talia | 23 | lover all of things choi seung-hyun & anime
❀˖° hello! i’m a 23-year-old psychology nerd, ocean enthusiast, and avid reader and writer. i’m currently studying clinical psychology, so writing consistently is a challenge, but i’ll post as often as i can :,)
❀˖° i love love love making new friends and would be so happy to chat with you! feel free to send asks whenever!! i'm also looking for new k-dramas to watch so pls hook ur girl up <33
❀˖° if you’re interested in being on my taglist, feel free to send me a message or ask! i’d be happy to add you :)
❀˖° requests (nfsw and sfw) are always open for any of the following people/characters, but please know i am a busy college student so it may take me a while to upload <3 also, pls note that this is an 18+ blog!!
people: choi seung-hyun
squid game: player 124 - nam-gyu, player 230 - thanos, player 333 - myung-gi, player 388 - dae-ho
alice in borderland: arisu, karube, chishiya, aguni
currently working on: choi seunghyun x sisters best friend!reader request, pre-games! thanos request, dae ho x pregnant!reader request, arisu x reader smut request, thanos x best friend! reader request, thanos x singer!reader au before the games (10k+ words)
i'm so sorry...i promise i'm alive but senior yr of college is kicking my ass already. working on requests when i can! best friend's brother!seunghyun x reader coming very soon <333
mwahhh hope ur all doing amazing and thank u for the continued support on my fics!
i’ve officially moved into my apartment and it’s all set up, so that means it’s time to writeeee! i have 5 requests to work on and i’m so excited to get them posted! hope you’re all doing well :)
You stared at your phone, thumb hovering over the screen as silence dragged on. For weeks now, Seunghyun’s messages had grown shorter, his calls fewer and later at night. You told yourself he was exhausted—filming in America was draining him—but still, the lack of effort stung.
When you finally snapped, the argument wasn’t loud, but it was sharp enough to leave a mark.
After four rings, he finally picked up.
“Hello.”
The flatness of his tone immediately angered you. He sounded like you had inconvenienced him just by calling.
“Yeah, nice to speak to you too,” you scoffed.
A groan came almost immediately. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, maybe the fact you haven’t bothered to say a word to me since four yesterday afternoon?” You were pacing the narrow length of your kitchen, phone clutched so tightly your knuckles ached.
“I’ve been filming for the past twelve hours. If you’re just going to make snide remarks, then don’t call me.” His voice was firm—too firm. The kind that made your stomach sink.
“Sorry for wanting to talk to my boyfriend,” you snapped back, bitter laughter catching in your throat. “Next time, I’ll find someone else.”
“Do that then.”
And just like that, the line went dead.
You stood frozen, phone pressed to your ear, heart lodged somewhere in your stomach.
“Fuck him,” you muttered, slamming the fridge door open without knowing why. Anything to distract yourself. Anything but the echo of his words.
He didn’t understand. He didn’t see that you missed him—the long talks, the teasing, the way his voice used to make you smile even on your worst days.
Three hours dragged by. Three hours of replaying every word until your chest physically ached. Three hours of typing paragraphs into your notes app only to delete them again, headphones blasting sad songs like you were deliberately twisting the knife.
You curled under your blanket, eyes burning. Maybe you had pushed too hard. This was his big opportunity—one he’d been nervous about from the start—and you’d added to his stress. But no. No, it wasn’t nagging. You weren’t asking for the world. You were asking for the bare minimum, and somehow that felt like too much. Your mind tore itself apart, swinging between guilt and anger, love and resentment.
Then your phone buzzed.
One new message lit up the screen:
✈️ Check this.
You frowned and tapped the link. Your breath caught. A plane ticket. Direct flight. Departure: tomorrow morning. Your name printed neatly across the digital stub.
Perks of dating someone rich.
Your heart raced as another string of messages followed.
??
Come here.
Thought you were too tired 🙄
Shut up. No stubbornness
Just come, baby
Please
I miss you
You stared at the flood of texts, his tone almost desperate, almost begging. There was no reason to say no—not when your chest already ached to see him.
Won’t you be too tired?
Baby. I booked the ticket.
Pack.
Or I’ll sell you.
Your eyes widened.
WHAT????
Not a threat. A promise. Pack.
Ughhh fine
Okay, I love you ❤️
ily2 <3
Careful.
A smirk tugged at your lips as you fired off your reply. Truthfully, the second you saw that ticket, your decision had already been made.
After a restless night, you found yourself at the airport, excitement buzzing through your veins no matter how hard you tried to play it cool.
now at my gate :)
Okay, have a safe flight my love I’ll see you soon❤️
The words made you smile all over again. You boarded, exhausted but giddy. The absence of his voice these past few weeks had left you hollow; you hadn’t realized how much until now. Without him, you felt… alone. And that scared you.
Wrapped in his oversized hoodie—still carrying his faint scent—you curled up in your seat. His socks were pulled up awkwardly around your ankles, and you pressed your face into the fabric, letting sleep finally claim you.
The hotel room was quiet when you slipped inside, but he was already waiting. His hair, a brilliant shade of violet, caught the glow of the bedside lamp and looked almost unreal.
You barely had time to set down your bag before he pulled you into his arms, holding you so tight it was as if he feared you might vanish.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair. His voice was rough, worn from exhaustion, but it trembled with sincerity. “I was tired. I was selfish. I won’t let it happen again.”
His lips brushed your forehead, and when you lifted your gaze to his, his eyes softened.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, voice low and aching with want.
It was enough—the sound of him, the heat in his tone, the memory of weeks without his touch. You closed the space between you, kissing him. It was slow, consuming, like two pieces remembering how perfectly they fit. His hands gripped your waist, desperate, grounding you against him.
“I missed you so much,” he growled into the kiss.
Clothes fell in a trail behind you as he led you to the bedroom.
From that night forward, the world outside didn’t matter. The set, the press, the endless flashing cameras—none of it touched the cocoon you built together in that hotel.
Whenever he was free, he wanted you close, tangled in the sheets or curled against his chest while movies played faintly in the background. He barely looked at the screen, more interested in brushing his lips over your temple, whispering pretty girl against your skin until you melted.
Sometimes the movies turned suggestive, and he’d glance at you with that half-smile, pulling you tighter, his hands lingering where they knew they’d make you blush. But it wasn’t only that. It was the little things—the way he made sure you ate, tucked the blanket tighter when you drifted off, or kissed your knuckles absentmindedly like a vow. Every time he came back from set, he brought something for you, whether it was a snack or some stolen trinket you’d scold him for.
And every time the light caught his purple hair, you couldn’t help but smile. Bright. Bold. Impossible to ignore.
warnings: 18+, smut, some angst, swearing, unprotected piv, creampie, toxic relationship, established relationship, rough sex, addiction
pairings: choi su-bong (thanos) x fem!reader
you weren’t even sure what time it was anymore.
silence. the streetlight outside flickered, a stutter of dying orange across the floor, and the city’s noise dulled to a hum you could almost pretend wasn’t real.
then the door slammed shut.
you didn’t need to look up to know it was him. the way your boyfriend, su-bong carried himself when he was high—too loud, too loose, too careless—was always a dead giveaway.
“where the hell have you been!?” you snap, voice cracking from exhaustion, rather than anger. you weren’t even sure if you had any of that left.
he scoffed, unbothered, dropping his jacket onto the floor like it didn’t matter. “not this again.”
“not what? I’m sorry I’m worried about you, su-bong! so fucking unreasonable of me.”
he lit a cigarette instead of answering, slouched down into the chair opposite you with his usual swagger, eyes bloodshot, pupils small. his lips were chapped. he was high, again. you could see the ghost of a bruise blooming along his jaw—another night he wouldn’t talk about.
you stood. “you promised, su-bong. you said no more of this shit.”
“i never promised you anything,” he muttered, not looking at you.
that one landed. and he knew it, judging by the way his eyes narrowed. but that was always the game, wasn’t it? he knew it would get a rise out of you. he did this shit on purpose.
and you snapped. “you think this is just me being dramatic?” you stepped toward him, voice shaking. “i sit here every night praying you don’t die, su-bong. you get high and disappear, and i’m just supposed to accept it because you’re too far gone to care that i’m losing sleep, sanity, and—fuck—even myself trying to hold you together.”
he scoffs, jaw clenching. “you don’t get it.”
your lips part, trembling. he doesn’t let you speak, “you’re not a savior. you think you can save me?”
your hand trembled. that one cut too deep. but you didn’t back down.
“i want to,” you meant it.
the silence that followed was thick.
he looked away first.
“don’t,” he muttered, “don’t say shit like that.”
“why? because it makes you feel something?” your voice raises a little. “you think I haven’t noticed? every time i get too close, you push. every time i stay, you punish me for it.”
he exhaled like the words knocked the air out of him.
there was a beat—one long, weighted moment—before he lifted his gaze to yours. his eyes were bloodshot, tired, and something else now: conflicted, raw… hungry.
“you should hate me by now. would’ve been easier for both of us.”
your eyes didn’t leave his. not even when the words hit like a slap.
“i’ve tried,” you said quietly. “believe me, i’ve tried.”
that made him flinch, just slightly. like part of him hoped you’d say you never could. like part of him hated that he didn’t break you all the way.
“but I don’t. I don’t .. and maybe.. maybe that’s the problem.”
he stepped closer, so close you could feel the heat rolling off of him. the air between you buzzed with something unspoken, something hot and dangerous.
“you really don’t hate me?” he asked, barely above a whisper.
you shook your head slowly. “i hate what you do to yourself. i hate how much i still want you even when i shouldn’t.. not after everything.”
his hand ghosted over your arm, not quite touching—hesitant, uncertain, but aching to feel. “you don’t know what you’re doing to me right now.”
your breath catches, lips parting — he doesn’t give you the chance to say anything. instead, his hand finally landed at your waist, fingers curling into your shirt, like he needed something to hold on to. like he was afraid if he didn’t anchor himself to you, you’d disappear.
and when he kissed you, it wasn’t sweet. it was months of tension, of fights and slammed doors and love that felt like poison on the tongue.
his mouth was hot, demanding, and your hands slid up his chest like you needed to memorize the way he felt beneath your fingers before the moment burned out.
he backed you into the door, lips never leaving yours, breath ragged as his hand slipped beneath your shirt—slow, testing, reverent.
like maybe he thought this was a goodbye.
like maybe he didn’t care if it was.
“say it,” he growled, his hand sliding down, fingers dipping past the fabric of your panties. you gasp, nails digging into his back.
“tell me you want this,” you nod, too breathless to speak.
he lifts you effortlessly, your legs wrap around his waist instinctively.
“look at me,” he grips your chin firmly, enough to make you gasp. “say it,” other hand sliding under your thigh, lifting your leg higher around his waist.
“i want you,” you gasp, voice breaking mid syllable as his hips roll into yours eliciting a soft moan from you.
then he’s yanking both his and your clothes off, gripping your ass as he presses you harder into the door.
there was no foreplay, didn’t ask, didn’t tease. he lined his leaking cock up with your entrance, thrusting to the hilt in one smooth, fluid motion.
you cry out, legs tightening around his waist, nails dragging down his back.
he doesn’t give you time to breathe.
he’s slamming his hips into yours, hard and fast. one hand slides up the slope of your neck, not gripping just holding you there.
“fuck, fuck, fuck!” you sob out breathlessly, your walls clenching him. he groans, dropping his sweaty forehead to yours.
“cum for me baby,” he says between his brutal thrusts, skin on skin contact filling the room along with his grunts and your whiny moans.
your stomach tightens, legs trembling around his waist. your head spins as your eyes roll back, crying out as you come undone around him.
his head drops to your shoulder, hips stuttering as he chases his release. then he’s burying himself as deep as possible, spilling into you with a deep groan.
and as you both stand there, wrapped in each other, you know it wasn’t forgiveness, and it wasn’t healing. but it was honest. and that was enough—for now.
thank you to everyone for all of the love on my fics so far! i hope to post a new thanos request soon, but i’m moving into my apartment tomorrow on campus so i probably won’t have any new fics posted until later this weekend!
also…i just finished season 2 of alice in borderland and wanted to let you all know that requests are open for the following characters:
• arisu
• karube
• chishiya
• aguni
feel free to send in requests if you’re interested :)
Setting: Alternate universe (no Borderland) | Karube’s bar | Friends with benefits turned almost-something-more
The bar was nearly empty when you pushed the door open, the low hum of an old rock song buzzing through the dusty speakers. It was late, but not unusual for you to show up at that hour — and Karube knew it. Somehow, you always found your way back to him. Maybe without reason... or maybe with too much of it.
He was behind the bar, just like always: sleeves rolled up, cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth, wiping glasses with a rag that probably needed washing more than the glass itself. The moment the bell above the door rang, he looked up and gave you that lazy smirk — like he’d been waiting for you.
“Took you long enough,” he murmured, stubbing the cigarette in the ashtray. “Thought you were gonna leave me all alone tonight.”
You chuckled softly, dropping your bag on the usual barstool and settling in like you owned the place.
“You love me too much for that,” you teased.
“Not even gonna deny it,” he replied, licking his lips. “But don’t go saying that out loud, or I’ll have to kiss you in front of the drunks.”
You laughed, but the way he said it — halfway between joking and meaning it — made your stomach flutter. It was always like this with him. Constant heat, heavy teasing, words that never crossed into full-blown confessions but always teetered on the edge.
He knew you too well. Knew when you came for the drinks, and when you came just to see him. And you could read every twitch of his smile, every shift in his voice.
“Drink or comfort tonight?” he asked, already pouring you a glass of whiskey without waiting for your answer.
You took it with a soft smile, resting your chin in your palm as you looked at him with mischief in your eyes.
“What if I want both?”
“Then you’re being greedy,” he grinned, voice low. “But I can try.”
You sat there for a while, sipping your drink, exchanging casual talk — stories from his night, a drunk guy who almost tried to fight him, something about the jukebox breaking again. It was easy. Natural. Comfortable. But then... his gaze shifted.
More focused. Hungrier.
You uncrossed and crossed your legs slowly, watching his eyes follow the movement. The air between you got heavier, tighter, like a wire ready to snap.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked, your voice quieter now.
“Because it’s been a week since I touched you,” he muttered, moving around the bar, “and now you show up in that short skirt, looking at me like you want something... and I’m supposed to pretend I don’t notice?”
Your pulse jumped.
“Maybe I just like teasing you.”
He walked right up to you, towering over your seated form, planting his hands on either side of your body.
“Teasing’s easy,” he whispered. “Let’s see if you can handle what comes next.”
You bit your lip, heat flooding your stomach.
“And what comes next, Karube?”
His jaw clenched a little. His eyes darkened.
“That depends. Did you come here to drink… or to drive me insane?”
You barely had time to think before the words slipped out:
“Tonight I want you.”
It was like lighting a match in a room full of gasoline.
Karube didn’t say a word. He turned slowly, locked the front door, flipped the “Open” sign to “Closed.” Then he walked to the end of the bar, turned off a few lights, leaving only the soft amber glow above your head.
When he came back, he stood behind your stool and leaned down, his breath hot against your ear.
“Right here?” he asked, voice gravelly. “On the fucking counter?”
You nodded, unable to speak, your heart pounding.
“Get up,” he murmured. “Now.”
You stood, and he helped you sit up on the bar with strong, sure hands on your waist. He’d touched you before — many times — but never here. Never like this.
“Spread your legs for me, princess.”
You obeyed, your breath catching as he knelt down between your thighs, eyes full of lust, hands sliding slowly up your bare skin.
“Let’s see if you’re as wet as you look…”
Karube didn’t rush.
He never did when it came to you.
His hands slid up the inside of your thighs with a quiet possessiveness that made your whole body tremble. He looked up at you from between your legs — that low, dangerous stare that told you he was in full control now.
“You look so fucking good up here,” he murmured, fingertips brushing the edge of your panties. “Like you were made for this spot.”
You tried to answer, but all that came out was a whimper when he pressed a single kiss to the inside of your thigh, slow and deliberate, his lips lingering.
“God, you’re already shaking,” he smirked, voice low and amused. “And I haven’t even touched you yet.”
He leaned up and kissed you — finally. His lips met yours in a deep, heated kiss that stole the air from your lungs. One hand cupped the side of your face while the other stayed between your thighs, just barely grazing the fabric. His tongue teased yours, slow and possessive, making you gasp into his mouth.
When he pulled back, his breath was warm against your lips.
“Lay back for me,” he whispered. “Trust me.”
You did. Your elbows braced behind you on the counter, chest rising and falling fast as he hooked his fingers in the waistband of your panties and slowly pulled them down. The cold air hit your skin and made you shiver — but his hands, his mouth, his presence, kept you burning hot.
He stared between your legs like he was starving.
“Fuck…” he breathed. “You’re dripping.”
His fingers slid between your folds without warning — slow, testing. You let out a sharp gasp, hips twitching. He smirked, eyes glued to your face.
“Sensitive tonight, huh?”
He circled your clit with maddening ease, barely pressing down, teasing. You bit your lip and moaned low, already squirming on the bar.
Then he leaned forward, kissing you again — this time hungrier, sloppier, like he couldn’t help himself. His free hand gripped your jaw, keeping your face tilted up while his tongue explored your mouth, deep and filthy.
“I love the way you taste,” he murmured into the kiss. “But right now, I just wanna see you fall apart on my fingers.”
Two of them slid inside you with a perfect, practiced thrust.
You arched your back, crying out his name as your walls clenched around him. He groaned low in his throat, fingers pumping slow at first, just enough to drag against that sweet spot. The rhythm was steady, intentional — building you up, driving you insane.
“Karube—fuck—” you gasped, hands gripping the edge of the bar.
“I got you,” he breathed, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, then down your chest, your neck, wherever he could reach. “Let go for me, baby.”
His thumb rubbed lazy circles over your clit while his fingers kept thrusting, curling just right inside you. Every movement made your thighs twitch, your breaths come out faster, louder. He was watching you the whole time, obsessed with every little sound you made.
“You’re squeezing me so tight,” he murmured. “So fucking wet… shit.”
His pace picked up — rougher, deeper, and still somehow perfect. You were practically sobbing his name now, lost in the feeling, legs trembling on either side of him.
Then he leaned up again and kissed you hard, swallowing your moans as his fingers fucked into you relentlessly. The counter was creaking under you. The air smelled like sex and wood and him.
And then—
He pressed down on your clit just right and everything shattered.
You came with a cry muffled by his mouth, your body arching, thighs closing around his arm as waves of pleasure ripped through you. He didn’t stop — kept working you through it, kissing you gently now, sweetly, as your orgasm left you shaking.
“Shhh, that’s it,” he whispered, mouth brushing your ear. “You did so good for me…”
His fingers slowly slid out of you, glistening. He brought them to his mouth without breaking eye contact and sucked them clean.
“Fuck,” he whispered. “You taste like heaven.”
Then, as your body still trembled and your head lolled against his chest, he held you there, cradling your face, kissing your temple softly.
“You okay, sweetheart?”
You nodded weakly, and he chuckled against your skin.
“Good… because I’m not done with you yet.”
You were still catching your breath, body limp against his chest, when you felt his hand caress your back — slow, gentle, as if he knew exactly how sensitive you were. He kissed your shoulder, your cheek, and then your lips again. Soft this time. Tender.
“You okay?” he asked, voice husky, warm with concern.
You nodded, smiling a little, still dazed.
But then your hand drifted down.
To the front of his jeans.
And you felt it — thick, hard, hot against the fabric.
Your smile widened.
“You’re hard,” you whispered.
Karube let out a low, breathy laugh, like you’d just pointed out the obvious.
“No shit,” he muttered, voice rough with need. “You think I can finger you like that and not get hard as fuck?”
You giggled, pressing one more kiss to his lips before sliding off the counter, slowly sinking to your knees between his legs.
His breath hitched.
“Fuck, babe, you don’t have to—”
“I want to,” you said simply, looking up at him through your lashes as your hands unbuckled his belt. “I wanna taste you too.”
That was all it took. He cursed under his breath, leaning back against the bar, watching you with wild, hungry eyes as you pulled his cock out — thick, flushed, leaking at the tip.
“Shit…” he whispered when you wrapped your hand around him, stroking slowly.
You kissed the tip first. Just a tease. Then you licked it — slow, flat tongue from base to head — just to hear him groan. And when you finally took him into your mouth, his knees buckled slightly and his hand flew to your hair.
“Fuck, baby…” he hissed, head falling back. “Your mouth feels so good…”
You bobbed your head with slow rhythm, hand stroking the base while your tongue swirled and teased. He was big, stretching your mouth, but you didn’t care — you loved the way he gasped every time you hollowed your cheeks. You loved the way his thighs trembled, how he kept trying to look down at you even with his vision going fuzzy.
“You’re gonna kill me…” he whispered, voice wrecked. “Shit—don’t stop…”
You moaned around him, the sound vibrating through his cock and making him twitch in your mouth.
His hips started to move — slow, shallow thrusts — and you welcomed it, letting him fuck your mouth a little deeper, a little rougher. He gripped the edge of the bar with one hand, the other still tangled in your hair.
“You look so pretty down there,” he groaned. “So fucking perfect.”
You looked up at him again, eyes glossy, lips stretched around him — and that was it.
“Shit—I’m gonna cum—baby—fuck—”
He tried to pull back, but you held him there, eyes daring, letting him spill deep in your throat. He let out a loud, guttural moan, chest heaving, hips stuttering. You swallowed it all, licked him clean, and kissed the tip sweetly before pulling back.
When you stood up, wiping the corner of your mouth, he looked at you like you were a goddess.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he breathed. “I owe you my life.”
You laughed, and he pulled you into his arms, holding you tight, forehead resting against yours.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.
“You’re damn right,” you teased, grinning.
He chuckled, brushing your hair behind your ear, then kissed you again — slow, warm, deep. A kiss full of something softer now. Something that didn’t need to be said out loud.
Then, after a few moments, he whispered:
“C’mon. Let’s go back to my place. I’ll run you a bath… maybe order that curry you love.”
You blinked, surprised by the sudden sweetness, but your heart swelled.
“And after that?”
He kissed your forehead and smirked.
“After that? I’m gonna hold you all night. And maybe finger you again in the morning.”
You shoved him playfully, laughing.
“I swear to God—”
“I’m kidding,” he said — but you both knew he wasn’t.
thank you so much for the request!! i hope you enjoy <3
warnings: smut, swearing, mentions of drug and alcohol use, toxic relationship!!!!, mentions of sex ofc, reader and su-bong are not always nice to each other :( happy ending tho!
words: 4.8k
when you find out you’re pregnant with su-bong’s kid, your whole world feels like it’s crashing down. at first, you laugh a bit, telling yourself it’s just a false positive. your lies are no longer believable when you test positive three more times, though, the third being confirmed by your doctor herself. you wait a few days to tell su-bong, unsure of how to even bring it up. you know he’ll cause a scene regardless—the two of you don’t have the healthiest of relationships. he’s not abusive by any means, but your relationship has been labeled as toxic by just about everyone who knows you. in your opinion, things are good between the two of you, for the most part. that is, until, he comes home plastered, tripping balls off of whatever pill was handed to him and reeking of the cheapest vodka available at club pentagon. which is most nights, you suppose. much like tonight.
you’re lounging on the couch, wanting nothing more than a glass of wine or a joint, something to momentarily alleviate your anxiety, but alas, you now have another human to worry about. instead, you watch whatever shitty rom-com plays on the tv, trying to focus despite your racing thoughts. you’re about to nod off before you hear the front door creak open, followed by su-bongs familiar footsteps. they grow closer and soon enough, the man stands before you, his deep purple hair disheveled.
“hey.” he mutters mindlessly, plopping down beside you on the couch. su-bong slings an arm around your shoulder and you can smell the alcohol on his breath. “hi.” you mumble in response, eyes glued to the tv screen. from the corner of your eye, you see su-bong glance over at you, eyes narrowed as he analyzes your tone.
“what’s up with you?” his voice is gruff—deeper than usual—and you attribute it to his altered state.
“nothing…” even you don’t sound convinced, but how the hell are you supposed to relay the news to him?
oh nothing really, just found out i’m pregnant with your kid, no big deal.
it seems impossible to communicate without inducing a panic attack, but you know su-bong won’t let it go until you come clean.
“nothing my ass, girl. what’s the matter?” his whole body faces you, now, urging you to give him your undivided attention so you can tell him what’s wrong. you struggle to find the words. “um, i just…found out something kinda serious at the doctors the other day and i’m not sure how to tell you.”
su-bong stiffens at that, his mind instantly racing as he fears the worst. “what was it? you’re not dying, are you?” if you weren’t so nervous, you might’ve laughed at his panicked words.
“no, no, nothing like that.” you’re stalling, now, knowing that when you tell him you’re pregnant, it will make things feel more real, and you’re not sure you’re ready for that yet. but deep down, you know you have to be.
“well shit, what is it, baby? you got me sweatin’ bullets over here.” you sigh at su-bong’s dramatics, and finally turn to face him, his worried eyes meeting yours instantly.
“i’m pregnant.” tears well up in your eyes the moment you admit it, and su-bong’s expression morphs into one of stoicism. your mind instantly begins to race, fearing the worst—he’s going to leave you, abandon you, flee from you and your child to go live his life stress-free—the thoughts that have been plaguing your mind ever since you saw the positive test. his response only adds to your fears.
“bullshit.” su-bong snickers, though you can tell it’s out of disbelief rather than amusement. you glare at the man, offended. “i’m not lying, su-bong. i got tested at the doctor’s office and everything.”
he rolls his eyes, looking down at his nails to pick at the chipped polish. “yeah right, girl. you just want to try and trap me so you can mooch off all my money.” su-bong says it so matter-of-factly you almost laugh.
“what money? you’ve been broke since the day i met you, you asshole. why would i even lie about this?” you fire back, now angrier than upset. you can’t tell if he really believes what he says or if he’s in denial. either way, you’re pissed.
su-bong looks up from his nails, an irritated look on his face. “i’ve made tons of money from club pentagon this year, so don’t even try that. if you need some, you can just ask.” now your blood is really boiling. sometimes you wonder how you ever even had sex with him in the first place; he can be so incredibly arrogant and close-minded, but you try to remind yourself there’s goodness in him. it’s just hard at the moment.
“you’re the last person i would ask. all you do is piss your money away on drugs and liquor, so you don’t even try that.” you get up and stomp off towards the bedroom, rummaging through the drawer of your bedside table to find the positive tests you hid. once you locate them, you return to the living room, tossing the tests onto su-bong’s lap so he’ll finally get the message.
“still think i’m lying?” you ask bitterly, but your voice wobbles. you’re mad at yourself for letting the tears fall, silent streams seeping down your cheeks. su-bong is quiet for a moment, toying with the tests in his lap as he examines the positive signs. then, he gets up and wordlessly pulls you into a hug. he’s stiff in your arms. “holy shit.” he mumbles into your hair, clearly numb in disbelief. you’re sure the drugs don’t help. you don’t say anything and sniffle into his chest, unsure of where to even go from here. you know you want to keep the baby, but it will be complicated with su-bong. your relationship is hardly stable, and you know that’s not good, especially not now when you’re expecting a kid.
“it’ll be okay.” su-bong says after a while, though it sounds like he says it to convince himself more than to comfort you. you swallow thickly and pull away from the man, his expression still apathetic. you figure now wasn’t the best time to tell him—he’s far from sober, and can barely process things properly, especially not something as serious as this—but you had to tell him eventually.
when you wake up the next morning, the bed is empty. you check your phone, but there’s no texts from su-bong explaining his whereabouts. you try not to panic and you figure he needs time to process on his own; you know how he is.
however, over the course of the next few weeks, you’re freaking out. you haven’t heard from su-bong at all despite the countless texts and voicemails you’ve left him. you’ve had to go to every appointment alone, filling you with both embarrassment and sadness. you try to stay happy for the sake of yourself and your unborn child, but there’s a su-bong shaped void in your heart you just can’t shake. he should be here with you, but he doesn’t even have the basic human decency to send you a single text or to return a single call.
you’re getting ready to go to sleep one night when you hear the front door open. the sound nearly makes you jump out of your skin—you could’ve sworn you locked it. in fact, you’re positive you did, which can only mean one thing: su-bong used his key to get in. the unmistakable sound of his footsteps only confirms your suspicions, and you feel your heart race in both anger and excitement. you’re mad at yourself for even feeling so hopeful to hear su-bong is back, but you can’t help it. you still love him at the end of the day, even if he’s a raging asshole for leaving you all alone while pregnant. he steps into the bedroom hesitantly, leaning on the doorframe as he murmurs, “hey.”
you stand across the room from him, arms crossed over your chest as you look the man up and down. you can tell he’s high, per usual, but he doesn’t seem as far gone as he usually is. “don’t ‘hey’ me, su-bong. what the hell are you doing here?”
he scoffs, narrowing his eyes as he replies, “what do you mean? i live here, don’t i?”
you huff out a sigh of frustration at his words, hardly able to believe he can be so nonchalant about the whole ordeal. “i don’t know, do you? i haven’t heard from you in weeks, never mind seen you. do you remember you have a baby on the way, or are you too high to even think straight?” you’re livid, but you don’t want to be. you want to collapse into su-bong’s arms and tell him how much you missed him, but you know things will never be right if you give in.
how can he be okay knowing you were here all alone, scared and confused as you try to navigate this new phase of your life?
“of course i do, don’t say shit like that.” is all su-bong says, and you scoff.
“i’ve gone to every appointment alone, without you. do you know how shitty that feels?” you will yourself not to cry, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. for once, you want to see him break, just so he can feel a fraction of what it’s been like to be you these past few weeks.
“no, i don’t.” su-bong answers shortly. he averts his gaze to the floor.
“well, i do. it’s been so hard, su-bong. you couldn’t even make it to one appointment, but i’m sure you made it to the club every night, just like you always do. i’m fucking sick of it.” you sit down on the bed, running a shaky hand through your hair. you know it’s not good for you or the baby to get all worked up, but you can’t help it. su-bong always brings out this side of you, a side you didn’t even know you had—angry, toxic. you know you aren’t being irrational here, though.
“yeah? well i’m sick of you fucking nagging me all the time. i can go wherever i want.” su-bong responds angrily, beginning to raise his voice. you try to ignore the pang of hurt that eats away at your chest.
“okay, well i want you to get the fuck out of here.” you demand, keeping your tone as neutral as possible so the anger doesn’t bubble up in your stomach. your heart screams at you to let him stay, but your mind knows better. it’s clear things will always remain toxic between the two of you, and su-bong makes no effort to change that. he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose before settling beside you on the edge of the bed, leaving a few inches of space between the two of you. “i don’t want to.” he mumbles, eyes glued to the floor. he then looks over at you, his eyes swimming with a myriad of emotions you can’t read, and you’re momentarily rendered speechless. somewhere in his eyes, you can tell he’s sorry, but you know he’d never say it out loud.
“i don’t want you to, either.” you finally admit, though you almost kick yourself. the room is silent for a moment, and the two of you stare at each other as though all of the answers to your questions will appear out of thin air; you wish it were that easy.
you’re surprised when su-bong’s lips are suddenly on yours, gentle, yet desperate, but you quickly melt into the kiss, feeling all of the anger from the past few weeks slip away. you know he’ll have to do more than kiss you to make up for things, but for now, it’s good enough. you moan into his mouth when his hand sneaks up to your chest, squeezing your breast with just enough force to make heat rush in between your legs. he’s confident, now, smirking into your mouth as he gently pushes you back onto the bed, quickly kicking his shoes off so they can tumble into the corner. su-bong moves to hover over you, eyes soft as he grins, “you’re so hot when you’re mad.”
you roll your eyes, pushing at his chest playfully to signify your annoyance. “shut up.” he chuckles at that, then settles between your legs to tug at the bottom of your shirt, pushing it up so it rests over your breasts. su-bong places a series of gentle kisses to your stomach, working his way up to your neck to suck at the sensitive part he’s able to pinpoint every time. you want to be mad at the man, but it’s impossible, at least in the moment. he always knows exactly how to touch you. su-bong’s right hand sneaks up to toy with your clit over your shorts, eliciting a series of whimpers from your mouth.
“yeah, baby, just relax for me. i’ll make up for the lost time, okay?” su-bong purrs, tugging down your shorts to reveal your bare pussy. you’re embarrassed by how wet you already are, but su-bong says nothing before licking at your clit, his tongue expertly moving back and forth to send shockwaves through your body. you let out a moan and tangle your hand in su-bong’s hair, tugging lightly at the purple strands. he growls into you, bringing his right hand up to slip a finger inside of you as he continues to suck on your clit.
“f-fuck.” you whine, squeezing your thighs around su-bong’s head as he thrusts his finger into you. you’re so wet you can hear yourself squelch around him, and the lewdness of it all only brings you closer to your release. seeming to sense this, he slips a second finger inside of you, curling them ever so slightly to hit that perfect, spongy spot inside of you. you nearly yell at this, throwing your head back into the pillow as the coil in your stomach starts to unwind, your grip on su-bong’s hair tightening as you near your release.
“i’m gonna cum.” you whimper desperately, nearly gasping when su-bong increases the pace of both his tongue and fingers. moments later, you’re releasing into his mouth, moaning uncontrollably as your orgasm peaks. he laps up every trace, continuing to finger you until you’re writhing in his grasp. su-bong pulls out his fingers and brings them to his mouth, humming in approval as he tastes you.
“you’re so fuckin’ perfect, my girl. makin’ me remember why you’re pregnant in the first place.” su-bong growls, moving up on the bed so he hovers over you again. through his jeans, you can feel his hard member poke at your bare thigh, and you bring your hands down to unbutton his pants. “wanna feel you.” you murmur softly.
“oh, you will.” he replies darkly, though there’s still a gentleness behind his eyes. you’ve been intimate with the man many times before, clearly, but something about tonight feels different; su-bong seems different, like a flip had switched in his brain that brought him back his reality: he’s going to be a father and he needs to get his shit together.
you can feel it when you two are fucking, both completely bare, when he rolls his hips a certain way—-delicate, yet desperate. it’s almost like he’s trying to convey the words he’ll never outright say to you through his thrusts: i love you, i’m sorry, i’m here, i’ll make this work. su-bongs lips are on yours for practically the whole time, languidly moving against your own in a way so familiar, so right, and it makes the pressure build up in your core once again, your legs shaking. you pull away from his lips when you cum to throw your head back into the pillow, gripping his biceps so tightly that your fingers leave marks in their wake.
su-bong’s release follows shortly after your own, and he whines as he spills inside of you, “fuck, mama. love you so much. i’d put another kid in you right now if i could.” you try not to react too much to his words, fearing he’ll somehow regret them if you do, but you feel warmth blossom in your chest. it’s not often su-bong tells you he loves you; sure, he has on a few occasions, but it’s always been reserved for when he’s really fucked up and you’re taking care of him, when he can hardly remember he even uttered those words to you the next morning.
this feels real, genuine, in a way su-bong hasn’t been before; he may be high, sure, but he’s nowhere near the point of no return that he usually is. he seems himself enough to be sure of what he says. he collapses on the bed beside you, chest heaving with the exertion of making love to you, and lazily pulls you into him. “missed you.” is all he mutters, lightly stroking your hair as you, too, come down from your orgasm. the two of you lay there for a few minutes, blissed out, relishing in the comfort of each other’s presence as though nothing had happened between you over the past few weeks. he brings his hand down to rest on your stomach, gently stroking the bare skin there. su-bong is ever so careful with you, now, hyper aware of the presence of your unborn child, and you can tell he’s nervous to hurt you in any way.
this is especially true a few months down the line, when you’re further along in your pregnancy. you’re starting to show, now, and you can tell it makes things feel more real for su-bong. he still frequents club pentagon a few nights during the week, but when he comes home, he’s a bit more mindful of his actions, sometimes even crashing on the couch when he knows it’s too late to enter the bedroom. in secret, he performs more gigs than usual, trying to scrape together whatever cash he can get to help support you.
things aren’t perfect, though, and you know they never will be. there’s nights where he does wake you up, 4 or 5 AM when the birds are chirping, and you stomp into the living room, pissed at his irresponsibility. all you want from su-bong is for him to be clean for you and your baby, but you’re not sure if that’s possible. “do you know what time it is?” you mutter angrily, a hand on your hip and the other resting on your bump. su-bong rolls his eyes, sitting back into the couch as he murmurs, “yeah.” his indifference always pisses you off, as though he doesn’t see anything wrong with his actions.
“and you’re just now getting home from the club?” you continue to prod, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “yeah.” su-bong repeats. if it wasn’t so dark in the room, you’re sure you’d see a smirk on his stupid face, and you’re glad the lights are off. “and you think that’s okay? what, are you a teenager? you think you’re just gonna party every night while i’m here trying to sleep and take care of our baby?” su-bong sighs at your words, dragging a hand over his face. he wants to tell you why he’s been out so late, why he works his ass off until he’s ready to pass out, just to get a few extra bucks, but he doesn’t want you to worry or flip out even more.
“‘m sorry.” it comes out in a mumble, and su-bong stands up, now, towering over you. he’s careful as he pulls you into his chest, placing a kiss on the top of your head. as mad as he wants to be, knowing he’s genuinely been trying to support you—even when it doesn’t look that way—-he knows it’s late and you shouldn’t get so worked up all of the time. ”c’mon.” he mutters softly, guiding you back to the bedroom so you can get some sleep. the two of you lay in silence, and it doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep. but sleep doesn’t come to su-bong, and he stares at the ceiling, wondering how he’ll ever be a good enough father, especially when he thinks about his own. he’s trapped in his spiraling thoughts until the sun comes up, when he finally slips out of your room, careful not to wake you. before he heads out the front door, though, he stops in front of the fridge, glancing at the ultrasound image that hangs there by a magnet. without thinking, he slips the picture into his back pocket, and quietly exits your apartment.
the next time you see su-bong, you’re explaining all of the things you need to buy for the baby, and he’s aggravated. he knows he shouldn’t take it out on you, but he can’t help it. you’re already echoing the worries that have been ingrained in his head since you told him you were pregnant, and he doesn’t need a reminder.
“i started to buy some clothes, but i don’t have enough money to buy a crib or anything like that. my job reduced my hours.” you explain to su-bong, letting out a frustrated sigh. “we still need to get diapers, bottles, maybe even formula. fuck, i don’t know. it’s too much. it’s not like you’re any help.” you continue, plopping down onto the couch to rub at your temples. su-bong scowls at you, offended by your jab, and grunts, “don’t even fucking start.”
“what? am i wrong?” you fire back, snapping up your head to look at him. he fiddles with the cross around his neck, glancing around the room, desperately trying to avoid your convicting gaze.
“yeah, you are. why do you think i stay out so fuckin’ late every night?” su-bong asks suddenly, finally wanting to confess the purpose of his absence. you scoff at that, your gaze averting to the floor. “i don’t know, so you can get high and forget about your problems like you always do.” a tense silence hangs in the air like a thick fog, and su-bong tries not to snap. deep down, he knows it’s not fair to be mad at you—there’s no way you could’ve possibly known he was out trying to make money for you, and he hasn’t been a supportive baby daddy by any means. but, the lack of sleep and excessive amounts of stress he’s been facing seem to catch up to him, and he finally meets your fiery eyes.
“fuck you.” he scoffs, pushing himself off the wall to exit your apartment. su-bong feels like shit, but it doesn’t stop him from leaving. “yeah, just leave like you always do.” you yell after the man, voice trembling. you curse your hormones for making you so emotional, and try to fight back the tears that well up in your eyes, but to no avail.
you don’t hear from su-bong for the rest of the night, or the next day either. you get home from work and see a box before your front door, and it’s definitely too big for you to carry. confused, you inspect the shipping label—it must be a mistake. but to your surprise, the label reads choi su-bong. a faded logo resembling a crib decorates the box, and you nearly laugh at the sight. you’re about to fish your phone out of your back to call the man, but the door to your apartment complex slams shut, startling you. you then hear his familiar voice, “watch out, let me carry it inside.”
you’re utterly confused, but still step aside so su-bong can move the box. he notices your confusion, and explains over his shoulder, “what, you needed shit for our kid, didn’t you?”
how could he afford this? this must have cost a fortune…
you think back to your argument and feel your heart sink, guilt consuming you: he really was staying out late to help you. you try to make yourself feel better by reminding yourself of su-bong’s usual habits—hanging out at club pentagon until the early morning to get shit-faced with his friends—but your emotions get the best of you, and you’re soon sobbing outside of your apartment. you hear su-bong place the box on the floor, and he’s hesitant to round the corner, confused as to why you haven’t entered the apartment. when he sees you, though, he rushes over, wordlessly pulling you into his chest. it’s awkward—your baby bump restricts you from getting as close as you want, but the embrace is enough to comfort you anyway.
“i’m sorry.” you cry, letting your purse drop onto the floor. su-bong sighs, hating the way his chest gets tight when he sees you in distress. he wants to be mad at you, wants to push you away and never see you again so he doesn’t have to feel the rollercoaster of emotions you make him feel, but he knows he can’t. he loves you.
“‘s okay, you didn’t know.” he murmurs simply, pressing a long kiss to your temple. when you pull away from su-bong’s chest, he wipes away your stray tears with his thumb. he then places a chaste kiss on your lips and heads back to your bedroom to begin assembling the crib. it’s a start for sure, and you’re grateful for his support, even when you’ve been treating him poorly. you pray things won’t always be this way—that you two will one day be happy and argue less—but you don’t dwell on the your wishful thinking. instead, you follow him into the bedroom, watching as he tries to put the crib together.
when you reach your third trimester, you notice su-bong gets home at a decent time every night. he slips into bed with you, tugging you into his chest as best he can, and puts something random on the tv until you fall asleep. only then, when he hears your soft snores, does he allow himself to catch up on rest, too. the two of you never mention it, but you can tell he’s trying to prepare himself for when your child arrives. you know deep down, he fears your water will break when he’s not there, and he’d never forgive himself for missing out on such a crucial moment of need. su-bong tries to play it off, though, even teasingly trying to get in your pants, but you swat him away, too pregnant to even want to have sex with him.
and when your water finally does break, su-bong panics. you’re in the kitchen making dinner when you feel a gush of fluid trickle down your leg, dampening the cotton of your sweatpants. you gasp at that, startling su-bong who’s sprawled out lazily on the couch watching tv, and he jumps up as though he’s already aware of what happened—he’s been on edge about it for the past week. he’s on his feet in seconds, and scrambles over to you.
“what’s wrong?” he asks fearfully, eyes wide. you clutch your stomach instinctually, and his eyes trail down to the patch of wetness on your pantleg. he tries not to pass out. “oh god, did your water just break? are you okay?” your silence only fuels his fear, and you try not to laugh at su-bong’s distress; you’d think he’s the one about to deliver the damn baby.
“yes, i’m fine. let’s just go to the hospital, now.” you say between grit teeth, feeling your first contraction twist through your abdomen. you’re nearly rendered breathless at the painful sensation. su-bong swallows thickly, then nods, rushing to your bedroom to grab the baby bag you prepared before approaching you hesitantly. he takes a gentle hold of your arm and guides you out the front door, then carefully assists you down the stairs. once outside, su-bong aids your hobbling body into the passenger seat of your car, ensuring to secure your seatbelt before rushing over to the driver’s seat. it’s now or never.
su-bong almost wishes he could pop a pill right now to ease his out-of-control nerves, but he stops himself with a deep inhale. weeks prior, he made a promise to himself he’d stop doing drugs once your baby was born, and he refused to give up on the goal already. he knows you need him more than ever right now, and despite his own stress, he won’t cop out and let you down. not yet, at least, but hopefully not ever.
so, for now, he tries not to crash as he drives to the hospital, frequently throwing worried glances in your direction every time you gasp and moan in pain. he knows there’s a lot he needs to work on in himself in order to be the best father he can be to your child, but this is a start.
The office felt different after dark. No ringing phones, no chatter of colleagues—just the quiet thrum of air vents and the glow of the city bleeding through the blinds. You weren’t supposed to be here. Not with him. Not like this.
But Seunghyun was waiting, leaning against his desk as though he had all the time in the world. The way he looked at you made your chest tighten—his eyes sharp, watchful, carrying the weight of every secret you’d shared in this room.
“You’re reckless,” he said at last, his voice low, even. “Smiling with Daehyung like that… as if I wouldn’t notice.”
Your pulse spiked. There it was—that edge in his tone, the unspoken claim. He was jealous. And you hated that you liked it.
“I wasn’t—” The words came out weaker than you intended. He cut them short by taking your wrist, his touch firm but not rough, pulling you into the circle of his presence. The space between you shrank until his knees brushed your thighs.
“You were,” he insisted, softer now, as though savoring your nearness. His mouth dipped close, his breath grazing your lips. “But you’re here. With me. That’s all that matters.”
The silence that followed was thick with temptation. His fingers trailed along your waist, skimming fabric, tracing the curve of your hip like he was memorizing you again. It was slow, deliberate, a tease that made your breath falter.
“Do you have any idea,” he whispered, his lips hovering against your jawline, “how hard it is to sit across from you in those meetings? To watch you laugh, talk, act like you’re not mine?”
Your throat tightened at the possessive edge in his words. Before you could reply, his lips grazed your skin—just the faintest touch, enough to unravel your composure.
“Seunghyun…” you breathed, clutching his shirt, knuckles white as you pulled him closer.
That was all it took. His restraint snapped. His mouth claimed yours with urgency, no patience, no hesitation. The kiss was deep and consuming, a collision of want and frustration sharpened by the secrecy of it all.
Your back hit the desk, scattering papers across the floor. The sound echoed in the quiet office, a stark reminder of how close you were to being discovered. Your heart raced faster, each beat a warning, each kiss a dare.
His hands explored with purpose—up your spine, along your waist, grounding you while pulling you further under. Every movement carried the thrill of danger, the promise that this moment could vanish if anyone opened that door.
“Someone could walk in,” you whispered against his mouth, the words trembling more from desire than fear.
Seunghyun chuckled, dark and low, brushing his lips over your ear. “That’s what makes you tremble like this, isn’t it? The risk.”
You didn’t deny it. You couldn’t. Because it was true—the danger only made every touch sharper, every kiss more intoxicating.
His teeth grazed your lower lip, pulling a soft sound from you before his tongue soothed the sting. His hand slid up, cupping your face with surprising gentleness as if to remind you that beneath the fire, there was something softer, something that belonged only to him.
And then—
“Seunghyun?”
The voice froze you in place. Daehyung.
Your blood turned to ice as the door creaked open an inch, spilling a thin line of light into the office.
“I just wanted to let you know the final report is on your desk,” Daehyung called, his tone casual, unaware. “I’ll be gone for the night. Need me to go over anything before I leave?”
Your lips parted in panic, but Seunghyun pressed a finger gently against your mouth, his dark eyes locking with yours. Be quiet.
You could barely breathe. Daehyung was right there, on the other side of the door.
But Seunghyun didn’t stop. His hand slid under the hem of your blouse, his thumb drawing slow circles against your skin, soothing and torturous all at once. His other hand gripped your thigh, holding you in place, daring you to make a sound.
Your body betrayed you—heat flooding your veins, your pulse hammering in your throat—as you clung to his shirt, praying your knees wouldn’t give out.
“No, Daehyung,” Seunghyun answered smoothly, his voice steady even as his fingers traced fire along your skin. “I’ll review it tomorrow. Go home. Rest.”
There was a pause. For a terrifying moment, you thought Daehyung would step inside. But then footsteps retreated down the hall, and the door clicked softly shut.
You exhaled a shaky breath, but Seunghyun didn’t let you go. His mouth brushed your ear as he whispered, low and certain:
“You’re perfect when you’re quiet like that.”
Then, as if nothing had happened, he stepped back, straightening his tie, smoothing his sleeves. Composed. Controlled. The perfect boss again.
But before he left, he looked back once, eyes glinting with a promise only you could read.
“Try to act normal when you see him tomorrow,” he said, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth. “Though after tonight… I doubt you’ll manage it.”
And just like that, he was gone, leaving you breathless, trembling, and desperately wanting more.
summary: you’re about to lose your life before an old friend steps in to save you.
warnings: fem!reader x nam-gyu, smutttttt, graphic depictions of death/murder (hide & seek), swearing
words: 5k
requests: open :)
the room is eerily silent, void of any noise aside from the mechanical clicking of the machine in front of you. you wait in line for your fate to be sealed, life and death revealing themselves through red and blue rubber balls.
you’re not sure how you made it this far—it’s the fourth game, and each has been more challenging than the last, especially since you’ve gone solo. you’ve been surviving in solitude since thanos died. he was the first person to approach you in this hellhole, and you figured his incessant flirting was a good sign; it meant safety, protection, and belonging in a place where everyone was a stranger. and for a while, thanos provided you all of those things, even killing others to ensure you lived.
but then, he was killed.
from that moment on, you isolated yourself, no longer trusting anyone. you didn’t even allow yourself to hang around nam-gyu or min-su, who’d stuck with you and thanos since the beginning. you’ve seen the most horrifying atrocities commited right before your very eyes, often carried out by those you’d least expect. thanos’ death means there’s no one left to save you; all it takes is one slip up, one moment of hesitation or regret, and you’ll lose your life. he was by no means a knight in shining armor, but he always had your back. and now, you’re forced to have your own back.
you’re hesitant as you approach the gumball machine, feeling your heart drum in your ears as you reach out for the metal knob. the machine is cool to the touch and it cranks out a ball with a quiet whirr.
blue.
you have no idea what to expect as you trudge over to the blue side, your heart heavy. you spare a brief glance at the crowd around you, recognizing a few familiar faces. you dare to look at the other side, where you find nam-gyu and min-su. you feel your heart sink even further at the sight. despite your intentional distancing from the two men, the last thing you want is to be pit against them.
once gi-hun receives the final red ball, the guards brief you for the fourth game. “the game you’ll be playing today is hide-and-seek. players of the blue team must find the exit within thirty minutes, or stay hidden to avoid being caught by members of the red team before the game ends.”
avoid being caught?
your pulse quickens dramatically at the guard’s words, fight-or-flight kicking in once you notice each member of the red team receives a knife. the circular key bestowed upon you is nothing compared to the weapon you watch nam-gyu toy with, studying the blade as though it were a prize. and in his mind, it probably is.
you think back to the moments you’ve shared with the man and how thanos helped bring out his sadistic nature. it’s clear the games have unleashed something primal from within nam-gyu, something violent and animalistic that you know you should fear, yet it intrigues you deeply. he’s always been kind to you, and you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t devilishly attractive, but you figure you can never be too trusting—not in this place.
instead, you sneak glances at the man like you always have, studying his wild, dilated eyes and slender fingers that curl around the knife in familiarity. he smirks in approval of his new role and you wonder if he’s already plotting against your team. you can’t help but ask yourself, if he were to cross paths with you, would he spare you? or would he slaughter you as though you’re nothing but a player in a game? you decide it’s best not to even think like that—not to get caught up with the “what ifs” when your life is on the line. for all you know, nam-gyu is completely far gone, and thanos’ cross around his neck only reinforces that.
you’re forced to look away from the man once the guards call for your team to enter the arena. you’re lucky to get a headstart, but you know you’ll need more than luck to last over five minutes in this place. you have no way to defend yourself—only the key around your neck can help you, but even then, you’re not sure how far that will get you.
the other blue team members enter the room in a panic, sprinting down the empty corridors in hopes of finding refuge. you find yourself running, too, unsure of where you’re even going. the least you can do, for now, is put distance between yourself and the entrance. you come to a stop when you reach a dead end, feeling panic blossom in your chest. from the distance, you hear the charged hoots and hollers from the red team, making their presence known to the rest of you. you feel like helpless prey, a trembling mess as the footsteps of your predators thunder closer.
you turn around, bolting down the empty corridor in hopes of finding the escape. you round the corner and see a man from your team fumbling with the lock on a door, his shaky hands prohibiting him from unlocking it. when he finally gets in, he scurries into the small room and slams the door shut. you’re not sure if hiding is the best idea; though it’s a temporary saving grace, you think about how easy it is for the red team to acquire keys. all they need to do is remove the necklace from their victims, then there’s nothing stopping them from barging into each room until there’s not a single blue player left. the realization makes you feel even more helpless, and you remind yourself that the games are cold and unforgiving—you were never meant to survive, just kill until you’re killed, like survival of the fittest, only crueler. you’ve been lucky enough to make it this far, but the impending doom of your fate ticks away at your brain like an old clock.
you break out of your panicked thoughts when you hear a nearby scream, followed by the repeated, sickening slash of knife against flesh. the screams soon come to a halt, a pained gurgle signifying the loss of life. the robotic voice you’ve become so accustomed to announces the death with the player’s number, cold and emotionless, and you force yourself to keep running. the sad truth of this place is that it strips away your humanity, makes you indifferent to death because you fear your own, and you have no time to stop and process things. it’s enough to drive you to the brink of insanity, and you know people are far beyond that point by now.
you sprint down the hall, ignoring the blood that paints the corridors, and round the corner to be faced with a member of the red team. you widen your eyes once you process your unfortunate circumstances and quickly turn around, bolting back toward the direction you came from. you can hear that the man is right on your trail and he grunts in both desperation and exertion as he chases after you, wielding a knife in his right hand. you know you need to think fast or else you’ll die, but your options are extremely limited. your mind briefly flashes to thanos, then nam-gyu, and you shake the thoughts away, reminding yourself that you’re on your own. your only options right now are to try to get into a room—which seems unlikely considering the killer’s close proximity—or to die, which is not ideal.
you decide to keep running, praying you don’t find yourself in another dead end. the man follows closely behind you, but a small distance grows as he becomes more and more exerted. you spare a glance over your shoulder as you run through an intersection, and in that moment, another blue team member comes running from the other direction, slamming directly into your pursuer. the two fall onto the ground in a heap and you force yourself to look away, fearful of your teammate’s fate. instead, you sprint toward a nearby door, quickly fumbling with the necklace around your neck to unlock the room.
you slam the door shut once you enter, trembling in fear, and step backwards until your back hits the wall. you slide down to sit, attempting to regain your composure. you know you won’t survive if you let your anxiety overcome you. you look up and notice the walls are bright and colorful, painted like a child’s room. the sight makes your stomach churn. distant, pained screams of agony echo throughout the arena, bouncing off the bloodstained walls to haunt you. it reminds you of the dangers of your current location; you know you can’t stay here long, but you can hardly will yourself to go back out there. finding the exit seems impossible when the majority of those around you want you dead.
you sigh and run a shaky hand through your hair, trying to hype yourself up to leave. footsteps thunder past the door—you know you need to get out of here—but as you stand up, the lock clicks. you watch in horror as the doorknob twists ever so slightly, and you can only pray it’s someone from your team.
but it’s not.
your pursuer from minutes ago enters the room, a dark look in his eyes. blood stains much of his face and clothes, undoubtedly from the man he’d previously collided with, and a bloody, circular key trembles between his fingers. your heart races so fast you can hardly hear much else. you know you’re dead; his massive frame blocks the exit and he has you cornered. all you can do is try to fight the man back, but his size is incredibly daunting. you nearly stop and accept your fate before the man charges at you, his knife soaked in your teammate’s blood. instinctually, you move away, and he collides with the wall. you make a run for the door, but the man is quick on his feet, pulling at your wrist so you can’t escape.
you let out a yelp and try to fend the man off of you, pushing at his chest to keep the knife from making contact with your body. the man lets out an animalistic grunt and slashes at your head, to which you dodge. the knife strikes the floor with an unpleasant screech and you attempt to kick the man’s body off of you, but he’s far too large.
you’re going to die and you know it.
the thought doesn’t stop you from fighting back yet, but it’s enough to momentarily distract you. the knife collides with the flesh of your arm and you let out a scream in pain. still not satisfied, the man slashes at you again and you accept your fate, bringing your arms up over your eyes. your mind momentarily flashes to nam-gyu and min-su, and you wonder if things would’ve gone differently if you had stuck around them. you wonder if nam-gyu will even bat an eye when he realizes you’re dead, or if the thought will satisfy his sadistic mind.
you lay there, trembling, waiting for the man to put an end to your suffering, but it never comes. instead, you feel his massive body still, then drop lifelessly to the floor beside you. an eerie silence settles over the room. hesitantly, you drop your shaky arms from your eyes. there lays the man, dead. nam-gyu stands over his body, a crazed look in his eyes as he watches the man twitch. he then glances over at you, eyes softening, though still sporting a wild haze.
“long time no see.” the man smirks darkly, crouching down so he’s level with you. your brain momentarily shortcircuits, still trying to process what just happened. in your panicked state, you flinch away from nam-gyu, wondering if he’s going to kill you next. he lets out a low chuckle, reaching out to cup your cheek. “don’t worry, pretty. i’m not gonna hurt you. we’re friends, remember?” humor underlies his tone, but he oddly seems genuine. nam-gyu’s touch feels electric against your skin and you nearly lean into it, seeking comfort in your fearful state. instead, you nod hesitantly at his words.
“come on, follow me. i’ll keep you safe.” the man promises, pushing himself up to his feet. he helps you up by tugging your arm, and you yelp as you’re reminded of your injury. you clutch the bloody wound and nam-gyu’s eyebrows furrow. “you’re hurt?” he asks, gentle, yet firm.
“yeah, b-but i’m fine.” you rasp. luckily, the cut isn’t terribly deep, but enough to draw what seems to be an endless stream of blood. nam-gyu nods at that, briefly glancing back down at your attacker before smiling once again. “you don’t have to worry anymore.” the way he says your name makes your heart flutter, and you’re surprised you’re even capable of feeling such emotions at a time like this. he’d just killed a man for you and now he’s promising protection, just like thanos had. but this feels much different: more genuine, more… right.
“c’mon.” nam-gyu breaks you out of your thoughts with a gentle tug to your hand, careful not to apply too much force. you swallow thickly and nod, running after the man as he hollers excitedly down the corridors. he seems to be having too much fun, but you attribute it to the pills that rattle against the cross on his neck. you can’t judge him too much, because without him, you’d be dead. so instead, you run after him.
the two of you come to a halt once you reach a dead end. at the end of the hall, a man in blue cowers in the corner, a tremor overtaking his body once he notices you. he pleads with nam-gyu, who tauntingly steps closer to the man, to spare his life, but you know he won’t. “please don’t kill me.” the man begs, his eyes darting over to you. a look of betrayal and confusion blossoms on his features once he notices you’re on the same team as him, and you avert your gaze in discomfort. it’s not like you want him to get killed, but you have no other choice.
“i’m sorry, man, but you know the rules.” nam-gyu smiles devilishly, crouching down in front of the man. he glances down at his bloodied knife and wipes the remnants of your pursuer onto his shirt, only adding to the crimson mess of his vest. nam-gyu then toys with the blade, twirling the weapon around in his grasp before suddenly slashing at his target, eliciting a pained wail from the man. you want to look away, but a sickeningly curious part of yourself doesn’t let you. nam-gyu continues to attack the man, a pool of blood wetting the floor beneath him. when he decides he’s done, he gets up and walks back over to you, a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips. he uses the back of his sleeve to wipe away the blood that splattered on his face, but he only smears it across his lips.
“your turn.” nam-gyu states matter-of-factly, holding out the knife for you to grab. your eyes widen at his words, and you convince yourself you didn’t hear him correctly.
he wants you to kill the man? why? you’re not even on the red team, it’s not like you’ll die if you won’t.
“m-me?” you stutter, glancing down at the knife that’s coated in blood.
nam-gyu’s smile only widens as he responds, “yeah, you.” he says it as though it were obvious, and you try not to cringe as you take the blade from his grasp. you weigh your options. on one hand, you know you shouldn’t kill the man. you’re not a murderer, and it’s an innocent life on the line. on the other, though, you’re not the same girl you were when you first arrived here. this place will make you a killer, whether you want to be one or not. besides, you have no idea what nam-gyu will do if you don’t follow his orders. for all you know, you’re next.
you swallow thickly and nod, brushing past nam-gyu to approach the man. he lays lifeless on the floor, bleeding out, but the shallow rise and fall of his chest signifies he’s still alive. you take a deep breath to steel yourself as you crouch over him, knife trembling between both of your hands as you bring it above your head to strike. you can’t help but look into the man’s eyes, pooling with fear, and you notice the desperation still laying behind them. but this time, he’s begging for something else: he wants you to end his suffering.
the cruel thought somehow eases your nerves ever so slightly, but you still look away as you slam the blade into his chest. blood splatters all over you and the sickening crunch of the knife coming in contact with his body makes you clench your teeth in disgust. with a final, sputtering gasp, the man’s head lulls to the side and he takes his final breath.
“player 136 eliminated.”
you peel your eyes open to see what you had done and try to push down the nausea that builds in your stomach. your arm throbs in pain and you stand up carefully.
“atta girl.” nam-gyu praises, approaching your shaking form slowly. he wraps his arms around you from behind to take the knife from your grasp and you feel goosebumps erupt on your skin at the contact; you’re almost disappointed when he pulls away. “come on, only 5 minutes left.” nam-gyu reminds you, jerking his head toward the empty corridor. he gives you a reassuring pat on the back once you make your way over to him, eyes soft once again, then the two of you start running again.
it doesn’t take long for you to stumble across another blue player, this time a woman. she fumbles with the lock on one of the doors, then soon realizes she doesn’t have the proper key. she dares to glance at nam-gyu, who’s already sauntering over to her, and he pulls you along with him. “you first this time.” nam-gyu instructs, handing you the knife so he could restrain the woman against the wall. you watch as the woman struggles against his hold, tears streaming down her face as she pleads for her life. nam-gyu only grows excited at this, and looks over at you expectantly. “c’mon, pretty. i’ll finish the job for you.” he urges.
“okay.” you mutter timidly, nodding your head. you blow out a distressed sigh and approach the woman, the knife wobbling in your shaky hand as you bring it up to strike her. you feel more numb this time around, now knowing what it feels like to take a life, but you still hesitate before stabbing her in the chest. she lets out a yell and crumples to the ground. nam-gyu whoops in approval and takes the knife from you, finishing the job as promised. the woman’s death is commemorated with the robotic call of her number.
“fuck yeah!” nam-gyu yells as he stands up, pushing back the bloodied strands of hair that litter his forehead. his breaths are ragged, no doubt from adrenaline, and he pulls you into him by throwing an arm around your shoulders. “good girl.” he praises you in reference to your help with a whisper in your ear. your stomach turns again, though this time not from nausea, but something else—something dangerous—like the thrill of standing on the edge of a cliff. you’re not proud of what you’d done by any means, but nam-gyu’s words coil in your chest, sharp and intoxicating, making it impossible to look away. you hate how good you feel when he praises you. you know it’s wrong, it’s sick, but it’s the most alive you’ve felt in days. you smile up at the man, then wince as the pain in your arm sharpens. nam-gyu’s expression melds into one of worry, and he promises, “when we get out of here, i’ll help you clean that up.”
as if on cue, a robotic voice announces the game is over. relief washes over you and you nearly slump into nam-gyu, but manage to maintain your composure until you get back to the main room. once there, you practically collapse onto your bed, careful not to land on your arm. nam-gyu sits down beside you. you sit in a comfortable silence for a moment, trying to process the fact that you’re even alive. if it wasn’t for nam-gyu, you wouldn’t be. you’re not sure how to thank him, and even more unsure of why he even helped you in the first place—you would’ve been an easy kill.
“hey, let me help you take off your jacket so i can look at your arm.” nam-gyu suggests, breaking you out of your thoughts. you oblige with a quiet “okay” and allow him to peel the jacket off of you. you grimace at the array of blood—both yours and that of others—splattered all over the fabric.
“thank you.” you say to nam-gyu suddenly, and he gazes into your eyes, his expression soft. it seems like he’s coming down, now, his pupils no longer blown. “f-for everything. for saving me too, i mean.” you continue to stutter, suddenly shy beneath his gaze. nam-gyu smiles, bringing up his hand to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “of course, pretty. that’s what friends are for, right?” he asks lowly, leaning closer and closer to you until your faces are only inches apart. you swallow nervously, captivated by the man, and breathlessly agree, “right” as your eyes flicker down to his mouth.
then, in an instant, his lips are on yours, surprisingly gentle as he pulls you closer, the softness at odds with the blood still fresh on his hands. you’re shocked for a moment, but practically melt into the man’s touch when he brings his hand up to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss. never in a million years did you think you’d be here—alive and electric beneath nam-gyu’s touch—but here you are, kissing the man who had just killed three people right before your eyes.
nam-gyu gently pushes you onto your back so he hovers over you, cross dangling above your chest as he presses his body into yours. he slips his tongue into your mouth, sloppy and desperate, but you keep up with his pace, equally as needy. he rocks himself into you and you finally feel how hard he is, sending a rush of heat to your core. for a moment, you worry the others will see you, despite the fact that your bed is tucked into the corner of the room, but you figure the lights being off is good enough. besides, they’ve seen worse.
you’re briefly disappointed when nam-gyu pulls away from your lips, practically panting as he shrugs off his jacket and shirt. he then tugs at the bottom of your own shirt, signaling you to take it off. “let me help you out, baby.” he offers softly, but you can hear the want laced in his tone. you know he’s no longer referring to your arm anymore, but to the ache in your core. you need him just as bad as he needs you.
“okay.” you smile knowingly, carefully slipping your shirt off. you wince as the fabric brushes over your injury and nam-gyu comforts you by stroking your bare side with his hand. he begins to kiss your stomach, snaking his arms beneath your body to unclip your bra. you practically fling it off onto the floor, arching into nam-gyu’s touch as he brings his lips up to your breast. “so fuckin’ pretty.” nam-gyu grunts into your skin, using his right hand to kneed your breast in his hand while he sucks on the other. you whimper softly, not wanting to alert the others around you, but you can’t help but react to his touch. you feel like you’re on fire.
nam-gyu pulls away from your chest to reconnect your lips, and you fumble with his pants as he grinds into you. “so eager, baby. me too, i’ve been waiting for this all day.” nam-gyu groans, kicking off his pants once you pull them down enough. you moan into his mouth in response, fueled by his words, and gasp when you feel his cock press into you, limited by the fabric of his boxers. he chuckles darkly at your desperation, then moves down the bed so he’s level with your pussy. nam-gyu hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down agonizingly slow to tease you. you bite your lip to conceal a whimper when he throws your legs over his shoulders, so close you can feel his breath hit your clit.
“just relax, baby. i just wanna make you feel good. you don’t have to worry, nam-gyu’s here.” he taunts, amused by your desperation. before you can process it, he’s licking into you, his tongue collecting the wetness that had been pooling in you ever since his earlier praises. you let out a loud moan, then cover your mouth with your good arm, squirming as nam-gyu devours you. he switches between lapping at your clit and shoving his tongue inside of you, both actions eliciting whines from you, and tightens his grip on your thighs. “yeah, baby. you’re so good for me, so wet. taste so good, too.” nam-gyu mutters lowly, lowering his right hand to slip a finger inside of you. his words cause you to clench around him, desperate for stimulation, and nam-gyu groans at the feeling. “you’re so fucking tight. i need to be inside of you.” he rocks his hips against the bed, desperate to feel you, but continues to finger you roughly. you can barely contain yourself as his finger thrusts into you, and the need to be full soon consumes you.
“oh god, nam-gyu. please fuck me.” you beg softly, still trying to remain quiet. his finger slips out of you in an instant, and he takes his boxers off in record time. “don’t have to tell me twice, baby.” he grunts, lining up his tip with your entrance. he takes his time when entering you, relishing in the feeling of your pussy clenching around him. once he has you full, he leans down to cage you in his arms, his face directly above your own. “been thinking about this since the first day i saw you, but that asshole thanos was all over you.” nam-gyu admits, slowly thrusting into you. it’s agonizing, yet delicious, and you let out a whimper at his words. he maintains his slow pace as he continues, “you’re so fucking pretty, baby. and such a good girl, too, helping me earlier.” he drops his head down to your neck to kiss your skin, his sucking and biting sure to leave marks.
“nam-gyu, please…” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist to urge him to go harder, faster.
“please what, pretty, hm?” he teases into your neck, thrusting impossibly slower. you’re frustrated, now, throwing your head back into the pillow as you struggle to find the words. “please, nam-gyu, fuck me faster, need you so bad.” you whine, wrapping your arms around his neck. he doesn’t say anything as he quickens his pace, slamming into you so hard that the bed shakes. you choke out a moan and clamp your hand over your mouth, feeling your eyes roll back as nam-gyu pounds into you.
“yeah, is this what you wanted, baby? want me to wreck that pretty pussy?” the man pants, his face inches away from yours. the eye contact is intense, intimate, and you feel yourself flutter around his cock. your head lulls to the side and you screw your eyes shut in pleasure, trying not to scream as he hits your g-spot, but nam-gyu grabs your face roughly and forces you to look at him. “keep your eyes on me like the good girl you are, baby. wanna see your face when you cum all over me.”
you moan at his words, feeling your orgasm approach when nam-gyu reaches down to rub your clit. his pace is brutal, unrelenting, and it doesn’t take long for you to reach your release. you sputter out a whine as he fucks you through your orgasm, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “that’s it, baby. god, you’re so fucking sexy.” nam-gyu moans, dropping his head into your neck as he maintains his rough thrusts. he brings a hand around your neck and squeezes lighty enough to have you seeing white, and the overstimulation of it all is almost too much. your legs shake around nam-gyu’s waist and soon enough, you feel his thrusts grow sloppy, a telltale sign of his own orgasm approaching.
“gonna cum, baby. gonna cum inside your pretty pussy. oh fuck.” nam-gyu moans into your neck, hips sputtering as he shoots his load inside of you. you whimper at the sensation, still sensitive, and let out a whine when he pulls out, his seed spilling out of you onto the crumpled sheets of your bed. you’re both silent for a moment, gasping for air as you come down from your orgasms. nam-gyu collapses on top of you, careful not to crush your arm, and strokes at your side gently. “so pretty for me, sweetheart.”
you don’t respond, still fucked out, and thread a hand through his hair, gently playing with his sweaty locks. the two of you lay there for a few moments, finding comfort in each others company, and for the first time since you got here, you’re hopeful. you know it’ll be hell to escape this place, but with nam-gyu by your side, you can’t help but feel like things will be alright.
first nam-gyu fic yayyy :) i've never written anything like this before, i hope you enjoyed! requests are open <333
summary: you’re about to lose your life before an old friend steps in to save you.
warnings: fem!reader x nam-gyu, smutttttt, graphic depictions of death/murder (hide & seek), swearing
words: 5k
requests: open :)
the room is eerily silent, void of any noise aside from the mechanical clicking of the machine in front of you. you wait in line for your fate to be sealed, life and death revealing themselves through red and blue rubber balls.
you’re not sure how you made it this far—it’s the fourth game, and each has been more challenging than the last, especially since you’ve gone solo. you’ve been surviving in solitude since thanos died. he was the first person to approach you in this hellhole, and you figured his incessant flirting was a good sign; it meant safety, protection, and belonging in a place where everyone was a stranger. and for a while, thanos provided you all of those things, even killing others to ensure you lived.
but then, he was killed.
from that moment on, you isolated yourself, no longer trusting anyone. you didn’t even allow yourself to hang around nam-gyu or min-su, who’d stuck with you and thanos since the beginning. you’ve seen the most horrifying atrocities commited right before your very eyes, often carried out by those you’d least expect. thanos’ death means there’s no one left to save you; all it takes is one slip up, one moment of hesitation or regret, and you’ll lose your life. he was by no means a knight in shining armor, but he always had your back. and now, you’re forced to have your own back.
you’re hesitant as you approach the gumball machine, feeling your heart drum in your ears as you reach out for the metal knob. the machine is cool to the touch and it cranks out a ball with a quiet whirr.
blue.
you have no idea what to expect as you trudge over to the blue side, your heart heavy. you spare a brief glance at the crowd around you, recognizing a few familiar faces. you dare to look at the other side, where you find nam-gyu and min-su. you feel your heart sink even further at the sight. despite your intentional distancing from the two men, the last thing you want is to be pit against them.
once gi-hun receives the final red ball, the guards brief you for the fourth game. “the game you’ll be playing today is hide-and-seek. players of the blue team must find the exit within thirty minutes, or stay hidden to avoid being caught by members of the red team before the game ends.”
avoid being caught?
your pulse quickens dramatically at the guard’s words, fight-or-flight kicking in once you notice each member of the red team receives a knife. the circular key bestowed upon you is nothing compared to the weapon you watch nam-gyu toy with, studying the blade as though it were a prize. and in his mind, it probably is.
you think back to the moments you’ve shared with the man and how thanos helped bring out his sadistic nature. it’s clear the games have unleashed something primal from within nam-gyu, something violent and animalistic that you know you should fear, yet it intrigues you deeply. he’s always been kind to you, and you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t devilishly attractive, but you figure you can never be too trusting—not in this place.
instead, you sneak glances at the man like you always have, studying his wild, dilated eyes and slender fingers that curl around the knife in familiarity. he smirks in approval of his new role and you wonder if he’s already plotting against your team. you can’t help but ask yourself, if he were to cross paths with you, would he spare you? or would he slaughter you as though you’re nothing but a player in a game? you decide it’s best not to even think like that—not to get caught up with the “what ifs” when your life is on the line. for all you know, nam-gyu is completely far gone, and thanos’ cross around his neck only reinforces that.
you’re forced to look away from the man once the guards call for your team to enter the arena. you’re lucky to get a headstart, but you know you’ll need more than luck to last over five minutes in this place. you have no way to defend yourself—only the key around your neck can help you, but even then, you’re not sure how far that will get you.
the other blue team members enter the room in a panic, sprinting down the empty corridors in hopes of finding refuge. you find yourself running, too, unsure of where you’re even going. the least you can do, for now, is put distance between yourself and the entrance. you come to a stop when you reach a dead end, feeling panic blossom in your chest. from the distance, you hear the charged hoots and hollers from the red team, making their presence known to the rest of you. you feel like helpless prey, a trembling mess as the footsteps of your predators thunder closer.
you turn around, bolting down the empty corridor in hopes of finding the escape. you round the corner and see a man from your team fumbling with the lock on a door, his shaky hands prohibiting him from unlocking it. when he finally gets in, he scurries into the small room and slams the door shut. you’re not sure if hiding is the best idea; though it’s a temporary saving grace, you think about how easy it is for the red team to acquire keys. all they need to do is remove the necklace from their victims, then there’s nothing stopping them from barging into each room until there’s not a single blue player left. the realization makes you feel even more helpless, and you remind yourself that the games are cold and unforgiving—you were never meant to survive, just kill until you’re killed, like survival of the fittest, only crueler. you’ve been lucky enough to make it this far, but the impending doom of your fate ticks away at your brain like an old clock.
you break out of your panicked thoughts when you hear a nearby scream, followed by the repeated, sickening slash of knife against flesh. the screams soon come to a halt, a pained gurgle signifying the loss of life. the robotic voice you’ve become so accustomed to announces the death with the player’s number, cold and emotionless, and you force yourself to keep running. the sad truth of this place is that it strips away your humanity, makes you indifferent to death because you fear your own, and you have no time to stop and process things. it’s enough to drive you to the brink of insanity, and you know people are far beyond that point by now.
you sprint down the hall, ignoring the blood that paints the corridors, and round the corner to be faced with a member of the red team. you widen your eyes once you process your unfortunate circumstances and quickly turn around, bolting back toward the direction you came from. you can hear that the man is right on your trail and he grunts in both desperation and exertion as he chases after you, wielding a knife in his right hand. you know you need to think fast or else you’ll die, but your options are extremely limited. your mind briefly flashes to thanos, then nam-gyu, and you shake the thoughts away, reminding yourself that you’re on your own. your only options right now are to try to get into a room—which seems unlikely considering the killer’s close proximity—or to die, which is not ideal.
you decide to keep running, praying you don’t find yourself in another dead end. the man follows closely behind you, but a small distance grows as he becomes more and more exerted. you spare a glance over your shoulder as you run through an intersection, and in that moment, another blue team member comes running from the other direction, slamming directly into your pursuer. the two fall onto the ground in a heap and you force yourself to look away, fearful of your teammate’s fate. instead, you sprint toward a nearby door, quickly fumbling with the necklace around your neck to unlock the room.
you slam the door shut once you enter, trembling in fear, and step backwards until your back hits the wall. you slide down to sit, attempting to regain your composure. you know you won’t survive if you let your anxiety overcome you. you look up and notice the walls are bright and colorful, painted like a child’s room. the sight makes your stomach churn. distant, pained screams of agony echo throughout the arena, bouncing off the bloodstained walls to haunt you. it reminds you of the dangers of your current location; you know you can’t stay here long, but you can hardly will yourself to go back out there. finding the exit seems impossible when the majority of those around you want you dead.
you sigh and run a shaky hand through your hair, trying to hype yourself up to leave. footsteps thunder past the door—you know you need to get out of here—but as you stand up, the lock clicks. you watch in horror as the doorknob twists ever so slightly, and you can only pray it’s someone from your team.
but it’s not.
your pursuer from minutes ago enters the room, a dark look in his eyes. blood stains much of his face and clothes, undoubtedly from the man he’d previously collided with, and a bloody, circular key trembles between his fingers. your heart races so fast you can hardly hear much else. you know you’re dead; his massive frame blocks the exit and he has you cornered. all you can do is try to fight the man back, but his size is incredibly daunting. you nearly stop and accept your fate before the man charges at you, his knife soaked in your teammate’s blood. instinctually, you move away, and he collides with the wall. you make a run for the door, but the man is quick on his feet, pulling at your wrist so you can’t escape.
you let out a yelp and try to fend the man off of you, pushing at his chest to keep the knife from making contact with your body. the man lets out an animalistic grunt and slashes at your head, to which you dodge. the knife strikes the floor with an unpleasant screech and you attempt to kick the man’s body off of you, but he’s far too large.
you’re going to die and you know it.
the thought doesn’t stop you from fighting back yet, but it’s enough to momentarily distract you. the knife collides with the flesh of your arm and you let out a scream in pain. still not satisfied, the man slashes at you again and you accept your fate, bringing your arms up over your eyes. your mind momentarily flashes to nam-gyu and min-su, and you wonder if things would’ve gone differently if you had stuck around them. you wonder if nam-gyu will even bat an eye when he realizes you’re dead, or if the thought will satisfy his sadistic mind.
you lay there, trembling, waiting for the man to put an end to your suffering, but it never comes. instead, you feel his massive body still, then drop lifelessly to the floor beside you. an eerie silence settles over the room. hesitantly, you drop your shaky arms from your eyes. there lays the man, dead. nam-gyu stands over his body, a crazed look in his eyes as he watches the man twitch. he then glances over at you, eyes softening, though still sporting a wild haze.
“long time no see.” the man smirks darkly, crouching down so he’s level with you. your brain momentarily shortcircuits, still trying to process what just happened. in your panicked state, you flinch away from nam-gyu, wondering if he’s going to kill you next. he lets out a low chuckle, reaching out to cup your cheek. “don’t worry, pretty. i’m not gonna hurt you. we’re friends, remember?” humor underlies his tone, but he oddly seems genuine. nam-gyu’s touch feels electric against your skin and you nearly lean into it, seeking comfort in your fearful state. instead, you nod hesitantly at his words.
“come on, follow me. i’ll keep you safe.” the man promises, pushing himself up to his feet. he helps you up by tugging your arm, and you yelp as you’re reminded of your injury. you clutch the bloody wound and nam-gyu’s eyebrows furrow. “you’re hurt?” he asks, gentle, yet firm.
“yeah, b-but i’m fine.” you rasp. luckily, the cut isn’t terribly deep, but enough to draw what seems to be an endless stream of blood. nam-gyu nods at that, briefly glancing back down at your attacker before smiling once again. “you don’t have to worry anymore.” the way he says your name makes your heart flutter, and you’re surprised you’re even capable of feeling such emotions at a time like this. he’d just killed a man for you and now he’s promising protection, just like thanos had. but this feels much different: more genuine, more… right.
“c’mon.” nam-gyu breaks you out of your thoughts with a gentle tug to your hand, careful not to apply too much force. you swallow thickly and nod, running after the man as he hollers excitedly down the corridors. he seems to be having too much fun, but you attribute it to the pills that rattle against the cross on his neck. you can’t judge him too much, because without him, you’d be dead. so instead, you run after him.
the two of you come to a halt once you reach a dead end. at the end of the hall, a man in blue cowers in the corner, a tremor overtaking his body once he notices you. he pleads with nam-gyu, who tauntingly steps closer to the man, to spare his life, but you know he won’t. “please don’t kill me.” the man begs, his eyes darting over to you. a look of betrayal and confusion blossoms on his features once he notices you’re on the same team as him, and you avert your gaze in discomfort. it’s not like you want him to get killed, but you have no other choice.
“i’m sorry, man, but you know the rules.” nam-gyu smiles devilishly, crouching down in front of the man. he glances down at his bloodied knife and wipes the remnants of your pursuer onto his shirt, only adding to the crimson mess of his vest. nam-gyu then toys with the blade, twirling the weapon around in his grasp before suddenly slashing at his target, eliciting a pained wail from the man. you want to look away, but a sickeningly curious part of yourself doesn’t let you. nam-gyu continues to attack the man, a pool of blood wetting the floor beneath him. when he decides he’s done, he gets up and walks back over to you, a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips. he uses the back of his sleeve to wipe away the blood that splattered on his face, but he only smears it across his lips.
“your turn.” nam-gyu states matter-of-factly, holding out the knife for you to grab. your eyes widen at his words, and you convince yourself you didn’t hear him correctly.
he wants you to kill the man? why? you’re not even on the red team, it’s not like you’ll die if you won’t.
“m-me?” you stutter, glancing down at the knife that’s coated in blood.
nam-gyu’s smile only widens as he responds, “yeah, you.” he says it as though it were obvious, and you try not to cringe as you take the blade from his grasp. you weigh your options. on one hand, you know you shouldn’t kill the man. you’re not a murderer, and it’s an innocent life on the line. on the other, though, you’re not the same girl you were when you first arrived here. this place will make you a killer, whether you want to be one or not. besides, you have no idea what nam-gyu will do if you don’t follow his orders. for all you know, you’re next.
you swallow thickly and nod, brushing past nam-gyu to approach the man. he lays lifeless on the floor, bleeding out, but the shallow rise and fall of his chest signifies he’s still alive. you take a deep breath to steel yourself as you crouch over him, knife trembling between both of your hands as you bring it above your head to strike. you can’t help but look into the man’s eyes, pooling with fear, and you notice the desperation still laying behind them. but this time, he’s begging for something else: he wants you to end his suffering.
the cruel thought somehow eases your nerves ever so slightly, but you still look away as you slam the blade into his chest. blood splatters all over you and the sickening crunch of the knife coming in contact with his body makes you clench your teeth in disgust. with a final, sputtering gasp, the man’s head lulls to the side and he takes his final breath.
“player 136 eliminated.”
you peel your eyes open to see what you had done and try to push down the nausea that builds in your stomach. your arm throbs in pain and you stand up carefully.
“atta girl.” nam-gyu praises, approaching your shaking form slowly. he wraps his arms around you from behind to take the knife from your grasp and you feel goosebumps erupt on your skin at the contact; you’re almost disappointed when he pulls away. “come on, only 5 minutes left.” nam-gyu reminds you, jerking his head toward the empty corridor. he gives you a reassuring pat on the back once you make your way over to him, eyes soft once again, then the two of you start running again.
it doesn’t take long for you to stumble across another blue player, this time a woman. she fumbles with the lock on one of the doors, then soon realizes she doesn’t have the proper key. she dares to glance at nam-gyu, who’s already sauntering over to her, and he pulls you along with him. “you first this time.” nam-gyu instructs, handing you the knife so he could restrain the woman against the wall. you watch as the woman struggles against his hold, tears streaming down her face as she pleads for her life. nam-gyu only grows excited at this, and looks over at you expectantly. “c’mon, pretty. i’ll finish the job for you.” he urges.
“okay.” you mutter timidly, nodding your head. you blow out a distressed sigh and approach the woman, the knife wobbling in your shaky hand as you bring it up to strike her. you feel more numb this time around, now knowing what it feels like to take a life, but you still hesitate before stabbing her in the chest. she lets out a yell and crumples to the ground. nam-gyu whoops in approval and takes the knife from you, finishing the job as promised. the woman’s death is commemorated with the robotic call of her number.
“fuck yeah!” nam-gyu yells as he stands up, pushing back the bloodied strands of hair that litter his forehead. his breaths are ragged, no doubt from adrenaline, and he pulls you into him by throwing an arm around your shoulders. “good girl.” he praises you in reference to your help with a whisper in your ear. your stomach turns again, though this time not from nausea, but something else—something dangerous—like the thrill of standing on the edge of a cliff. you’re not proud of what you’d done by any means, but nam-gyu’s words coil in your chest, sharp and intoxicating, making it impossible to look away. you hate how good you feel when he praises you. you know it’s wrong, it’s sick, but it’s the most alive you’ve felt in days. you smile up at the man, then wince as the pain in your arm sharpens. nam-gyu’s expression melds into one of worry, and he promises, “when we get out of here, i’ll help you clean that up.”
as if on cue, a robotic voice announces the game is over. relief washes over you and you nearly slump into nam-gyu, but manage to maintain your composure until you get back to the main room. once there, you practically collapse onto your bed, careful not to land on your arm. nam-gyu sits down beside you. you sit in a comfortable silence for a moment, trying to process the fact that you’re even alive. if it wasn’t for nam-gyu, you wouldn’t be. you’re not sure how to thank him, and even more unsure of why he even helped you in the first place—you would’ve been an easy kill.
“hey, let me help you take off your jacket so i can look at your arm.” nam-gyu suggests, breaking you out of your thoughts. you oblige with a quiet “okay” and allow him to peel the jacket off of you. you grimace at the array of blood—both yours and that of others—splattered all over the fabric.
“thank you.” you say to nam-gyu suddenly, and he gazes into your eyes, his expression soft. it seems like he’s coming down, now, his pupils no longer blown. “f-for everything. for saving me too, i mean.” you continue to stutter, suddenly shy beneath his gaze. nam-gyu smiles, bringing up his hand to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “of course, pretty. that’s what friends are for, right?” he asks lowly, leaning closer and closer to you until your faces are only inches apart. you swallow nervously, captivated by the man, and breathlessly agree, “right” as your eyes flicker down to his mouth.
then, in an instant, his lips are on yours, surprisingly gentle as he pulls you closer, the softness at odds with the blood still fresh on his hands. you’re shocked for a moment, but practically melt into the man’s touch when he brings his hand up to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss. never in a million years did you think you’d be here—alive and electric beneath nam-gyu’s touch—but here you are, kissing the man who had just killed three people right before your eyes.
nam-gyu gently pushes you onto your back so he hovers over you, cross dangling above your chest as he presses his body into yours. he slips his tongue into your mouth, sloppy and desperate, but you keep up with his pace, equally as needy. he rocks himself into you and you finally feel how hard he is, sending a rush of heat to your core. for a moment, you worry the others will see you, despite the fact that your bed is tucked into the corner of the room, but you figure the lights being off is good enough. besides, they’ve seen worse.
you’re briefly disappointed when nam-gyu pulls away from your lips, practically panting as he shrugs off his jacket and shirt. he then tugs at the bottom of your own shirt, signaling you to take it off. “let me help you out, baby.” he offers softly, but you can hear the want laced in his tone. you know he’s no longer referring to your arm anymore, but to the ache in your core. you need him just as bad as he needs you.
“okay.” you smile knowingly, carefully slipping your shirt off. you wince as the fabric brushes over your injury and nam-gyu comforts you by stroking your bare side with his hand. he begins to kiss your stomach, snaking his arms beneath your body to unclip your bra. you practically fling it off onto the floor, arching into nam-gyu’s touch as he brings his lips up to your breast. “so fuckin’ pretty.” nam-gyu grunts into your skin, using his right hand to kneed your breast in his hand while he sucks on the other. you whimper softly, not wanting to alert the others around you, but you can’t help but react to his touch. you feel like you’re on fire.
nam-gyu pulls away from your chest to reconnect your lips, and you fumble with his pants as he grinds into you. “so eager, baby. me too, i’ve been waiting for this all day.” nam-gyu groans, kicking off his pants once you pull them down enough. you moan into his mouth in response, fueled by his words, and gasp when you feel his cock press into you, limited by the fabric of his boxers. he chuckles darkly at your desperation, then moves down the bed so he’s level with your pussy. nam-gyu hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down agonizingly slow to tease you. you bite your lip to conceal a whimper when he throws your legs over his shoulders, so close you can feel his breath hit your clit.
“just relax, baby. i just wanna make you feel good. you don’t have to worry, nam-gyu’s here.” he taunts, amused by your desperation. before you can process it, he’s licking into you, his tongue collecting the wetness that had been pooling in you ever since his earlier praises. you let out a loud moan, then cover your mouth with your good arm, squirming as nam-gyu devours you. he switches between lapping at your clit and shoving his tongue inside of you, both actions eliciting whines from you, and tightens his grip on your thighs. “yeah, baby. you’re so good for me, so wet. taste so good, too.” nam-gyu mutters lowly, lowering his right hand to slip a finger inside of you. his words cause you to clench around him, desperate for stimulation, and nam-gyu groans at the feeling. “you’re so fucking tight. i need to be inside of you.” he rocks his hips against the bed, desperate to feel you, but continues to finger you roughly. you can barely contain yourself as his finger thrusts into you, and the need to be full soon consumes you.
“oh god, nam-gyu. please fuck me.” you beg softly, still trying to remain quiet. his finger slips out of you in an instant, and he takes his boxers off in record time. “don’t have to tell me twice, baby.” he grunts, lining up his tip with your entrance. he takes his time when entering you, relishing in the feeling of your pussy clenching around him. once he has you full, he leans down to cage you in his arms, his face directly above your own. “been thinking about this since the first day i saw you, but that asshole thanos was all over you.” nam-gyu admits, slowly thrusting into you. it’s agonizing, yet delicious, and you let out a whimper at his words. he maintains his slow pace as he continues, “you’re so fucking pretty, baby. and such a good girl, too, helping me earlier.” he drops his head down to your neck to kiss your skin, his sucking and biting sure to leave marks.
“nam-gyu, please…” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his waist to urge him to go harder, faster.
“please what, pretty, hm?” he teases into your neck, thrusting impossibly slower. you’re frustrated, now, throwing your head back into the pillow as you struggle to find the words. “please, nam-gyu, fuck me faster, need you so bad.” you whine, wrapping your arms around his neck. he doesn’t say anything as he quickens his pace, slamming into you so hard that the bed shakes. you choke out a moan and clamp your hand over your mouth, feeling your eyes roll back as nam-gyu pounds into you.
“yeah, is this what you wanted, baby? want me to wreck that pretty pussy?” the man pants, his face inches away from yours. the eye contact is intense, intimate, and you feel yourself flutter around his cock. your head lulls to the side and you screw your eyes shut in pleasure, trying not to scream as he hits your g-spot, but nam-gyu grabs your face roughly and forces you to look at him. “keep your eyes on me like the good girl you are, baby. wanna see your face when you cum all over me.”
you moan at his words, feeling your orgasm approach when nam-gyu reaches down to rub your clit. his pace is brutal, unrelenting, and it doesn’t take long for you to reach your release. you sputter out a whine as he fucks you through your orgasm, eyes rolling to the back of your head. “that’s it, baby. god, you’re so fucking sexy.” nam-gyu moans, dropping his head into your neck as he maintains his rough thrusts. he brings a hand around your neck and squeezes lighty enough to have you seeing white, and the overstimulation of it all is almost too much. your legs shake around nam-gyu’s waist and soon enough, you feel his thrusts grow sloppy, a telltale sign of his own orgasm approaching.
“gonna cum, baby. gonna cum inside your pretty pussy. oh fuck.” nam-gyu moans into your neck, hips sputtering as he shoots his load inside of you. you whimper at the sensation, still sensitive, and let out a whine when he pulls out, his seed spilling out of you onto the crumpled sheets of your bed. you’re both silent for a moment, gasping for air as you come down from your orgasms. nam-gyu collapses on top of you, careful not to crush your arm, and strokes at your side gently. “so pretty for me, sweetheart.”
you don’t respond, still fucked out, and thread a hand through his hair, gently playing with his sweaty locks. the two of you lay there for a few moments, finding comfort in each others company, and for the first time since you got here, you’re hopeful. you know it’ll be hell to escape this place, but with nam-gyu by your side, you can’t help but feel like things will be alright.
first nam-gyu fic yayyy :) i've never written anything like this before, i hope you enjoyed! requests are open <333
my requests are currently open for sfw and nsfw fics for any of the following:
people: choi seung-hyun
squid game characters: player 124 - nam-gyu, player 230 - thanos, player 333 - myung-gi, player 388 - dae-ho
just a few guidelines for my requests:
i'm comfortable writing for fem!readers and gn!readers so make sure to specify your preference! ♡ྀི
i am not comfortable with writing dark themes such as SA/self-harm, as i do not want to romanticise either of those topics in any way so pls take note of that!
i only write 'x reader' fics
feel free to send requests for oneshots, hcs, or drabbles and be as specific as you'd like! ♡ྀི
