#imagine

[mssorceressupreme]

Under Your Control

———

Pairing: In ho x reader

Summary: you wake up almost bare one night, away from the other players, tried to someone’s bed in an all too luxurious bedroom.

only to discover that the person you loved, young-il was the frontman and he would stop at nothing to gain information out of you.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, dom!inho, sub!reader, non-con touch, age gap, oral f!receiving, fingering, hickeys, use of ropes/tied up, betrayal, stripping, toxic relationship, orgasm denial

———

The first thing you noticed was the softness beneath you—luxurious sheets that felt entirely foreign after the cold, hard floor of the hall. Blinking awake, your arms tugged instinctively, only to be met with resistance. Your wrists were tied to the bedposts, the smooth silk of the restraints deceptively gentle against your skin but firm enough to hold you in place. Panic bubbled in your chest as your eyes darted around the room.

It wasn’t like anywhere else you’d seen in this nightmare of a game. The room was extravagant, draped in rich fabrics and gilded accents, a far cry from the stark, utilitarian halls where the other players remained. The flickering light from a crystal chandelier above cast shifting shadows on the walls, adding to the eerie stillness.

“Where… where am I?” you murmured, your voice trembling. The silence pressed against you, broken only by the distant hum of machinery. You tugged harder against the restraints, your breath quickening. “Let me go!” you called out to no one in particular.

A creak at the far end of the room made your head snap toward the sound. A figure stepped into view, cloaked in black, their face hidden behind the sleek, metallic mask that sent chills through you. The mask’s emotionless design contrasted cruelly with the humanity you desperately searched for.

“Who are you?” you demanded, your voice rising despite the fear knotting in your throat. “Where am I? What’s going on?” You struggled against the restraints, the silk cutting slightly into your wrists.

The figure tilted their head, the movement slow, calculated. They took a step closer, then another, the weight of their presence suffocating. Finally, their gloved hand reached up, gripping the edge of the mask.

Time seemed to slow as they pulled it off, revealing a face you knew all too well.

“Young-il?” you breathed, disbelief flooding every syllable. Your heart twisted painfully, as though the air had been stolen from your lungs.

He smirked, the expression sharp, almost cruel, and yet it sent an unwelcome flutter through your chest. “Surprised, angel?” he said, his voice low and smooth, like honey laced with poison.

The nickname, one he’d used during the games, felt like a blade twisting in your heart. It was a cruel reminder of who you thought he was—the ally who had stood by your side, shared quiet moments of understanding, and made you feel safe.

And yet here he was, towering over you, not as a fellow player but as something far more sinister.

“You…” Your voice cracked as you stared at him, your emotions tangling into a knot of betrayal and heartbreak. “You lied to us. To me. You’re one of them.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that felt like a mockery of all the warmth you once thought he possessed. “Don’t be so dramatic,” he said, his tone playful but undercut with a dangerous edge. “I was doing what I had to. We all are.”

Your lip trembled, but you set your jaw, glaring at him even as your chest ached. “I trusted you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “...I loved you.”

His smirk faltered for a split second, a flicker of something softer passing through his eyes. But it was gone just as quickly, replaced by that same icy exterior. He moved closer after taking off his coat to reveal a black tight fitted shirt underneath.

The mattress dipped under his weight as he hovered over your tied-up vulnerable body, both his legs on either side of your hips.

“I’m not here to talk about feelings, Y/N,” he said, leaning in just enough that his breath brushed against your cheek. “I need information.”

You turned your head away, refusing to meet his gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His hand cupped your jaw, gently but firmly turning your face back to him. The touch sent a jolt through you, confusing and unwelcome. “Don’t lie to me,” he said, his voice a quiet warning. “I know you’re close to Gi-hun. He trusts you. Now, tell me about that plan he told you.”

“No,” you said, the word shaking but resolute. “I won’t betray him. I won’t betray them.”

His lips curved into a slow, dangerous smile. “Oh, angel,” he murmured, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.”

Before you could protest, his lips captured yours in a kiss that stole your breath. It was unexpected, overwhelming, and despite everything, it ignited something in you that you couldn’t suppress. Your resolve wavered as his hand moved to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss.

When he pulled away, you were left reeling, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. “Now,” he said, his voice softer but no less commanding, “tell me.”

You shook your head, biting your lip to keep from speaking. He tilted his head, his eyes scanning your body up and down, beneath him. He then caressed the side of your upper body, his hand making his way to your jacket zipper.

Shit, you weren't wearing a bra underneath today, nor a shirt, because it was supposedly bedtime. Slowly, he undid your zipper, exposing your cloth-less skin. "No bra?"

You laid beneath him shaking your head slightly, now bare, even more vulnerable.

"Look at you, so fucking pretty..." He then leaned in, "I might have to be rough if you don't tell me what I want..." He cooed, almost mockingly. His lips ghosting over yours, teasing, before pressing another kiss to them, sucking lightly. This time, your body betrayed you entirely, melting into him despite the storm of emotions crashing within you. Straightening himself up, he pulled your pants down while still hovering over you, leaving you in your undies. He pressed his thumb to your throbbing clit, with pressure before slowly stroking your folds over the fabric of your undies.

“Stop,” you whispered, though the word lacked conviction. “Please...” Yet, he continued, slipping two fingers inside your undies before stroking your folds again. You tried to resist his touch, you hated this, you hated him for betraying you guys. But your body felt differently. Trying to resist the pleasure, you forced yourself to not react, however, your body kept twitching under his touch and from all the pleasure building up.

“Then talk,” he murmured against your lips, his voice a velvet threat.

The push and pull was too much. Your heart warred with your mind, your love for him tangling with the sharp sting of his betrayal. "I won't." You spat, and he responded by inserting two fingers harshly inside you. You moaned, tilting your head back, panting heavily as he began pumping in and out of you. "Stop..." You pleaded, whimpering as he picked up his pace. Your breathing was heavy, gosh, he managed to make you feel so good, you were like putty under his control. "You tell me to stop, yet your body tells me otherwise...." His voice was low, sensual, "...so fucking wet for me..."

You felt your climax near approaching, your heartbeat quickening, you were close. "Young-il..." You plead, once more. "I'm gonna....I'm getting close..." Barely a whisper came out, your eyes shut tightly, body melting under his touch. "I'm gonna cum..."

He continued, pumping deeper and faster, and your climax was getting close and closer until...

He pulled his fingers out.

"Don't stop please..." You begged, "please Young-il I need you..." You mentally slapped yourself for sounding so needy, begging for more. No matter how mad you were, a part of you still wanted him. He smirked, seeing how needy you were for him which also fuelled his own desire. His bulge was evident, pressing against your thigh.

Young-il stroked your cheeks softly, "Oh Y/N, you'll get what you want...once you tell me his plan."

"I already told you I won't." You retort. "Such a stubborn, pretty mouth, hm?" He gazed into your eyes, filled with lust. He wanted you so bad, he'd do anything to make his name fall from your pretty mouth again.

He bent down, planting sloppy kisses on your collarbone down to your stomach. Sucking harshly till he left a bruise, "You'll look even more gorgeous with my marks all over you." Shifting down, Young-il moved closer to your cunt, making eye contact while he licked your folds.

"Young-il..." You moaned, body involuntarily arching, bucking your hips up into his face. Placing his hands on the velvety part of your inner thighs, he parted your legs wider before leaning in again to place kitten licks on your cunt.

"You taste so good angel..." He murmured into you.

He made sure to suck on your clit, with extra pressure, licking between the folds, slowly but sensually. "Young-il please..." You whimpered.

He pulled away slightly, "You want me to let you cum?"

"Please..." You begged, breathing heavily.

"Please what?" He retorted, "Use your words beautiful."

"Please make me cum..." You whined, before he continued, licking your whole slit, your became wetter by the second, body begging for more.

"The plan." He demanded you to tell him, "Now." Before pulling away again.

You groaned, wanting more, needing more. Your body so close filled with arousal, yet so far from a climax.

He leaned down once more, sucking on your clit again.

"The guards!-" You cried aloud, overwhelmed with pleasure. "An attack at midnight..." You moaned softly.

"Anything else?" Young-il smirked, knowing the control he had over you. "That's Gi-hun's plan...attack management at midnight when they've assumed we're asleep." You blurt out, which you immediately regretted. You told him what he wanted to know—about Gi-hun’s plan, the uprising, the desperate hope for freedom. Satisfied, Young-il sucked harder, licking every inch of your cunt with fervour. You moaned loudly, panting heavily as you came closer to a climax.

"I'm so close...gonna cum..." You arched your back further, "I'm gonna..." Then it washed over you, your body jerking harshly as it filled with pleasure. Your walls throbbed, and you felt a rush to your core; you let out a moan, hands tangling in Young-il's hair as you came.

When you finished, he pulled back, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. He reached out, brushing a hair from your face with a gentleness that felt like a cruel mockery. “Good girl,” he said softly.

You turned your face away, tears slipping silently down your cheeks as guilt and shame consumed you. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, "See that wasn't so hard was it." Young-il zipped up your jacket and helped you put on your track pants but still leaving you tied up.

He stood up, getting off the bed, “Not a word of this to anyone,” he said, his voice cold and unfeeling once more. “If you do, they’ll die. Every last one of them.”

You nodded, unable to speak. "Sleep here for tonight, the bed is more comfortable." He spoke while putting on his jacket, "When you wake up tomorrow, you'll be back in the hall with the others. I'll see you there angel." He winked, placing the mask back over his face before walking away.

Your body tremlbed as the door closed behind him.

Despite everything, your heart still ached for him. And that, more than anything, was the cruelest twist of all.

[cybrasigilism]

Hey, I was wondering if you could do a dae ho x reader x thanos, where they both are trying to do outlandish stuff to get the readers attention on them and not the other. they're both so goofy at times

This Means War (Kang Dae-ho/Thanos X F! Reader)

warning: no smut! | not proofread | lowercase intended | OOC (bc daeho and thanos don’t really interact in the series) | love triangle(?) | this is my interpretation of these characters, please be respectful even if my opinions on the characters differ from your own

characters: kang dae-ho (player 388), thanos/choi su-bong (player 230)

A/N: this may be the most entertaining fic i’ve written yet! thank you so much for the brilliant request, i’ve tried my best to make it an enjoyable read for you all! this is a mixed POV story so apologies for the confusion as it reads, i wanted to try something different but if this was too much of a confusing read i likely won’t do this style of fic very often. AND ik its short, i’m so sorry, but this is only the beginning of this story (if you guys like it)

–––-𖤓⋆˖⁺‧₊𖤐₊‧⁺˖⋆☾-–––

dae-ho was sure he’d never seen someone quite so captivating in all his life. the moment you grabbed his attention from across the room at the very beginning of the games, he knew he had to get to know you. whether it was the way your face managed to light up the dark atmosphere of the common area, or the way you carried yourself in a calm, collected, self assured manner amongst all the uncertainty; he fell head over heels effective immediately.

unfortunately for dae-ho, he wasn’t the only one who seemed to have noticed you. thanos had clocked you the minute people started filing out from their bunks, and he felt things right then that he hadn’t felt for anyone before. he was totally drawn to you, it was almost as if he knew he had to stake his claim on you sooner rather than later, lest someone make their move first. he would be damned if he lost his chance with the most gorgeous girl he’d ever laid his eyes on to some random.

as for you, you were spending more of your time focusing on your current situation rather than scouring the location for potential suitors. you didn’t notice any familiar faces, to be honest you were kind of relieved at that. you would have been embarrassed to see a colleague or a friend there, knowing full well the predicament that you must have been in to even consider joining these sketchy games. you maintained a level head up to the point where you were all led to this photo center like cattle, taking photos for whatever reason before entering the first game. just as you were joining a line to take your photo, you heard someone call out your number out of nowhere.

“sẽnorita!” the same voice called out once again this time followed quickly by a whistle, causing you to turn your head and see this purple-haired guy with a crowd of people surrounding him. “i’ve got room for one more here, c’mon!” he beckoned for you to join the cramped circle. you felt your face contort into a concerned expression before simply turning away and joining a line far away from whatever that was. you could still feel that guy look at you for a quick moment, but when you glanced in his direction, he was long gone.

—

this first game, Red Light Green Light, was not anything like what you or anybody else were expecting. when the rules stated that players who moved would be eliminated, you didn’t conclude that that meant they would be assassinated. poker face be damned, you could feel your body vibrate every time that creepy doll turned her head back round to face the players, eyes scanning for even the slightest bit of movement. the next time you were all allowed to move forward, this tall, dark haired guy moved in front of you almost deliberately. when you all froze again you noticed he had his hand extended out to you behind his back, with his mouth covered you could hear him whisper “just stay close to me, okay?” you waited before that damned dolls head was turned around again before you grabbed his hand and the two of you took off.

once you both crossed the finish line, you looked up at your mystery saviour. “thank you for doing that..” you said, voice noticeably shaken from all the death you witnessed, and were still witnessing. he looked down at you and smiled. “of course, anything for you.” that last part warmed your heart, it was nice to know you had already found someone you could rely on in these trying new circumstances of yours. you let your gaze shift off subconsciously and noticed that purple headed guy from earlier, staring daggers at the man who had just essentially saved your life.

—

after the surviving players returned to the common area, cast their vote, and split off back to their beds, thanos made a b-line for dae-ho, looming over his bed to which dae-ho quickly took notice.

“that was some lame shit you pulled.” dae-ho had never been so perplexed at another person in his life. “what’re you talking about?” he asked, earning a laugh from the quirky stranger. thanos kneeled down, making eye contact with dae-ho now. “you know damn well, 388,” he started, spitting out dae-ho’s number as though it were a dirty word. “swooping in, acting like the hero for that chick.” dae-ho looked unamused, trying to be unassuming about the whole ordeal. “i don’t know what you think this is, i was just trying to keep somebody alive-“

“i didn’t ask what you were trying to do, did i?” thanos interrupted, getting closer to dae-ho now. “just know this. she’s mine. so i wouldn’t waste my time if i were you.” dae-ho held back a laugh, before looking his newfound opponent up and down. “that’s funny, the feeling didn’t seem mutual when she gave you the cold shoulder during photos.” thanos scoffed, turning away in an attempt to keep his cool. “whatever man, she’s just playing hard to get.” his voice trailed off at the end, when he clocked you sitting in your own bunk, knees to your chest.

“yeah, i don’t think that’s true.” dae-ho stated, getting up out of his bed, and patting thanos on the back. “i get that you’re probably used to having girls fall over themselves for you, so it’s definitely shocking when someone like that doesn’t give you a second look.” dae-ho’s slight smugness about the whole ordeal left thanos speechless, watching with seething rage as dae-ho made his was over to where you were sat. he knew that the games weren’t the only thing he wanted to win over now. he knew he was certainly not going to let dae-ho captivate your heart so easily, and he knew that he was definitely not going down without a fight.

dae-ho knew something too: he now knew he had to keep you safe from thanos because something inside told him that if that maniac was capable of inadvertently killing random people in order to advance in the first game, there was no telling the lengths he would go to gain your attention. he made a vow to himself to never let you out of his sight while you were in your current situation. over his dead body would he let someone like thanos prevail.

the two of them both made a nemesis that day, each one swearing that they could get to you before the other did. they now knew it was about more than just the games.

they now knew that this meant war.

–––-𖤓⋆˖⁺‧₊𖤐₊‧⁺˖⋆☾-–––

apologies again for the length, or lack there of, of the fic! if anything i want to make this multiple parts but i understand if the format of this particular fanfiction is too confusing, and again i am sorry for that! just wanted to experiment :)

as always, advice and constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing are appreciated and requested!

have a splendid day/night lovelies 😙

tags: @gongyoosgf @agornotsworld @kvstjwonnie @marymustdie @pink-apples001 @fiicalapsiholoaga @wonestro @luvlyfandoms @putrescentpoet

[vivimura]

belly button piercing fixated boyfriend!riki ♡

PAIRING ~ bf!nrk x gf!reader

SUMMARY ~ something about the little jewel adorning your belly button has riki fascinated in more ways than one.

GENRE ~ smut, fluff

WORD COUNT ~ 2.113k

ᯓ★ requested. ahh, this is kinda mid but i haven't posted a lot lately so pls bare with me and comment, follow and reblog! ily guys

riki was never one to be controlling of what kind of clothes you chose to wear. he thought you were absolutely beautiful and would only encourage you to dress however you wanted, and would even shower you with compliments every chance he got.

though in all honesty, if he was ever given the power to, he'd give absolutely anything up to see you in that cute little pink tank top of yours.

maybe it was the way its straps, so thin, seemed to be falling off your shoulders constantly. or maybe how thin and fitted it was, its neckline low enough to give him a boner if he stared at it for too long.

but— if there was one reason riki was sure of why he loved that top so damn much, was how cropped it was, giving him all the access he needed to the little diamond piercing your belly button he loved oh so much.

he swiftly took the baseball cap snug on the top of his head off, tossing it in a temporary park, his intense eyes never leaving your figure on his bed as he did so. running a hand through his hair, he broke the seemingly comfortable silence with his deep voice.

"what're you doing?"

you, slouched back against a pillow by the headboard of riki’s bed, peaked at riki from over the top of your book.

“just reading.”

riki hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes tracing over the way of which you were positioned. he leaned against the doorframe, his arms folded over his chest. he watched the way your eyes lingered on the book, then at the way your pretty lips gently parted as you spoke. 

he pushed himself off the frame, approaching the side of the bed. a small smirk grazed his features as he sat on the end, facing in your direction. when you didn’t look up, he made an effort to grab your attention with a firm grip on your ankle.

“hey—” you yelped when he suddenly yanked at your ankle, the action not harsh enough to actually hurt you but powerful enough to make your body lie down completely on the bed. 

you huffed and rolled your eyes, biting back a smile over how proud riki seemed of being able to have caught you off guard as you closed your book, gently placing it on the night stand beside.

“there. i’m paying attention to you now, you big baby.”�� you opened your arms as an invitation for him to join you on the bed.

the satisfied smirk plastered on his face widened into a grin. riki’s eyes followed the way your arms stretched out. he took note of how you watched him stare at the sliver of skin and the glimmer stud in the middle that was exposed from the stretched out fabric of your top. with a subtle laugh he quickly took his place in the space on the bed you left for him. he leaned over, caging you in between his arms as he gently lowered himself on top of you, shifting down just enough so that he was face front with your stomach. his arms found their way around your waist as he settled himself in between your legs. his palms pressed against the sides of your lower torso, his thumbs tracing gentle circles against your skin. he laid his head against your stomach with a sigh, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment. he was quiet for a second, but broke the silence with his usual deep, sultry voice. “comfy.”

you laughed softly over how it was basically second nature for him to cuddle up to you. you extended one hand to reach his scalp, gently scratching it and playing with the hair there.

riki’s eyelids fluttered at the feeling of your fingers threading through his hair. a small hum left his lips, and to the average ear it would’ve sounded like he was in complete bliss— maybe even relaxed. but he wasn’t. every slight touch from you was only serving to rile him up. he nuzzled his whole face against your stomach, his nose and lips pressing onto your skin. his thumbs crept under the tank top you were wearing, slowly caressing the soft skin beneath. he lifted his head to lick his lips, once again leaning down to begin peppering soft, wet kisses on the skin surrounding your navel. riki chuckled at the way your stomach flinched every time his warm, wet lips would meet your skin.

“pretty..” he commented, planting yet another kiss on your warm skin. he lifted his head slightly and glanced up at you, making eye contact as he flicked his tongue and swirled it around the bottom gem of your piercing.

your breath hitched, and you let out a quiet exhale to muffle the moan that had built up in your throat. you tilted your head back and shut your eyes to calm yourself down, soon craning your neck back down at him.

“you're really obsessed with that thing, aren't you?”

‘obsessed’ might've been an understatement on your part, riki thought. riki let out a huff of laughter before trailing more kisses along the skin just around your piercing. when he eventually pulled away and looked back up at you, his eyes darkened almost completely. they had gone from their usual sparkly, dark brown to half-lidded obsidian ones. one with desires. “what can i say?” he shrugged, licking his lips. “it's pretty.”

you always thought about how unfair it was, the way riki was able to hold eye contact without wavering, no matter what the situation he was in. the little teasing glint in his orbs, his mouth almost permanently attached to your skin, the way your stomach glistened with his saliva, it was going to be all the slow but apparent death of you. you bit down on your lower lip, seeing through his reasoning of it being ‘pretty’ to ‘i wanna turn you on’. “stop it, riki..”

a low hum left riki as his eyes watched the wet trail his tongue left behind. his hands began to wander again, his fingers dipping under the waistband of the shorts you were wearing— that, too, were driving him crazy. “stop what?” he asked, his voice sultry and deep as he started to move his head down, peppering kisses on your lower abdomen. one of his hands held the left side of your hips, the other snuck up your loose shorts and teasing the edge of your panties.

without giving you any time to process or respond, he further started to kiss his way down and reached your skin right above the waistband of your shorts, his hand still holding onto the left side of your hip to keep you from squirming away. all the while, his fingers sneakily trailed up, ‘accidentally’ brushing by the folds of your pussy.

you let out a sharp gasp, whimpering at the sudden stimulation. your hand caressing his hair tightened in grip, your head now unable to form coherent thoughts, falling back onto the pillow.

he watched your reaction intently, the sight of it causing a low chuckle to escape his mouth. he loved watching the way your body reacted to his touch. the way you were already unraveling beneath him, the needy look in your eyes, the heavy breathing, your soft tugs on his hair.

“yeah, thought so.” the tips of his fingers began tracing the curves of your clothed pussy in a manner excruciatingly slow, causing it to flinch and clench under his touch.

“riki..” you mumbled out his name almost as a whine of need, earning a string of sultry chuckles from him. he hummed in acknowledgement, the sound of it having an edge of playful mockery.

he pulled his hand out of your shorts and sat up on his knees, shifting forward to kneel between your legs instead. the new posture revealed the probably painful erection outlined by his gray sweats. “tell me what you want, baby..” he purred out, untying the knot of the drawstrings of your shorts and beginning to tug it down. 

you bit down on your lower lip in anticipation, spreading your legs wide to accommodate for his large frame. you took the action of him undoing your drawstrings as a silent command to lift your hips and let him take off the shorts, and so you did. “you..”

the single word, so pure and deprived of explicit, conveyed a clear sense of need to riki in such a way that caused his cock to twitch. he let out a hoarse chuckle as an attempt to keep his own behavior in check and nodded. “mm.. yea, i’ll give you what you want...”

by the end of his sentence, riki had tossed the flimsy material of your shorts away and had begun to fumble with his own clothes. riki held back a groan at how visibly wet you’d gotten, busying himself by pulling his tee off and pushing down his pants and boxers in one motion. the angry, mauvish tip of his cock bounced by his abdomen and riki moved forward, pressing one hand beside your head to support his weight.

riki teasingly began rubbing the head of his cock up and down your clothed folds, coating it in your arousal.

you let out a sound between a whimper and whine, hands forming fists of the sheets below. your arousal mixed with his precum drenched the material of your underwear, thinning it in a way that made every sensation of his touch so apparent to be felt, but not enough to please.

“so, so pretty..” riki repeated for the nth time, continuing to toy his tip to your pussy no matter how impatient it made him.

however, the soft whimpers escaping your lips and the way your pussy pulsated was too much for riki to keep up with. he let go of his cock, hooking a finger into the elastic of your panties and began pulling it down.

with a satisfied sigh, he tossed it away, taking in the sight of your wetness all for him to ravish. he aligned his cock, holding onto your hips as he slowly slid into you.

you moaned out his name, your back arching as a reflex as you got yourself used to the feeling of him inside you. his fingers dug into your hips in a way somehow pleasing, and he slowly began to thrust himself in and out of you.

riki groaned and threw his head back at the familiar, nevertheless incredibly pleasing sensation of your tight pussy. he let out a silent curse every time you’d clench a little around him, fucking you with deep strokes.

the pretty sounds of your moans were like music to his ears, as his hips snapped forward over and over again, draining your mind of any thoughts except for him, and how good he made you feel.

one of his hands gripping your hips moved to lay flat against your stomach, and he groaned at the cool sensation of your piercing under his warm palm, and how it was protruding out from the effect his cock stuffed deep inside you. “fuck, baby..”

he flicked the jewel with his finger and continued pounding into you, leaning forward to capture your lips into a bruising kiss that muffled both your sounds of pleasure. he swallowed your moans and invaded his tongue into your mouth, picking up the speed at which he slammed into you balls deep. he could feel you flutter and clench around him as evidence that you were close, so he slid his hand from your stomach down to your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in hard, fast circles.

the kiss, initiated by him, was broken by you when he began pleasuring your clit, feeling the need to be able to moan freely. your legs trembled and bucked just a little over how he could make you feel so damn good.

“riki, shit-.. i’m gonna..”

“fuuuck..”

he groaned out at the feeling of your cum beginning to coat his cock. riki’s dark eyes bore into yours, and with a feral groan, he slammed himself deep into you, burying his cock into your pussy as his own release overtook him.

grinding his hips into you, he pushed every bit of his release back into you, letting go of your clit and hip to interlock his hands with yours. for a few moments, the two of you savored the moment of high and panted to catch your breath.

he leaned forward and kissed you once again, this one more sweet and intimate than the last one.

[lumillsie]

ೃ⁀➷ being jun-ho's s/o would include ¡!

in which you're romantically involved with the police officer doing his best to find his brother and put a stop to the squid games

a/n : lots of love to my dearest friend @angelseraphines for not only getting me into this brilliantly-written show, but also for looking over my fic to double-check my characterisation and to give me a second opinion on it. if you aren't already following her, please go ahead and make sure that you do so 🙏

also this turned into a full-on fic please just roll with the punches 🙏bit of a cliche first date but I fear that I have very little dating experience so you guys are gonna have to deal with that, I fear.

╰┈➤ it was the middle of winter when you met the policeman for the first time. the air was crisp and frigid, icicles were hanging from rooftops and everywhere you turned you could see colourful outfits in contrast with the white snow and hear the sound of shovels scraping against sidewalks. a kind-eyed man in a reflective green vest caught your attention at the same time a car smacked a young woman and drove off.

╰┈➤ you stepped forward to testify, wanting to help out the woman. she thankfully didn't appear to be in critical danger, save for the bruising on her hip and the apparent fracture in her left hand — and so you headed off with them to the station to give your statement. the woman was allowed to give her statement and leave immediately, due to the obvious state her hand was in and her need to visit a hospital. you were left then with the kind-eyed officer from earlier, who brought you a sizzling cup of hot chocolate and sat down to wait with you until you could sign off on your witness testimony.

╰┈➤ talking with him was so relaxing for you. it felt as if you had known him for years and the banter between you and him felt natural and light. you couldn't remember when was the last time you laughed that much — little did you know that he felt the same way.

╰┈➤ as you headed off to leave, your eyes searched for him amongst the worn-out chairs and stacked files. you wanted a chance to say goodbye, regardless of the dread gathering in your chest at the thought that you'd never see him again. you were disappointed when one of his colleagues informed you that he had to head off back to his post — that was until you were handed a slip of paper with his name and number on it. he was far too professional to make the move himself, but his colleague could see you two liked one another and took it upon himself to push you towards him. with a grateful smile and a glint of unadulterated joy in your eyes, you left the building and headed off to meet up with the friend you'd made plans with that day. you would be a little late, but you were sure she wouldn't mind once you told her about your day.

╰┈➤ admittedly, it took you a couple of days to call the handsome officer, whose name you now knew to be hwang jun-ho. every time you picked up the phone, your legs would become jittery and you'd find yourself pacing around your room. a little seed of doubt took its root within you, but on the fourth day you finally gave in and pressed the call button. once he recognised your voice, his lips curled into a smile on the other end of the line. he was a bit concerned when his colleague gave you his number, but he was glad to see that you weren't put off by it. on that cold winter's night, you talked and talked until you both fell asleep grasping your phones, the line still on.

╰┈➤ these cozy evening calls became routine for the two of you, with him initiating them when he got off work. you learned more about him — that he was close with his mom, that he was set to get a promotion soon and that he wanted to work in major crimes as a detective someday and that he would often look in on his brother when he had some spare time. he didn't talk much about him, but you got the feeling that whatever it was his brother experienced wasn't something you wanted to press him much on — so you didn't. he made the effort to ask you more about yourself as well, so you talked to him about your job, your family, and your friends. you talked to him about your hobbies, the places you wanted to visit, and the things that made you happy. neither of you had ever really felt so comfortable, so quickly with another person — it was a lovely feeling, one that you both desperately latched onto.

╰┈➤ a couple of weeks after you started talking, jun-ho finally managed to get a day off. his tone of voice was dignified, yet dulcet as he invited you to go see a movie and then to dinner with him. you replied immediately and enthusiastically, gripping the phone so tightly in your hand that it almost felt like you could break it if you squeezed it in just a slightly tighter manner.

╰┈➤ like a true gentleman, he picked you up from your apartment on the day of the date and you found yourself glancing at him admiringly as he drove, trying his hardest to keep his eyes on the road and not on you. when you arrived at the cinema, you were surprised to see that the movie he got tickets for was the one you'd been raving to him about for weeks. "I wasn't sure if you wanted to go see it with a friend, but I figured it would make for a pretty good first date" he admitted with a hint of humour in his voice. you responded by telling him you thought it was a wonderful idea.

╰┈➤ the cinema hall was dark, illuminated only by the gleam of the screen as the opening scene of the movie was unfolding. he had to admit that the plot was intriguing, but he found himself glancing down at you every so often. halfway through the film, he found the courage to extend his hand, and you grasped it into yours as gleeful smile made its way onto your face. even as your hands began to feel a bit sweaty, you couldn't bring yourselves to let go.

╰┈➤ on the way to the restaurant, you launched yourselves into a proper conversation about the movie, laughing and joking about its points and twists as the rosy sunset gave way to a melancholy dusk. the staff and guests moved around in a lively manner, as the sound of glass and ceramic reverbated through the room — and the view from the windows was absolutely breathtaking. you could tell that he'd done his best to keep your preferences in mind when he was looking for a place to take you to. you held his hand across the table as you waited for the food to arrive, and you spent the better part of the evening comfortably talking to one another. every so often, his eyes would dart to your lips, but he made no move to reach across the table — not yet, at least.

╰┈➤ his shoes were crunching on the frozen ground as he followed you to your front door, and as you turned back to see your goodbye, he leaned in and gave you a gentle kiss on the lips — one which you eagerly reciprocated. he pressed a gentle kiss to both of your hands before he departed, and he called you once again as he got home.

╰┈➤ it didn't take long after that for the two of you to become an official couple. you began to visit him at work when you had the time, and he'd take an hour or two after work was done to slip by and spend some time with you. you would lounge on your couch with a glass of wine in your hand — if he was staying the night he'd drink a few too, and if he wasn't then he'd drink some tea.

╰┈➤ he would feel awful about waking you early in the morning when he had to return to his apartment and get ready for work, but he always made sure to write you a note and find your kettle so you could boil water for tea or coffee when you got up. he always kissed your forehead and whispered a sentence or two of affection before he left. he knew you couldn't hear him, but he felt the need to say them nonetheless.

╰┈➤ realistically, it wouldn't take long for you to meet his mother and brother. jun-ho always made time to visit her, and in-ho had given him his kidney. they were a close-knit family and he wanted the people most important to him to meet the person he was rapidly becoming more and more serious with. his brother seemed quiet and solemn, but he wasn't unkind. save for your greeting and goodbye, you only exchanged a few awkward words — most of which were just polite questions. you got the underlying feeling that he was a very tormented man, and the sight of a family photo on the counter with his arms wrapped around an unfamiliar woman confirmed your suspicions. jun-ho's mother, on the other hand, was incredibly warm and welcoming. she trusted her son's judgement, and she embraced you as if she'd met you a thousand times before. she prepared a fantastic meal, and she showed you photos of jun-ho and in-ho throughout their childhood. your joyous laughter echoed through the room as the younger of the two brothers covered his face with his hands. when it was time to return home, you found yourself hesitant to leave the warm atmosphere of the older woman's apartment — she made you promise to come visit her often. you agreed enthusiastically.

╰┈➤ when you returned home that evening, you asked him about his brother. he opened up to you then, about all the things he'd never really talked about. about the week his brother went missing a couple of years ago, about the death of his brother's pregnant wife and about the kidney he received from his brother. his voice was on the verge of breaking as he uttered out one string of words after the other, and his eyes began to gloss over. you held him close then, and from that moment on it was as if he could tell you anything — trust you with everything. it was the turning point between being two people who truly liked eachother to being partners.

╰┈➤ the change from living apart to living together was pretty seamless. at one point, you both realised that most of his stuff was already at your place and you just ended up moving the rest of it in. from that point on, he never really had to worry about going back to his place or getting up extremely early to get ready for work. you'd stay awake huddled under the blankets with his arms wrapped around you as you kept one another up to date with what you got up to during the day, and what you wanted to do as soon as you found some free time.

╰┈➤ if you're out together and he sensed that the chill from the cold weather outside is getting to you, he'd sneakily slip his jacket around your shoulders and offer you a teasing quip as he zipped it up with a light smirk on his face. your protests of not being that cold would be met with an exasperated look.

╰┈➤ you didn't hear him the first time he told you he loved you. as he kissed your forehead and whispered to you in the morning, it simply slipped out. he didn't realise it until he spoke it out loud. when he returned home that evening, those were the first words out of his mouth — and you said it back. after that, he always made to include his declarations of love in his morning notes, and they were the first and last words on his lips each time you said your helloes and goodbyes.

╰┈➤ you're there for him as he climbs the ranks in the police, and you'll never forget the look on his face when he came home with the news of finally receiving his promotion to detective. he spun you around as he placed kisses on your face, and you leaned in and kissed him with passion to show him just how proud of him you were. he took you out to celebrate that evening, and he took you to the same restaurant where you had your first date. it would go on to become your go-to place for celebrating special occasions. the following day, you went to visit his mother. tears of joy slipped from her eyes as she embraced him, and it wasn't long before she drew you into her embrace as well. it was the first time you saw something that didn't look like grief or sadness in his brother's eyes. you saw pride.

╰┈➤ he definitely wants to get married, and the two of you have talked about it, but both of you want to have a wedding when the entire family feels like they can actually celebrate. the dark cloud of grief that seems to constantly hang over in-ho's head has encouraged you both to wait a while. regardless, you two have already discussed so many of the details — the song you'd like to have for your first dance, the colour palette, the season when you'd like to have it in and where.

╰┈➤ he's incredibly observant, a trait that has helped him in both his private and professional life. he remembers the little things about you — he keeps track of the things you talk to him about, notes the ways in which your features contort when you see something you like or dislike, and goes out of his way to make your life easier in small ways.

╰┈➤ when you are both too tired to get ready and get ready for a proper date, but still want to do more than simply stay inside the whole time, he'll take you for a drive around the city. sometimes you get stuck in traffic, sometimes you get to breeze through the vibrant streets. for these dates, you have two playlists — one made up of both yours and his favourite songs, and another made up of ballads and romantic declarations weaved into music. which one you end up putting on depends on the atmosphere, but the second one tends to be the one you play when you park atop a cliff and take some time to glance at the stars.

╰┈➤ he rarely ever gets jealous, because he's confident in your relationship and he trusts you. that being said, he is incredibly protective — and he's always watching out for you. this bleeds into his affectionate nature, and the hand wrapped around your shoulder when you're out and about means two things. one, that he wants to be close to you and this is his way of expressing it. two, that he's warding off any unwanted attention and anybody who would seek to do you harm. he's a detective, so of course he's great at multi-tasking.

╰┈➤ while he mostly saves flowers for special occasions, he goes out of his way to get you baked goods when he's on his way back from work. you remarked once on how the pastries he brought you from the bakery near his station reminded you of something you ate regularly in your childhood, and he was nothing if not attentive. he didn't always bring home the same stuff — but he kept track of which treats you were craving the most and acted accordingly.

╰┈➤ if you get caught out in the rain, he's the type of guy who will keep his jacket above your head to try and keep you from getting drenched by the rainfall — or at the very least drape it around you, if you're wearing something that becomes see-through when it comes into contact with water. his focus is on your comfort in those moments.

╰┈➤ he finally proposed to you on your three-year anniversary, at the same restaurant where the two of you had your first date. while marriage was something you discussed, he still managed to surprise you with the proposal, and you agreed with tears welling in your eyes and your heart thumping nearly out of your chest. one of the first people you called was his mother, and you made sure to send the colleague that slipped you jun-ho's number a baskets of flowers and baked goods. he left a good portion of the planning to you, as busy as he is with his job, but he always offered his opinion and showed you that he cared immensely when you'd ask him for it.

╰┈➤ a couple of months after you announced your engagement, and with preparations underway — his brother disappeared. this wasn't the first time of course, but it was only the second time he didn't leave a message or let anyone know of his whereabouts. the last time this happened, his pregnant wife passed away, so naturally you, jun-ho and his mother were all worried. a couple of days into his brother's disappearance, your fiancee called to tell you that he was following a lead on his brother's disappearance — something with slip of cardboard with weird symbols and some man his colleagues perceived as crazy. after that, you couldn't get hold of him.

╰┈➤ when he did resurface, a couple of weeks later, he turned up bloodied and with a bullet in his shoulder on some old sea captain's boat. you looked after him then, tending to his wound and making sure that it didn't get infected, redressing it, and helping him with mundane tasks he struggled with now that his shoulder was injured. he was eerily secretive about it at first, and all you knew was the tidbits you managed to get from his coworkers — about some strange island and some sickening freaks making indebted people play children's games and then killing them for sport. you were confused, but you didn't press him until he was ready to talk to you about it.

╰┈➤ in the dark of the night, as he was leaning on the bathroom sink and you were pressing cold ice against the torn and injured flesh left by an unknown man's gun, he started talking to you about it. about following the strange man into a limousine where they doused all the passengers with some sleeping agent, about sneaking onto a ship and strangling one of the workers there, consequently tossing his body into the depths of the vast sea. as he spoke about all the death he witnessed, about the man with one kidney the workers cut up and whose organs they trafficked, about the sickening rich man who attempted to force himself onto him and about escaping the island, only to be tracked down as he attempted to send the proof he'd gathered and was met with horrendous cell signal and a masked man's gun. he didn't tell you about his brother, couldn't condemn him in such a way. that was the only part he kept to himself.

╰┈➤ your habit of staying up together in the night became more frequent than it had ever been. when he did sleep, he was always mumbling something about in-ho and the lines on his forehead and the manner in which he was squeezing his eyes made him look nearly as if he was in pain. you would coax him back from the turmoil he was re-experiencing in his sleep and into reality. neither of you went back to sleep on nights like those, and his grasp on you was so firm as if he was afraid you might disappear if he attempted to loosen it.

╰┈➤ he'd quit his job and went back to handling traffic then, and you understood he needed his time to grieve — a reprieve from death and the most distorted cases that hit the station's desk. you got married soon after, as the realisation that life was far too short to worry about semantics settled in his bones, and the fear of losing him intensified in you after what he'd gone through. you still kept the most important parts of what you'd planned out - the song for your first dance, the place where you wanted to celebrate, the people you wanted in roles of honour. it was a small and private affair, witnessed only by those the two of you felt were most deserving and close. you hoped to hold another celebration once in-ho returned, if he ever did — your husband already knew that he would not.

╰┈➤ once he starts working with gi-hun, he fills you in on what they're doing. he doesn't want you to worry, he couldn't put you through what you experienced back when you didn't know if he was dead or alive. you demand that they let you in, that they allow you to help them look for the man in the black mask. you couldn't stomach the thought of him setting off with you again, to do something so perilous and frightening. he's hesitant at first, and refuses to even consider the idea. upon realising that you don't intend to give up, and that you'll join him for it whether he likes it or not — he relents, but demands you don't put yourself in harm's way.

╰┈➤ on the night of halloween, as you all set out to find whoever is behind the black mask of the games' frontman, you head off with gi-hun. jun-ho worries about letting you go, but he still has faith in his brother not causing you any harm. he doesn't expect you to end up in the limo with gi-hun, as they take him back to the island for another week of twisted, death games.

a/n : thank you so much for reading this! if you find any inaccuracies with the show itself or with korean culture, please go out of your way to let me know how I may improve upon them and fix my mistakes 🙏🙏 I'm grateful to you for taking the time to read this fic, this is actually the first time I managed to finish a fic in a day (as opposed to my regular routine of taking a whole week to wrap up one set of headcanons). as always, I'm tagging other characters to increase my outreach, but the characters I'm tagging are only the ones I also write for — in case you want to request anything for them.

[megalony]

Merciless Wrath

This is a new Emperor Geta imagine requested by anon, thank you all for the lovely feedback on my Gladiator fics so far. I hope you will all like it.

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Main Masterlist

Summary: Geta loves how timid his wife is when it comes to watching the Gladiators. But Hell rises when one of the fighters decides to shoot an arrow and hits the Empress.

Enjoy.

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If there was one thing Geta knew would get the people's spirits up and gain both Emperors some favour with their people, it was his wife.

The people's Empress.

Geta had never seen the people rejoice so much as when he married (Y/n). The people loved her; they admired her and her calm nature and philisophic words and how she could settle any argument and bring a sense of calm to Rome.

Which was one of the reasons he had asked her to come to the colosseum today. The people were rejoicing, Rome had expanded her victories and gained another country to govern and rule over. This was a week of victory games of all makes and sizes and extravagance and Geta knew the people would be even more hyped and excited if their Empress showed up.

It hadn't taken much for Geta to convince (Y/n) to come to the games. He knew fighting wasn't something (Y/n) enjoyed to watch. Seeing blood spill over the sand and limbs being torn and discarded. Guts being exposed and spilled onto the floor, screams of anguish and the stench of death. It was all overwhelming and disgruntling for (Y/n) to witness.

She didn't see the pleasurable side of watching men fight to the death and maim and torture one another. She didn't feel that pleasurable ecstasy that her husband and brother in law did when they watched the games.

But (Y/n) didn't want to oppose her husband. He had asked her so sweetly if she would attend the games and be there by his side. How could (Y/n) refuse? When Rome had just expanded her victories and both Emperors were celebrating and being praised, it was (Y/n)'s place to be here beside them. She couldn't stay back in the palace and miss out on the games when she should be showing her support and appreciation.

Which was why she was now stood in the viewing box in the colosseum, her hand entwined with Geta's and her cheek resting comfortably on his shoulder while she tucked herself close into his side. Her right hand curled around his exposed arm and she leant into his side as they overlooked the arena.

She couldn't help the smile that pulled at her lips when she glanced up at her husband. The smile he wore was somewhat wicked but devilishly so and it made his eyes narrow and crease as he looked onto their subjects. His lips were painted a pale shade of red and his features were the colour of milk with dark circles drawn around his eyes like a lunar eclipse.

His golden hair was neatly framed around his forehead and ears and the glittering crown he always wore was nestled neatly into his hair, making him every inch a God amongst humans.

(Y/n) liked the way Geta's rings flashed in the bright sunlight when he waved to the people, and the cuff on his left wrist which shone and sparkled like a twinkling star in the middle of the day.

Once the cheering of the crowds simmered down, they each took a step back towards the chairs set out for them. As always, (Y/n) took the centre chair so she was in between both Emperors.

It was so eerily strange to see the way Geta would sit straight with his chin pointed out and a stoic expression. Whereas when (Y/n) looked to her right at Caracalla, he sat like a child. One leg crossed over the other, slouched down in his seat with that sweet smile and his hands tapping away on the arm rests or clapping, depending on how exciteable he was.

Once she was sat down, (Y/n) leaned towards the left so she was nearer to Geta. She liked how, without taking his eyes off the colosseum, he slid his right hand towards her until his fingers curled around her own. He began to glide his thumb along the side of her hand and he squeezed every now and then while his other hand began to run along his chin and down the side of his neck.

"Okay?" He muttered and cast his eyes to the right to look over at (Y/n). Her smile dazzled him and he loved the feeling of her other hand moving so her fingers could trail up and down his arm that she was leaning against.

"Hm." She nodded and leant over to peck his cheek, an action that caused blood to rush to the surface beneath his painted skin.

(Y/n) wasn't going to be watching the games today. She would sit here and show support, but she would only be glancing down at the scene every now and then. She didn't mind seeing the start, the men gearing up to attack and the beginning of them toying and playing the part. But once the blood splattered and wounds were inflicted, (Y/n) would be looking away.

"Did I tell you that you look beautiful today?" Those words, whispered against the side of (Y/n)'s temple took her by surprise.

She could feel her heart igniting in her chest, especially when Geta kissed her temple and nudged his nose against her skin before he leaned back in his chair again.

She turned to face him, noticing that his gaze was trained dead ahead as the first gladiators were being announced, but he spared her a glance when he felt her staring. And the sight of her smiling bashfully made Geta's lips quirk up to one side.

"You might have mentioned it once or twice." (Y/n) was sure he had told her at least four times already, but each time he did he made her heart fluctuate and had adrenaline swarming through her system.

When the first game began, (Y/n) tried to watch. She clenched her hand around Geta's and sat forward in her seat to try and see properly. She may as well show an interest until the wounds started to become inflicted and she would have to look away.

It was soothing to feel Geta's hand periodically squeezing hers and how his fingers would dance and tap against her skin like he had far too much energy or as if he wanted to join in the games. That would be too dangerous, of course, but (Y/n) had seen Geta when he trained. He was a vision with a sword and even more so with that devilish smile and his opponent on their knees begging for their life.

It didn't take long for the blood to be shed.

A few minutes, if that, of prancing around the arena, taking little jibes and swipes at each other. That all came to an end when the shorter fighter made a move and sliced a cut against his opponent's arm.

(Y/n) was okay for the first minute or two, being in this viewing box game the perfect angle and view of all the colosseum, but it did have the advantage of being high up and far off. She didn't have to see the wounds up close or see the damage clearly.

But being up here did mean that when one man struck his sword right through the other's abdomen, (Y/n) saw the blade come out flush the other side of the man's back.

Her stomach churned and she did her best to steel her expression while she turned to look at Geta instead.

He was used to it by now. In fact, Geta loved that whenever they witnessed the games, he would always find his wife staring at him. It was enticing and invigorating to watch the games knowing that his wife had decided to study his features instead.

He would often turn and see her smiling at him or find a lost, dazed look in her eyes. Sometimes he felt (Y/n) lean her chin on his shoulder and she would begin to trace the scars, marks and freckles on his skin. She would draw patterns across his skin and leave little kisses here and there and simply get lost looking at him until the games came to an end.

(Y/n) shuddered a little when Caracalla's excited chanting of "Kill him!" broke through the air, but she managed a smile and kept her eyes on Geta. Who leaned forward to watch the gladiator's demise.

(Y/n) kept drifting her eyes around the arena and then looking back to her husband as the next game began.

These two opponents were more rugged and ruthless than the last. They began by roaring and baring their sharpened, blackened teeth and they wasted no time in using the instruments they had been given to beat one another.

She found it interesting how easily these men were willing to fight, knowing they had a high chance of death. Their morals were very disgruntled, in (Y/n)'s opinion.

She turned her head at the wrong moment.

Her eyes cast down to the arena at the precise moment one man sliced his sword through the other's arm. His hand and wrist fell to the floor in one swift movement and a large splurt of blood began to paint the sand.

A gasp broke past (Y/n)'s lips and she quickly spun to the left as a tremor rattled through her. Both hands surged up to deadlock in Geta's robes and she buried her face into his chest, not caring how childish it made her look or who saw her.

A crooked grin spread across Geta's lips and he took the time to look down at his cherished wife before he looked back at the arena. He slouched back in his chair just a little and moved his right hand until his hand was cupping the back of (Y/n)'s neck and he could weave his fingers into her tendrils of hair. His touch was light and soft and he tilted his head down to peck the top of her head while his other hand began to glide up and down her arm.

It pleased him how she stuck to him and burrowed into him when she didn't want to witness the massacre. It made him feel loved and protective over her, how she sought comfort in him like this.

His fingers continued to stroke through her hair and his thumb brushed the back of her neck. His other hand remained on her arm, drawing patterns and creating a distraction for her to focus on while his sights remained on the game.

Although Geta's eyes did glance down towards his wife when he felt her move. She finally pulled her face up from where she was burrowed into his chest so she could stare up at him with her chin pressing lightly against his sternum. His hand remained still at the back of her neck and he inclined his head to the side, silently urging her to speak.

"I- I'm sorry, I can't watch-"

"Don't apologise for not having a violent heart. It's endearing." Each word was murmured against her temple and it caused (Y/n)'s stomach to jump with delight.

He found her lack of violence endearing. He loved how she shied away into him and couldn't bear to watch the torment and slaughter. He loved how compassionate his wife was and how she was being herself so freely before him and their people.

Once the fight finally ended and what was left of both men were dragged from the arena, (Y/n) pushed up from Geta's chest, but she stayed close to his side. She sat with one leg crossed over the other and her body leaning to the left so she was able to move both hands and curl them around Geta's arm.

Her eyes flitted about the arena and the colosseum, taking in the sights of the people cheering, leering and sitting forward in their seats to witness the next game with vigor.

Her fingers began to tap and parade across Geta's arm in an attempt to keep her mind off the next fight happening down in the arena. Every now and then, (Y/n) snook a glance at the fighters. There were more of them this time. Six gladiators, all with different weapons.

They were spaced around the arena, clearly trying to perform a longer fight to gain more attention from the crowds and create a more sumptous fight.

Some had shields, a few had swords or small thin blades. And one had a bow and arrow. That seemed unfair. Such a unique instrument needed distance to be used, but if the other gladiators got too close, it wouldn't be easy to hit them with an arrow. The instrument would have to be used like a spear instead and impaled by hand to make a difference.

This game seemed to be fuelled by chaos. (Y/n) pulled away from Geta a little so she could look down on the gladiators. They were moving too fast to keep an eye on who was who and which one had which weapon.

Blood painted the sand but the wounds were inflicted too fast for anyone to see who had been hit and where.

There seemed to be confusion around the colosseum, but (Y/n) couldn't make head nor tail of anything that was happening. She could hear Caracalla's fingers drumming away on the wooden arm rests of his chair, clearly becoming impatient and possibly a little riled up. And she knew Geta was sat up straight once again with his head tilted forward so he could try and decipher the game and who the victor might be.

Raised voices started to brood within the arena, but (Y/n) couldn't work out why, and she wasn't so sure anyone else in the colosseum understood either. No one knew why people were shouting from within the tunnels and windows within the base of the arena. No one knew why people were trying to open the gates when only one gladiator had fallen so far.

But then it happened.

An arrow, shot from one gladiator in the arena which wasn't aimed at any of his opponents.

The glimmering silver arrowhead pierced the sky like a bolt of lightning but it was so fast no one really saw it move. They only heard the wind breaking apart as the arrow broke through the amosphere.

(Y/n) had no time to move or gasp or even see what was happening before it was too late. The arrow hit her. The sharpened metal arrowhead pierced through her skin and hit her with such force that her body shifted and her back slammed back into the chair.

Her head slammed back into the wooden chair with enough force to cause her vision to blackout. Her body trembled but somehow stayed rigid in place and her heels slammed down into the floor as if to steady herself.

She screamed. A horrible, deafening sound that cut Geta right to the core as if the arrow had impaled him instead.

Geta twisted to the right, both hands grappling with the arm rest as he leaned over his chair to look at his wife. It was hard to keep his eyes on (Y/n) when he could hear everything else going on around them and he was desperate to look around the colosseum. He wanted to see the gladiators, to work out which one had stepped so far out of line that they were already dead. He wanted to see if people were trying to move and get closer or if they were trying to evacuate the colosseum.

But when he forced his darkened eyes to look at his wife, all the air seemed to block Geta's throat and his chest convulsed as his nose crinkled in unbridled horror.

Someone had shot his wife. An arrow had been aimed at them, right at the viewing box where no one was supposed to be able to reach or harm them from up here. An arrow had been aimed with such precision that it had pierced (Y/n)'s skin rather than simply passing her by or hitting the chair or the glasses of wine beside them.

Had they been aiming for (Y/n), or simply trying to hit anyone in the viewing box? It didn't really matter. Whoever shot this arrow had sealed their own fate. Geta would take heads for this.

He could hear Caracalla screaming and it only enraged him further. He didn't need people screaming, he needed them to help.

(Y/n) emmitted another scream before Geta even dared to reach his hand closer to the wound. Her body began to tremble but all Geta could do was stare at the arrow impaled in her skin.

It had gone completely through and come out the other side and the end of the arrow was imbedded in the wooden chair. She was pinned; skewered like a piece of butchered meat. It was two inches below her shoulder, just above her collar bone.

The sight of the blood was what made Geta's stomach churn. Blood and guts never bothered him, it was a sight he somewhat craved to see. But never like this. A droplet of his wife's blood being spilled in such a manner made him feel sickened. It was abhorant.

When (Y/n) screamed again and her body broke out in trembles, Geta scrambled out of his seat and moved so he was hovering in front of her. Slightly hunkered down until their knees were touching and he was all that she could see. Becoming a protective shield in front of her, just in case any more arrows or weapons were shot their way.

"G-Geta… oow…" A broken whine left (Y/n)'s wet lips as she looked from her husband to the arrow imbedded in her skin.

It hurt. It hurt so much. All the blood pumping around her body seemed to be circulating to her shoulder and no where else. All she could feel was the trickling of blood slithering down her chest and the agony that was throbbing in her shoulder and throughout her chest.

She couldn't stop the shaking that was making her rattle back and forth against the chair.

Had this ever happened to anyone before? Had any other Empress or Emperor been subjected to such cruelty whilst watching the games like this? She was supposed to be safe up here, protected. The gladiators shouldn't be aiming up here, they knew better, they knew they would be tortured for even attempting this. Let alone managing to wound anyone of royal blood like this.

"Okay, okay stay still. Shh, love."

Geta reached a tense, cold hand up so he could cup the side of (Y/n)'s face that was stained with tears and becoming flushed and glistening with sweat with each passing second.

His other hand gripped her right arm with fever and he tried to look at the wound.

What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to help her? He had no knowledge of this. Geta was trained and brought up on how to rule and govern his people, not on how to treat fatal wounds such as this.

"Get a healer!" Geta's voice boomed and echoed off the stone walls and his face started to turn scarlet, rising through the painted white make up that became almost non-existent compared to the amount of blood rushing to the surface.

His lips began to blush and his teeth sank down into his lower lip until blood was sticking to his teeth and welling up over his lips.

He was glad when everyone in the viewing box began to dissipate. Caracalla was guided out with Acacius and his wife while the two Senates at the back of the box left almost immediately, trying to push their way out first as if they feared a stray arrow aiming for them.

Only two guards remained in the box and Geta found the urge to dismiss them. They had been rendered useless. They hadn't helped stop the gladiator from causing this or stopping the arrow from hitting the Empress. They couldn't do much help now.

Another wave of tears poured down (Y/n)'s face and she tried to lean her cheek into Geta's palm, but she couldn't focus on anything but the pain. Her vision was starting to blurr before her and she could scarcely make out the golden hues of Geta's hair and robes. He was starting to look like a mirage in before her.

Geta scanned his eyes around the box, looking in vain to find something useful but he wasn't even sure what he was searching for.

How could he help her? What could he do? What was here that he could use to his advantage to make this better until the healer arrived?

There was a cloth resting on the table beneath a bowl of dried fruits and a pitcher of wine. With one swift pull, Geta tore the cloth from beneath the bowls and pushed up higher so he was level with the wound that was making him sick to his stomach.

"Okay, sweetheart I need to stop the bleeding."

(Y/n) seemed to both understand and confuse what Geta was saying at the same time. For when he scrunched up the cloth and pressed it down around the arrow, her mind seemed to short-circuit. Her body writhed as much as she could with her upper half pinned to the chair and her body turning on fire with each passing second.

A dribble of blood trickled past her lips when Geta pressed down hard on the wound and something feeble and croaky whined at the back of her throat. Both her hands moved to grip Geta's wrist and she tried in vain to push him back, to get him to relent because the feeling was agony. The pressure was too much, it felt like he was forcing the arrow further into the wound.

She didn't care if she bled out, she just needed everything to stop.

Her nails scratched into his wrist and she tried to push forward until the searing pain caused a white noise to blister in her ears.

"Shh, shh I'm sorry. I'm sorry I have to." The last thing Geta wanted was to hurt her, but he couldn't just sit here and let her bleed out.

He could feel tears welling in his eyes as he moved his right hand to press down on (Y/n)'s good shoulder while his other hand tried to keep the cloth pressed around the arrow that was making him feel infuriated with each passing second.

The cloth was turning red. The same shade as the silk woven into his robes. What was once crystal white was now splotched red and soon the entire cloth would be one big mess or crimson. It was a sight that churned Geta's stomach.

The harder he pressed, the more blood he could feel coating his fingers and becoming stuck beneath his nails like tar. And the more blood that coated his hand, the worse Geta began to feel.

He was going to lose her.

He was going to lose the most important person in his life simply because he didn't know what to do and someone had decided to hurt her. She didn't deserve this. That arrow should have been impaled into Geta, not her. Not his Empress.

When the word "Hurts," spluttered past (Y/n)'s lips, a choked sound emmitted from Geta in response. He could feel his heartbeat throbbing beneath his skin as he moved his hand back up to cradle the side of her face now that she wasn't thrashing or moving in her chair.

Instead, (Y/n)'s right hand was shakily clasped around Geta's wrist and her other hand was now gripping his other elbow. Her feet were scraping into the stone floor to try and steady herself while her back merged up against the back of the chair. Her chin tilted down as blood and saliva froffed past her lips and tears drenched her face.

Each breath she took made a horrible gasping, wheezing sound and her chest rose and fell so shallow Geta barely noticed the movements.

"Where's the healer?!" His voice raged out as his head snapped to look behind the chair his wife was now pinned against so he could see the two useless guards.

Why wasn't a healer here already? Why wasn't his wife already being seen to? What were they even doing?

"Emperor we- we don't have those kind of healers here in the colosseum."

The only healers they had at the colosseum were the basic ones. It wasn't in their interests to try and save every gladiator that got mortally wounded here in the colosseum. They patched up those who were fit to fight another day and they sent those who weren't down to the cells to live out their last hours.

The kind of healer the Emperor needed was one that would usually be on standby at the palace for the Royals or those who had enough money to pay for that kind of healing. Healers like that didn't wait around the colosseum, no one here had the means to pay for them.

"Then get one!"

They needed to speed up. They needed to get that healer now or heads were going to roll down the steps of the palace if the Empress wasn't saved. Geta would burn down all of Rome if his wife wasn't healed in time. Either they saved her or many of Rome would lose their lives.

When (Y/n)'s hand tightened around Geta's wrist, he looked back up at her with furrowed brows. He was met with frightened, watering eyes that made his stomach clench and had his chest tightening and wavering.

A bubbling cry left (Y/n)'s lips as she tried to tilt her head forward more towards Geta. Her fingers were leaving bruises on his wrist, but he didn't relent from the pressure he was applying to her wound. He couldn't. He wouldn't let her bleed out here and now. Not like this.

Pushing forward, he moved his hand round to cup the back of her neck and he attached his lips to her temple as he tried to think. He hushed each breath against her flushed temple, trying in vain to calm her down just a little while a thought came to his mind.

He tightened his hand around the back of (Y/n)'s neck and gently inched her head forward until her temple was pressing into his shoulder. It allowed him to look over her back and see the back of the wound. Blood was already soaked into the back of her dress and leaving a trail down her waist.

He couldn't let her bleed out in this chair.

He finally released the pressure from her wound so he could hold his hand out at his side and click his fingers towards one of the guards.

"Knife, now."

When one of them handed him the thin knife that had been resting by the fruit bowl, Geta moved it down towards the arrow.

He heard (Y/n) mutter his name in confusion, each strangled breath fanning against his shoulder so he could feel her hot breath on his skin. Her lips were burrowed against his shoulder, dampening down her cries as she was too distressed and dazed to try and lift her head to find out what her husband was trying to do.

A howl left (Y/n)'s lips and her body began to tremble and writhe when she felt the arrow move. It was only a small jolt up and down but it was enough to set fire to her nerves that felt like they were shrivelling up into nothing.

But she was surprised when she flopped against Geta and felt no resistance. Her body wasn't being pinned back anymore. When she leant forward, her body followed her head and she fell into Geta's chest with a thud and her left arm weakly curved around the back of his neck. While her other arm stayed pinned between their chests, too agonised to lift the limb very far.

Geta cut the end of the arrow. He couldn't care less about the arrowhead that was still imbedded in the chair. He just had to free his wife so he could remove her from here and find a healer.

He had to move her now.

"Find me that healer." His words were dangerous and one guard automatically bolted to try and source out any kind of healer. One had been sent for, but there was no telling where said healer was or how long it would take for them to get here.

Geta's attention moved back down to (Y/n) as he cocooned his left arm around her waist and his right arm pinned over the back of her thighs. He slid her off the chair until she was leant into his chest and slumped over his lap, allowing him to pick her up bridal style.

He had done this a few times, but never like this. Never when his wife was on the brink of death.

Her face burrowed into his shoulder, but she could still see the arrow sticking out of the cloth that had been wrapped around the wound to try and stem the bleeding. She could see the shaved feathers on the end of the wood to help it soar through the air like a message from the Gods.

Had she done something to offend them? Was this some kind of punishment? Was (Y/n) truly going to die from this affliction?

If that were so, then (Y/n) wanted to stay in Geta's arms. She wanted to stay in his embrace if she was dying. She wanted to die with him as close as possible, guiding her into the next life.

That thought had tears trickling down her features and soaking into Geta's robes and the moment he felt her tears, his brows furrowed and he glanced down at her. She didn't need to be crying. She shouldn't be afraid, he was going to get her help. He was going to make sure that she was okay. He had to.

He did his best not to move (Y/n) too much as he stormed out into the corridor and followed the guards urging him their way. Hopefully they had a healer nearby or some destination in mind that would help.

It was hard to control himself, to not start screaming in torture and to stop from digging his hands into (Y/n)'s flesh and leaving marks and bruises in his wake. He didn't want to hurt her. That was the last thing on his mind, but he felt like if he didn't hold her tight enough, then she might slip away from him forever.

When he turned a sharp corner, he let his gaze fall down to his wife when he realised she wasn't crying or sniffling into his shoulder anymore.

"Hey, hey you keep those eyes on me. You hear me?" There was something authoritiative in his voice that sent shivers coursing through what was left of (Y/n)'s nerves. It made her do her best to blink and try to look up at him, but it was hard.

Her left arm that was loosely draped around the back of his neck twitched and her fingers tried to move and brush against the back of his neck.

Geta began to shake his head from left to right when he realised where the guards were taking him.

They were guiding him out of the colosseum. There was no healer nearby. They would be trying to usher him back to the palace. If that was their plan they'd better move at lightning speed because Geta was willing to kill everyone who failed to help save his wife, no matter how little their roles were in this trifling day.

"(Y/n)!" He seethed through gritted teeth the moment he stepped out the doors and was faced with a carriage waiting to take them back to the palace which was thankfully nearby. "Sweetheart, please, please stay awake."

Tears glistened in his eyes and he almost screamed when one of the guards tried to help him. He didn't want help carrying his wife, he wanted help finding a healer and arranging help.

He eased down into the carriage with (Y/n) laid across his lap, her cheek still resting on his shoulder and his arms encased around her body to hold her close. He didn't want to let her go. Not for a moment.

"Hold on for me, hm? I love you." His words were hushed against her temple as he began swaying them both from left to right.

And he tried to make sure she was stable with his left am propping her up against him so that his right hand could try and apply pressure to the wound once again. He hated the little mewl that it caused her to emmit but at least the pain was keeping her somewhat conscious and alert with him. His lips attached to her burning temple and he tried to close his eyes.

But all Geta saw when he closed his eyes was the vision of blood. He could see the blood painting her golden dress that she only wore to match him and show her support of her Emperors and of Rome. The beautiful golden thread and silk were tainted with so much blood that it looked positively black.

As insisted and expected, it didn't take long to get back to the palace which was only a short trip away. Any longer and (Y/n) might not have made the journey back.

The moment the coach pulled up and the door opened, Geta clambered down with his wife still tucked up in his arms.

The words "I love you," were whispered against the top of her head over and over as at least six guards surrounded him to provide assistance and guidance as they stormed into the palace.

It surprised Geta to find Caracalla and General Acacius already here in the palace, but then again, they had been ushered out first. And they looked so fragile and out of breath that they couldn't have been here very long. A few minutes at most.

"This way, Emperor."

Geta's steely eyes tore away from them both and he looked ahead to where the guards were guiding him.

Each step felt like a step closer to Hell. He felt like he was guiding his wife personally to her demise. All he wanted to do was save her but Geta wasn't so sure anymore that it was possible.

Tears streamed down his face, slithering and melting into the make up that was starting to fade and run down towards his neck. Allowing streaks of bright pink and red to light up his features like scratches where the blood was rising to the surface.

He followed the guards down another corridor, sure that he could hear his twin somewhere close behind them. Geta's sandals echoed and stomped against the marble floor that was littered with droplets of blood like breadcrumbs to find their way back to the carriage.

But just as he neared the room all the guards seemed to be surrounding, Geta's steps faltered and his eyes snapped down to look at his wife.

Her cheek was still pressed against his shoulder, but her eyes had rolled to the back of her head.

And he couldn't feel her breaths on his skin anymore.

His rabid eyes scanned across her face and chest a million times, but she wasn't breathing. He was sure of it.

"No, no don't do this to me!"

A rendition of "You can't do this!" And "You're not allowed to leave me!" Roared past Geta's lips as he stormed towards the room that felt like his last beacon of hope. His last glimpse at salvation before he lost himself into oblivion.

His body was shaking, seething with anger, betrayal, panic and absolute desperation as he barrelled into the drawing room and collapsed down on his knees on the floor. He laid (Y/n) over his lap, refusing to move his arms from around her. He couldn't let them take her in case he never got her back again.

"She isn't breathing- do something!"

Everyone in the room flinched at his tone and his barbaric expression which told them that if the Empress didn't live, then none of them were going to leave this room. Their only chance at salvation was to save (Y/n).

Guards posted either side of the door which slammed closed right after Caracalla and General Acacius hurried inside.

Two healers were stood at the far table, concoctions and remedies laid out before them that they were trying to perfect with trembling hands. And Caracalla moved so he was stood close enough to his twin that his presence was felt, but not close enough to reach out. He didn't know what to do. One arm bound around his waist and the other pinned his hand against his mouth so he could bite down on his thumb anxiously.

A third healer knelt down in front of Geta who he looked to for permission before he dared to reach out and touch the Empress.

He seemed to agree that she wasn't breathing- as if Geta was stupid enough to mistake something like that.

There was no time for Geta to question or ask what was on the rag that the healer was now pressing over (Y/n)'s mouth and nose. Or the tonic he dripped into her mouth and the salts he wafted beneath her nose. The utter concoction seemed to do the trick in shocking (Y/n)'s system as a strangled, desperate breath caused her chest to inflate and her head pressed back against Geta's shoulder suddenly.

With his hand cradling the side of her face, Geta held (Y/n) close and attached his lips desperately to the top of her head. He pressed kiss after kiss against her temple and hairline and did his best not to start rocking back and forth as that would disrupt the healer before him.

Tears streamed down his features as he tried his best to control his own breathing and settle his system. But (Y/n) was frightening him. He had never been this frightened of anyone dying before. He had been saddened when his mother passed, joyful when his father died and slightly inconvenienced when any servants passed who he was close to.

But Geta knew if he lost his twin or his wife, then his world would end too. He would burn down all of Rome and then kill himself if he lost them.

"On the sofa, if you will, sire."

Geta didn't need to be told twice. He slipped his arms back around (Y/n)'s frame properly and eased her up from his lap so she was properly in his arms once again. His lips glued against her temple and he moved to lay her down on the sofa in the corner of the room.

Once she was laid out, he moved to sit behind her and laid her head on his lap wit his hand brushing up and down her arm to try and keep her soothed and calm.

He hated each whimper and mewl that she let out when the healer touched the arrow and tried to assess the damage to know how to treat her.

"The opium; a lot of it." The healer waved his hand at one of his fellow colleagues behind him but he didn't like the look he was faced with when he glanced up at the Emperor.

"Is that wise?" Geta didn't want to contradict a healer, he truly didn't because this wasn't his forte. He wasn't sure how this could be treated or how they were going to save his wife. But he knew what opium would do. Geta knew it would render his wife unconscious in a deep sleep that would be hard to wake her from.

That wasn't the problem. The issue was that she had just stopped breathing. Giving her opium might induce that breathless state again, Geta didn't want her to be sedated and then needing to be woken up by strong substances again or by lethal forces if she stopped breathing.

"I have to remove the arrow, Emperor. The opium is necessary, I fear the pain would kill her." He hated to be so blunt, but if they didn't sedate her and she stayed conscious, the pain might be too much for (Y/n)'s heart to take.

She was already close to death as it was. Another burst of pain, another bout of bloodloss and she could die and they would have a hard time bringing her back round again.

Geta silently nodded his head and moved his hands down to rub up and down (Y/n)'s arms. He felt the way she writhed on his lap and he leaned over her so he could press his lips to her forehead.

He was sure she tried to murmur his name and he hummed against her temple, trying to keep her calm while the healer got a vile of opium ready.

"Take this, sweetheart, and you'll feel better. I'm not leaving you, I promise. I won't go anywhere."

Geta knew she hated being alone, much less being alone and in agony like this. But he wasn't going anywhere. He wasn't leaving her for one single moment until he knew that she was out of harms way and the Gods weren't going to try and claim her.

He would pray. If that's what the Gods demanded, Geta would pray right here and now. He would take pilgrimage down to the temples and pray to each and every God in Rome if they would spare his wife. Once she was better, he would pray and leave gifts and sacrifices at their temples if they would do him the honour of sparing his life and letting him life without a broken heart. He couldn't lose her.

She was Geta's heart and soul and if anything happened to her, then all of Rome would suffer under his merciless wrath.

His thumb glided across (Y/n)'s cheek while the healer held a vile of opium to her lips. Geta coaxed her to take the drug while his lips stayed against her temple and his thumb moved to brush along her lower lip that was smeared with blood as she coughed once the drug was in her system.

It didn't take long for her body to go lax and still against him and the sight was horrifying because there was on guarantee that she would wake up.

Geta didn't even know what her last words had been to him. Had it been his name? Had it been a cry of agony? Had it been her telling him how much torturous pain she was in?

The thought had him in tears once again and he brushed his arm beneath his eyes and across his face. Smearing make up across his face until streaks of white, red and black smudges were painted across his face.

Another healer came to hover by for added assistance and watched with a little too much eagerness for Geta's liking.

Geta rolled his lips together and braced himself when he watched the healer checking the arrow. He seemed to make sure the cut at the back of the arrow was clean and it was a clear cut through (Y/n)'s skin. He checked for any bone damage, none of which could be found.

He then braced one hand on (Y/n)'s right shoulder and the other gripped the end of the wooden arrow that had caused so much anguish in Rome today.

Geta couldn't help the way he grimaced and coughed in despair when the arrow was yanked free from his wife's skin with one swift tug. The healer examined the stick of wood which thankfully hadn't broken or splintered, making their work much easier. But when he went to discard it, Geta surged across and took it.

He set the arrow down behind him on the small table. Geta needed that. When the gladiator was caught who had caused this disgrace, Geta would be using that arrow on him. He would show him where it could be impaled to cause the maximum amount of pain. He would make the gladiator see his Empress's blood and see why his death would be so very painful and enduring.

"If you could, Emperor."

Those words brought Geta out of his thoughts and he frowned, unsure what he was being asked until he looked down at the healer's hands.

He nodded and helped to turn (Y/n) onto her left side so her cheek was pressing into his thigh. One hand stayed on her chest and the other held her lower back to keep her in place, allowing the healer a clear view of both sides of the wound that was now pouring blood down her dress.

A grunt of disproval left Geta's lips when the healer slid the strap of (Y/n)'s dress from her shoulder to expose the wound properly. He restrained himself from digging his fingers into her flesh again and from pushing the healer away from his wife. He didn't want anyone touching her, but he didn't seem to have a choice.

Geta was rather relieved she had been given the opium now. As much as it made him fear her eyes never opening again and her breaths ceasing to exist, they were right. It was better for her this way. Tearing the arrow from her skin would have sent her into shock.

And now, with the healer slowly stitching up the small circular wounds on her back and chest, it would have driven (Y/n) into maddening agony if she had been awake or somewhat lucid for this.

The skin was already starting to swell once the thread was binding her skin together which had gone tight like a canvas being pulled too tight over a wooden frame.

"This paste should prevent infection and quicken the healing." The thick herbal paste the healer lathered on both wounds looked sickly and gut wrenching, but Geta didn't care as long as it worked.

He watched with growing distaste as the paste was lathered onto (Y/n)'s bruised skin and a roll of bandage was carefully applied to her skin. Two thick bandages were wound over and under her armpit and across her collar bone to cover the expanse of the wound and it looked rather tight, but Geta supposed that was the point.

"When she wakes we will give her some tonic, and she shouldn't move her arm too much until the wound heals."

"You'll stay to observe her." It was more of an order than a request, but there was a sense of vulnerability in Geta's voice that caused the healer to smile softly. His Emperor looked fragile rather than frightening when he spoke just now.

"Of course, sir." None of the healers would be going anywhere until the Empress was out of danger. They would be here for the next few days, they suspected.

Geta wanted them nearby just in case anything were to go wrong or (Y/n) took a sudden turn. But he would be the one applying the paste to her wounds and changing her bandages when she needed them. He wasn't going to be leaving her sights, he would be the one caring for her. None of the maids or servants were going to get close to the Empress for the next few weeks.

The healer retreated to the corner table, busying himself with preparing some tonics and more paste for when the Empress would stir.

General Acacius took a step closer to the Emperor, his hands bound in front of him and a sense of panic on his face when he looked at Geta. The Emperor looked like he was starting to shake. He had one hand carding through his wife's hair, but his other hand was clenched into a fist which was pressed against his mouth as if to stop himself from screaming.

And when Geta's head snapped towards the general, a fiery vengeance could be seen burning within his darkened pupils.

"Find the one who did this! I want to string up the barbaric hound myself for what he's done to her!"

He wanted the gladiator responsible brought to the palace so Geta could deal with him personally. He would bleed him dry and quarter him and burn him and throw him to the dogs. Geta would do anything and everything he possibly could to inflict the worst pain onto the barbarian who thought he could get away with trying to murder the Empress.

He wasn't going to get away with this.

[friendoftashi]

more boyfriend!spencer propaganda

[dorabellingham]

Kissing in the rain

warning: none

characters: jude x reader

summary: when you're arguing and you leave him talking to himself, but he follows you

may contain spelling and translation errors!

It was a gray, rainy afternoon in Madrid. The sound of rain beating against the windows of the house was constant, almost drowning out the tense voices inside. You and Jude were standing in the living room, arguing about something trivial —this time, it was about which route to take to get to a family appointment, but it could have been about anything else. In the last few days, it seemed like everything was a source of friction between you.

—I told you, the route I chose is faster! Why do you always have to complicate things?

You exclaimed, crossing your arms and looking at Jude in frustration.

Jude, on the other hand, seemed equally impatient.

—Complicate things? I’m just trying to help, but you never listen! Every time we have to decide something, it turns into this.

—Turn into what, Jude? I’m not asking for help. I just want us to get there without fighting!

You were clearly tired of that argument, but at the same time, you couldn't stop arguing.

The rain outside was getting stronger, the sky seemed heavier and heavier, reflecting the tension. The eldest Bellingham rubbed his face with his hands, taking a step back.

—You know what? You're always cutting me off, always making it seem like I'm the problem.

You huffed and turned your back, heading towards the door. You weren't going to stand there, arguing, when all you wanted was peace.

—Cutting you off, Jude? Stay on your route. I'll go alone.

You opened the door, and the cold air of the rain entered the house, messing up your hair and making your skin shiver. You knew it was stupid, that you were going out in the middle of the rain for a silly reason, but sometimes your emotions took over everything. Without looking back, you walked out the door, leaving the boy alone.

Outside, the rain was falling hard, soaking you in seconds. You walked fast, almost running on the wet sidewalk, raindrops running down your face, mixing with the tears you wouldn't admit you were shedding. You were angry, frustrated, but most of all, tired of how things always seemed to be out of control lately.

But after a few meters, you heard his heavy footsteps behind you.

—Y/n, wait!

He shouted, running towards you, completely ignoring the fact that you were both getting wet to the bone.

You stopped, but didn't turn around immediately. You stood there, in the middle of the street, feeling the cold rain fall on your body as you waited for Jude to reach you. The sound of the drops was the only sound that filled the silence between you for a moment.

He reached you, breathing heavily, his soaked hair making heavier drops of water run down his face.

—Babe... we need to stop this. —He said, his voice hoarse, as if he was tired of fighting so much. —This... we're always arguing over nothing.

You finally turned to face him, your eyes shining with anger and sadness.

—So why don't we stop? Why does it always have to be like this?

He was silent for a moment, running his hand through his wet hair. The rain continued to fall, harder, as they stared at each other.

—Because... because I care too much.

Jude finally answered, his voice low, barely audible over the sound of the storm.

You looked at him, surprised.

—What?

—I care too much, Y/n. That's why we fight. I want everything to work out, I want us to be okay... and when we start arguing, I just lose control.

He admitted, his frustration evident in his voice.

You were quiet for a moment, absorbing his words. Maybe you had underestimated how much your boyfriend cared, how much he wanted things to work out between them. You always saw him as the calm guy, the one who kept his cool while you exploded with emotion, but maybe he was just as lost in this relationship as you were.

You were about to answer, but before you could say anything, Jude took two big steps towards you and pulled you close. Without hesitation, he kissed you with an urgency you hadn't expected, as if he was trying to end all the fights, all the frustration, in a single gesture.

The rain continued to fall around you, and you felt his body against yours, warm, even in the middle of the storm. You let yourself be carried away by the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck, feeling Jude’s large hands holding you firmly.

The world seemed to stop in that moment. The fights, the friction, the arguments —everything disappeared the instant Jude’s lips met yours. And for a moment, you realized that what you were doing now was much more important than anything you had discussed before. That was what mattered, what you had with each other, the connection that, despite all the differences, always brought you back together.

When the kiss finally ended, you were both breathless, but he still held you close, your foreheads pressed together.

—I’m sorry, babe.

He whispered, his eyes fixed on yours.

You smiled slightly, your hands still holding his face.

—I’m sorry too. —You said, your voice soft. —I think we just need to learn not to let small things become a problem.

Jude nodded, letting out a soft laugh.

—And maybe we should wait to argue until it’s not raining?

You laughed too, shaking your head.

—Yeah, that might be a good idea, honey.

You stood there for a few more seconds, just looking at each other, as the rain continued to fall around you. You knew there would still be fights, there would still be times when you would disagree, but in the end, what you had together was greater than any argument.

—Shall we go home?

Jude asked, finally pulling away a little, but still holding your hand.

You nodded, and you began walking back, hand in hand, soaked from the rain, but with lighter hearts. This might have been the stupidest fight you had ever had, but in the end, it had served to remind you both that, no matter how much you argued, you were still in love.

Heyyy! I'm sorry for the delay in bringing this one shot, it's my first time having an iphone and all this is very strange to me but soon we'll be back to normal :)) Do you have any suggestions for new themes?

[tootiecakes234]

Busy

NSFW(MDNI) ; Character Aged Up

Kinda fluffy, kinda smutty...

It was Saturday afternoon and you were on the couch all comfy. You had cleaned and cooked dinner. Now you were impatiently waiting for your boyfriend to get home.

The two of you have been dating for 2 and a half years now and living together for 6 months. You decided to take that step because you wanted more time together. Between your job and Katsuki's as a pro hero, you guys were always trying to find time for each other. Moving in had made this a lot better, but this past month has really been hell.

Kat left for a week on a mission out of the country, and a day after after he got back, you had to leave for a business trip for a few days. As soon as you thought the worst was over, there was attack after attack from the League of Villains. He was getting called in to work even on his days off.

The time apart was driving the both of you a little crazy. Your mood has been down and you haven't wanted to do much besides stay at home and sulk. You knew Katsuki was getting to a breaking point because you were hearing more complaints about him than usual.

He'd never admit it, but you are a big factor in him keeping his attitude in check. You had a very calming affect on him, so when he goes too long without real time with you, he reverts back to his asshole tendencies.

You are completely caught up in your show, when you hear the front door slam shut.

“Katsuki, why are slamming the door?” All you hear is him in the walkway tugging off his boots and grumbling to himself.

You get up and walk over to where is and all the frustration on his face starts to melt as soon as his eyes land on you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask as you walk over to him and slide your hands into his sweaty hair. “You stink ‘suki”

“Wow thanks. I just worked an 8 hour shift kicking ass all day” he rolls his eyes, “sorry hard work doesn’t smell good.

Even though you complain you don’t move away from him. You feel like you haven’t seen him more than an hour at a time recently.

“You should shower and then come out and eat. I made your favorite for dinner.”

“Yeah, I smelled it outside the door and my mouth was watering. I didn’t have time to eat lunch today.” He says a little hesitantly because you’ve chewed him out more than once over skipping meals when he puts his body through so much.

And you probably would have again, if you didn’t see the exhaustion in his face.

“Then do you wanna eat first, then shower. I don’t want you to pass out in there.”

“If you shower with me you can keep watch. Make sure I make it out alive.” He says as sweetly as he can muster right now.

And you do shower with him. You end up washing his hair for him and giving his shoulders a little massage that almost puts him to sleep standing up.

After that you get dressed and go dinner plated for the both of you. While you’re in the kitchen Katsuki hangs off of you like a backpack everywhere you go refusing to let you go.

You have 0 complaints to offer because you’re both touch starved by this point.

You end up eating thigh to thigh in the living room on the floor with some trashy show on. Katsuki inhaling his food in 3 bites and then nodding off while you attempt to finish yours as fast as you can before you completely lose him.

You get up and take the plates to the kitchen and Katsuki is standing at the bedroom door waiting on you.

“Baby, I’m not really sleepy yet. If you want to lay down, I’ll come in a little later.”

“We’re not going to sleep yet. I haven’t held you,awake anyways, or been inside you in almost 2 weeks.” He comes over and starts pulling into the bedroom. “I have a plan. First, I’m gonna make you cum… on my mouth. Then I’m gonna make both of us cum with me inside you.” By this point, you can already feel the wetness starting to pool inside your undies.

“And then, depending on how much energy I have left, I might repeat steps number one and two” this makes you giggle a little and his eyes are twinkling and mischievous. More bright and alive than you’ve seen them since he got home.

“By then, I promise, you’ll be so exhausted all you’ll wanna do is cuddle with me until we pass out.”

“You’re really cocky for someone that was just falling asleep. You probably won’t even have enough energy to complete step one”

By then he has you right on the edge of the bed. He pushes you so you fall back against the mattress with light “uumph”

You look up at him standing there all shirtless and sweatpants hanging low, and the hard outline in those sweatpants.

You think to yourself He might not have to touch to complete step one.

“Y/N the world would have to fuckin spontaneously combust to make me deviate from this plan.” He says as he crawls over you on the bed. “Now, you can either slide these fucking shorts off or I can tear them off you. Your choice.

*little did you know that Katsuki turned off both of your phones while you were in the kitchen and his work phone. He was being literal when he said nothing was getting in the way of this… not tonight. You he would MAKE time for.

Katsuki Bakugo Masterlist

*ummmm this was long but I’m trying to find my groove so…. Thanks for baring with me🤭

[frost-queen]

🅼🅸🅽🅶🅻🅴 // part 5 (Reader x Young-il / player 001)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @floatlosers, @alex–awesome–22  @merlieve, @glimmering-darling-dolly , @denkisclown, @wildiefleur , @meyocoko , @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23 , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @panhoeofmanyfandoms , @venomsvl , @the-uncoordinated-house-cat , @rosecentury , @evilcr0ne , @vviolynn , @niktwazny303 , @erikasurfer , @slythetic  , @eliscannotdance, @p0nycurtis, @anjautembear, @noiyaaa, @filmedbyharkness , @uniquecutie-puffs, @r3va-dwme, @annasnape7, @starkeyszn, @bonelessghoul, @carrotjuicepdf, @imenekiki, @gay4hotmilfs, @yummycement, @sooyasya, @nerdytif, @hollxe1, @venavanup, @love-zami, @formula1love, @coruja12345, @ingstadstarlight, @samanthadegaro, @sweetheartlizzie07, @enhasrii, @lokiscure, @esposadomd, @hanta-seros-wifey, @verouys , @p1ckld3r, @thelastemzy , @Iglily

Summary: Round and round you go. Mingling in the games to reach the doors in time with the right number. Will you make it out or will this be where you will draw your last breath? [series]

You groaned loud when the emotionless woman’s voice announced to wake up. If you ever had a gun, you would shoot the speakers down to never hear her annoying voice ever again. You waited for Jun-hee to wake up before crawling over her bed to the stairs in between the beds constructions. Jung-Bae stretched himself out with loud squeals. Dae-ho warming his arms and legs up.

From across the room, you saw the O voters getting up in a more cheerful way. Relieved to play another game for the prize money. It made you scoff their way. After last night’s vote, you had lost all hope in decency within them. They were here for one thing and one thing only. To claim that big piggy bank as there’s.

Not caring how many more people died. The more the better for them. You turned your head when the doors opened. Circle pink suits marching out. A few of them carrying tables to settle down. Breakfast. With a sigh, you followed the others down the stairs to get your food.

Shuffling in line, stomach already growling. You accepted your food and milk with a bow, stepping aside. – “Y/n wait.” – you heard, making you slow down. Hyun-ju placed a hand on your shoulder to catch up. – “Will… will you be alright for today?” – she asked. She was the only one that had seen your breakdown last night.

Having comforted you and not judged you. You hummed loud at her, following her back to the beds. – “Don’t worry about me.” – you told her. So you believed it. Last night when you were laying down in bed. You couldn’t find your sleep yet.

Mind spiralling over the fact that you had to play another game. The hope you had of ever getting to leave by the votes had faded quickly. You couldn’t simply trust the votes anymore. If you wanted to get out, you needed to survive. Survive to see your parents again.

Fight for your survival or die trying. If they wanted you to play by their games, so you would. Not letting them take you down without a fight. Hyun-ju blinked surprised back at you. Something she had not foreseen so quickly in you. She wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to her. Her chin resting on top of your head, squeezing her eyes shut with a comforting tug at your body.

She let go of you, joining the others. – “Jun-hee.” – Young-il said, holding his milk out to her. She stared blankly back at him. – “Take it.” – he gestured the milk demandingly at her to take. – “Thank you.” – Jun-hee said softly with a bow of her head. Young-il looked up when you had arrived. Moving aside to make room for you. Leaning into Gi-hun.

“What are you doing?” – Gi-hun asked confused as to why Young-il was leaning in so closely to him. Young-il ignored him, gesturing with his hand for you to sit. You stepped over a sitting Dae-ho to join Young-il. He removed himself from Gi-hun, shuffling closer to you.

You smiled shyly back at him. Young-il curling up a smile as well. Once he noticed how hard he was smiling, he dropped it. Clearing his throat and turn slightly away from you. Noticing Gi-hun was still staring confused at him. Young-il slightly shook his head for him to drop it. – “If we stay together, I’m sure we can…” – Jung-bae started. – “stay alive?” – you filled in, silencing the group.

Everyone swallowing nervously. Gi-hun began to speak to change the vibe settling between the group. – “Y/n.” – Young-il said leaning in closer to you. His head nearly touching yours as his hand found a way on your knee. – “Stay close and I’ll protect you.” – he said staring back at you. His gaze drifting down to your lips where they remained.

You stared down at his hand on your knee. Young-il flashed his gaze back up to your eyes, seeing they were focused on something else than him. – “Ah…” – he said on a long tone, slowly lifting his hand up from your knee. – “Sorry.” – he bowed his head to apologize.

Finishing up breakfast all of you retreated to the restrooms before the next game. You splashed some water in your face to shake yourself awake. Grabbing the sink with both hands, looking back at your own reflection. – “One more game.” – you whispered. Leaving the restroom with Jun-hee to join the others. The pink suits already stationed up front.

Forming a line, you all followed them. Met up with the classical music that led you to a presuming death. Each step felt heavier. Like reaching a top that made it harder for you to breath. Hyun-ju was walking behind you. You reached your hand out to her behind you. She took it firmly, needing a little comfort for herself. Higher and higher you went as the endless maze of stairs led you to another room.

Curtains opening as the first line of triangle pink suits walked in. – “Welcome to your third game.” – the emotionless woman said over the intercom. The pink suits parting ways to reveal more of the room. You gasped loud seeing the giant spinning platform. Carrousel horses stationed on a pedestal. – “The game you will be playing is Mingle.” – she explained over the speakers.

Swallowing nervously as you entered more. Seeing the circular room with colourful doors all around. Each having a number above them. – “Hey, we’ll be mingling together!” – you heard Thanos’s voice not far from you. Watching him jump happily up and down. – “Doesn’t that sound like so much fun.” – he added, being the only one this cheerful.

“You must form groups in that number, go into the rooms within 30 seconds.” – She continued to introduce over the speaker. All of you gathered near the spinning platform to strategize. Gi-hun looked concerned around him. – “If the number is higher than six, we’ll get the additional people we need.” – he spoke.

Dae-ho came leaning in closer with concern. – “What… what if the number is lower than six?” – he asked. Making Jun-hee and you look at each other with slight shock. – “We’ll figure it out as we go.” - Hyun-ju pitched in. Dae-ho moved his hand forwards. Jung-bae and Jun-hee joining in.

You took a deep breath, letting your hand join on theirs. Young-il’s warm hand going over yours. Gi-hun stared down at the joined hands, not sure about this round. It would take a lot for him to make sure everyone is save. With a deep exhale, he placed his hand with it. Parting ways to get onto the spinning platform.

“Let the games begin.” – the voice announced. Music blasted out of the speakers as the platform got in motion. The first movement nearly knocking you out of balance as it came so sudden. Gi-hun had grabbed you by your shoulder, allowing you to find sturdy ground first.

The platform slowly spinning as the music continued. Then the lights blacked out, making you gasp loud. – “Don’t be scared.” – you heard a voice say. Trying to steady your breathing, you held your hands together. The lights flashed on once more. Dunggeulge dunggeulge. Dunggeulge dunggeulge. You felt a shivering hand slip in yours. Looking over your shoulder to see it was Jun-hee.

Trembling to the bone. Binggeulbinggeul doragamyeo chumeul chupsida. The children’s song playing in the backround. Sonppyeogeul chimyeonseo, noraereul bureumyeo. Knowing it would soon come to an end and you would need to run for your lives. Looking around the platform, you saw Dae-ho standing not far from you. Seeing him focus hard.

Ready himself for when he needed to run. Rallallalla jeulgeoupge chumchuja. Gi-hun and Jung-Bae standing just in front of you. Ringgaringgaringga ringgaringgaring. Ringgaringgaringga ringgaringgaring. The sweet melody echoed through the room. If you might not be in this dangerous situation, you would’ve actually paid attention to the childhood memories tugging at your heartstrings.

Sone soneul japgo modu da hamkke. Jeulgeoupge ttwieo bopsida. The song ended as the platform came to a sudden stop. Making Jun-hee bump against you. – “Ten.” – The first number got announced. The timer counting down the moment she had announced the number. You grabbed Jun-hee’s hand firm as the lights had dimmed once more. Gi-hun and Jung-Bae overlooking everything.

“We need a few more!” – Gi-hun shouted loud. – “We have to hurry!” – Young-il said, coming closer. – “There’s no time, Gi-hun!” – he let out, tugging firm at his arm. Gi-hun nodded starting to run with the people he knew and those he knew barely that joined him. All of you got off the platform, running for a door. Holding on tight to Jun-hee’s hand, you practically squeezed it to death.

“Hurry!” – Jung-Bae shouted. – “Room 44, mom!” – Yong-sik called out, holding his mother’s hand firm. The lights flickered above your head. Panting loud as you followed the others to room 44. Feeling suddenly a hard tug on your hand, followed by a scream. Stopping you looked back at a man trying to take Jun-hee from you. – “Ya!” – you screamed out, kicking your foot at him. Punching your fist at him to let go of her arm. Jun-hee panting in fear.

“Y/n!” – Dae-ho’s voice came through. Having run back to punch the guy square in the face. He let go of Jun-hee as she nearly knocked you over. – “Hurry!” – Gi-hun shouted loud, watching the timer. Ten seconds. Dae-ho grabbed both you and Jun-hee’s shoulder, shoving you forwards. Hurrying over to room 44 as he pushed you inside.

You stumbled inside, tripping over your own feet. You yelped loud, thinking you would fall flat forwards if it weren’t for those sturdy arms to catch you. Shuddering out a breath, you looked up to Young-il. – “Are you alright?” – he asked with a deep stare. You could only hum, not able to utter out a word. The timer beeped, locking the door automatically.

Young-il helped you stand up straight. Gi-hun moving Jung-bae aside to look through the small gap in the door. Gun shots firing through the room as it made you cover up your ears. Knowing those who didn’t make it got slaughtered. Gi-hun lowered his head, knowing those people couldn’t be saved.

More pink suits entered to collect the dead. Bringing in black caskets with a pink ribbon. They cleared out the room as the doors unlocked once more. All of you stepping out carefully. The floors now smeared with blood. Young-il who was walking in front of you, gestured at a pool of blood, letting you know to be careful. You stepped over it, making sure you wouldn’t slip over the blood.

Returning to the spinning platform. Once again the song began, setting the platform in motion. Dunggeulge dunggeulge, dunggeulge dunggeulge. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Thanos and Nam-Gyu. Arms locked as they danced. It made you scoff at how unserious they were taking this. Ringgaringgaringga ringgaringgaring. Ringgaringgaringga ringgaringgaring. Dunggeulge dunggeulge.

The platform stopping all the sudden. Nearly knocking half of your friends off balance. – “Four.” – got called out over the speakers. You gasped, looking in shock back at your friends. What were you going to do now. The timer already counting down. – “You four go!” – Gi-hun called out, gesturing at you, Jung-bae, Dae-ho and Young-il.

“Wait!” – Young-il called out. – “No, you go!” – he let out, gesturing for you to get a move on. – “You guys, leave.” -  He took his leave, shouting that he needed three more people. – “Young-il!” – you screamed out, not wanting him to part. Gi-hun wrapped his arms around you, pulling you off the platform.

“Let’s go!” – he panted out. You needed to accept it and hope that he would be save. Turning around to run with Gi-hun to a room. The four of you entered. Fourteen seconds on the clock. Gi-hun staid by the door, looking outside to see people fight for their lives to find people to join. The timer beeped, locking the door once more.

Gi-hun exhaled loud as you sank to the floor. – “Y/n!” – Jung-bae called out in concern. – “Are… are you alright…” – he asked coming to kneel beside you. You blinked rapidly to keep your tears at bay. Suddenly not so sure anymore that everyone would make it out alive. Gi-hun moved closer to you, placing a hand on your knee.

“It will be alright Y/n. They will be okay.” – he reassured you. – “I know, I know.” – you breathed out, recollecting yourself. You had told yourself you wouldn’t be weak anymore, yet it was so hard for you to obtain that image. The doors opened once more as you all carefully stepped out. Your gaze settling on the number of players. 168. You desperately looked around for the others. Specially Young-il.

You knew he could handle himself, still you couldn’t help but worry. – “Y/n!” – you heard loud, making you look back. – “Brother Young-il!” – Jung-bae shouted loud as he came running over. Jung-bae ran up to him, throwing his arms around him. Young-il smiled, gently removing his hands from around him.

Young-il came closer, still with a smile on his lips. – “I knew it. You’re not just anybody.” – Jung-bae spoke praising Young-il. – “Ya! Mi-Chin-Nom!” – you called out, shoving Dae-ho aside to reach Young-il. Young-il got startled by your loud voice, eyes briefly widening as you came slapping his shoulder.

“Michossoyo? For leaving like that. For making me fear the worst!” – you shouted loud stopping your punching as you barely had any strength left. Panting loud.- “Mianhae.” – Young-il answered swallowing hard. You crossed your arms, not wanting to look at him. He had made you fear the worst. Young-il lowered his head a bit, reaching out to you to turn you back to him. – “Mianhae Y/n.”- he repeated in a soft tone.

Sighing loud, you wanted to remain mad at him, but you couldn’t deny being overjoyed to see him alive. You teared up, pushing his arms out of the way to hug him. Young-il’s arms hovering in the air as he got caught off guard. – “Ba bo.”– you whispered out, letting your forehead rub against his chest.

“All players, please step onto the centre platform.” – the woman’s voice cut through, making you pull away from him. All of you joined on the platform once more. Dunggeulge dunggeulge. Dunggeulge dunggeulge. Round and round the platform went. Smudges of blood all over the room. Even on the platform. You tried not to look at it. Jeulgeoupge ttwieo bopsida.

The platform stopping as it made you bump against Dae-ho. – “Three.” – boomed over the speakers, timer going in. Panic erupted between you all. They were taunting you and you knew the number would keep going down. – “The three of you go!” – Gi-hun called out to Dae-ho, Jun-hee and you. You looked back at Young-il. – “Go!” – he shouted out. You panted loud when Dae-ho grabbed you firm by your shoulders.

Dragging you to one of the rooms. The door closed as you shoved Dae-ho aside. Needing to see what was going on. Needing to see if you recognized anyone. – “Don’t look.” – Dae-ho panted out, covering up your eyes with his hand. The timer beeped, locking the door once more.

The gun shots coming in seconds later. Your body flinched at the sounds. Jumping out of your skin each time. Waiting for the shots to die out. Doors unlocked once more, making you walk out. Stepping over the pools of blood that had become endless. – “Y/n!” – you heard loud. Turning your head to see Hyun-ju run over.

Wrapping her arms tight around you. Relieved she exhaled, tightening her arms around you. Taking her hand, you walked back to the platform. A routine now as you had been doing the same thing over and over again. The music began once more, platform shifting. The song barely in the middle as the platform stopped.

Lights shutting out, only to flicker. – “Six.” – the number got announced. Gi-hun looked back at you all. Knowing what to do, you followed them running over to a door. Dae-ho reached the door first, opening it. Shuddering out a breath as the room was already full.

“Ya! Get out!” – a player called out, shoving Dae-ho back. – “What do we do now?” – Jun-hee asked with shaking knees. Hyun-ju tapped you on the shoulder, pointing at another door. All of you started running. The timer only at a few seconds. You screamed it out to push yourself to the limit. To keep up with Hyun-ju to reach the door. She shoved the door open as you all stumbled inside.

She remained at the door till someone slipped in, closing the door. It went to the lock a second later. – “Young-mi?” - Hyun-ju called out. Rushing towards the door, trying to open it but it was already locked. – “Young-mi.” – Geum-ja cried out seeing Young-mi stand just outside the door. Crying as Hyun-ju banged on the door, wanting it to open. Hyun-ju jumped back when the shot got fired.

Watching as Young-mi’s eyes got dull. Her body falling to the side, lifeless. – “Young-mi!” - Hyun-ju screamed in terror at the door. The doors opened again once the room had been cleared of bodies. You stepped out, looking for the others. Young-il turned his head, letting his gaze settle on you.

All of you returned to the platform. 126 players left. – “Stay close.” – Young-il told you as you nodded. Platform spinning as the music echoed through the room. – “What do you think it will be this time?” – Jung-bae asked Gi-hun. – “Two.” – Young-il answered firm.

His gaze firm on the doors. – “To thin out as much players and with the number of rooms available. The next number will be two. The rest will be killed.” – he ended. He reached back for you, taking your hand firm. Stretching his fingers before tightening them firmly around yours.

You swallowed nervously, knowing it was game-on. The last run for survival. The platform rumbled, coming to a stop. – “Two.” – the woman announced. Lights flashing as chaos erupted amongst the players.

Young-il jumped off the platform, running with you towards a door. His attention briefly to the timer. Players were running in every direction needing to manoeuvre to not get knocked back. Young-il let go of your hand. A player grabbing a door. Young-il pressed his hands deep onto the man’s shoulders, pulling him back. Tossing him aside.

Taking the door, he turned around, holding his hand out. – “Come!” – he panted out. You started to run suddenly grabbed. A man had grabbed you by your jacket, pulling you down. You stumbled back to the ground. The man jumping over you as he forced his way into the room. Young-il needing to back up.

“Ya!” – he called out kicking the man back, the door opening with a slam. The man stumbled back as Young-il kicked him once more. He tripped over your foot that you had extended. Young-il gasped loud seeing the timer. Seven seconds. You still laid on the ground. He knew helping you up would take too much time. Five seconds. Young-il’s jaw tensed as he bend down, grabbing your ankle.

“Young-il!” – you called out when he dragged you over the floor into the room. Two seconds. He jumped over you, closing the door with a pant. Locked. His breathing shallow, forehead resting against the door. He slightly turned as his feet gave away under him. Sending him down. – “Young-il!” – you called out, crawling over to him.

He needed to catch his breath, having worn himself out. He managed to breath out a laugh at the sight of you. Moving his hand up. Palm touching your cheek. – “Y/n.” – he breathed out. The strength in his hand faltering as you grabbed a hold of his wrist. Supporting his hand to remain against your cheek. Tears swelling up in your eyes.

The firing of bullets in the background. Your body shuddered as you tried to withhold your sobs. Young-il wiping a tear away with his thumb. You made room, pressing your head against his chest. Arms wrapping around him. Young-il moved one arm of his around your body. The other one joining in really quickly as he pulled his knees closer to his chest. Cradling you tighter in his embrace. – “Mianhae Y/n.”

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

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[marvelimaginesyesplease]

I like to imagine he’s lecturing you in this picture. Did you do something stupid?? Pull a bad move at training? Hurt yourself during a mission? Maybe he’s explaining why certain whiskeys are better than others. Possibly a cigar he prefers??? All I know is that he 110% said “Now darlin’” at some point.

[vivimura]

just watched his audio live so currently thinking about...

tease!riki who turns on an audio live whenever he gets a boner and you're not there to help him

tease!riki who intentionally plays songs that are on your shared sex playlist, especially the sensual ones he's lazy fucked you to

tease!riki who sings along to the lyrics of those songs, knowing you were probably going insane on the other side of the screen

tease!riki who won't speak a straight sentence without humming or chuckling sultrily in that raspy voice of his

tease!riki who clicks his lips in thought, only because he knows how similar the sound is to that of his kisses

tease!riki who talks especially sweet words in a soft spoken tone, his mouth close to the mic, as if his words were only meant for you

tease!riki who palms his cock through his sweats while interacting with his fans because he knows your watching and getting just as horny

tease!riki who pretends not to see the frantic notifications of your texts pop up on his screen, calling out on the game he was playing

tease!riki who finds thrill in edging and teasing his own erection all while talking to his fans on the livestream, for the sole reason of you listening to it

tease!riki who later makes it up to you with the head of your life, all to repeat the process the next time he finds himself in a similar situation

mlist comment and reblog!

[leahs-reading-nook]

This was cute. Great job @dreamlanderin! :D

Dean's baby (Dean x reader)

Summary: After a long day of research, you go bother Dean in the garage.

words: 2.7k

Warnings: none

The bunker’s garage. Dean is under the hood of the Impala, a socket wrench in one hand, grease smudged on his forearm. His muscles flex subtly beneath his t-shirt with every movement, the faint sheen of sweat catching the dim light filtering through the room. The scent of motor oil hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of tools and old leather. The rhythmic clinking of metal echoes softly, grounding the space in familiar sounds of work and grit.

You wander in, your footsteps light but still noticeable against the concrete, the echo bouncing lazily through the garage. Boredom clings to you after hours spent in the bunker.

 The day had started off normal: wake up, polish some ancient weapons down in the bunker, make breakfast, and check the news for any strange sightings. One report caught your attention, a possible wendigo sighting. You never liked those. They always made your skin crawl.

That’s where you’ve been for most of the afternoon: doing research with Sam. Well, mostly he’s been doing the actual research while your mind drifts elsewhere.

Honestly, you’re a little annoyed with him. The younger Winchester and his big, stupid puppy-dog eyes. And that hair, god, that hair. Always falling into his face until he sweeps it back with that effortless little motion, usually when he’s frustrated or deep in thought.

You’d caught yourself staring, a lot.

Anyway.

You spot Dean, engrossed in his work in the garage, and smirk to yourself.

"Hey, grease monkey," you call, leaning against the workbench with a lazy grin.

Dean doesn’t flinch. His arm tenses as he tightens something under the Impala’s hood, the movement drawing attention to the way his shirt strains slightly across his shoulders. There’s a faint sheen of sweat along his forearms, catching the light just enough to highlight the grease smudges marking his skin. The garage hums with the familiar scent of motor oil, metal, and leather, a warm, grounding smell that feels like him.

"If you’re here to help, there’s a rag over there. If you’re here to annoy me, the exit’s where you left it," Dean mutters, not bothering to look up.

You smirk but don’t move. "Why not both?"

Finally, Dean ducks out from under the hood, giving you that half-annoyed, half-amused look he’s perfected over the years. His eyes meet yours, sharp and clear, but your mind has already started drifting, back to where you spent most of the afternoon.

Research with Sam.

You were more focused on how easily he navigated the endless pages of lore and obscure texts, piecing things together faster than you could even process. It’s annoying, how effortlessly smart he is, how his mind seems to work ten steps ahead while you’re still trying to catch up.

You pretend it doesn’t bother you, but sometimes it does. Not because he makes you feel small, Sam would never do that, but because you wish you could keep pace. And honestly, it’s a little embarrassing how often you find yourself nodding along, hoping he doesn’t notice when you’re completely lost.

Dean's voice pulls you out of it. "Aren’t you supposed to be helping Sammy with the case? Or did you solve it already while staring at his hair?"

Your cheeks heat, but you roll your eyes, playing it off "Sam’s doing his super-sleuth thing," you say, waving your hand dismissively. "I was starting to lose brain cells watching him cross-reference, so I figured I’d come see some manual labour”

Dean smirks, turning back to the engine. "Well, you came to the right place. Watch and learn, kid. This baby’s a masterpiece."

"Masterpiece? It’s stuck together with duct tape and prayer."

Dean freezes, socket wrench in hand, and slowly turns his head to glare at you. There’s that dangerous glint in his eyethe one that usually means you’re about to get roped into cleaning weapons or organizing the storage room. But beneath the mock offense, there’s humor simmering just under the surface.

"Careful," he says, voice low with faux seriousness. "You’re walking a fine line."

You hold his gaze, arms crossed, trying not to let the corner of your mouth twitch. Dean’s like that, a mix of sharp edges and warmth that sneaks up on you. He acts tough, all bravado and snark, but you’ve seen him stay up all night patching Sam up after a hunt, or quietly fixing the broken lock on your door without ever mentioning it.

"Relax," you tease, nudging the Impala’s fender with the toe of your boot. "I know she’s your baby. I wouldn’t actually insult her… to your face."

Dean’s glare narrows further, but the smirk tugging at his lips betrays him. "Good. Because this ‘baby’ has more heart than most people I know. You’d be lucky to be half as reliable."

You snort, shaking your head. "She’s lucky to still be running at all."

Without missing a beat, Dean grabs the dirty rag from the workbench and flicks it at you, the grease-streaked fabric catching you square in the shoulder.   

"Hey!" you yelp, recoiling with a laugh as you swat it away. "Gross!"

Dean grins, clearly pleased with himself. "That’s what you get for disrespecting the queen." He tosses the rag back onto the bench like nothing happened, already turning his attention back to the Impala.

"You’re impossible," you mutter, brushing off the faint smear left behind.

"And you’re still standing in my garage," Dean counters, leaning back under the hood. "Which means you’re fair game."

"Yeah, yeah." You roll your eyes, but there’s no stopping the grin tugging at your lips.

Moments like this, easy, light, and a little messy, are the rare ones you tuck away for later, because you know they don’t come around often.

It’s strange, really. How easily this life found you. Or maybe how easily they found you.

Meeting the Winchesters hadn’t exactly been planned. You stumbled into their world under circumstances that could generously be called chaotic, one wrong place, wrong time situation after another until suddenly, there you were. Tied up in the mess of hunts, ancient books, and things that shouldn’t exist outside of nightmares.

But somehow, instead of leaving you to deal with it on your own, they’d taken you in.

Dean likes to act like you’re a pain in his ass, but he’s the one who never lets you drive anywhere alone. The one who shoves a gun into your hand and taught you how to shoot, even if he complained about it the entire time. And sometimes, when he thinks you’re not looking, his eyes soften, if only a little.

And Sam, Sam’s different. Gentler in his approach, but no less protective. He’s the one who stays up late researching the things you don’t understand, explaining it all in that calm, patient way that somehow makes you feel a little less out of your depth, even when you know you’ll never catch up to him.

They don’t call it family. Not out loud. But it’s in the way Dean knocks your boot off the workbench with a muttered "Get your feet off Baby," or the way Sam always checks to make sure you ate something after long nights.

It’s quiet, unspoken, but you feel it all the same.

You let out a breath, still leaning against the workbench, watching Dean work. "So, what’s wrong with her this time?"

Dean shrugs, wiping his hands on another rag, his muscles moving slightly with the movement. "Nothing serious. Just a tune-up. Gotta keep her running smooth." He glances over at you with that smug, gruff look, eyes gleaming. "Something you wouldn’t understand, what with you not knowing the difference between a carburetor and a spark plug."

You gasp, hand to your chest in exaggerated offense. "I know what a spark plug is! It’s the… sparky thing."

Dean freezes for half a second, staring at you like you’ve personally insulted his entire existence. And then he barks out a laugh, loud and unapologetic, shaking his head. "Sparky thing. Yeah, okay. You’re a regular gearhead."

You roll your eyes, stepping around to the other side of the Impala and leaning against the fender with a lazy stretch. "I’m just saying, for someone who spends hours messing with this thing, you could at least upgrade to something newer. You know, with Bluetooth. Or seat warmers."

Dean’s hand stops mid-wipe, and he lowers the rag slowly, fixing you with the kind of glare that suggests you’ve crossed into dangerous territory. "Seat warmers? Really?" His voice drips with disbelief, as if you’ve just suggested painting flames down the sides of the car.

"First of all, seat warmers are for wimps. Second, this car’s got more soul in her headlights than any of those plastic toys rolling off assembly lines. She’s not just a car. She’s family."

"Right…." you say, holding back a laugh. "The Impala is the real Winchester sibling."

"Damn straight," Dean replies, his tone serious.

He goes back to tightening a bolt, his forearms shifting with the motion, tense and controlled. There’s a natural ease to the way he moves, like he’s done this a thousand times, every motion instinctive. His t-shirt pulls just slightly across his back as he leans over the engine, the faint sheen of sweat from hours in the garage catching the low light.

You try not to notice, but it’s hard to ignore the quiet strength in the way he works, strong hands, calloused and capable, making even the smallest task look deliberate.

For a moment, the only sounds are the soft scrape of metal and the rhythmic click of his wrench, and you find yourself lingering longer than you meant to.

You tilt your head "You really love this car, huh?"

Dean glances at you, his expression softening slightly. "Yeah, I do. She’s been through a lot with us. Hell, she’s saved our asses more times than I can count."

He pauses, rolling the wrench absently in his hand, eyes flicking over the engine but not really seeing it. His voice drops, quieter now, like he’s talking more to himself than to you. "When everything else goes to crap, at least I know she’s still here. Still running."

For a moment, the weight of his words lingers, heavier than the air thick with motor oil. You catch the flicker in his eyes, the kind that doesn’t need explanation. It’s not just the car. It’s everything she’s carried him through.

The unexpected honesty catches you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t have a snarky comeback. You watch the way he absently runs a hand along the edge of the hood, fingers tracing the curve like it’s second nature. You can’t help but wonder how many nights he’s sat in the driver’s seat alone, gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing tethering him to reality.

"That’s... kinda nice," you say quietly, the words feeling too small for the moment but all you can come up with.

Dean straightens, shrugging it off almost immediately, like he didn’t just crack the door open to something more vulnerable. His eyes flick back to you, the faintest smirk returning to his face. "Yeah, well, don’t get too sentimental on me. Next thing I know, you’ll be asking to drive her."

Your eyes light up, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. "Oh, can I?"

The shift is subtle, classic Dean, slipping behind the wall the second things start feeling too real. But there’s still something lingering in the way he watches you

"Not a chance in hell."

"Come on, Dean!" you whine, stepping closer. "Just once! I won’t even go out of first gear."

"Nope," Dean says, popping the P with exaggerated finality. "This car’s got standards."

You pout, leaning against the Impala dramatically. "You’re no fun."

Dean raises an eyebrow, and walk’s round the car towards you: leaning in a little closer, his teasing smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I’m plenty of fun. You just don’t meet the qualifications for the VIP package."

His voice drops slightly at the end, smooth and full of that effortless confidence he carries around like armor. It’s the kind of line he throws out without a second thought, but it lingers longer than you expect, heating the space between you just enough to make your pulse pick up. You tell yourself it’s just the closeness, the warmth of the garage air, and not the way his eyes flick over you like he’s enjoying your reaction.

"Wow," you say, tilting your head with a mock-offended scoff. "Now you’re just being mean."

Dean chuckles under his breath, shifting back a fraction but still well within arm’s reach. There’s something easy about the way he leans, like he knows exactly how to walk the line between playful and challenging.

"Mean?" he echoes, standing upright and planting his hands on his hips, the muscles in his arms flexing just enough to be noticeable beneath the grease-smudged fabric of his shirt. His gaze locks onto yours with that familiar intensity, the one that’s half teasing and half something else you can never quite place. "You just called my car a sparky, duct-taped death trap. You’re lucky I let you breathe near her."

You know he’s joking, mostly. But there’s something about the way he says it, the protective edge creeping into his voice like he’s daring you to insult the Impala again. You’ve seen him put himself between her and danger more times than you can count.

You laugh, holding your hands up. "Okay, fine. I’ll leave your precious car alone." You step back, your grin still in place. "But if you get stuck in a ditch again, don’t call me to push."

Dean snorts, shaking his head. "Like you could push anything heavier than a shopping cart."

His voice carries that familiar roughness, laced with amusement, the kind that makes it impossible to take him seriously, even when he’s laying the sarcasm on thick. You roll your eyes, pushing off the Impala with an exaggerated sigh.

"I’ll remember that next time you need me to help save your sorry butt," you shoot back, already heading toward the door.

It’s the kind of banter that feels second nature by now, the words rolling off your tongue as easily as breathing. But just as your hand brushes against the doorframe, something tugs at you to glance back.

Dean’s still there, leaning against the Impala with his arms crossed, watching you leave with a half-smirk tugging at his lips. His eyes follow you, not in a way that demands attention, but in that quiet, lingering way of someone who’s gotten used to having you around. Like maybe he notices more than he lets on.

Your grin softens almost involuntarily, the sharp edges of the teasing fading into something quieter. "Besides, you’d miss me too much”

Dean raises an eyebrow, but there’s no denying the way his eyes warm just a little. He doesn’t say anything, just gives a short, gruff nod like that’s answer enough.

And it is.

"Thanks, Dean”

Dean rolls his eyes, picking up his wrench again. "Yeah, yeah. Get outta here”

You giggle lightly as you disappear down the hallway, your footsteps soft against the cold bunker floor, Dean’s eyes trail after you. He shakes his head with a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Seat warmers," he mutters under his breath, glancing at the Impala like she might somehow agree with him.

The sound of Sam’s voice drifts faintly from the library, calling your name, probably to drag you back into research or help with whatever case he’s buried in.

Dean’s smile fades just slightly, not gone, but dimmed, like someone turned the dial down a notch.

His hand lingers on the Impala for another beat longer than necessary before he shifts his weight, rolling his shoulders as if to shake something off.

He ducks back under the hood, wrench in hand, and mutters under his breath, "All right, Winchester. Get a grip."

But even as he works, his thoughts are still trailing after you, following the soft echo of your laugh down the hall.

✦────────────────────✦────────────────────✦

Please be nice it was my first one, any feedback would be appreciated ;)

[angelovi]

Simon that goes feral after seeing you wear his dog tags.

"Hm what's that you're wearing love? Those my dog tags?"

You give him a supple nod in return, a light blush dusting your cheeks.

"Where'd you find that hm?" He approaches you slowly with a smirk plastered on his face.

"I found it on your desk.. didn't think you'd mind.." You try your best to sound confident, yet you fail miserably.

He holds your chin between his two fingers, caressing your bottom lip with his thumb. "I ever tell you how gorgeous you look?"

"Everyday." You gaze up at him, your innocence showing.

"Good," he whispers softly, his breath warm against your skin, before closing the distance between you and drawing you into a kiss.

Lifting you gently by your thighs, he carries you with ease to the warmth of your shared bedroom. As he crosses the threshold, the soft glow of the lighting wraps around you both. He sets you down on the plush fabric of the bed, the comforting texture embracing you as you sink into it.

In a swift motion, he pulls off his pants, the fabric pooling on the floor, and then settles onto the bed beside you, his skin warm against the sheets. An idea flickers in his eyes, and a light smirk crosses his face.

“Need to see you ride me.” He guides you to straddle him, before slipping your shirt off and pushing your panties to the side, bullying himself in. The sudden intrusion makes you gasp as he moves fervently, showing no signs of slowing down.

He gazes his eyes to the dog tag that's wrapped around your precious neck.

The atmosphere in the room thickens with a mix of hushed gasps and soft moans. Simon's heavy breathing cuts through the tension as pleasure envelopes him, growing more urgent.

“Tell me how good it feels love.”

As you near the edge, words struggle to get out, the only thing audible is your gasps.

“C’mon. Use your words,” he grunts out.

“Feels so fucking good Simon. Don't stop..” your words are followed by a whimper, your legs getting tired as you struggle to bounce on his massive size.

Noticing your struggle, he flips you over and mercilessly pounds you into the bed, aiming to finish you both off.

“That’s it, angel. Right there. Fuck you're so perfect.” he intertwines his fingers with yours, he brings your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles before resuming his thrusts.

As soon as you start cumming, Simon doubles his efforts, reaching his hand down to rub your swollen clit. He feels you tighten around him, legs trembling as your orgasm washes over you.

“Fuck, look at you.” he slows his movements, pulling out after he fills you up.

“Spread your legs for me sweetheart.” he spreads your legs a little more, positioning his face between them, planting a little kiss on your clit. He smirks as he maintains eye contact, his tongue darting out to tease your clit with a tight touch, circling it slowly.

His movements speed up, eventually adding his index and middle finger, slowly curling it to hit that perfect spot that makes you see stars.

You moan even louder than before, not even worrying about the neighbors. “More…” you manage to utter, your voice barely rising above a whisper as you use your last bit of resilience.

“Greedy little thing ain't ya?” his fingers move faster, deeper, as he maintains the intense abuse on your clit.

You throw your head back in pure ecstasy as you've officially been fucked dumb.

His fingers pump in and out of you ruthlessly, curling up periodically. He can feel you getting ready to cum again. He looks up at your thrown-back head, his mind racing with more ideas. “Turn over.”

He quickly flips you over into your hands and knees, positioning himself behind you. He spreads your legs apart slightly, exposing your cunt. He spits on it, using his thumb to rub the saliva around your entrance.

He lines himself up with your dripping pussy, rubbing the thick head teasingly along your slit.

He pushes forward slightly, stretching you open as he sinks inside. “Fuck you're so tight, baby girl.” he pauses, letting you adjust to his size once more before starting to thrust slowly.

The dog tags jingle as he pounds into you, grabbing your hips tightly and pulling you back onto him with each powerful thrust. “Such a good girl.”

He reaches around and rubs your clit in firm circles, tormenting it further. “I can feel your little cunt gripping me. You gonna cum angel?”

Seeing you nod, he leans over, pressing his muscular chest against your back, his breath hot on your ear. “Then cum for me sweet girl.”

He growls deeply, feeling your pussy convulse around his cock as you cum. As he finishes emptying himself inside you, he collapses onto the bed beside you, pulling you into his arms and nuzzling into your neck. “You’re so perfect.”

He kisses your neck softly, holding you close as his cum leaks out of your spent cunt. As he whispers comforting words into your ear, you feel yourself dozing off, completely spent from the night’s actions.

Simon smiles softly, adjusting you so you're comfortable against his chest. He pulls the blanket over the both of you, ensuring you're warm. A hand cups the back of your head, rubbing soothingly in your hair, making sure you feel safe.

“Sweet dreams, love. I got you.”

Proud of this one ngl

[dollsxcaptains]

A/N: I haven't written NSFW in a looooong while so please bear with me as as I try and improve. Thank you boo....

Content warning: Degradation, un-protected sex, blowjobs, cumshot, masturabation

MDNI 18+

꒷꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦꒷︶ ︶ ︶꒷꒦︶ ︶꒦︶ ︶꒷꒦

Dick Grayson is a filthy frat boy at heart and you cannot change my mind on that. While I think that most times he tries to be a tamed and very loving partner, his inner fuck boy can't help but to jump out every now and again. It usually happens after missions where he's gone for a month on end and he's super pent up.

He'd fuck like a rabid dog that's in heat and desperate to release every last drop of sperm left in his aching body. I can imagine him finishing inside of you a couple of times first. Your pretty cunt is clenched around his fat cock as he rails you deep into the mattress. It's a wonder on how the bed hasn't collapsed yet with how hard he's going at it. He'd forced your body to contort in ways you had no idea you could just so he could make sure his dick was reaching every inch inside of you...What a sight it is to have your ass so high in the air as your back perfectly arches from the high of the orgasm... he has no regard for how sore and tired you are when he's like this. At most you'll have moments to recover before he's ready for the next round.

"baby, darling, love," turned into "slut, whore, bitch," as all his usual chivalry was thrown out the door the moment you spread yourself for him.

Don't even think you're getting out of this witch him slapping and spitting in your face like you're the scum of the earth. Seriously when I say he frat boy,,,I mean it. You're just a sex doll for him to jack himself off with.

But just when you thought he wouldn't let your poor abused pussy rest, he removes himself from inside of you and stands up off the bed...

with a swift motion of his fingers, he commands you to come to the edge of the bed where he's at.

You're laying just off the side of the bed while he stands over your perfect body. With one hand he gently cups your face and guides it so that now you were looking up at him. Grayson's face is flushed with a bright red and his breathing is deep and heavy as he catches his breath. For a moment he just observes you. Normally this would be a romantic moment of connection when you stop to stare into each other's eyes during love making,,,but the way he looked at you made you anxious with anticipation. His dilated sapphire eyes and that disgustingly smug smirk appeared feral..like he'd been desperately waiting for this very moment...like he hadn't just spent the last couple hours fucking you into oblivion and using your hole as a cum dumpster. He was a wild beast about to dine after a long day of hunting..

You were too caught in his expression to notice the other hand wrapping itself around his hardened cock and stroking.

"Let's see how good my pretty whore looks when she's covered in my cum...'

Whiplash hit you as the hand that was gently cupping your face was now roughly grabbing your face and forcing your head down on his length. Mercilessly, he bobbed your head on his cock, each downward motion causing you to nearly gag as it slammed the back of your throat. You tried your hardest to still give him a good blow job, despite his hasty rhythm but you ended up just being a drooling mess as spittle and precum ran down your chin and onto your bare chest.

"mm- you're a greedy little slut, aren't you?"

"Maybe I should've invited some people over to watch you drool over my dick.."

It was hard to understand the dirty talk he was spewing over everything that was going on and not to mention how slurred his words got as the pleasure became more and more intense..

"f,,,fuck- such a sloppy girl..mmhm-" "y'r such a ,,sloppy girl f'rme"

As he gets close to releasing he grabs a fist full of your hair and removes his cock from your mouth, aiming his tip directly in the center of your face. His full body twitches and his knees start to buckle as he fists his sensitive shaft. His sweet moans turns into pathetic whimpers and whines and his lips are a pale white from how hard he's biting down on them..

"ngh...i'm so close"

Rolling his eyes back, he could barely get his last words out as the warm, thick ropes of semen squirted all over your face..

Oh and you know he's slapping his cock against your lips to get those last few drops out...ughhhh

Knowing Dick, he'd probably act all sweet and charming afterwards like he didn't just make you a whore for his own pleasure.

<3

[tripiolo]

okayy but what abt ft bf chris 😏😏

ft bf chris

LETHAL

ASK AND U SHALL RECEIVE ^_^ he’s literally so fine i cant….the chokehold this man has me in is crazy