as you lean in, kissing her neck, making her squirm.

“Totally,” she rushes, voice cracking. “Gotta go.” She hangs up fast, tossing the phone with a stifled moan, her control shattered. “You’re such a jerk,” she pants, a shy grin breaking through, and you slam into her harder, her cries spilling out, echoing off the tiles.

The door creaks, and Hanni’s voice slips through, playful, no hint of anger. “Damn, you two didn’t wait for me.”

You freeze mid-thrust, Haerin’s legs still wrapped around you, her pussy pulsing, slick dripping down your thighs. Hanni’s leaning against the doorframe, crop top askew, boxers low, white socks soft on the floor, a retro camcorder—clunky, 90s nostalgia—whirring in her hand, red light blinking as she films. Her grin’s pure mischief, eyes gleaming with thrill, no jealousy, just raw excitement.

Haerin giggles, breathless, her lips brushing your ear as she tightens around you. “Your boyfriend’s got a big cock, Hanni-unnie,” she says, voice sweet but teasing, her legs locking tighter.

Hanni laughs, stepping closer, camcorder steady as she zooms in on Haerin’s flushed face, your cock buried in her slick pussy. “Told you he’s a lot,” she says, winking, her voice thick with heat. “Hey, Haerin, didn’t you say you’ve been into him forever? Like, scrolling his X, getting all worked up over his pics?”

Haerin’s cheeks flush, but she doesn’t shy away, grinding down on you with a soft smile, her walls squeezing you harder. “Yeah,” she murmurs, biting her lip, voice low and sultry. “Been thinking about him for a while. He’s… hotter in person.” Her confession’s a spark, making you throb inside her, and she moans, nails digging in, her body trembling.

Hanni’s grin widens, the camcorder catching it all—Haerin’s bouncing tits, your hands bruising her hips, the wet slap of skin as you thrust slow, savoring her tightness. “Keep fucking her,” Hanni purrs, her free hand slipping into her boxers, fingers rubbing her clit, the camcorder wobbling as she gets off. “I want her screaming.”

You grip Haerin’s hips, slamming into her with force, her cries sharp and needy, the wall rattling. Her pussy’s so tight it’s dizzying, her moans turning whimpers as you hit deeper, faster, her small frame shaking. Hanni’s filming every angle—Haerin’s parted lips, your slick cock stretching her open, her thighs quivering. “Fuck, that’s it,” Hanni groans, her fingers a blur, boxers soaked, her breath hitching.

“God, you’re so wet,” Haerin murmurs, reaching out to Hanni, their fingers brushing as she tugs at Hanni’s crop top. “Come here,” she says, and Hanni steps closer, their hands grazing, a fleeting, electric touch. Hanni leans in, kissing Haerin, sloppy and quick, their tongues tangling as you keep fucking, Haerin’s moans muffled into Hanni’s mouth.

They break apart, and Hanni’s hand joins Haerin’s on your cock as you pull out briefly, their fingers overlapping, slick with Haerin’s juices. “Shit, he’s hard,” Hanni says, her voice low, stroking you with Haerin, their hands brushing, teasing, a messy rhythm that makes you groan. Haerin’s fingers are delicate, Hanni’s firmer, and the mix has you throbbing, precum leaking as they jack you off together, their touches intertwining.

“Back inside,” Haerin whispers, guiding you to her pussy, and you thrust deep, her moan loud and raw. Hanni keeps the camcorder rolling, zooming in on Haerin’s stretched lips, your cock disappearing inside her. “You love that, don’t you?” Hanni teases, and Haerin nods, panting, her eyes half-lidded.

“Fuck yes,” Haerin gasps, her hands roaming Hanni’s body, tugging at her boxers, fingers brushing Hanni’s clit. “He’s… so fucking deep.” Their hands keep meeting, grazing wrists, thighs, a tangled dance of touches as you pound Haerin, her cries filling the room.

Haerin’s phone buzzes again, and she grabs it, panting, answering mid-thrust, voice barely steady. “Minji-unnie?” she says, pressing a hand to her mouth as you slow, grinding deep. “Yeah, I’m… fine,” she mumbles, eyes rolling back as you hit a sweet spot, her body twitching.

Minji’s voice crackles, concerned. “You sound out of it. What’s up?”

Haerin’s sweating, muffling a moan as you rock into her, teasing, her walls pulsing. “Just… chilling,” she lies, voice tight, her free hand clawing your neck. “Real busy.” She’s trembling, her body twitching with every thrust, fighting to keep Minji clueless.

You pick up the pace, making her gasp, and she covers it with a shaky laugh, nails clawing your back. “You don’t sound okay,” Minji says, suspicious, and Haerin’s eyes widen, panic flashing as she scrambles to respond.

“Promise, I’m good,” she rushes, voice cracking as you kiss her neck, making her squirm. “Gotta run.” She hangs up fast, tossing the phone with a desperate moan, her control gone. “You’re gonna get me in trouble,” she pants, half-laughing, and you slam her harder, her cries loud and wild.

Hanni’s still filming, dropping to her knees for a close-up of Haerin’s pussy stretched around you, slick dripping down. “Cum in her,” she urges, voice rough, her fingers a blur in her boxers, the camcorder shaking as she chases her own high. “Fill her up.”

“No!” Haerin gasps, half-laughing, half-moaning. “Your rule, Hanni!” Her body’s begging, though, walls pulsing, thighs shaking as she fights to hold on, her moans frantic.

You’re close, her heat pushing you to the edge, but you pull out at the last second, cum splattering Haerin’s stomach, dripping down her thighs as she moans, legs trembling. Hanni catches it all on tape, her breath ragged, boxers soaked. “Fucking perfect,” she mutters, shutting off the camcorder and tossing it onto the counter.

Hanni pulls Haerin off the wall, both stumbling onto you, a sweaty, giggling mess. “Bedroom,” Hanni says, her crop top half-off, dragging you both down the hall. In the bedroom, shit gets wilder. Hanni shoves Haerin onto the bed, climbing on top, grinding her pussy against Haerin’s thigh, wet and shameless. Haerin pulls you in, kissing you deep, her tongue tangling with yours, her hands stroking your cock, coaxing it back to life.

Hanni grabs the camcorder, propping it on the nightstand, red light blinking as she dives into Haerin, licking her cum-streaked stomach, then lower, sucking her clit. Haerin moans, guiding your cock to her mouth, sucking slow, tongue swirling.

Haerin’s lips are warm and wet around your cock, her tongue tracing lazy circles over the head, teasing the slit where precum beads, her breath hot and uneven against your skin. Her black socks dangle from her ankles, one slipping down as her legs shift, her thighs parted, pussy glistening from earlier, still slick and inviting. Her eyes flick up to yours, wide and pleading, a soft hum vibrating through you as she sucks, her cheeks hollowing slightly, the pressure building slow but relentless.

Hanni’s lips smack against Haerin’s clit, loud and deliberate, her tongue flicking fast, then slow, dragging through Haerin’s folds with a wet slurp that makes Haerin’s hips buck, her moan muffled around your cock, sending a jolt straight to your balls. Hanni’s boxers are bunched around her thighs, her white socks stark against the dark sheets, her ass raised slightly as she bends forward, her own pussy dripping, leaving a faint wet spot on Haerin’s thigh where she’d been grinding. The camcorder’s red light blinks steadily, capturing every detail—Haerin’s spit-slick lips sliding over you, Hanni’s tongue buried in Haerin’s pussy, the cum flaking on Haerin’s stomach where Hanni licked, leaving faint lipstick marks on Haerin's stomach.

Your hand finds Haerin’s hair, fingers threading through the dark strands, guiding her gently, not forcing, just enough to feel her respond, her tongue pressing harder, swirling faster, her lips stretching wider as she takes you deeper. Her gag’s soft, barely there, spit pooling at the corners of her mouth, dripping down your shaft, making it glisten in the lamplight. She’s eager, her hands gripping your thighs, nails pressing into your skin, leaving faint crescents, her breath hitching every time Hanni’s tongue hits a sensitive spot, making her suck you harder, like she’s channeling her pleasure into pleasing you.

Hanni pulls back, panting, her lips shiny with Haerin’s slick, a thin string of it connecting her mouth to Haerin’s pussy. She glances up, catching you watching, and her grin’s wicked, eyes glinting with a mix of arousal and something sharper—jealousy, maybe, seeing Haerin’s mouth full of you, her lips stretched tight. “Fuck, she’s good at that,” Hanni says, voice low and rough, her hand sliding to Haerin’s thigh, spreading her wider, fingers brushing her folds, teasing but not entering, keeping Haerin on edge. “You like her sucking you off, babe? While I’m down here, eating her out?” Her tone’s teasing, but there’s a bite, a need to remind you she’s part of this, watching you enjoy Haerin’s mouth.

You groan, head tipping back, the pleasure spiking as Haerin’s tongue flicks the underside of your cock, her lips sealing tight, sucking hard enough to make your hips twitch. “Yeah,” you pant, meeting Hanni’s eyes, playing into her game, knowing it’ll push her. “Her mouth’s… fucking perfect.” Haerin’s eyes flutter, pleased, and she moans around you, the vibration hitting like a shock, your cock throbbing, leaking more precum for her to taste.

Hanni’s jaw tightens, but her grin doesn’t fade—she leans in, kissing Haerin’s inner thigh, her lips brushing the edge of her pussy, then sucking her clit again, harder this time, making Haerin’s whole body jerk, her lips faltering around you for a second before she dives back in, determined not to lose her rhythm. Hanni’s hand slips higher, fingers grazing your balls, cool and slick with her spit, massaging gently, and the dual sensation—Haerin’s hot mouth, Hanni’s deft touch—has you gripping Haerin’s hair tighter, fighting to hold on.

“Goddamn,” you mutter, voice rough, the pleasure coiling tight in your gut, every nerve lit up. Hanni’s lips smack again, loud and wet, and Haerin’s moan is higher now, desperate, her hips grinding into Hanni’s face, her hands clutching your thighs, nails digging deeper. Their dynamic’s electric—Hanni’s bold, almost possessive, Haerin quieter but fierce, both eager to make you feel good, but there’s a tension, a silent tug-of-war in the way their hands brush, their eyes flick, each wanting to be the one you can’t stop thinking about.

Hanni pulls back again, her breath ragged, lips dripping with Haerin’s juices, and she crawls up, her white socks slipping slightly as she straddles Haerin’s stomach, her pussy pressing against Haerin’s cum-streaked skin, leaving a fresh wet smear. She leans in, kissing you hard, her tongue plunging into your mouth, tangy with Haerin’s taste, her hands gripping your shoulders, nails scraping. Haerin’s still sucking, her tongue swirling faster, her lips tighter, like she’s competing, refusing to let Hanni steal the moment, and the contrast—Hanni’s aggressive kiss, Haerin’s relentless mouth—has you groaning, hips bucking into Haerin’s throat, making her gag softly, spit spilling down her chin.

Hanni breaks the kiss, panting, her eyes locked on yours, and she leans closer, lips brushing your ear, her breath hot and teasing. “How’s it feel, perv?” she whispers, voice low and filthy, her cuckquean thrill bare and raw. “Fucking Haerin’s mouth while your girlfriend’s right here, watching her choke on your cock?” Her words hit like a spark, your cock pulsing in Haerin’s throat, making her moan, muffled and needy, her eyes watering but fierce, like she’s proud of taking you so deep.

“Feels… like I’m fucking winning,” you gasp, voice rough, smirking to rile her, and Hanni’s grin sharpens, her jealousy a delicious edge that makes her hand slide to your balls again, squeezing just enough to make you hiss, pleasure spiking hard. Haerin pulls off with a wet pop, gasping for air, her hand stroking you now, keeping you slick, her lips shiny with spit and precum, and she glances at Hanni, a quick, competitive look, like she’s claiming her share of you.

Hanni doesn’t miss it—she nudges Haerin back, playful but firm, and climbs off, her boxers pulled low, pussy bare and dripping as she kneels beside you. “My turn,” she says, voice husky, and Haerin shifts, making room, her hand lingering on your cock, stroking slow, like she’s reluctant to let go. Hanni’s lips wrap around you, hotter, hungrier than Haerin’s, her tongue swirling wild, sucking hard, her cheeks hollowing deep, like she’s proving something. Haerin’s not idle—she leans in, kissing your thigh, her lips soft, teasing, then moving higher, sucking gently at the base of your cock, her tongue brushing Hanni’s, a fleeting, electric contact that makes them both pause, eyes flicking to each other, a mix of rivalry and heat.

You groan, loud, the sensation overwhelming—Hanni’s mouth a furnace, Haerin’s tongue teasing, their lips brushing as they work you, spit and precum mixing, dripping onto the sheets. Hanni’s hand grips your thigh, nails digging in, possessive, while Haerin’s fingers trace your balls, light and delicate, their touches a chaotic dance, each trying to outdo the other, their jealousy fueling their eagerness, making every suck, every lick, feel like a fucking gift.

Hanni pulls off, panting, her lips glossy, and she grabs Haerin’s wrist, pulling her up. “Time to fuck her,” she says, voice low but eager, like she’s been waiting for this, loving the control. She pushes Haerin onto her back, the mattress bouncing, and spreads her legs wide, Haerin’s pussy pink and dripping, still pulsing from Hanni’s tongue. Hanni guides your cock, her hand steady, lining you up, and you thrust in, slow and deep, Haerin’s heat swallowing you, tight and velvety, making you groan, the sound raw, filling the room.

Haerin’s eyes roll back, her mouth falling open, a high, desperate moan spilling out as you fill her, her walls fluttering, gripping you like she’s scared you’ll pull away. Her hands claw the sheets, knuckles white, her thighs trembling, black socks slipping further down, and she rocks into you, meeting each thrust, her body arching, desperate for more. The bed creaks, the rhythm steady but fierce, and you feel every inch of her—hot, slick, molding to you, her pussy a perfect fit, like it’s begging for you to stay.

Hanni’s watching, the camcorder still rolling, but she’s too caught up to hold it now—she sets it back on the nightstand, angling it to catch Haerin’s face, her bouncing tits, your cock sliding in and out, slick with her juices. Hanni’s hand slips between her own legs, fingers rubbing her clit, her boxers soaked, her breath ragged, but her eyes are glued to you, to Haerin, a mix of arousal and envy as she watches you fuck her friend. She leans in, kissing Haerin’s neck, her lips soft but possessive, then moves to your ear, her breath hot, teasing.

Hanni’s fingers speed up, Haerin’s moans turning frantic, her pussy squeezing you tighter, and you feel her edge closer, her thighs trembling, her breath hitching. But Haerin’s not done fighting—she grabs Hanni’s wrist, pulling her hand away, and kisses her hard, their tongues clashing, a messy, desperate battle for control. Haerin’s hips grind back against you, her pussy pulsing, and she breaks the kiss, panting, her eyes locked on yours, pleading, like she needs you to finish her.

You pull out, Haerin’s whimper loud and needy, and flip Hanni onto her back beside her, yanking her boxers down, exposing her pussy—pink, dripping, begging for you. You thrust in, deep and sudden, Hanni’s moan guttural, her walls gripping you, hot and familiar, her nails raking your back, leaving red trails. Haerin’s quick to react—she straddles Hanni’s stomach, kissing you deep, her tongue battling yours, her hands on your chest, staking her claim even as you pound Hanni, the bed creaking under the force.

Hanni’s hands grip your hips, guiding you deeper, her pussy so wet it’s obscene, the slick sounds loud, mixing with her moans, her socks slipping as she braces her feet, pushing back against you. “Harder,” she gasps, voice hoarse, her jealousy spurring her, needing to match Haerin’s intensity, and you oblige, slamming into her, her tits bouncing under her crop top, nipples hard, her eyes half-lidded but burning with want.

Haerin leans down, sucking Hanni’s nipple through the fabric, her teeth grazing, making Hanni arch, her pussy clenching you tighter, her moan sharp and desperate. Haerin’s fingers slip between Hanni’s legs, rubbing her clit, fast and rough, and Hanni screams, her body shaking, pleasure hitting her like a wave. “Fuck, you’re… too good,” Hanni pants, her words for you, for Haerin, her jealousy mixing with gratitude, her hands clawing your shoulders, pulling you closer.

You switch again, pulling out of Hanni, her whine cut off as you push Haerin onto her hands and knees, thrusting into her from behind, her pussy swallowing you whole, slick and tight, her moan a scream, her back arching, hair spilling forward. She pushes back, meeting each thrust, her socks sliding down, her ass slapping against you, the sound loud and rhythmic. Hanni crawls beneath her, kissing Haerin’s stomach, licking your cum from earlier, her tongue darting lower, finding Haerin’s clit, sucking hard, making Haerin’s hips buck, her pussy clenching you so tight you nearly lose it.

“God, you’re… fucking me so good,” Haerin gasps, her voice breaking, her hands fisting the sheets, her body shaking as Hanni’s tongue flicks faster, your cock hitting deeper, pleasure piling on pleasure. Hanni’s eyes meet yours, gleaming with pride, envy, loving that she’s part of this, that she’s making Haerin fall apart while you fuck her senseless.

You’re close, the pressure building, Haerin’s pussy too tight, Hanni’s tongue too relentless. “Where?” you groan, gripping Haerin’s hips, your thrusts sloppy, desperate, every muscle tensed.

“On us,” Hanni says, voice firm, sliding out from under Haerin, kneeling beside her, both waiting, mouths open, eyes locked on you, eager and hungry.

You pull out, stroking fast, and cum hard, ropes of it splattering across their faces, stomachs, their tits, dripping down their skin.

The first thick spurt hits Haerin’s cheek, a creamy streak splashing across her flushed skin, catching the corner of her mouth, sliding down her jaw, warm and sticky.

Another rope nails Hanni’s lips, coating her mouth, dripping over her chin, a fat line streaking her nose, her moan rougher, louder, head tilting to catch it, tongue curling, scooping every drop, eyes flashing smug at Haerin like she’s won something.

More sprays wild, messy—Haerin’s forehead takes a hit, cum sliding into her hair, sticking in dark strands, her gasp sharp, fingers twitching, brushing it, smearing slick across her temple.

Hanni gets another blast, across her cheek, dripping into her open mouth, pooling on her tongue, her grin wild, chin glossy, cum trailing down her neck, sticking to her crop top.

Their faces are a wreck, cum-soaked, eyes locked in a heated glare—Hanni’s bold, greedy, Haerin’s defiant, needy, both fucking starved for you. They don’t wait, lips crashing together, a sloppy cum-drenched makeout, tongues tangling, sucking your cum back and forth like it’s a prize.

Hanni’s fingers dig into Haerin’s cheeks, tongue scooping more cum, sucking it down, her eyes darting to you, making sure you’re watching, her cuckquean thrill screaming look at us. Haerin’s hands slide to Hanni’s jaw, fingers slippery, rubbing cum into her skin, her tongue fighting back.

Haerin’s moan soft and satisfied, Hanni’s louder, almost triumphant, their hands rubbing it in, fingers brushing, sharing the moment, the camcorder catching every drop, every shudder.

They collapse against you, a sweaty, giggling tangle, Hanni’s arm slung across your chest, Haerin’s head on your shoulder, their socks tangled at the bed’s edge. “Minji’d lose her mind,” Hanni murmurs, teasing, her breath warm against your skin, no call needed to spark the idea. “All that ass… bet you’d love it.”

You smirk, catching your breath, the room heavy with heat and quiet laughter. “She’s got that vibe,” you say, dodging Hanni’s playful swat, Haerin’s giggle soft against you. “Hotter than you two, maybe.”

Careful,” Haerin murmurs, nuzzling closer, her voice sleepy but sharp, her breath warm and teasing. Then she pauses, her hand resting lightly on your chest, her voice softer now, almost shy. “You know… that was my first time,” she whispers, eyes flicking up to yours, a mix of vulnerability and pride, her cheeks flushing deeper under the lamplight.

You blink, caught off guard, your hand stilling where it’s tangled in her hair. The weight of it hits—her tightness, her eagerness, the way she’d taken you like she was proving something, it all clicks. You’d claimed her, fucked her like a king, every thrust confident, every move sure, her body yielding to you like it was meant for this. “No shit?” you say, voice low, a grin spreading, pride swelling in your chest, your cock twitching at the thought, even now.

Hanni’s eyes widen, her head lifting from your chest, her grin turning wicked, like she’s just won a bet. “Holy shit, babe,” she says, looking at you, then Haerin, her voice thick with admiration. “You took her virginity like a fucking champ. A real man, huh? Broke her in just right.” She leans in, kissing your neck, her nails grazing your skin, her pride in you palpable, her cuckquean thrill mixing with genuine awe. She glances at Haerin, her smile softening, almost tender. “You okay? He didn’t go too hard, did he?”

Haerin laughs, soft and breathless, curling closer, her lips brushing your collarbone. “I’m good,” she murmurs, her voice warm, satisfied, her hand tracing your abs, lingering where your cum still sticks to her skin. “He was… perfect.” Her eyes meet yours, a spark of gratitude, of connection.

Hanni snuggles in, hugging you tight, her breath steadying, warm on your chest, her arm draped possessively across you. Haerin’s lips find your soft cock, gentle, almost reverent, holding it in her mouth as she curls up, eyes fluttering shut, her warmth a quiet promise, hoping it’ll harden again by morning. You pull Hanni closer, her body soft and heavy against you, the camcorder’s red light still blinking, a silent witness to the chaos—sheets damp, your body heavy with satisfaction.

---

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[rizzanon]

Relentless

a dick grayson and batsis! reader oneshot ft. barbara (oracle) and tim (robin) | m.list

Synopsis: you’re too stubborn to sit out during the events of gotham’s cataclysm, your brother forces you to do so | events somewhat align with batman: cataclysm and nightwing v2 #19-20 if you squint

The city felt like it was crumbling under his feet. Gotham was no stranger to chaos, but this… this was beyond anything Dick had seen before. Buildings were reduced to skeletal remains, fires burned unchecked, and the air itself was a blend of dust and despair. Every cry for help cut through him, a sharp reminder of how little time there was and how many lives hung in the balance.

But none of that mattered to Dick Grayson as much as finding you.

His pulse hammered in his skull, drowning out logic, drowning out reason. He knew he wasn’t thinking straight. Knew that in the grand scheme of things, there were priorities, a bigger picture. He was supposed to be coordinating efforts, supposed to be leading, but—

The comms buzzed in his ear. “Dick, we’ve got survivors reported near Robinson Park,” Barbara said, her voice calm but tense. “And the GCPD needs backup at—”

“I’m already on it,” he interrupted, leaping over a chasm in the ruined street below. He wasn’t, not entirely, but he couldn’t bring himself to explain. Barbara would only try to talk him out of it, and he didn’t have the patience to argue.

He darted through the wreckage, his heart hammering in his chest as he scanned the devastation around him. The comm in his ear buzzed with updates—rescue missions, calls for backup, news of more collapses—but he barely heard any of it. His focus was singular, cutting through the noise like a blade.

You.

You weren’t reacheable.

You weren’t at the Manor, where Alfred swore you’d been earlier.

And the longer you were unreachable, the more scenarios played out in his head—each one worse than the last.

His hands tightened into fists as he swung onto a ledge, surveying the ruins below. Guilt gnawed at him with every second you remained missing. He’d let you leave. He’d been too distracted to notice when you slipped out, too focused on coordinating the larger response.

And you weren’t one of them—a vigilante trained to face Gotham’s dangers.

Now he couldn’t stop imagining the worst.

“Nightwing, update,” Barbara’s voice crackled in his ear.

“Still looking,” he replied shortly.

“Looking for what?” she pressed.

A beat of silence. Dick hesitated, debating whether to tell her. “It’s—personal,” he finally said, his voice strained.

Barbara sighed. “Dick, if you need help—”

“I’ve got it,” he snapped. Too sharp. Too harsh.

He regretted it instantly, but there was no time for apologies.

“Sorry, Babs. I’ll check in soon.”

He cut the line before she could argue. Guilt settled like a stone in his stomach, but he forced it down. There wasn’t room for it. There wasn’t room for anything but the pounding of his heart and the singular focus that drove him forward.

He needed to find you.

He had to find you.

And he had to do it now.

What if he was too late?

The city was almost unrecognizable.

He wasn’t just worried. He was terrified.

He tried to tell himself you were fine. That you were just out of range. That you were waiting out the worst of it. But his brain refused to believe anything that wasn’t the worst-case scenario. His brain wouldn’t stop feeding him every horrific possibility.

What if he was too late?

What if you were buried? Trapped beneath the collapsed remains of a building, lungs filling with dust, crushed under tons of debris while he was out here wasting precious seconds?

What if someone had found you before he did? Not a rescuer. Not a friend. Gotham brought out the worst in people, and desperation turned them into something even uglier. He’d seen it before. Knew exactly what happened when chaos stripped away the rules and left people scrambling to survive.

What if you were already—

No.

No, he couldn’t go there.

His breath was coming too fast, his chest locking up, his mind spinning out, but he forced himself to keep moving.

You were alive.

You had to be.

And if you weren’t—

He cut the thought off before it could form.

He refused.

Because the alternative was unthinkable.

The alternative was losing you.

And after everything—after his parents, after Jason, after everything he had already been forced to endure—he couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

His grip on his escrima sticks was too tight, his knuckles aching from the strain. He didn’t even realize how tense his body was until a sharp pain bloomed in his temple, his muscles screaming at him for running on pure adrenaline.

Didn’t matter.

Didn’t care.

He had to find you.

And then—

There.

A flash of movement, a figure hunched near a collapsed streetlamp.

His breath hitched.

You.

For a second, he didn’t trust his own eyes.

Didn’t trust that you were real, that this wasn’t some desperate hallucination conjured by the sheer force of his panic.

But then his vision tunneled in, focused, locked.

His jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

The relief when he found you was almost overwhelming.

You were crouched near a toppled streetlamp, your hands gripping a slab of concrete as you worked to free a trapped man. A group of injured civilians huddled nearby, their expressions a mix of fear and hope. Blood smeared your arms—whether your own or someone else’s, he didn’t know. Dirt streaked your face. Your clothes were torn, singed at the edges, but you didn’t stop. Didn’t hesitate.

For a moment, he just stared.

Alive.

You were alive.

The relief that hit him was visceral.

He felt the breath rush out of him, the tension that had been choking him releasing in one sharp exhale. His stomach twisted so violently he thought he might be sick.

Because for one agonizing moment, the sheer weight of almost losing you crashed into him like a tidal wave.

But that relief was quickly replaced by something else—anger, frustration, fear, all swirling together in a storm he barely kept contained.

Because what the hell were you thinking?

Relief and anger collided in his chest. Relief that you were alive, and anger that you were here, in the middle of this hellscape, with no protection, no training, and no regard for your own safety.

Did you even realize what you had done to him?

How he had felt?

How his mind had spiraled and crashed and burned in the absence of your voice, filling in the blanks with every possible way you could have died?

Did you know what it would have done to him if you hadn’t been here when he finally found you?

He swallowed hard, throat raw.

No.

He couldn’t think like that.

Not now.

Not yet.

Right now, there was only one thing to do.

Move.

Sliding down the rubble, he reached your side without a word. His gloved hands joining yours to lift the concrete, muscles coiling as he braced against it. You didn’t even look up, didn’t even look at him, too focused on the man in front of you.

“Almost… got it,” you gritted out, your voice hoarse from the dust and strain.

Dick didn’t answer.

Didn’t trust himself to answer.

Didn’t trust himself not to let the sheer force of everything he was feeling spill out in a way he wouldn’t be able to take back.

So instead, he just acted.

The concrete shifted beneath their combined effort, and together, you managed to free the civilian.

“Thank you,” the man gasped as you helped him to his feet.

Medics arrived moments later, moving in to take over.

But Dick barely registered them.

His gaze stayed locked on you.

Still kneeling, still breathing hard, exhaustion making your hands tremble as they hovered in your lap.

And for a brief, fleeting moment, the fear hadn’t fully let go.

Because all he could think—all he could see—was how easily you could have not been here.

How close he had come.

How close he had always been.

And it terrified him.

Once the medics whisked every injured civilian away, only then did you turn to Dick, your expression lighting up in recognition.

“Nightwing!” you said, surprised but smiling faintly. “There’s another building down the block,” you began, gesturing to the smoke in the distance. “I think there are people trapped inside. If we—”

“Stop,” Dick cut you off, his voice sharp. He stepped closer and grabbed your shoulders, his grip firm but not harsh, his eyes scanning your face like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him. “Just… stop.”

You blinked, startled. “What? Why? There are still—”

“Do you have any idea what I’ve been through in the past few hours?” he demanded, his voice rising. “Do you know how terrified I’ve been? How close I was to thinking I’d never find you?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he cut you off.

“You’re hurt,” he snapped, his voice rising. “You’re bleeding, you’re exhausted, and you’re not supposed to be out here in the first place. What the hell were you thinking?”

Your eyes narrowed.

“I’m fine,” you said, pulling away from him. “I was thinking about helping people, Dick. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do?”

“You’re not fine!” he snapped. “You’re literally bleeding. You’re not trained for this. And you’re not—” He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. “You’re not supposed to be out here,” he finished, his voice quieter but no less firm.

“And what if I did nothing?” you retorted, shrugging off his hands. “What if I just sat around, waiting for someone else to save the day? I’m not useless, Dick. I can help!”

Dick’s jaw clenched, his frustration bubbling over. “You’re not useless, but you’re not invincible either. You think I can just stand by and watch you put yourself in danger? You’re my sister, for god’s sake! This is not your job.”

You flinched at his tone but didn’t back down. “So what, I’m just supposed to sit around while people die? I can’t do that, Dick. You’re my brother, but that doesn’t mean you get to tell me what to do!”

“And I can’t lose you!” he yelled, his voice cracking.

The words hung in the air, raw and heavy.

You stared at him, stunned into silence.

The two of you stared at each other, the tension between you crackling like static. Finally, Dick exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair.

“Come with me,” he said, his voice quieter but no less firm. “There’s a safehouse nearby. You’re getting treated, and you’re staying put. That’s not up for debate.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the look on his face stopped you.

“Please.”

Reluctantly, you nodded.

The safehouse was quiet. Not calm—just quiet. The kind of quiet that sat heavy in the air, pressing against the walls, filling every inch of space between breath and thought. Small but sturdy, its reinforced walls muted the sounds of Gotham's suffering. Inside, it felt like time slowed, the weight of everything settling in the silence between you and Dick.

He guided you inside with a firm hand on your shoulder, his grip strong but not harsh, like he was afraid you'd bolt at any second. His fingers tightened for just a moment before he forced them to relax, like even he wasn’t sure whether he was trying to keep you close or just convince himself you were really here.

Alive.

It should have been a relief. It was a relief. But it didn’t settle the way relief was supposed to. It didn’t ease the tightness in his chest or quiet the thoughts still running rampant in his mind. If anything, it only made them worse.

“Sit,” he ordered, pointing to a worn-out chair in the corner of the room.

The word came out sharper than he meant. Short. Clipped. Frayed at the edges with everything he wasn’t saying.

You obeyed without much argument, and something about that made his stomach twist. You never obeyed this easily. Never gave in without at least a token protest.

That wasn’t a good sign.

Exhaustion was finally catching up to you. Your legs ached, your arms stung from countless scrapes, and every breath was laced with the sharp tang of smoke. Your hands trembled slightly as they rested on your lap.

His gaze flickered over you, cataloging every scrape, every bruise, every smear of blood. The acrid scent of smoke clung to you, burned into the fabric of your clothes, tangled in your hair. The jacket you wore was torn, singed at the edges, dirt and ash streaked across the fabric.

How long had you been out there?

How many times had you come close to something you couldn’t walk away from?

Dick swallowed hard and turned away before those thoughts could spiral into something worse.

He didn't waste a second, rifling through a nearby first aid kit with quick, efficient movements. He looked up briefly, his blue eyes meeting yours.

“Take off your jacket,” he said, already kneeling in front of you with the kit in hand.

A flicker of hesitation. A barely-there pause.

“I told you, I’m fine,” you muttered, shifting uncomfortably under his scrutiny.

A lie. An obvious one. But that wasn’t what made his jaw clench. It was the way you said it. The way your voice wavered, just slightly. The way you wouldn’t quite meet his eyes.

“Take. It. Off,” he repeated, his tone brooking no argument.

Not a request.

Not this time.

The tension in his voice made you sigh in defeat. You tugged at your jacket, hissing as the fabric pulled against an especially deep scrape on your arm. Dick was on it immediately, gently easing the sleeve off for you.

The jacket his the floor, forgotten.

Silence settled again as his hands moved with practiced precision, cleaning the cuts and bandaging them with care. But he still wasn’t looking at you—not really. His jaw was clenched so tightly you thought it might snap, and the silence between you felt heavy with everything unsaid.

“I was fine out there,” you said quietly, breaking the silence.

Dick’s hands paused mid-movement, his fingers hovering over the next bandage.

“You call this fine?” he asked, his voice tight as he gestured to the mess of bruises and scrapes covering your arms.

You said nothing.

Because there was nothing to say.

And that only made it worse.

Dick forced himself to keep going, fingers moving automatically, muscle memory taking over. He cleaned each wound, wrapped each bandage, all while his mind spun in circles, overthinking, overanalyzing.

If he had found you later—if he had been just one step behind—what then?

Would you still be here?

Would he have found you in time?

Would he have found you at all?

The thought made something crack deep in his chest, something raw and ugly that he didn’t have time to deal with.

You opened your mouth to respond, but the sharp chirp of his comm interrupted you. Dick pressed a finger to his earpiece, his expression darkening as he listened.

“Nightwing,” Barbara’s voice crackled through the comm. “We’ve got a situation on 14th and Bay. The two apartment buildings there collapsed, and people are still trapped inside. Can you get there?”

Dick’s jaw tightened, and he closed his eyes briefly, exhaling a slow, measured breath.

“On it,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside him.

He returned his focus to you, quickly finishing the bandage he’d been working on. His hands moved faster now, a clear sign that his mind was already on the next crisis.

“Stay here,” he said, standing up and grabbing his escrima sticks from the nearby table.

“Dick—”

“No,” he interrupted, holding up a hand. “Stay. Here. Please.” His voice softened on the last word, his eyes meeting yours with a rare vulnerability. It was unwilling, unintentional—but real. And he hated how much weight it carried.

Because he never asked.

But this?

This was him asking.

“I’ll come back, but I need to know you’re safe. Don’t make me worry about you on top of everything else, okay?”

You hesitated, the weight of his plea settling uncomfortably in your chest. Dick held your gaze, searching for something, anything, that would tell him you understood.

Finally, finally, you nodded. You nodded, if only to ease the tension in his shoulders.

“Good,” he said, his voice softening just slightly. He gave you one last glance before turning and heading toward the door.

The sound of it clicking shut behind him felt louder than it should have, leaving you alone with the distant echoes of Gotham’s chaos and your own restless thoughts.

For a few minutes, you sat there, staring at the bandages on your arms, his words replaying in your mind.

Stay here. Please.

You hated the idea of sitting still while the city burned. There were people out there who needed help—people like the ones you’d already saved. And sitting here, safe and useless, felt like a betrayal to them.

You glanced at the door.

You made your decision.

The chaos in Gotham was endless, a cacophony of crumbling structures, distant cries for help, and the ever-present smell of smoke. Dick was exhausted, but he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t. Beside him, Tim was just as determined, the two of them working seamlessly to pull survivors from the wreckage and guide them to safety. Barbara’s voice crackled in their earpieces, directing them to the next area in need of aid.

“Nightwing, Robin, you’ve got a fire spreading at Kane Plaza. Emergency crews can’t get there in time—” Barbara’s voice faltered for a second before steadying. “I’m sending coordinates now.”

Dick barely registered her words. His sharp gaze had locked onto something else—or rather, someone else.

There you were, weaving through the rubble as if you belonged in this nightmare, helping an injured man to his feet while gesturing for a small group of civilians to follow. Dust and grime clung to your torn clothes, your hair plastered to your forehead with sweat. But it wasn’t just your presence that froze him—it was the new scrapes on your arms, ripping through the bandages that he wrapped on you, the limp in your step, and the reckless determination in your eyes.

He’d told you to stay at the safehouse. Not even an hour ago. He’d begged you.

“Nightwing?” Tim’s voice cut through his thoughts. “What’s going on?”

Dick didn’t respond. His chest tightened, a knot of anger and fear winding together as he leapt down from the scaffolding, leaving Tim behind.

You felt his presence before you saw him. The weight of his gaze was unmistakable, even from behind the domino mask. When he landed a few feet away, the sharp intake of his breath was audible.

“Dick—”

But you didn’t get another word out. His hand wrapped gently but firmly around your arm, halting your movements.

“What the hell are you doing here?” His voice was low, but the edge in it was impossible to miss.

“I’m helping—”

“I told you to stay at the safehouse!” he snapped, his grip tightening slightly. “What part of ‘stay put’ didn’t you understand?”

“I couldn’t just sit there while people needed help!” you protested, pulling against his hold, but he didn’t let go.

Dick’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. He turned to Tim, who had swung down to join them, watching the scene with wide eyes.

“Robin, head to Kane Plaza. Oracle needs you there.”

Tim hesitated, glancing between the two of you. “What about—”

“Go,” Dick ordered, his voice firm.

Tim nodded reluctantly, shooting you a sympathetic look before grappling away.

Dick didn’t say another word as he steered you away from the rubble, his grip on your arm unyielding. You tried protesting again, but he didn’t respond, his jaw clenched as he led you toward the clocktower.

The ride to Barbara’s clocktower was suffocating, the air between you heavy with unspoken words. When you arrived, Dick didn’t even give you a chance to argue before he guided you inside, his hand on your shoulder as if he didn’t trust you not to run off again.

Barbara turned her chair away from the monitors, her gaze flickering between the two of you. “Well, this looks promising,” she remarked lightly, though her sharp eyes immediately caught the fresh scrapes on your arms.

“She didn’t stay at the safehouse,” Dick said, his voice clipped, every syllable brimming with restrained anger. He released your arm finally but stayed rooted just a few feet away, his posture stiff and unrelenting. “She decided to run off and—”

“Save it,” Barbara interrupted, wheeling toward you. “I can see where this is going, and we don’t need another lecture right now. Let me look at those cuts before you get infected.”

You didn’t argue. The exhaustion was hitting harder now, sinking into your limbs, turning every movement sluggish. You dropped onto the couch with a quiet huff, still glaring at Dick as you did.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, more for your own sake than anyone else’s.

Barbara pulled out a first aid kit and parked beside you, pulling on a pair of gloves. “Sure, you are,” she said dryly, pulling an antiseptic wipe from the pack. “Let me guess. You decided to play hero again?”

You winced as she dabbed at a particularly deep scrape. “I was helping people,” you mumbled. “That’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” Barbara said, glancing at Dick as he paced. “And judging by the big guy over there, I’m guessing it didn’t go over too well.”

You didn’t answer, and Barbara gave you a sympathetic look. “This might sting,” she warned, pressing the antiseptic deeper into the wound.

You hissed in pain but said nothing, biting your lip to keep from reacting further.

Barbara’s tone softened as she continued, “You know, for what it’s worth, you’ve got guts. A lot of people wouldn’t have run into the chaos like you did.”

Your eyes darted toward Dick, who had stopped pacing to stand by the window, staring out at the broken cityscape. Even through his domino mask, you could feel the weight of his disapproval.

“He doesn’t see it that way,” you muttered.

Barbara followed your gaze and chuckled quietly. “Oh, he sees it. He just doesn’t know what to do with it.” She paused. “That’s how Dick operates. All heart, but when things get messy, he acts more Batman than he realises.”

You scoffed. “Feels like he just wants to control me.”

Barbara shook her head. “No, he just doesn’t want to lose you. It’s his greatest fear.”

A bitter laugh escaped you. “Well, he’s got a funny way of showing it.”

Barbara tilted her head, studying you carefully. “You know, my father once told me that fear makes people act in all kinds of strange ways. Dick’s no different. Doesn’t mean he’s right, but it does mean he’s scared out of his mind.”

You frowned, unsure of how to respond to that. “Still doesn’t excuse him treating me like I’m five.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Barbara agreed, tying off the last bandage. “But he’s trying. It’s just… messy. And loud.” She smirked slightly, patting your arm. “There. All patched up. Try not to give him a stroke next time.”

You managed a small, weak smile. “Thanks.”

Barbara wheeled back, gesturing toward Dick. “Your turn, champ. Don’t break anything.”

She disappeared into the adjacent room, leaving you and Dick in an unbearable silence. Dick didn’t turn around right away. When he finally did, his movements were slow, deliberate. Measured, like he was forcing himself to keep steady.

“You promised me,” he said finally, his voice low but sharp. “You said you understood. You said you’d stay at the safehouse.”

“I did understand,” you replied, standing to face him. “But I couldn’t just sit there, Dick. People needed help.”

“They didn’t need your help,” he snapped, his voice rising. “Do you have any idea how reckless that was?”

“I was helping people,” you argued, your voice growing louder to match his. “Just like you and everyone else out there!”

“No, not like me!” he roared, stepping closer. “I have training, experience. You don’t.”

Your chest tightened. Your hands clenched into fists.

“And whose fault is that?” The words came out before you could stop them, laced with every ounce of bitterness you felt. “You and Bruce never let me do anything. You never trusted me enough to let me try.”

“This isn’t about trust!” he shouted. “It’s about keeping you alive. It’s about making sure you don’t end up like—”

He cut himself off, but the weight of his unfinished sentence hung heavy in the air. You already knew how that sentence ended.

“Like who?” you demanded, though you didn’t need to ask.

Dick looked away, jaw clenching. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter. Rough.

“Like Jason.”

The name landed between you like a gunshot.

“I couldn’t save him.” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t there to stop him. And if I lose you too—”

He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.

His words trailed off, but the raw emotion in his voice hit you like a punch to the gut. For a moment, your anger faltered, but the frustration bubbling in your chest refused to die down completely.

“I’m not Jason,” you said softly. “I’m not him, Dick. You can’t keep punishing me for what happened to him.”

“I’m not punishing you,” he countered. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“Well, maybe I don’t need your protection,” you shot back, voice breaking just slightly.

“Maybe I just need you to believe in me.”

“I do believe in you,” he said, his voice desperate. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let you throw yourself into danger like this.”

“I’m not a little kid anymore, Dick,” you said, your voice trembling. “I can make my own choices.”

“Not when they’re this reckless,” he countered, his frustration boiling over. “Do you even realize what could’ve happened to you out there? You could’ve been crushed under rubble, or worse—”

“But I wasn’t!” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “I was helping people, and I made it out. Why can’t you just trust that I know what I’m doing?”

“Because you don’t!”

His voice cracked.

"You don't,” he repeated, quieter now. “And that's what terrifies me."

The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging heavily between you. You swallowed hard, blinking back tears.

“I hate you.”

It wasn’t loud.

It wasn’t even true.

But it still hit like a punch to the gut.

Dick flinched. Actually flinched. Like you’d physically struck him.

You turned before you could see his reaction, before you could second-guess yourself, storming out of the room and slamming the door behind you.

Minutes passed before Barbara found him.

Dick sank onto the couch, his head falling into his hands as the weight of the argument crashed over him. He’d handled it horribly—he knew that—but the fear of losing you had clouded his judgment.

"That bad, huh?" she said, wheeling closer.

“She hates me,” Dick muttered.

Barbara raised an eyebrow. “Hate’s a strong word.”

“She said it,” he replied, his voice muffled by his hands.

Barbara sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Well, you didn’t exactly handle that with kid gloves.”

“What was I supposed to do, Babs?” Dick asked, looking up at her, his eyes filled with frustration. “She keeps putting herself in danger. I can’t just let that slide.”

Barbara wheeled closer. “You really aren’t getting it, are you?”

Dick barely lifted his head. “Enlighten me.”

“She’s angry because she wants your trust,” Barbara said plainly. “She wants your approval. And instead, all she gets is you treating her like she’s a fragile piece of glass.”

Barbara tilted her head. “You sure you’re not projecting a little?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked defensively.

Barbara shrugged. “You couldn’t be there for Jason, so now you’re overcompensating with her. It’s understandable, but it’s not fair.”

Dick bristled but didn’t argue. “She’s not ready for this, Babs. She’s not trained.”

“Then train her,” Barbara said simply.

“It’s not that easy,” Dick argued. “This life—it’s dangerous. If she gets hurt—”

“She’s already out there, Dick,” Barbara interrupted. “She’s already helping. You can either keep trying to stop her or actually give her the tools to do it safely.”

Dick sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I just… I can’t lose her, Babs. Not like Jason.”

“And you won’t,” Barbara said firmly. “But you’re going to push her away if you keep treating her like she can’t handle herself.”

Dick stared at the floor, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know what to do.”

Barbara rolled closer, resting a hand on his arm. “Talk to her. Really talk to her. And listen, for once. You might be surprised by what she has to say.”

He nodded slowly, though the conflict in his eyes remained. “I’ll try,” he said quietly.

“You’d better,” Barbara said with a small smirk. “Or I’ll knock some sense into you myself.”

The rooftop was still and cold, the night stretching out endlessly beneath the Gotham skyline. You had sought solitude here, the only place where you could distance yourself from everything that had happened—the argument, the anger, the hurt. All of it weighed heavily in your chest, a constant reminder that things hadn’t been the same for a while.

The sound of footsteps reached your ears, slow and deliberate. You didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge the figure who approached you. But you knew it was Dick. You knew it was him before he even spoke. Dick’s presence was impossible to ignore.

You didn’t turn.

You didn’t want to.

It wasn’t because you didn’t care—it was because you didn’t know how to process everything yet.

“Looks like I didn’t have to look far this time,” Dick’s voice was steady but tinged with something else—something quieter, softer, and laced with the weight of everything that had happened.

You remained silent, your gaze fixed on the skyline. The space between you two felt wide, like an ocean, even though he was close. The argument from earlier hung in the air like a thick fog, and you didn’t know how to navigate it. You didn’t even know how to feel anymore. His words had been sharp, filled with the fear and frustration of someone who cared too much and yet didn’t know how to show it.

Dick didn’t push. He didn’t demand anything of you. Instead, he slowly sat beside you, his presence warm but not invasive, a reminder that no matter what had been said, he was still here. You didn’t know if you were ready for this conversation yet, but it was happening anyway.

The silence between you both stretched on, thick and heavy. And then, finally, Dick spoke.

“I’m sorry,” his voice was low, full of regret. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I’ve been… all over the place. I’ve been scared. I should’ve listened instead of just reacting. I know I hurt you.”

You flinched, not because the words were harsh, but because the truth in them made everything feel too real. You had expected him to come up here with anger still in his eyes, ready for round two. But this… this was different. His voice was raw, stripped of any pretense. He was trying—more than you had realised—trying to understand. You couldn’t ignore that.

“I know,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I know you were scared. I should’ve understood that. I pushed you away when I should’ve been listening, too.”

Dick turned to face you, his eyes softening. “I just—” He hesitated, then ran a hand through his hair, his face filled with an exhaustion that you hadn’t noticed before. “I don’t want to lose anyone else, you know? I didn’t mean to treat you like you weren’t capable of making your own decisions. I just… I saw you out there, running into danger, and I couldn’t stop thinking about Jason. I couldn’t stop thinking about what could happen to you, and the last thing I want is to watch you… slip away like he did. I can’t handle that. Not again.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words sink into your chest. The fear, the hurt—it was all there, and you’d been blind to it. Blind to how much his actions came from that place of love and pain.

“I should’ve been there for you,” you murmured, your voice thick with emotion. “I should’ve known how hard this was for you. I should’ve known that you weren’t just trying to control me. You were trying to protect me. And I… I didn’t make it easy. I’ve been too focused on trying to prove myself. I’ve been angry, and I haven’t been fair.”

Dick let out a deep sigh, as if the weight of everything had just hit him in that moment, too. “I’ve been hard on you, and I know it. But it wasn’t because I didn’t trust you. It was because I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you. It’s like everything else I’ve lost—like it’s all going to happen again. And I don’t know how to make it stop.”

You turned to him then, meeting his eyes for the first time in what felt like forever. “I get it, Dick. I really do. But you can’t keep pushing me away like that. I get that you’re scared. I’m scared too, but I don’t want to be treated like I’m… fragile. Like I’m someone you need to shield from the world. I can handle it. I can handle myself.”

Dick’s face tightened, but not with anger. It was something else—a mix of relief and guilt and vulnerability all wrapped up in one.

“I don’t know how to stop. I don’t know how to just let go and let you do your thing. I feel like I’m failing you every time I don’t step in and stop you. But maybe… maybe it’s me who’s been holding on too tight. Maybe I need to learn to trust you more, to let you make your choices, even when I don’t agree with them.”

A silence passed between you two, heavy but not suffocating. You could feel the air shift, the tension lessening, like the pieces of a puzzle were finally falling into place.

“I don’t want you to let me go completely,” you said, your voice trembling. “But I do need you to trust that I know what I’m doing. That I’m not just… trying to get myself hurt out there. I want to help, and I want to be here. I just need you to believe in me.”

“I do,” Dick whispered, his eyes softening. “I do believe in you. I always have. I just… I guess I haven’t been great at showing it.” He shifted, looking at you with a mixture of apology and affection. “I’m sorry for not seeing how you’ve been feeling. For not really listening. I’m sorry for making you feel like you weren’t enough.”

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips despite everything. “I haven’t been perfect either. I’ve been selfish, not thinking about how my actions might affect you. I’ve been… stubborn. But I understand now. I do.”

Dick’s hand slowly reached out, hovering for a moment before resting gently on your shoulder. His touch was warm, tentative, as if he wasn’t sure whether you would pull away. But you didn’t. You leaned into it, into him. And when you finally met his gaze again, you saw something new in his eyes—something softer, more open.

He pulled you into a tight hug then, his arms wrapping around you with the same sense of protection that had once felt like a cage but now felt like a lifeline. “You’re relentless, you know that?” he whispered, his voice muffled against your hair.

You laughed quietly, the sound light but filled with warmth. “I know.”

Silence filled the air for a few moments.

“But I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Dick murmured, his grip tightening around you as if he couldn’t let go even if he wanted to. And in that moment, the world felt a little less heavy, a little less uncertain, as you both held on—because this, this was the way forward.

Don’t be surprised if you see something similar to this in another one of my future works 🤫 hope you guys enjoyed this 🫶

taglist (open): @k1arar3 @kingshitonly @rainnyydaysworld | ask to be added <3

[sturnmeovr]

Neighbor!Matt x Brat!Reader - Plan B

Your white sheets drape loosely around Matt’s waist, daring to fall each time he pumps himself in and out of you at a steady pace, going so deep he teases your cervix each time. Low, raspy grunts escape his lips with every snap of his hips, one hand glued to your waistline, not letting you squirm out from his grip one bit while the other dangerously thumbs at your clit. “Ahh! — Matt,” you croak out, your eyes low from the little ball of pleasure building up in your stomach, “I can’t — Fuck!”

You hadn’t had a senseless hook up in months, you were too focused on work and isolating yourself, you had no time for distractions. You didn’t know how you got in this position – pinned underneath your obnoxiously rude and loud upstairs neighbor whom you’ve hated up until twenty minutes ago when he was forcing his tongue in your mouth and clawing at every article of clothing you had on. 

His blue orbs suck you in much like a heavy current. His bottom lip trapped between his teeth as he stares down at you with a gruff expression sewn deep into his face. He was so focused on making those sweet, sacred moans roll off the tip of your tongue, he almost failed to respond. Too busy fucking you into a mindless state, studying the way your face contorted in pleasure with each thrust. It was all due to him. His mouth gapes open as your eyes roll back, "all that — Mph! — shit you were talking," he manages to get out all while plowing into your sopping cunt, "now you can't — take it, huh?"

Wetness drips from your arousal at the sound of his voice, so deep and husky like he had been holding back his groans. Your wet pussy spits out squelching sounds adding to the mixture of your heavenly moans and Matt’s thighs slapping against yours as he rams himself in and out of you. The sex sounds are so satisfying, you both find yourselves leaning in, foreheads pressed together just to watch how his cock glides in and out of your wet cunt with such ease. You look up at Matt, his eyes already fixated on your face, “look at you," he coos before pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips, "y’almost there for me, sweet girl?”

That euphoric feeling you had been chasing the last twenty minutes finally reaches its boiling point, sending you over the edge and making your legs shake in an uncontrollable manner. A loud mewl erupts from your lungs and your body goes limp, collapsing onto the memory foam bed beneath you as you moan out, “oh my – god!” You cling onto the bedsheets for dear life, digging your nails deep as he fucks your thru your orgasm, his thumb still working tight circles around your small bundle of nerves.

“Fuckk — y’pussy squeezing me so tight,” he drags out, his eyes clenching shut as your walls convulse around his thick shaft, the feeling becoming too much for him to handle. Matt gives you one final thrust, burying his cock so deep, your entrance sits around the base of him as he spills his full load into you, his dick twitching with each spurt of cum he shoots out. As much as he’d love to stay buried as deep as he could be in the best pussy he’s ever had, the realization quickly sweeps over his mind. Not only did he have his bitchy downstairs neighbor that he couldn’t fucking stand under his complete control, cumming so hard on his cock she was shaking, but he just came in her. He fucking came in her.

Matt tries not to let the awkward silence take over the mood. Letting exhaustion take over his body, he collapses on top of you. Your heart thumps in your chest as he presses a light sloppy kiss to your collarbone, almost like it's an apology. “Fuck, sorry. I’ll uh –,” he breathes out, his nostrils flaring in an attempt to catch his breath, “I’ll insta cart plan b.”

Meanwhile, all you could think about was his cum dripping out of your pussy and onto the silky, freshly washed bed sheets below you. That asshole better buy you a plan b.

Introducing Neighbor!Matt x Brat!Reader

wc - 713

♡‧₊˚ New au incoming 🫣👀 ofc im still doing babydaddy!Chris, just miss writing about Matt 🥰 Let me know what you guys think?! Also want to say thank you @sweetshuga, @strnilolover & @chrislilcumslvt for their second opinions. This probably would've sat in my drafts forever if it wasn't for them lol

Posting the intro next!

Tags - @lvrsturniolo @ribread03 @unknvhx @m11rx @sweetshuga @loveparqdise @emely9274 @frickin-bats @delusional-4-fake-people @katie-tibo @leila-marie4 @thepubeburgler @shadowthesim @immy08 @trevorsgodmother @watercolorskyy @courta13 @chrislilcumslvt @luvr4miya @strnilolover

© M00NL1GHTS1VT - please do noy copy my work

[amongemeraldclouds]

no take backs

As the earth collapsed around you, your sworn enemy decides to confess his feelings for you with a kiss. So when the world doesn’t end, what happens next?

Jess Mariano x f!Reader

Warning: 18+ only MDNI, fluff, slight angst, unprotected sex, piv, v!fingering, reader has anxiety (only plays a small part in the story), earthquake (no injuries)

Author’s note: Based on this request then I expanded on the concept. This fic is set after he left Stars Hollow.

✿ Masterlist | ✿ Jess Mariano Masterlist | 2.4k words

“Just because I’m letting you drive me home, does not mean we’re friends,” you huffed as you climbed into the passenger seat of Jess Mariano’s beat up car. Vintage, he called it. You’d never admit it, but you found it cute how he was proud of it. To him, it was his key to freedom, going anywhere he wanted whenever he wanted. Except for when nature had other plans.

“Well, a coworker could take his other coworker home, okay?” He said, closing the car door as he slid his keys into the ignition and started up the car. You relent and gave him your address.

It was just your luck that the Earth’s tectonic plates decided to shift in ways that damaged your car, but not your mortal enemy’s. Perhaps it was karma and you were being encouraged to make amends with him in the name of world peace. Try as you might however, the word “peace” and Jess Mariano just did not fit.

It certainly did not feel peaceful being trapped in a car with him. Your cheeks blushed as you remembered how soft his lips felt against yours and the eager way they moved as if it was the final thing he would ever do in his life. And for a few moments back at the publishing house, tucked safely beneath a table while the world shook violently around you, you were both convinced it was your last moments.

It was confusing. The way your heart hammered and you didn’t know if it was from fear of dy*ng or the way his kiss invaded your entire being. From the moans it elicited from your throat, to the air it stole from your lungs, and the butterflies that rushed in your stomach. It was hard to tell if it really was just an earthquake or the mind-shattering truth that your enemy might not actually hate you at all.

Then it was over too soon. The air felt cold without him close to you and he was pulling you up from under the table.

“So we’re just not going to talk about it?” You asked, piercing the awkward silence.

Jess just shrugged and spoke casually, “talk about what?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, of course he wasn’t going to make this easy for you. But he had no right confusing you with a kiss after constantly making your life a waking nightmare.

“Jess, you kissed me,” you deadpan, addressing the elephant in the room. “Coworkers don’t kiss other coworkers.”

“A lapse of judgment in a life-threatening situation,” he dismissed, keeping his eyes straight on the road.

Your mouth curled, the sweet aftertaste of his kisses turning sour. You fumed in silence as you looked outside the window with unfocused eyes. You weren’t sure what you were more upset about: his denial or your disappointment - having to face the horrid fact that you also didn’t hate your enemy.

“Shit, the road’s blocked,” Jess drew you out from the thunder of your thoughts as you looked at the cars lined up ahead. It was like a scene from one of those post-apocalyptic films you’ve seen and dread sank in your chest. Perhaps you should stick to watching cheesy rom coms because this pessimism was not helpful at all.

“Can we go somewhere else?” You whispered softly, anxiety bearing down your chest.

Jess looked at you with concern. “Sure, let’s find somewhere we can park until things get better,” he replied with an equally soft tone and you hated it because he knew all about your anxiety and penchant for panic attacks. You didn’t like being weak around him, not if he could be sweet and caring only to take it all back when you’re fine.

He parked the car in between buildings, sheltered from the wails of emergency response vehicles and the rush of people trying to go home. You exhaled after going through rounds of breathing exercises to calm your anxiety.

“My my, a secluded alley. Jess Mariano, whatever do you plan to do with me?” You quipped, mildly accusing him or m*rder when the other meaning dawned on you, something that made you blush. Well, it was too late to back out now.

He smirked, “whose to say you’re not the one who wants to do things with me with that line of questioning, huh?”

“I wouldn’t do anything if I was the only one who liked it,” you hedged. Perhaps life was too short to keep denying your feelings. If there was ever a better time to learn that lesson, it was now. You just needed him to admit he felt it too.

“I don’t like the idea of being k*lled, thanks,” he scoffed as he plastered on a smug smile.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” you looked outside the window, an idea forming in your head.

“It sure is getting hot,” you comment innocently as you undid the top buttons of your blouse. Jess’ eyes followed your movement and you don’t miss the way his breath hitches.

“Better get comfortable, right?” You said, adjusting the car seat to lean back and you felt your blouse open slightly to reveal your cleavage. You were not going to make it easy for him to deny his feelings.

“Stop that,” Jess demanded while his eyes told a different tale of desire and longing.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you replied lazily. Two can play that game.

That’s right Jess, you thought, here’s a dose of your medicine. You continued, “this is much better.” You leaned your head back and stretched on the seat, aware of how your skirt inched up your legs.

You let out a satisfied moan, sighing in pleasure at thoughts of getting comfortable. If by comfort, you meant the satisfaction of derailing Jess’ denial and stubbornness. His eyes traced your legs then followed your chest when they rose and fell with your sigh. 

Jess grunted and you bit back a smile. “Okay, fine. So I kissed you,” he admitted.

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “You said it meant nothing, so why would it matter?”

“I never said it meant nothing, I said it was a lapse of judgment.”

“There’s a difference?” You raised your eyebrow, challenging him to continue.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he steeled himself. To Jess Mariano, telling the truth meant peeling back the layers of his sarcasm, which was as painful as stripping off his skin.

“You know when they say the world is about to end, you’d think your life flashes before your eyes. But all I could see was you. And it wasn’t just because you were in front of me. God, I closed my eyes, and all I could see was still you. Laughing at your own jokes, greeting everyone with a smile, typing away on your computer. It would be such a shame if I didn’t get to kiss you if that was the last thing I’d ever do, damn it. But then the earthquake stopped and we were fine.”

Your eyebrows creased as you let his words sink in. “Is it really so bad that we survived?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, “I don’t think I could ever survive you. You frustrate me because you’re just so…you! You’re not someone I could just kiss once and get out of my system. I’d always want more and then I’d inevitably screw it up. It was better that you hated me from the start.”

His eyes burned with untold stories of heartbreak and self destruction. Despite all the ways he infuriated you, you wanted nothing more than to hold him. You had a feeling you were just seeing who he truly was beneath his smug smiles and his devil-may-care attitude.

“Jess, I don’t hate you,” you confess. “Don’t just make it one kiss,” you continue, allowing yourself to be just as honest as him. “Have another one, and another, and heck - have all of me!”

He looked at you in disbelief, as if he wished for the stars and he was told he could have the whole damn galaxy. A spark of joy and hope ignited something wild in him that he no longer let himself think of past regrets and mistakes.

He inched towards you, looking into your eyes for permission and you bridged the distance in response, kissing him. It was fiercer than when you both thought you were on the brink of de*th, because this time, it was a celebration of life and the possibilities that lay ahead.

You felt it when he sucked on your bottom lip and you moaned in pleasure, a small sound for all the words you couldn’t say. How all those time spent hating him was just a shield from your admiration of the man who took destiny in his own hands and never let the world define him.

The man who wrote stories and downplayed them through luck and how ink fumes must have altered his publisher’s minds to pick him. He never once acknowledged his talent, but secretly you did with the way you underlined your favorite sentences and re-read his book as if his words could wrap you in a sweet embrace.

He always kept you at an arm’s length and made your life hell, but it was heaven just being beside him. And you never dared to admit it. Until now, when he’s unbuttoning your blouse as he unravels your secrets. His mouth moves to your neck, setting your body on fire.

“Wait, what if someone sees us?” You ask, a wave of sobriety washing over you.

Jess just smirked, his lips pink and swollen, hungry for more of your kisses. “That’s half the fun.”

You rolled your eyes but god - you needed him. “And the other half?” You asked, mirroring his smirk.

“This,” he just says as he resumes your kiss.

It’s agony when you pull away again just to alleviate your anxiety, “can we at least go to the back?” It’s not much, but it’s better than being right by the windshield.

“Spacious,” he nods, moving away so you could climb over to the backseat. You felt the heat of his stare behind you as you settled in. 

He promptly followed suit until your bodies are tangled again with him laying you down the seat, careful so you don’t hit your head. You bring your hand to his stupid hair and run your fingers through it. His hands return to your blouse and your back arches on instinct when he unclasps your bra and he takes a moment to look at you. “God, you’re so beautiful,” he breathes as he squeezes your breast while he licks the other, planting soft tender kisses.

In his car, the sirens and chaos faded. You were consumed by Jess’ touch, both curious and possessive at the same time. His free hand traveling down your leg as he caressed it, slowly making his way to your inner thigh. You can’t help the way you squirmed beneath him as you held your breath in anticipation. In response, you palm his erection beneath his uncomfortably tight jeans and you’re rewarded with a grunt.

He teased you through your panties and you open your legs for him as he moves the thin fabric aside to feel your soft folds. You bite your lip and try to stifle your moan, but Jess brings his mouth to your ear, “I need to hear you, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.” You cursed in response, your mind swimming in a haze of euphoria.

His fingers send shockwaves of pleasure as he spreads your liquid heat, exploring your folds and paying attention to which sensations left you whimpering. He exploited them skillfully, rubbing and teasing, eager to make you a moaning mess for him. You gasped when he plunged his fingers inside you and you arched your back, needing him deeper.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he admires as he pumped his fingers in and out. You moved your hips against his hand, needing more of him. He was finally here, doing things you used to just dream about, secrets stashed beneath soft covers in your moonlit bedroom.

“Jess, please. I need to feel all of you,” you begged and his eyes darkened.

“I’m all yours,” he replied as he removed his fingers and cleaned them off with his tongue. “Fuck you taste so good.” 

You helped him free his hard length and you don’t stifle the needy moan that escapes you this time when he fills you up. He takes a few slow movements before building up to a steady pace, the delicious friction making your toes curl. “You feel amazing, Jess,” you tell him.

He kissed you as he rocked his hips into you, a clash of teeth and tongue. There was nothing gentle in the way you moved against each other, it was pure want and longing crashing into each other. It was months of fantasies finally coming true and desires unleashed building in your core.

The car moved along with you, giving you extra leverage to find your rhythm. The irony was not lost on you that as the world shook around you once again, things were falling into place this time.

Filthy, desperate whimpers escaped his lips and you spread your legs wider, needing him deeper inside you. He squeezed your breast in response and teased your taut nipples, eager to worship all of you. You closed your eyes when you felt yourself teetering on the edge.

“Look at me,” Jess tells you instead and so you do. You see the lust and passion in his eyes and it’s enough to unravel you. Little earthquakes of ecstasy erupt through you as you shuddered against him. He increases his pace, eager to coax every last aftershock of your orgasm. It doesn’t take long before you feel his release warming your insides. He rests his head in the crook of your neck as he recovers his breath.

When he pulls out, you swipe his spilled seed from your leg and bring it in your mouth, enjoying the salty taste. “Fuck you’re so hot,” Jess breathes out. 

You grin. “So this happened. You gonna deny it?” You challenged him as he held you.

“Nope,” he said with a grin. “This happened. You’re mine and I’m yours. No take backs.”

“No take backs,” you echoed as you leaned in for another kiss.

It was perfect. The world could end at that moment and you would not mind at all.

Still you were glad to stay alive. Because then, you could always go another round, and another. So it goes.

✿ Masterlist | ✿ Jess Mariano Masterlist

[c0llisiion]

DAY 22 — SEONGHWA

★ npr, f!reader, pregnancy kink , established relationship , unprotected sex — lmk if i missed any!!; W/C: 581

Hello! This is part of my kinktober list! Day22 is officially out <3

This is strictly fiction. Any scenario or situation should not be taken seriously. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable.

"Fuckkkkkk...” a drawn-out curse escaped your lips as Seonghwa pounded you from behind. His cock deep in your pussy, hitting all the right spots. 

It all started when Seonghwa and you decided to take a scroll at the park for some relaxation. Thats when he saw the kids playing at the play area and insisted on watching them. "Cuties, aren’t they?” Seonghwa asked with a soft smile. 

You look at him suspiciously. “are you-“ “No, I'm not thinking about those kids in that way.” He said it sternly with a hint of playfulness. 

“Right…” you said, nodding, surprised at the way he knew you so well. “Would be nice to have our own running around, huh?” You say as you gaze at the little kids playing, and then you feel Seonghwa’s eyes bore into you. 

You always knew Seonghwa had a pregnancy thing. And you just set it off. 

And that had you now, moaning and crying into your sheets. Seonghwa’s dick was deep in you. The length going in and out of you at an inhumane pace.

He leaned forward, trapping your body under his build. 

“Fuck baby… pussy taking me in so well, yeah? God fuck, I can't wait to keep breeding you… breed you till you are full with my kids…” His breaths were rapid. Sweat was dripping down his neck. His hands gripping the headboard with dear life, veins popping up on his arms, making sure he didn’t collapse on you. 

You moaned and nodded in response, your brain a mush. His grip on your hips tightened at the response, a low growl escaping his lungs.

“Mmm… yeah baby.. please… please…!” You were just blabbering at this point. Words coming out in just loud pleas. 

Seonghwa smirked before pulling himself up and grabbing a handful of your hair, his lips now inches away from your ears as he continued his relentless thrusts. Your hips now bruised with his finger marks. 

“Yeah? You want to be filled up, don’t you, mama? You wanna walk around with a little baby in you… dont you?… Fuck imagine how hot you would look…” He nuzzled his head against your neck and inhaled your scent before letting out a lewd moan. 

“Im gonna fill this pussy up…” he said while leaving hickeys on the side of your neck. His other hand reached for your sensitive tits, playing with your hardened nipples. 

“Gonna have these beautiful tits filled with milk… yeah… you’re gonna be so soft and sensitive when I put a baby in you, mama….” His words were filled with lust and desire. 

Your head was thrown back against his shoulder, and you let out a shaky moan at his words. Nodding incoherently. 

“Imagine how good you would look with a baby bump princess…” His hips snapped against yours. His cock pulling orgasms after orgasms out of you. You were just jelly in his arms right now. 

“… all swollen, full with my kid, you would be dependent on me for everything…” There was a sinister hint behind his words, but you couldn’t help but get turned on. Your pussy clenching around the angry length. 

“Yeah… you like that dont you? All round and beautiful… and just for me to see… im g-gonna make it come true, baby..." His thrusts were getting sloppy and messy. His breathing was ragged, and you could feel his cock twitching in you, signaling he was close to his orgasm.

You were in for a long night. 

Tags~ @cassies-cookies @minghaosimp @unlikelysublimekryptonite @mamnaimiefrankie @marcoswhore @theyadorevalerie @applejackthebest515 @un-knew @salemluvsmusic @ka0ila @atztrsr @kpopsmutty69 @jisunglyricist @targaryenluvs @yuminhyunn @chansramennn @anylady-fics @marihoneywk @mikaelless @paboskzfan @lezleeferguson-120 @mylittleponeypinkrosieposie @felixsangelicfreckles @vtyb23

[salemrph]

"Let the World Burn"

Chapter 1: A not so well planned night

Navigator: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | AO3

Summary: A night of celebration ends in chaos—you vanish without a trace. The ransom demand arrives, but Sylus knows this isn’t just about money. What should’ve been a simple rescue mission unearths secrets far more sinister than anyone ever imagined.

Character: Sylus x MC; Luke and Kieran, Caleb, Zayne

Genre/Warning: descriptions of violence and blood, hurt/comfort, injuries, grief, romantic, drama, action, slight sexual content, angst

Word count: 8,135 | Reading Time: 32 min | AO3

taglist: @voidsylus @thechaoticarchivist @syluscrows @likewhyareyousoobsessedwithme

Chapter 1: A not so well planned night

The burning building groans under the weight of its own collapse, crumbling piece by piece. The flames rage uncontrollably, swallowing the entire complex, leaving nothing but charred ruins. In the heart of the main part of the wearhouse, the scene is a nightmare. The floor is slick with blood, bodies scattered in unnatural poses, bullet casings gleaming like twisted confetti in the dim light. The air reeks of gunpowder and death. This was no battlefield—this was a massacre.

Under the eerie glow of the red moon, such a sight might seem familiar. But tonight, something is wrong. This wasn't supposed to be the end. This wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Not after everything. 

Gunfire echoes, sharp and relentless. The screams of the fallen mingle with the guttural roars of the Wanderers, their twisted forms wreaking havoc as they tear through what remains. It’s a cacophony of violence, a hellish symphony that cuts through the night. And through the madness, there he is—the man in the suit. The one who has conquered with nothing more than his calm demeanor and his cold, calculating presence. The one they all feared. But now, as he stands in the wreckage, there is no cool detachment. There is no indifferent strategist. His expression is tight, his jaw set with a fury that has never before surfaced. His usual composure has shattered like glass, replaced with darker, dangerous rage. His right eye, glowing like a dying star, reflects the turmoil inside him. It burns with the kind of intensity that could scorch the very earth beneath him.

In his arms, the body of a woman, limp and lifeless, hangs like dead weight. Her blood stains his clothes, seeping into the fabric, marking him with a reminder of the choices he’s made, the consequences of those choices. The plan was never supposed to unfold this way. This was not the outcome he had imagined. The walls of the building continue to groan, buckling under the weight of the flames, the weight of everything collapsing. It had been a trap. Of course, it had been. But he had no choice. The risk was necessary.

And now he has paid the price.

Few days before

Gradually, routine returns to your life. The festivities are over, the beginning of the year has been wonderful. Going to the New Year's market with Sylus has been a good way to see how your relationship has changed. The feelings you have for him have been consolidated. You accept them and welcome them, letting the beautiful and sparks fill your chest with warmth, tenderness and love. 

As you made the lanterns together you remembered every adventure you've shared with him. The search for the lost gem, being sucked into a protocore to a far away place. The trip to the mountains or to the lost oasis. You smile in a daze. You've spent so much time with Sylus, that returning home alone is strange. Lying on the bed, you remember how he struggled to shower at your place. Making a mess in the bathroom. That was just the first step to letting him into your territory, not only speaking about your apartament. Your holy sanctuary. That night of secrecies. You couldn't let him go, that night your whole body and mind wanted to make him stay. You sigh as you remember his lips, the heat between you two, the melting feeling to become one. You hug the big crow plush laying next to you on the bed, it smells like him. So comforting. Now, without him around, you’re deeply sure that being with him makes your life funnier, kind of dangerous but strangely full of new emotion. 

However, not everything is honey-coated and perfect. Your face changes, your stomach hurts, and you lay on your side as you remember your mission in Skyhaven. Caleb. You want to throw up. He lied to you, in the cruelest way possible.

Although you wish with all your heart that Caleb had his good reasons, something doesn't add up. The explosion definitely happened. The Fleet and everything around it is a black box. A void, like Caleb. He came back so different… You haven't talked about it at all. He must have a reason to hide things from you, locking you up in his apartment. That wasn’t nearly how you had him in memory. Worst of all, you can't just go to Zayne and tell him: “Oh by the way Caleb isn't dead”. You can already picture his face, not sure if he should prescribe you pills or send you to psychiatry. Making maybe at the beginning a dry joke or something. Zayne would pinch his nose before removing his glasses. Trying to figure out if you’re really serious about it or you haven't fully accepted Caleb's death. Either way, if Zayne believed you, his reaction would be just as stoic as ever. What you can't know is that beneath that icy, overly professional manner of dealing with you, he feels a deep affection for you. Ever since you met. That affection would make him get into a big fight with Caleb. 

Oh, and how about explaining this to Sylus? He would believe you right away but at the same time, he would be probably looking for a way to make Caleb pay for his action. If those two ever met, it could be the end of the world. Seeing how Caleb is now and how overprotective he is with you. He would probably not like it one bit that you're dating the most wanted man in the galaxy. And thinking about how much Sylus doesn't like people messing with you…and how he usually treats his enemies. Very bad idea, very, very bad idea. Honestly speaking that would be a fight to see who has the biggest cock. The Farspace Fleet's Colonel vs Onychinus's Leader. Place your bets on who will be the last one standing. 

You are tense, tired and helpless. The whole thing just gives you a headache. Caleb has texted you a few times after New Year. He showed up a few times but it was still weird. That's it. You sit up on the bed, you look out of the window, it’s raining. Somehow he always brings a storm into your life. It doesn't matter if he comes back or if he is leaving. You truly wish you could trust him, like you used to. A tear rolls down your cheek. You breathe in deeply, trying to hold back all the emotions. 

A notification pops up on your phone. You wipe the tears from your face. 

“How are you doing? We haven't seen each for a while” You smile at Tara’s message, quickly typing a reply.

“Good, just trying to survive this weather. Feels like it’s been forever since we last spoke. You back from your family’s place yet?”

She responds almost immediately.

“Yeah! Just got back yesterday. It was nice, but chaotic as always. What about you?”

You hesitate for a moment before replying.

“Nothing too special these days”

Tara, of course, sees right through you.

“Nothing? Girl, that answer is screaming ‘I’m hiding something.’ Spill."

You roll your eyes, but your fingers hover over the keyboard. You could tell her about Sylus—about how you ended up together, the teasing, the tension, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered. But you feel like it isn't the moment. 

"There’s nothing to spill 🥱"

“Mhm. Sure. You definitely didn’t spend time with someone who makes you all flustered and stupidly heart-eyed♥."

You: "I don’t get flustered😖"

Tara: So you were with him!!! 

You groan, rolling onto your stomach and burying your face in your pillow before typing back.

You: "That’s not what I said."

Tara: "You didn’t deny it either."

She’s relentless. You can practically hear the smugness through the screen.

Tara: "Oh, pleaaase. You are so gone for him. It’s painful to watch. Let's have fun this Friday, and share the tea with me. Girls Night!😘 

A distraction. That’s what you needed. Something to pull you out of your own head, away from the tangled thoughts of Caleb and the mess that had been occupying too much space lately. Maybe just enjoying the fact that Tara is back, you have Sylus and work isn’t too stressful since your mission in Skyhaven. 

You exhale tiredly, relaxing your body a little and you type back a quick "Fine, fine. Girls’ night it is." 

You toss your phone aside. If you keep this up, your thoughts will consume you. You need to rest, relax and disconnect, even if it's just for one night. You know full well that if it becomes too much, you can always return to the base. Lose yourself in assembling and disassembling illegal weapons, listen to the stories behind each stolen gem, or simply sink into the sound of a classic vinyl record.

But that would mean pretending, and you don’t have the energy for that either. So you stay. You stay in the solitude of your apartment, listening to the spring storm getting closer, raindrops tapping against your window.

The nightmares keep coming—fragments of memories slipping through your mind, haunting you in the quiet hours of the night. You toss and turn, drenched in cold sweat, your chest tightening with an unease you can’t shake.

That day, you walked behind Caleb. Why does he always look at you like that? Like you’re some helpless animal. 

“We’ve been outside for too long. Gran’s going to be worried” he says. You sigh, arguing with him a little longer. He worries too much. You’re an adult now, you can handle yourself. You’re one of the best in your squad—you don’t need protection.

Caleb shakes his head. “Since you’re grown up now, I won’t cover for you this time” he closed the door and with that a huge explosion knocked you off. 

You wake up gasping. Your hands tremble as you press them to your face, trying to ground yourself in reality. But the memory is so vivid now, more than it ever was before. Because he’s alive. But he shouldn’t be. You went to his funeral. You grieved. You cried for weeks, drowning yourself in work, chasing leads that led to dead ends. Searching, desperate, for any explanation that made sense. You were lucky to just have a few bruises and scratches, but you still don't know how you survived that. 

Is still raining outside.

Friday arrives, and with that, the bass thrums through the air, a hypnotic pulse that sinks into your bones. The music is loud, almost overwhelming, but it pulls you in, makes you move without thinking. The crowd around you sways in sync, bodies pressed close, some dancing, some lost in their own world. Flashes of blue and red lights sweep over the dance floor, catching glimpses of flushed faces, sweaty skin, and wide, dilated pupils. Laughter and shouts mix with the heavy bass, but it’s all just background noise. You let the rhythm take over, moving to the music, feeling lighter with every beat. The shots you took earlier are kicking in, smoothing out the tension in your mind, making everything feel a little more distant, a little easier. 

You're not here to drink yourself into oblivion, this isn’t about forgetting. But Tara knows you too well. She’s been sliding shot after shot of tequila your way, a knowing glint in her eyes. She’s not being subtle. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

Tequila loosens your tongue.

And Tara? She’s waiting. Watching for that moment when your guard slips, when the alcohol smooths out the edges of your thoughts just enough for you to say what you wouldn’t sober.

You slightly stumble into the bathroom, Tara right behind you. The pounding bass from the dance floor fades into a dull thrum. You grip the edge of the sink, taking a deep breath, using the cold water to clean the sweat of your neck. 

"So," she starts, dragging out the word. "Are you going to tell me?"

You blink at her. "Tell you what?"

Tara tilts her head, exhaling like she’s dealing with a particularly slow student. "Skye. That ridiculously handsome fruit entrepreneur you’re definitely fucking aaand… you’re in love with?" She smirks. "That. Talk to me."

You hang your head in shame. Tara can read you like an open book. She’s not stupid. Sweet? Sure. Cheerful? Most of the time. But when she wants the truth, she has a way of digging it out of you, whether you like it or not.

"Fine, fine…" you mumble, rubbing your temples as if that’ll somehow erase the tequila-induced haze clouding your brain. "I have…" You trail off, searching for the right word like it might magically appear on the bathroom wall. Tara arches a brow, waiting. "...Something with him" you finally admit, the words tasting both bitter and sweet.

"I knew it" Tara says triumphantly, a smirk spreading across her face. But then, her expression softens. "But… there’s something more, right? Is he treating you well?"

Your instinct is to brush it off, to tell her everything is fine. Perfect, even. But you hesitate, and that tiny moment of silence is enough for Tara to catch on. Her smirk fades as she studies your face.

"Hey," she says gently. "What’s wrong?"

You shake your head quickly, swallowing the lump forming in your throat. You don’t want to cry. Not here. Not now.

"I’m fine with Skye, really. I’m fine." you insist, forcing a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. "Emm…  It’s not about him… I don’t… I don’t want to talk about it."

Tara doesn’t look convinced.

"You can always talk to me, you know that?" Tara says softly, her voice free of judgment, just warmth.

Before you can respond, she pulls you into a long hug, wrapping her arms around you tightly. The kind of hug that makes your chest ache, like it’s holding together all the cracks you’ve been ignoring. For a second, you let yourself sink into it. Eyes closed, fists gripping the back of her jacket. You don’t say anything because if you do, you might break. You just want to forget for a moment, so you put on your best smile. 

You step out of the club with Tara, your laughter spilling into the crisp night air as you imitate the ridiculous guy who’d tried—laughably—to hit on both of you at the same time. The absurdity of it still had your sides aching. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed this, the chaos, the rhythm, the freedom of letting go. Your feet ache from hours of dancing, but it's the kind of satisfying pain, the kind that comes from having fun. You glance down at your feet, sighing a little, but when you look back up, Tara's already pulling out her phone, tapping away at a text with that familiar, sly smile.

"Good night! Come home safe, you hear? she says, giving you a playful wink before stepping back with a wave.

You smile back, tilting your head to the side. "Night, Tara. We need to do this more often."

Her laugh rings out, light and warm, as she taps out one final text before slipping her phone back into her bag. She spins on her heel, her stride confident as she calls over her shoulder, "Oh, trust me, we will."

You decide to walk a few streets down, hoping the cool night air will help ease the alcohol still remaining in your system. The city around you buzz with the low sounds of late-night life—cars passing, distant conversations, and the occasional siren. You pull your jacket tighter around you, enjoying the peace after the chaos of the club.

As you walk, you briefly think about calling Sylus. It’s late, though, but you figure he’s probably busy with his usual late-night reading or, more likely, handling some shady business—being the leader he is. A smirk tugs at your lips.

You glance down at the bracelet with the cursed gem, remembering the hunt in the N109 Zone. The gem had caused so much trouble, but you couldn’t help but laugh at the memory of Sylus swearing he had "lost" it. He really has no luck when it comes to keeping things, does he?

The thought of him—his unwavering confidence, the rare softness he reserves only for you—warms you from the inside out, like the memory of his hand brushing against your hand, your cheek and finally all over your body.

You shake your head with a quiet chuckle, a mixture of fondness and comfort washing over you. Sylus has a way of consuming your mind without even trying. It’s maddening, really. But in moments like this, you don’t fight it. You let yourself savor the pull he has on you, that magnetic connection you both share.

Maybe you’re finally ready to tell him how you feel. You haven’t said those tree teeny-tiny words that are always on your lips. Is undeniably to say that what you two have is certainly a relationship. The thought sends a flicker of nervous energy through you, but it’s one you can’t push away any longer. After all, you’ve declared it already—in your own, complicated way. The matching bracelets might as well be a couple's tokens, a declaration sealed by the ominous phrase you both had exchanged: “Live together and die together.”

Your fingers graze the gem on the bracelet, its surface cool against your skin. The memory of the moment flashes brightly in your mind. Sylus’s eyes, deep and endless like the gem itself, holding this mix of tenderness and affection. He had looked at you in a way that made your breath catch, and though he hadn’t said much, the subtle shift in his expression told you everything you needed to know. He was happy. Happy to share the „curse“ and whatever else might come with it, as long as it was with you. At that moment, you wanted to kiss him so bad.

You laugh softly to yourself, shaking your head again. Nothing about Sylus is ever quite normal—not the way he plans, not the way he cares, not even the way he agrees to wear such trinkets like it’s a love note. But that’s okay. In fact, it’s more than okay. It’s him.

So much has changed since that snowy night. Despite the low temperature outside and the way the snow piled heavily on the ground, you felt warm—warmer than ever on a winter night. Your territories merged into one, his skin became yours, and yours became his. The cold was forgotten as his touch anchored you, the world outside fading until only he remained.

During the festivities, creating lanterns for the New Year, in your new complicity. You have almost forgotten the mission you both went after that snowy night.

„I don't need to mention that you always surprise me, sweetie.“ Sylus smiles at you from the passenger seat.

You smile back, the satisfaction of your plans falling into place shining in your eyes. "It’s what I do best" you reply confidently, earning a soft suppressed laugh from him.

Sylus shakes his head lightly, his sharp red eyes glinting with intrigue. "Go on, tell me what you’ve figured out, my bold hunter" he prompts, leaning back in his seat, clearly enjoying your moment of triumph as much as you are. Your fingers tighten slightly around the steering wheel as you prepare to unveil your findings.

It’s only when the faint scuff of a step echoes behind you, too close to be ignored, that the spell of your thoughts breaks. The warmth in your chest cools instantly, replaced by the sharp edge of awareness. You glance over your shoulder, the street seems empty. Either way, you pick up the pace, your footsteps quickening on the sidewalk. That nagging feeling won’t go away. Someone’s definitely following you.

You keep your pace steady, trying to stay calm, but your hand instinctively moves towards where your weapon would be. It’s not there. Dammit. You left it at home. Of course, the security guy at the club wouldn’t have let you in with it. You click your tongue in frustration. You wanted a simple, easy night. Instead, you're walking through dark streets, being stalked like some damn prey. Surely that moron from the club is stalking you now, for letting him down. This drunk dipshit has no scruples whatsoever. The last thing you need is a confrontation. You can’t help but feel the adrenaline start to pump, trying to spot whosoever tailing you. 

You whip around into a side street, your heart pounding. You peek over your shoulder again, the unease turning to full-blown anxiety. But as you turn to face forward, a hard, sudden impact knocks you off your feet. Pain erupts across your face, and you stagger back, knees buckling as the world tilts dangerously. Blood trickles down your cheek, hot and sticky.

A low laugh follows you, cruel and mocking. "We got you, honey... Be good, and don’t make any sound."

Before you can even react, something heavy slams against the back of your head, your vision spins out of control. The darkness takes over, pulling you under like a wave. Sylus... Hardly able to hold onto the thought as everything goes black for a moment.

"Hey! Are you stupid or something!? The boss said she should arrive in one piece" The big guy that punched you, swings out to hit the other guy in the face. "You!" He turned to the third man in a raincoat "Throw her in the truck, we're leaving".

The big guy spits on the ground, wiping his knuckles with the back of his hand, his face twisted in irritation. He shoots a glare at the third man, who's standing off to the side, clearly unsure of what to do.

"Get moving, asshole" the big guy growls. "Don't make me repeat myself."

Raincoat guy, a little skittish but obedient, steps forward and grabs your arm, yanking you to your feet with surprising strength. You barely register the movement, your head spinning, everything still hazy from the second blow you took. The world around you seems to blur and twist as they drag you along the alley, the sounds of their voices muffled as if coming from underwater.

"It wasn’t easy to get you" the big guy mutters, his tone low as they push you toward a black truck parked at the end of the street. "But.. It seems that today is our lucky day." The cold metal of the truck presses against your face as you slip completely into unconsciousness. You feel your hands being tied roughly. It hurts. You don't even have the strength to scream. The world fades away, leaving only the faintest whisper of the crow's caw ecos in your mind before everything goes dark.

Under the red moon in the N109 Zone, in one of the many locales under Onychinus's control, stood an opulent lounge hidden within the skeleton of an old industrial building. Polished black marble floors gleamed under the warm glow of crystal chandeliers, their light dancing across walls adorned with intricate carvings and rich velvet accents.

A long bar of dark wood stretched across one side of the room, lined with bottles of the finest spirits from across the world. Plush leather seating circled low tables, each arranged for privacy and comfort. The faint hum of classical music played in the background, a stark yet intentional contrast to the lawless chaos that marked the rest of the zone.

Sylus glanced at the cards in his hand, a small smirk tugging at his lips as he discarded one and leaned back in his armchair. On the table in front of him, cards, chips, and a half-full glass of whiskey were laid out in a casual arrangement that belied the tension in the air. The dim lights of the room flickered over his sharp features, creating shadows that only accentuated his calm, confident demeanor. His eyes flicked briefly to the clock on the wall. It was late, but that didn't matter. The game had its own rhythm, its own flow. Time was just another tool in Sylus’s arsenal.

The men —business associates, lackeys, and rivals alike— around the table exchanged words about profits and threats, the usual back-and-forth of business. Sylus sat at the head, his posture relaxed yet commanding, fingers loosely gripping the edge of his glass. To anyone watching, he looked completely in control, nodding at the right moments, his sharp eyes betraying nothing. But the truth is, he wasn’t really listening. His mind was elsewhere.

He’d just finished dealing with a potential problem in one of the sectors—nothing that couldn’t be handled by the twins, but still, it had required his attention. Normally, his focus would remain on the next move, but tonight, his thoughts wandered. 

He knew you’d be out tonight, enjoying yourself. Mephisto is taking an eye on you, even if he shouldn't be monitoring every time. But it is the best for both. And besides, you don't need to know everything he does to keep you safe. His jaw tightened slightly, and he forced himself to relax. The thought of you laughing, genuine and carefree, eased the tension in his chest. He wanted you here, with him. The room’s dim light, the murmur of voices, the ever-present hum of danger, it all felt less significant compared to the idea of you.

He imagines you sitting on his lap, dancing in the shower, looking at him with that sweet smile laying next to him…makes Sylus want to leave immediately, setting everything on fire. Burning the whole fucking planet down if that’s keeping him from going back to you. Especially after that sublime night when you finally fell into his arms, when you finally said yes to him. The memory of your sweet whimpers replayed in his mind, again and again. The way you called his name in soft whispers is a melody he couldn’t forget. 

The lascivious sound that emanates through the silence of the room, the rustle of the sheet under your skin, the slight creaking of the bed as Sylus thrust his cock inside you, a symphony that he wishes would not stop. 

“Sy..Sylus” you moan. “More...”

“As you wish." 

Each movement, each shift of his body against yours, sends a wave of heat through him, making it harder to stay composed. His muscles tighten with every gasp and every whimper that comes from you. Your fingers pulling at his silver hair, it's like adding fuel to the fire. 

Sylus took a discreet, deep breath, forcing himself to keep his composure. His dick is already reacting to the thought of your naked body. That night and all the others he has spent with you, have been the ones in which he has slept most peacefully. In his built fortress where he can have you all to himself, away from the dangerous world, where every second person wants to kill him. And in those moments, the chains of anxiety, loneliness and fear vanish with every smile you give him. He still doesn’t understand how, despite everything he did to you in the beginning—kidnapping you, forcing you to resonate with him—you still choose him. 

He would never have imagined that in this opportunity that the universe has given him, he would actually have you for himself. He doesn’t want to be selfish or let greed consume him, but it’s not enough. He waited so long, so painfully long. Every second he doesn't spend with you is another second wasted in his semi-mortal life that he has. The desire to feel your love forever, your hand gently caressing his hair, drowns him.

He needs to call you after this—no, perhaps he would come to you instead. Maybe pick you up wherever you were or better yet, slip into your apartment and fall asleep beside you, where he belonged.

His phone vibrated, a notification lighting up the screen. His gaze flinched to it briefly, a part of him wondering if it was you. Perhaps you wanted to share some late-night thought or even indulge in one of those rare moments of vulnerability you let slip with him. The idea of hearing your voice, even through the static of a call, pulled all his attention.

As soon as he unlocked the screen, his smirk faltered just for a fraction of a second. His eyes narrowed as the footage played. The image on the screen was unmistakable: you, stumbling, disoriented, your silhouette outlined in the harsh glow of streetlights. A group of bastards surrounded you, their movements quick and methodical as they shoved you half unconscious toward the back of a truck. His fingers tightened around the phone, the faintest crack of pressure whispering through the room as his grip betrayed his calm exterior. For a moment his Evol expands around him, the crimson mist charged with energy could have killed everyone in the room in an eyeblink.

Sylus’s expression turned dark, cold and lethal. A surge of bloodlust coursed through him—the calculated rage that always ignited when someone dared to lay a hand on his treasures. And in this moment the greatest treasure is you. The men at the table, sensing the shift in the room, grew tense. The air felt heavier, thick with the wordless fear of being in Sylus’s presence when his mood changed. The conversations died down, and even the bravest of them hesitated to make eye contact with him. Everyone in this room knew Sylus’s reputation. They’d seen or heard stories of what happened to those who crossed him. And they knew very well that, while his vengeance is swift, it is the aftermath that was truly terrifying. Feeling the weight of his anger was to face something worse than death itself.

Sylus tapped his fingers against the table like a countdown to doomsday. His mind raced through possibilities, contingencies, and plans he’d already set in motion to ensure your safety. He’d anticipated countless threats, prepared for a hundred scenarios. But this? This wasn’t business. This was personal.

Taking you couldn’t be just an arbitrary coincidence. You weren’t an easy target, not with the layers of protection he has placed around you. No, this was intentional. Someone had been watching, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Finally, he broke the sepulchral silence making the men feel the air grow colder around them. “Excuse me, gentlemen. It appears I have… more urgent matters to attend to.”

He stood slowly, his eyes scanning the room one last time. None dared meet his gaze, their fear as tangible as the tension in the air. They knew Sylus wouldn’t merely retaliate—he’d destroy whoever had dared to piss him off. Making them pay the price in the most painful, unforgettable way possible. They had unknowingly signed their own death warrants.

As Sylus reached for his coat, his phone buzzed again. He glanced at the screen—coordinates update of Mephisto position. He stepped out into the dimly lit hallway where Luke and Kieran waited. Both men straightened immediately, their usual confidence replaced with a cautious tension. They could sense it.

Luke spoke up, cautious, "Boss..."

Sylus didn’t even spare him a glance. He didn’t need to. Sylus shoved his phone into Luke's hand, the grainy clip of you being hauled into a truck playing in grim silence. His voice was low and cutting as he stepped forward.

"It’s hunting season," Sylus said coolly. Both stiffened. "I want a name. I don’t care who you have to hurt to get it." His eyes flicked between them, daring either of them to question him. They knew exactly what it meant: no one was safe. Every shred of mercy Sylus might have offered was off the table.

Kieran gave a sharp nod, already in motion. “We’ll find out who’s behind this, boss.”

Sylus’s lips curved into a smug smile. “Make sure you do. If anyone’s stupid enough to get in the way…” He let the threat hang in the air.

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

Your mind slowly clears, but the pain in your head and the taste of blood in your mouth make it hard to focus. You try to move, but something isn’t right. A sudden panic flares inside you as you realize your hands are bound. You attempt to shift your position, trying to find a way to free your hands, but there’s no give. The bindings are too tight biting into your skin, and your fingers are numb from the position they’re forced into. A curse escapes your lips.

A dim light flickers beneath the door, throwing unsettling shadows across the cold, concrete floor. The emergency light above you hums softly, its steady drone amplifying the oppressive silence that surrounds you. You swallow hard, the metallic taste of blood lingering in the back of your throat. It’s hard to think clearly with your head pounding like this, but one thing is certain: you need to get out of here.

Frustration rises inside you, the feeling of being trapped and powerless threatening to drown you. Your body hurts, each movement is an aching twinge through your limbs, but you refuse to stay down. You try to sit up, darkness creeping at the edges of your vision while your head is spinning. For a moment, the world tilts dangerously, and you think you might pass out again. You take a shaky breath, forcing your body to obey. Slowly you manage to sit up against the wall. 

With all the training you have had, even the session with Sylus or Xavier, nothing has prepared you for this. Being in pain and injured makes every mission hundred percent more dangerous, that's for sure. Now your body feels heavy and weak. You don’t know how long you’ve been out, but every minute you stay here, the situation gets worse.

“Where the hell am I?” you mutter to yourself, voice hoarse. No windows, no clues. No phone, no gun. The possibility of being found... It will be hours before anyone notices you've disappeared. Your breath catches as the realization hits: whoever brought you here isn’t planning on letting you go anytime soon. The thought makes your stomach churn. You shake it off. You can't afford to panic. The nice clothes you had put on for this trouble-free night are dirty, your socks torn. They've even left you barefoot. You try to hold back your tears. It seems that life loves to see you in these situations. Like seriously, how many times have you been so kidnapped already? This is the third time, if you count Caleb looking at you in his apartment and Sylus three days in his basement. Even if you believe you should have been stronger, this isn’t on you. 

What is this shit about!? 

After a while, the door swings open and a big guy comes in. The light from the hallway is bothering your eyes, making it hard to see the man clearly. He's not very tall, rather broad, wearing a shirt that's too tight for his body. He looks like some rich idiot's lackey. God, how you hate this. The smell of tobacco is definitely coming from him, but the smell of disinfectant comes from somewhere else. You try to pick behind the silhouette who is approaching you. 

"Wow, wow, look at that. Did you sleep well, princess?" he says with a mocking tone making your skin crawl. You press yourself harder against the cold wall, instinctively trying to make yourself smaller.

You glare up at him, forcing your voice to stay steady despite the surge of anger and fear in your chest. "Who are you?" you ask, but your words are tinged with more insecurity then you want to admit. “What do you want?”

He grins, kneeling in front of you like a predator sizing up its prey. The mockery in his smile is unbearable, and his words only make the situation worse.

"Oh, nothing" he says, the smell of your mouth makes you nauseous. "We just needed a bait." You manage to spit the rest of the blood on the floor, your eyes locking onto him with defiance. "Even with your damaged face you look beautiful. I understand why he has you around.” Your stomach turns, but you fight the urge to recoil as he reaches toward your face.  “I'm sure you suck him well off with that little mouth." You twist your head away, shaking his hand off with a quick, forceful movement. You breathe heavily and the pain in your head hits you again.

His malicious laughter has a sickening sound. "No need to be shy, princess. We know all about you."

You laugh trying to hide every piece of fear in you. “Oh... Entlight me”

“The untouchable Leader of Onychinus has a weak spot, his Achilles heel…” The man sneers. “A sexy hunter. ”His eyes glint with amusement as he leans in. “In other words... You” The words hit you hard, like a punch to the stomach.

“Achilles heel?” you ask with sarcasm. “I wish. So, you just know that I'm a Hunter trying to imprison him? Wow, great job, big boy. You really cracked the code, didn’t you?” You let out a soft, mocking laugh, leaning back against the cold wall as if his words mean nothing to you. Your heart is hammering in your chest, your ears are ringing because of the anxiety you’re feeling. Let him think you’re a regular Hunter. Nothing more. Let him underestimate you. The more he thinks you’re helpless, the better your chances of escaping this twisted game they’ve dragged you into.

He doesn’t seem amused. "Oh, I see," he sneers, his eyes narrowing as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your face. If he gets any closer, you might just throw up on him. "Playing dumb little girl, huh? Cute." He pauses for a moment. Checking your expression. "You think we don’t know who you really are? You’re not fooling anyone."

“Do you always talk this much, or are you just enjoying the sound of your own voice?” you counter, your words sharper now. It’s a gamble, but anything to keep your composure.

His eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn't seem fazed. If anything, his smirk widens at your resistance. "You’re a tough one. I like that. You are one of those that are more fun to break" he says, his tone makes you shiver. He stood up and grabbed you by your hair, throwing you into the middle of the room. You scream. He approaches you while rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. "Oh, yeah, I will have fun with you before the others can." He kicks you in the stomach, and you scream in pain. "Don't worry I won't kill you."

You just feel bumps all around your body, you don't know how much time passed but it felt like an eternity. The pain is everywhere, you try to protect yourself somehow but there is no way. You are completely at its mercy. The taste of blood fills your mouth and finally when he stops you throw up: the tequila shots, the drinks and your dinner. The deep laughter tells you it's over. The door swings shut behind him, the sound of the lock clicking into place echoing in the room and with that the silence follows.

Sylus...

You fall unconscious again, everything hurts.

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

"Speak" Sylus commands, his voice low and clipped, as he stands in the armory, carefully selecting the weapon he'll need. Luke and Kieran finally return after two hours.

"There’s a man, goes by Rudy," Luke begins, breaking the silence. "Seems he’s been conspiring against you for a while."

Sylus exhales sharply, a frustrated sigh escaping him. "Not that jerk," he mutters under his breath. Rudy was one of those insufferable enemies you can have. At best, you could ignore him and hope he didn’t get too out of hand, but it was always a risk. He was a horrible man—too much alcohol, drugs, and cigarettes, with more money than sense. A nobody with delusions of grandeur. His greatest desire was to dethrone Sylus and take control of the N109 Zone. The last bastard who tried that, is dead.

However, the last time Sylus had to deal with that human waste, things went a bit awry. Rudy tried to interfere in a protocore transaction a few months ago, where Sylus gave him a first and last warning, not to interfere in his business. Rudy didn’t take it well, of course. That mission was when you managed to get the plane tickets to go with him. Despite all his efforts to keep you safe, you always found a way to stand by his side. During the mission, Rudy must have memorized your face. Sylus never brought anyone but the twins into his business. He tries to keep out of the mess but… You taught him a good lesson, kicking Rudy’s ass when he tried to attack you, you managed to dodge and knock him to the ground with ease. His beloved is such a fierce hunter. 

"And...?" he placed some weapons on the table and the ammunition boxes.

"He’s the one who kidnapped Miss Hunter," Kieran adds, his tone tense. "It’s definitely a trap. He must know that you... have feelings for her."

Sylus’s eyes narrow, his jaw tightening at the mention of that fact. He knew exactly what Rudy was capable of, but to dare mess with him directly—kidnapping you... He should have killed him right then and there. But now, hearing the confirmation of what Rudy had done, Sylus’s grip tightens around the weapon in his hand. The anger surging through him is sharper, more dangerous than it had been before, and no amount of control can suppress it.

The hours of waiting was almost a waste of time. Sylus knows that the twins surely tried his best to bring the information to him, as soon as possible. You could be dead by now. He tried to erase the idea from his head. Mephisto lost track of your kidnappers in a remote area, it seems there is an electromagnetic field. However rushing in blindly, without the proper intel, would be reckless. Sylus was never reckless. He won’t let this go. This time, he’ll make sure Rudy learns the true cost of crossing him.

“There’s something…” Luke started. Sylus’s phone buzzes, the screen lighting up with an unknown number. He picks it up without hesitation, his voice cold and dismissive as he answers.

"Mister Sylus! My old friend!" The voice on the other end is smug, dripping with false camaraderie.

"Cut the crap, Rudy" Sylus snaps, his patience already wearing thin. He leans against the armory wall, his hand gripping the phone with the same tension he holds his weapon.

"Oh, come on now" Rudy laughs, his voice thick with arrogance. "That’s how you greet an old friend? Don’t be so harsh..."

"I don’t have time for this shit" Sylus growls, his eyes narrowing as he listens to Rudy’s infuriating tone.

"Ah, ah, ah… Be nice." Rudy continues, almost gleefully "I have something of yours. I wouldn’t mind giving it back, but... I want something in return."

He straightens, his posture sharp as steel. "Where is she?"

Rudy chuckles, clearly enjoying the tension. "Impatient as always. She’s... fine." There is a pause. "Say something sweetheart." Sylus freezes as he hears your voice, faint but unmistakable in the background. 

His mind flickers with a clear dark scenery: Rudy’s lifeless body, each limb meticulously severed, his blood-streaked remains scattered in the ocean to be forgotten by the world. He doesn't usually take the time to torture any of his enemies, but he would take all the time in the world for Rudy. Disintegrating his body with his Evol wouldn't give him the satisfaction he needs. He can already picture the slow, torturous death he’ll deliver, every cut precise, every moment a lesson in regret.

"Don't touch me you asshole—!"

There’s a scream, followed by a sharp scuffle, and then the sound of you biting him. Rudy curses under his breath, but Sylus can’t help but smile—if only for a split second. At least you still have some fight left in you. It’s a small victory in the middle of a much larger storm.

“Rudy” he says, his voice dropping to an almost deadly whisper. “You really don’t understand what you’ve done.”

On the other end of the line, Rudy laughs again, the sound grating against Sylus’s nerves. “Oh, but I think I do. You see, Mister Sylus, I’ve been watching you for a while now. You’ve got a weakness, and she’s absolutely delightful. I’m just making the most of it.”

Sylus doesn’t respond immediately. “I’ll give you one chance. Tell me where she is, and maybe I’ll make your death quick.”

“Always so violent,” Rudy replies mockingly. “You think I’m stupid enough to tell you that? No, no, no. This isn’t a negotiation. You give me what I want, and I’ll consider giving her back. Whole, even.”

The sound of your muffled voice cuts through the conversation again, and for a brief second, Sylus’s mask of control slips. His teeth clench, his jaw tight, as he stares at the weapons lining the armory wall.

“You’re running out of time,” Sylus growls, the dark promise in his tone chilling. “Do you know what happens to people who touch what’s mine?”

Rudy laughs, though it’s tinged with a nervous edge. “Oh, I know exactly what happens. But... You’re not in control this time.”

Sylus just smirks, his free hand brushing over the handle of a blade.

"What do you want?" 

Rudy’s tone shifts, the mockery giving way to cold calculation, his words laced with greed. “You know what I want. The Aether Core. I want it delivered to me, and if I don’t get it... well, let’s just say things will get very uncomfortable for your precious little bird.”

Sylus’s jaw clenches at the mention of the Aether Core. That cursed artifact—the very thing he’d gone to great lengths to bury, to keep out of the hands of people like Rudy. It wasn’t just dangerous; it was catastrophic in the wrong hands. And he? He was the embodiment of “wrong hands.”

For months, Rudy had been sniffing around for it, pushing boundaries, threatening allies, but Sylus had always stayed one step ahead. Now, it seems he has finally found the leverage he needed to force him into a corner. He knew the Aether Core couldn’t fall into Rudy’s grasp. The devastation it could unleash wasn’t just Sylus’s problem—it was a threat to everyone. The thought of you... Sylus mind paused for a moment. Is true that he has it, you both rescued that thing in the last mission. If Rudy is just asking about that one, it means he doesn't know about your Aether Core in your body. Sylus click is tough, that would give him more time but you're still in danger.

“Tick tock, Mister S.” Rudy teased, breaking the silence. “I give you, let me think, ten no... eight, let's do four hours to decide. Bring me what I want, or I’ll start sending you little pieces of her. Maybe I’ll start with a finger... or should I play a bit with that mouth she has? I haven’t decided yet.”

Sylus’s vision blurred for a second, red with rage. He took a slow, steadying breath, forcing himself to stay composed.

“You're dead by tomorrow.”

“Oh, I'm shaking.” Rudy replied smugly. “Don’t make me wait.”

The line went dead, but Sylus didn’t lower the phone right away. His hand trembled, not with fear but with the force of his restrained ire. He turned toward Luke and Kieran, who had been standing silently, their expressions grim.

“We need the location” Sylus barked, his voice sharp as a blade. “Now.”

Kieran nodded, already pulling out his device to track Mephisto. Luke looked at Sylus, his face tense. “Boss, what's the plan?”

Sylus’s eyes darkened, a murderous glint in them. “Tonight, we’ll put on quite the show. Bring everything—I’m going to destroy that worthless bastard and the filth he calls his empire.”

He picks up his leader jacket from the back of the chair and slips it on, his mind already running through the details. There’s no room for mistakes. Not this time.

"We’re going to meet him." Sylus says finally, his voice is colder than ever. "Get ready.” 

“Yes, boss!” They say in unison. 

Luke paused for a moment before speaking. “But there is something else you need to know…”

Navigator: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | AO3

A/N: To be honest, I was nervous about releasing this. I hope I could live up to expectations and give you a good show. I had a lot of fun writing this. It's complex, as I've already mentioned, and I'm not used to long stories—let alone ones in this category. Next chapter in 2 weeks.

If you have the time, leave me a comment. I would love to hear your feedback.

[forgetme-eternally-blissfully]

When Cale was Kim Rok Soo, back at the company, he never scared anyone. Sure, they worried for him, they feared his Records or they felt a subconscious chill when making eye contact but-

Rarely has he ever scared them.

Except the week he disappeared.

He got trapped underneath rubble, like his first meeting with Lee Soo Hyuk, but no one was there to save him this time. Three days, he was trapped; an uncanny parallel, maybe even more than a coincidence. But on the third day… something changed. He gained a new ability, something that snapped inside of him like a key that forgoes unlocking the mechanism entirely and breaks the lock itself.

He lifted a building off of its foundations.

The metal holding together the crevice he was huddled in snapped and groaned, while the rocks and concrete scratched and shattered like glass. He forced his way out and walked.

He walked away from the company.

If he had been within his mind, he would’ve gotten help, accepted food and water and healed his injuries.

He wasn’t. Within his mind, that is. He was strong, his senses had heightened to find food and all of his necessaries, but he couldn’t remember anything from his life as Kim Rok Soo.

Kim Rok Soo at this moment had fallen asleep, and Survival woke up. For 4 days, Survival walked, ate, drank, and breathed the life of Kim Rok Soo.

If you could call it living.

Eventually he was found, wandering and dirty, and seeing his team members let Rok Soo wake up, and Survival fell asleep.

Cale Henituse hasn’t had to do that. No, not yet, but time catches up eventually and Cale found himself in a perilous situation again.

Trapped inside of a collapsing building with no way to contact his friends who are expecting him to be back in 6 days. They were in a different world, so Cale only had a portion of his abilities, but it should've been enough. It hadn't.

4 days inside of the building, which shuddered and broke multiple times around him, finally, Survival opened its eyes.

It had taken longer because of Vitality of the Heart, but with all of his abilities weakened extensively, he had no options for escape.

Survival looks around dumbly. Within its own consciousness, it’s doing calculations. The structural integrity. The state of his body. The nearest food source.

Lifting the building off of its body is easy, but it takes several hours to progress its way out of the collapsing caverns. Survival breathes heavily, but doesn’t hesitate as it finally breaks through the side. The building tips over and crashes on the opposite side of where it is. Survival blinks from the impact, but only because of the dust.

It wanders for 3 days.

Finally, it gets found. By bandits.

It massacres them and steals their resources.

Soon after that, news breaks out about the supposed single-handed wipe out, and Raon finds him. Raon tries to speak to it, but after it deduced that Raon wasn’t a threat nor food, it walked away.

As a smart and clever dragon, Raon observed Cale before being so abruptly insulted. Multiple attempts to bring Cale back into those eyes, all failed attempts, Raon teleports the unwilling stranger back to the empire.

It doesn’t speak, it doesn’t respond to touch beyond a stern glance, and it only does the bare minimum to survive. It tried to store food under its bed after eating “enough”, and no amount of begging convinced it to not store the rations. It hasn’t bothered to use its powers either- like it doesn’t know it has them.

All attempts to speak are futile.

Choi Han even tried Korean, but it didn’t show any sign of understanding.

Rosalyn does research with Raon and Choi Han on what could have caused it.

Then they hear about the collapsed building. They hear about the bandits who had supposedly died a few days afterwards. Raon figures out that- yes- the stuff Cale had with him at the time used to belong to bandits.

A week after becoming Survival, days after being found, Cale opens his eyes on a bed.

“… They found me?” He muttered it so quietly, whisper soft, but Raon- apparently sleeping by his legs, jumps up with wide eyes.

“Human!”

Cale wants to sigh. How long was he asleep this time? By Raon’s expression, it must have beaten his previous records.

“Is it you? Is it really you? Say something! Say my name!”

Cale blinks in confusion. Two minutes ago he was dozing off inside of a dark hole that was close to collapsing, now— Raon wants to hear his name?

“… Raon Miru? Are you okay?” Cale sat up, ignoring his stiff body and pulling Raon into his lap. He seems to have lost a little weight?

“Human you must absolutely tell me everything you remember!”

While saying this, Raon was ordering everyone to stay out of Cale’s room with the exception of Choi Han and Rosalyn, as well as informing Beacrox to bring up food and to prepare tea.

Cale observes Raon, who is earnestly distressed for some reason, and concedes.

“The last thing I remember was falling asleep in a collapsing building.” Rosalyn gasps. She just entered the room with Choi Han, who is staring at Cale with a cold gaze.

“Why were you in there?” A chill runs down Cales spine at Choi Han’s voice.

“The conmen didn’t expect the building to collapse, they had likely planned something else. It just happened out of nowhere.” He doesn't say that he got lucky. He was next to one of the buildings main supports at the time, and the crumbling structure formed a bubble around him by chance.

Rosalyn goes pale.

Raon shouts, “I will destroy those bastards that made you go in there!”

“They’re already dead.” Cale shakes his head. Rosalyn covers her mouth. He hadn't said he got lucky, but it's obvious that he did. Did they almost lose Cale, and hadn't even known?

‘Three times…’ He’s been lucky with collapsing buildings three times now.

“Cale-nim…” Choi Han places a hand on his shoulder and Cale freezes in fear. “After the building collapsed, a bandit camp was destroyed, single handedly, a few days after. Raon found you wandering- with their stuff on you.”

Immediately, Cale figured it out. It must be an ability. He recalls the similar event that happened in the past and the dots are easy to connect.

But- he can’t say anything about that with Rosalyn in the room.

So all he says, is…

“I guess some part of me really wanted to live.”

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

TW: PTSD, trauma, angst

gn reader

Seven days.

For seven days the two of you were trapped beneath that building, in the rubble and dust, in the cold, dreary dark, waiting for the air to run out.

He had shrapnel through his thigh, and any movement made him bleed to no end. He would have died if you hadn’t done your best efforts at first aid and forced him to sit still, talking him out of any plans of blowing the debris away as it would only make it come crashing down on you both.

He’d been curt with you the first few days you were trapped as he struggled with the fact that he’d wasted his life sacrificing it to save some quirkless nobody. He should have just left you when the building came tumbling.

But, something happened to him beneath the rubble with you – in the midst of the two of you huddling for warmth on the cold concrete and telling each other your deepest secrets with the fear that you wouldn’t get to tell anyone anything ever again.

You didn’t even tell him your arm was broken. You wouldn’t burden him with the information while you set out on those dangerous scavenges you both would have died without – crawling through collapsed flooring for a mini bag of chips and a can of coke you survived on until rescue finally dug you out. 

It felt wrong to sleep without you the days after the rescue. A lot of things felt wrong. He kept waking up with the fear that you’d died in your sleep – tossing and turning in his soft silk sheets with his heart hammering and brow beading with sweat until realizing you were soft and safe in your own bed somewhere.

He thought long about it. He wanted to talk to you but didn't really know how to approach it all… after all, you two didn’t really know each other – only under the circumstance of life or death.

Therapy wasn’t going well for him. Suppose he could reach out and ask how it was coming along for you…

It wouldn’t be all too strange for him, as a professional hero, to check up on a victim. Especially given that you’d survived the incident on account of each other. In fact, it would be strange if he didn’t contact you. You ought to be each other's pillar of support in all this.

But, running through the logistics, he comes to the conclusion that it could never go long-term. 

Any relationship you’d establish would be based on your shared trauma together and he isn’t delusional enough to deny how it could only end in disaster for you both.

So despite how much he wants to hold you again, he’ll steer clear so that you can heal.

[fashionteahouse]

May I request Jacob finding his imprint after an earthquake or building collapse? Would love if you could make her plus size but if not it's ok!

ofc you can and i will make them plus size for you ! hope you enjoy :)

on earth - jacob x reader

Before he heard any more of the news, Jacob was on his way to the site.

Billy received a call from Charlie Swan, he had to attend a scene to help people from an Earthquake incident.

The pack felt it. The deep shatter of the Earth shaking like rattled old bones.

Jacob didn’t want to wear clothes but he had to. He couldn’t go shirtless like how he always does in duty or else, the secret would be out.

He was there before Charlie was. Something was pulling him to where the police had up yellow tape, resisting anyone who tried to duck under the tape.

His wolf scratched to get to the other side.

Charlie came in time, telling the officers, “He’s with me. Come on.”

Jacob’s eyes scoured through the rubble. His heart dropped once he saw that some of a building was crumbled.

He put his nose to the test, really trying to pick up a scent and it was delicious. Each step he took it became stronger and stronger. He followed it. He believed it would follow him to righteousness.

The pack pulled and helped survivors up from rubble. Some had injuries, some were just trapped and couldn’t get out of fallen materials.

He heard groans of a muffled, “help.”

His fast eyes studied through the haze of dust and destruction, but he found what he believed what he was looking for.

Underneath pieces of concrete and steel, was a figure that was definitely still alive. He could hear the erratic beating of your heart. You were scared.

Lifting pieces of concrete and debris, he found your eyes. Everything was lifted off of you, but you both felt like you both were lifting each other.

Jacob’s heart stopped. Your heart stopped. A connection. Recognition. Eyes continued to stay locked on each other.

He knew what was happening. You were binding him on Earth. It was his new favorite feeling. You were his favorite feeling. You felt completed. Safe.

A soft smile graced his lips as he helped you up. Overlooking you. You felt self cautious as your shirt was slightly ripped, exposing some skin due to all of the trouble.

He keeps an arm around you. He felt the part of exposed skin on your waist.

He would never forget the feeling. It was warm. Like him.

“Are you alright?” he asks you. You nod. This person was like your very own superhero.

Helping you walk, the air was thick with dust while the ground still shook with aftershocks.

A strained breath escaped you. The fallen wall of a building was on your chest and since you were free again, you wanted to speak.

“I thought….I was going to die like that…..I thought no one was ever going to find me..” you whisper in a rasp.

Jacob’s mind raced. Jacob’s heart raced. To lose you, meant losing everything. He didn’t like the thought of that.

“I wasn’t going to let that happen. I’m here.” he says as he rubbed your back. His statement was filled with confidence. It filled you with a surge of hope and your own confidence.

What he did next surprised you. Lifting you easily in his arms, you arms immediately go around his neck. It felt right. He thought so too.

Big strides were taken as he easily walked and stepped right over the crumbled materials. The world shook, the world crumbled, but he knew one thing for certain. He would be damned to be separated from you.

“What’s your name?” he asks gently. You shyly tell him. He repeats it.

You thought your name was just okay. But, after hearing him repeat it after you, made you fall in love with how it sounded.

“W-what’s your name?” you ask quietly. This man saved you with due diligence.

“Jacob.”

You think for a moment as he carried you closer to the EMT truck.

“Is it okay if I call you, Jake?” you ask.

The breathtaking smile almost made you faint.

“You can call me whatever you like.” he says. You smile back. It was contagious and you couldn’t help it.

He sits you down and wrapped a rescue blanket around you. He then couldn’t help it. He placed a gentle but featherlight kiss on the crown of your head. You felt warm and bubbly inside. So did he.

The bond you two have found, would never crumble. The connection you two had couldn’t be broken. Not by an earthquake and not by the world.