[cigsaftsx]

MASTER-LIST +18

this blog is 18+, no minors. all individual posts contain warnings. includes dark themes & nsfw.

squid game

namgyu x f!reader

cat & mouse

cat & mouse p.2

guilty conscience

twice the fall

maybe this time

requests are open.

[cigsaftsx]

MAYBE THIS TIME

namgyu x f!reader

Synopsis: one night you snap. exhausted after years of compressing your true feelings — angst and all the sinful things you feel within yourself. you wanted to be a good, polite girl. but after one night at work — a physical fight between you and a coworker unravels all your hard work. it all comes tumbling out and with it comes a sense of freedom. a recklessness. you take it to your advantage really, especially when it comes to confessing your feelings toward your roommate, namgyu.

Warnings: drug usage, reader takes drugs, swearing, violence, mentions of bl00d. no smut but future chapter will contain. +18

You’re unravelling. It’s blatantly clear to you now. You’d built up walls over your years — compressing the inner turmoil deep within your skin, all that hot anger and temperament hidden under the facade of a polite girl. A girl who doesn’t take — doesn’t crave, doesn’t fight. Just keels over and gets to work.

Your jobs always been a nightmare. A shitty club which is surprisingly always populated considering it’s hidden down one of the dodgy backstreets of Seoul. The consumers are gross. Toxic. Most work nights consisted of you being sleep deprived — overworked, people barking their drink orders at you over the loud thrum of the clubs beat. If not that then on multiple occasions would they try and get physical with you, inappropriately. You’d told your boss, obviously. But he’s the type to keep those things quiet.

To keep the customers happy.

He didn’t care for the staff. And speaking of staff — they’re just as terrible. They still see you as the newbie even though you’ve been there for over a year. Teasing you, degrading you. Muttering amongst themselves when you pass by. At first, you simple saw it as banter. You’d smile — laugh, shrug it off but when it became consistent? It became clear that this was a one sided joke.

You were always the punchline.

And tonight. You’re especially tired. The endless work hours made the concept of a sleep routine impossible. You’d work — go home early hours, prep for the next shift, sleep for two hours and then you’re straight back behind the bar. It’s caught up to you tonight, however. That’s apparent by your tired eyes, the way your under eyes hang lower than usual — your hair fairly unmeshed yet untamed all the more. You don’t feel present — like you’d left your soul at home and only a shell of yourself is working.

Your customer service is usually spot on, but you can’t help the flatness in your tone as you engage with customers — the lack of presence, or even a smile.

“Seven fifty.” You say blankly, holding out the card to reader to one of the regular customers. A greasy old fuck who’s especially disgusting towards you. He pays — tapping his card. You never had trouble with that, more so the way he looks and sneers — his eyes invading your body with a sleazy roll.

“You look tired.” He shouts, raising his voice over the music so that his shitty comment can be heard clearly. You hear it, you always do and usually you’d flash a fake smile, or laugh — just to keep him happy. But tonight, you don’t even bother to look at him or reply - simply placing the card reader down and moving to your next customer.

He doesn’t like that.

“Hey! I’m talking to you.” He says.

You’re already preparing the next customers drink, shaking up a cocktail between two silver cups when you land your vacant eyes on him.

“I heard.” You say, tone low — so low that he leans over the counter, a hand behind his ear. You stare at him, jaw clenching — the club lights illuminating your skin. You hadn’t the energy — youi flicker your eyes to the clock. You still had 6 hours to go.

“What?” He shouts again.

“I said I fucking heard!” You snap, tone higher this time when you emphasise your cussing. Not only did he hear it, evident by the dropping of his face - but so did your co workers, the shitty ones especially.

“You fucking cunt, who do you think you’re talking to?” He replies, tone loud — all the while the other customer you’re serving is already asking you how much he owes while you’re still in the middle of making his drinks. Your eyes dart between the two — the club music bellowing louder into your ears as a heat parades your skin. The overstimulation slowly creeping in.

That on top of the fact he’d just called you a cunt.

You slam the shakers you’re holding down, so violently that the contents splatter out. “What did you call me?”

“Oh so you heard that, huh? Cunt.” He replies, sleazily and degradingly — a smile working its way on to his face, satisfied that he’d got a rise out of you. You fix your jaw to the side, eyes wide in feverish shock — disgust, like all the months frustrations of working here were finally about to tipple out and unload on this guy.

You brace one hand on the bar and curl your hand around one of the cocktails shakers and no prior thought or contemplation enters your mind before your chucking the contents of it into his face. It drenches him — a mix of booze and some other stuff, as he shoots up — recoiling in shock and disgust.

And worst of all, you smile.

No false shit that they trained you to do — a real smile. But you don’t get far when one of your co workers grabs your shoulder and pulls you back and toward them.

“What the fuck?” She shouts, a mean expression on her face like you’d just assaulted someone of high importance. Your coworkers are blissfully ignorant — following the bosses rules just to stay on his good side. They’ll take the hits, the flirting — the extra tips. In fact they love it — the attention, even if it’s off all the wrong people.

You glare at her. She’s one of the worst. Especially when it comes to mocking you. She made the wrong choice putting herself in your line of fire tonight.

“Are you fucking stupid, huh?” She shouts, right into your face that you can feel little darts of spit hit your cheek from how strongly she barks at you. You merely flinch though, your exhaustion like a shield — completely numb to her verbal assaults after months of taking it. You can hear the guy cussing you out and demanding for a free drink behind you — but it falls onto your deaf ears.

All you do is glare at your coworker, almost eager for her to give you a reason to slap her right across her smug face.

“You’ve done it now, the boss will be hearing about this.”

You smile at that, widespread and ignorant as a little laugh leaves your nose. She acts all team player, like the best of the best. But she’s held at such high standards for one reason alone, she fucks the boss. You’re quiet — but not stupid.

“Right after you suck him off?” You say slowly, dragging out the last word with intent to scold her. Whatever care you had now flew out the window. No worry of consequence — merely tired of being here anymore, of being overworked and still getting shit pay. Everyone looked down on you, but not tonight.

Her expression drops at that. Your words setting a pinkish embarrassment on her face — that only grows your smile, even so when another coworker snickers. But you didn’t anticipate how she draws her hand back and slaps you right across your face however.

It’s a hard blow — an instant hot sting as your head whips to the side. You’re instantly touching the side of your face where it’s especially sore, pulling back your fingers to see a little blood. You glare, then look to her hand and notice how she’d rotated her ring inwards — so that when she slapped you, the gem on it would cut you.

You scoff and set your sights back at her. Everything ounce of willpower leaves you then — you feel it. The weightlessness in your shoulders like nothing could hold you back now. Like a strange sense of freedom — oddly euphoric really.

“Fucking bitch.” You mutter and just as you’re pulling your hand back to return it, another coworker seizes your wrist — then your shoulder, pulling you away. You put up a little struggle obviously — but that was it.

You didn’t get fired, but you sure as shit wouldn’t be coming back.

It was strange. Through your exhaustion, you’d found a sense of freedom. A taste for speaking your mind — an ounce of self respect that comes with it. It felt good. They sent you home early after the heat settled. Told you to go and take care of the slice on your upper cheek — it wasn’t deep, but it bled. Not that you cared, the little sting hovered as a reminder of your defiance. A new found confidence.

You’re storming out the front door upon your leave and into the street. It’s quiet. Somewhere around 2am probably. There’s a gentle buzz of the streetlights overhead — distant traffic, the smell in the air of a lingering threat to rain. And even after that horror show — you smile to yourself. You don’t feel tired anymore, more alert, not just of your surroundings but your own mind.

It felt good to speak back.

You decided to walk home. Smiling all the way. No care in the world.

You’re approaching your apartment complex after a 15 minutes walk when you spot them.

You’re roommate Nam-Gyu and his best friend, Thanos. Outside the complex and leaned up against the wall — smoking, talking expressively with their hands. You get on great with Namgyu. Thanos didn’t give you much choice but to get on with him too — he’s the impossible type, able to befriend pretty much anyone. But you always kept to yourself despite it.

It’s just a lingering respect between you all.

Sometimes they’d invited you to smoke up with them. But you’d either been too shy or too reluctant. So it really was just a mutual understanding that you’re all fiendly enough but not enough to push it.

Evidently so when you grow closer to the door, where they are — their eyes catch you and you simply spare them a smile but you don’t stop to talk. But Namgyu doesn’t give you much choice as he pushes himself off the wall, a cigarette pinched between finger a thumb.

“Hey.” He says, tone not exactly casual — more like he’s intent on grabbing your attention. You stop mid way up the small steps and turn to them. They look a little concerned — you didn’t understand why, having completely forgotten about the gash on your cheek.

You’re looking at them with expect — brows raised a little. Thanos perks up, “You have a fall, señorita?”

You furrow your brow a little at him, an unsure smile on your lips. “What?”

Thanos moves his fingers, poking his own cheek to mirror where your gash is. That’s when you remember it — having grown too numb to it on the duration home. Your mouth forms a o shape, followed by a ohhhh noise.

“It’s nothing, really.” You say, not wanting to go into detail. To not have to confess about how you’d lost your shit at work. That you’re exhausted. That you’re completely and utterly crushed inside. Thanos’ lips form a weird shape, like he’s settling on your words — but still concerned. But not overly, not like Namgyu, since he was more accustomed to you.

Namgyu’s the quiet type — the type that goes through all possibilities in his own mind before barfing out a ton of questions. He sees it — in your eyes. The tiredness. But also a spark of something else, the way you hold yourself like you’d had a ton of weight lifted off your shoulders. He’s an over thinker, really, obvious by the way his expression is stuck on a soft frown. A lingering concern.

But neither of them push it further. You smile small again and brief, “Okay, well cya.” you say, before continuing your the stairs to your apartment. You’d probably see Namgyu later on.

It’s only when you’re out of sight that the two look to each other. Thanos was leaving anyway — so they say their farewells. Namgyu rather quickly ushering him off because his curiosity is practically eating him alive at this point — eager to grill you, eager to know. He is in the club scene after all, you wonder that’s where he gets his gossiping tendencies from.

You’d been in your apartment for about 10 minutes before Nam-Gyu follows suit. You’re on the sofa, head in your phone when you’re reading the incoming texts off your boss. Reading: Your behaviour is unacceptable or we’ll be talking about this tomorrow. You clench your jaw, your prior adrenaline already fading off as you get hit with reality. How did you let yourself loose your cool? Now you had to deal with the boss.

You huff, dramatically so as you rest your head back on the sofa and turn it limply toward the door as you hear it click open. Namgyu standing in the hallway, hands in his pockets as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. You smile small at him in place of a quiet hello but his flat face unmoved as he walks right up to where you’re sat, standing over you so boldly that he casts a shadow.

“What happened?” Is all he mutters, pointing his chin at your cut. Your smile softens, almost disarmed by the fact he hadn’t dropped it yet.

The two of you are friendly, close enough to chat shit — briefly talk about one another’s day. Have a laugh, sure. You’d shared a cigarette once too. But other than that, the concept of sharing troubles was foreign between you. You suppose when you share an apartment with someone — those things eventually become unavoidable to talk about. You just didn’t think he cared that much to want to know.

You stare up at him and you can tell by the look in his face that’s he too keen - too curious. Enough to not drop it until he gets every bit of information off you. You are injured after all.

“Girl at work.” You mutter, still looking up at him as your expression melts into something like shame, defeat. He doesn’t reply though, stays staring — feeling the pressure of his gaze as you point your eyes down to the floor. He wanted more.

“I lost my shit tonight. Customer called me a cunt so I threw a drink on him.” You continue, eyes pinned downward until you hear an amused scoff come from his nose. You tense your jaw, as though recapping it out loud was just as embarrassing as it was in person.

“This girl I work with threatened me, so I called her out on being a whore.” You finish, more bold now as you hear how justified you think you are, shrugging one shoulder as you force yourself to look up at him.

“She fucking the boss?”

You hum in response.

He’s still the same — face stern, body unmoved — till he pulls a hand out his pocket and gestures toward the cut.

“And she did that?”

You hum, confirming his question so casually that you tried to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal. But in reality, now that your adrenaline has wore off - you realise how badly it stings. You don’t dare move however when he extends his hand down to your face, one of his fingers which poked out the hem of his sleeve coming to ever so slightly brush a piece of hair out the way of your cut — just so he could get a better look at it.

“That bitch got you good, still bleedin’.” He mutters, bending to your height ever so slightly as he narrows his eyes at the injury. Still, you don’t move — your eyes trained on him. You don’t even think you’d ever been this close to him before — even the fact of how he moved your hair so gently that it feels like the ghost of a touch.

He didn’t seem like the gentle type. He’d come home sometimes with a cut or two — or most popularly, bruised knuckles.

His eyes flicker to yours and second or two goes by in silence before he’s pulling back and upward to his normal stance.

“Two seconds.” He mutters before disappearing into the kitchen and you take that time to catch your breath — not realising how you’d been holding it from when he was an inch or two from you. You couldn’t deny your attraction to him — but it wasn’t something that ruled you, possessed you, you’re not that type of person to just settle in what you want and pursue the fuck out of it.

Your phone buzzes again but you’re ignoring it as Namgyu comes back over, a damp cloth in hand. Now you were especially surprised by him.

He stood in front of you again, you smile small and go to take the rag with a, “Thank you.” but he’s seizing his hand back a little before you can grab it.

“Let me.” He says and before you can even debate, he’s kneeling down to your height and moving your hair behind your ear. You can only stare — closely examining him. His chiselled jaw — the way it softly clenches, the way his hair neatly tucks behind his ears. For someone who seems so rough around the edges, he’s very well kept.

“Gonna sting.” He mutters ever so quietly, not bothering to even look at you — too closely trained on inspecting the gash as he presses the cloth against it. It draws a tiny hiss from you, but it’s nothing severe, equivalent to a paper cut at least — but enough to water your eyes a little. He doesn’t let up though — keeping the cloth pressed despite your obvious discomfort.

You assume he’s done this before. Caring for wounds — his own, probably. He doesn’t seem the type to let anyone else look after him. You gaze at him upon the thought, wondering about his past, his life — what lays beneath his hard shell. But you’re nowhere close to start asking, especially not in this moment, so instead you settle on a,

“Thank you.” You say, voice hushed and sincere. His eyes flicker to yours and then straight back to the cut. He doesn’t speak that much — the most you ever heard from him is when he’s high. But it’s all in the eyes — that dark gaze of his. Almost as though he doesn’t admit he has a soft spot for you — would never admit to it, yet his actions speak louder than words.

Your phone buzzes once. Then a second, then a third.

Following the last one rapidly enough that it catches both your attentions. You snap your eyes down — only to see more messages off your boss. Nothing important — just demeaning messages, scolding you, demanding you work overtime to make it up to him. You huff softly through your nose but of course, Namgyu notices. He notices everything.

“Something important?” He asks.

“My boss giving me shit.”

His eyes snap to yours, then down to your phone and then back to you. He leans back a little.

“Hold this.” He says, pointing his chin at the cloth so you do — replacing your hand with his as he picks up your phone to read the messages. You watch him as he does, noticing the little amused twitch on his mouth — the flex of his under eye, an expression of disbelief as if to say, get a load of this guy.

He brings his free hand up to chew on his thumb as he scrolls through the texts and he doesn’t bother asking for permission as he types a reply. You go to debate — but he’s too quick, his thumb hitting send the moment you reach out to seize your phone back.

“Hey—” You say, urgent enough that you drop the cloth which lands in your lap as you snatch your phone — looking down to see he replied with a:

‘Fuck yourself prick’

Your mouth falls open, but no noise comes out — a dread swirling in your stomach as your eyes dart back up to Namgyu. He’s chewing on his thumb again, blocking the wide grin which lingers behind his hand — a mischievous glint in his eye as he beams at you.

You glare at him for a hot minute — but you don’t feel angry. You don’t feel anxious. In fact, you can’t help the little grin that slips onto your face. It’s then followed by a breathy laugh, a short lived one as you cut yourself off and look back down to the phone. You hover your thumbs over the keypad — darting your eyes back up to him as he nods at you to go ahead.

You smile, sly before breaking into a type. He’s getting up and sitting next to you the very second you do — an eagerness and boyish excitement overcoming him, wanting to see what you add. He pokes his head right next to yours — chin settling on your shoulder as he stifles an excited noise.

Your chewing on your lip as you type:

‘eat shit motherfucker, your club is ass’ and before you can send it, Namgyu points at the screen, mumbling for you to add something on the end. You add it on as you both share a laugh. The final result being:

‘eat shit motherfucker, your club is ass. club pentagon 4eva’

You’re both snickering like school kids when you press send and the moment you do your launching your phone to the other end of the couch — a riveting excitement overcoming you which mirrored anxiety — like sending a risky text and being too afraid to hear the buzz of a reply. You’re both snickering — the feeling equivalent to playing a prank when you’re younger — that mischief unmatched, an overwhelming feeling really.

You fall into the couch, your bank sinking into the cushions as you cover your face, hiding your grin — a low noise coming out of you.

“Ohhhh, you’re a bad influence.” You groan between a laugh. Namgyu follows suit, also leaning back into the sofa and shoving his hands into his pockets as his grin settles a little.

“You kiddin’? I just saved you from a life of misery.”

You hum in response, dragging your hands down your face before dropping them into your lap. You think this is the most you’ve felt in awhile — like actually felt. You’d spent so much time being a zombie, slaving away, following a strict routine that you hadn’t given yourself a chance to actually loosen up. To actually laugh. It feels like a breath of fresh air.

You sigh softly before turning your head to him, but he’s already looking at you — face settled now, but something lingering and twitching beneath it. Like he’s on the edge of a smile. You hold up the cloth briefly.

“Thank you — again, and for the laugh.” You say. He simply gives you a brief smile as his eyes flicker to the cut.

“Looks better — any deeper and you’d have had a badass scar.” He says, shifting into a small grin. You make an amused hum trapped behind your tight lipped smile as you look away again, eyes settling on the ceiling as you tip your head back into the couch.

He copies you — a silence settling between you both. But it’s not an uncomfortable one. In fact it’s probably the first time you’ve properly settled around him, finally feeling a little more at home here. You’d find another job — you always do. Your track record of jobs would suffice. Maybe just not include your now old job as a reference, just to be safe. Tonight will stay between you, your old colleagues and Namgyu.

“Wanna get fucked up?”

You tilt your head toward him, rolling your neck against the couch. “What?”

“Wanna get high?” He rephrases, the glint in his eye obvious in the hope that you’d agree. You curl your lips downward and think, fuck it. It’s not like you had anywhere to be tomorrow now. Besides, despite it being early hours of the morning — you’re having too much fun. Why cut it short?

You simply nod and that sends his lips into a wide grin as he lifts his hips off the sofa to dig a hand into his back pocket — fishing out a tiny bag of pills. Your brows simply furrow a little in curiosity as you sit up slightly, leaning a little closer to get a better look — planting your elbow on his knee as you settle your chin on your palm.

“What is it?” You mumble, your head bouncing with each word from the way your chin rests sternly onto your hand.

“Nothing crazy, something zen, y’know?” He replies, focused as he drips his fingers in to take one out for you. He hands one to you first then takes one for himself — wasting no time in popping it into his mouth. You watch him do it and he catches onto the fact that you’re unsure on how to take it. He’s mid crunch when he looks at you — a teasing expression on his face, amused by your interest.

“You just crunch it.” He says slowly, holding back a smirk. Your mouth forms an o shape in realisation before your popping it in too — the crunch loud enough that he hears it, his smirk widening.

“There you go.” He says between a chew and a grin.

It’s bitter and unpleasant, especially with how it fizzes onto your tongue. Apparent by how you lean back as your face contours — disgusted. He lets out a wicked laugh — unable to hold back upon seeing your expression. You simply swat his chest.

“You could’ve forewarned me —” You manage to say, words slurred from how you’re still trying to swallow it down. He pouts, leaning in slightly to pinch your cheek. “Oh, c’mon, you’re in the big leagues now. You can take it.”

You yank your face out of his pinch and scrunch your eyes tightly shut, trying to stabilise yourself and let your mouth accustom to the taste — but it’s genuinely vile. You just let it sit there, slowly dissolving. You open your eyes at him, pleading — he’s still leaned over, a small grin on his face, just eager anticipation. He raises his brows once, eyes half lidded.

“Go on, swallow it.” He encourages lowly, running the pads of his fingers across his jaw sheepishly. You try — you really do, but you’re suddenly holding back the intrusive idea of spitting it right back out and he can tell. So he huffs — leans closer and pinches your nose closed tightly, giving you no other option.

You widen your eyes and make quick time in swallowing it back before pushing his hand away.

“You fuck—” You manage to get out, throat strained from the vile taste running down thickly. He folds his lips inward, trying to hide his teasing smile as you struggle, shrugging a shoulder as if to act all innocent. You’re quick to recover as you smack your lips, your tongue darting out to wet them before you’re shooting him a glare — but your mouth twitches into a small smile, clearly amused in the end. It’s that stupid fucking look on his face — boyish, amused, proud.

You can’t not smile.

“Knew you could take it.” He mutters, his voice even lower now as he eyes you — and you’re watching him so intently that you note how his eyes ever so discreetly trail down to your lips, before looking up to ceiling before settling back on you.

“Shut up.” You threaten, despite your amused tone.

“You’ll be thanking me in 5 minutes.” He continues and you simply scoff and resume to falling back into the sofa.

It was less than 5 minutes.

Maybe 3 at a push.

The sensation started feather light, across your skin — gentle goosebumps prickling the back of your neck. Then the limpness in your joints. A nice kind. Not realising how further you’d sunken into the sofa — a soft hum coming from deep in your throat in satisfaction. He was right, it was something zen. Non of that crazy psychosis shit.

“What’re you doing all the way over there?” Namgyu mutters, his voice a little slower now. Your turn your head lazily to him, eyes heavy as you smile. You hadn’t realised you’d been huddled up - hugging the other end of the couch, away from him.

You bat your heavy lids softly, not bothering to reply as you watch as he beckons you over — a gentleness on his features but not lacking the sharpness of his jaw or the awareness in his eyes, like an intent lingered there — even as you slowly budge down to him is he moving, pressing his back against the arm of his chair so you can lean your back against his chest.

You twist your body, settling your back against his hot chest and go slack there, the proximity comforting, settling. You hear him hum in please as you sink against him, without shyness as one of his arms loops around your waist — hand settling flat on your stomach. The other hand moving to your hair, twisting your strands between finger and thumb gently.

“There you go.” He coaxes, making it obvious to you he’s pleased, his voice low and thick like honey. You don’t feel remotely anywhere near discomfort — despite having never been this close to him ever, it didn’t feel abnormal. Didn’t feel intrusive — feeling the way his chest heaves each shallow breath against your back, the way his cold palm settles flat on your stomach. It’s delightful, if anything. You roll your eyes closed — the drug making you feel like you’re in heaven.

“Better?” He mutters from behind you.

“Much.” You hum, tone bordering on the incline of a moan — not quite, but it imply’s your blissful state. His fingers move slightly — falling into a soft circular trace on your stomach, so softly that you wouldn’t have felt it if you didn’t know his hand was there. But you feel it all — sensations inclined to the max, every hitch of your breath, the way blood runs to your cheeks so unbearably warm. A soft sigh leaves your parting lips, rolling your head back further into him so it sits comfortably on his shoulder.

He notes it. How you relax so easily, succumbing to his touch — his warmth. And the fact that you actually seemed to want to be around him. It strikes him strongly, really. He’s the type who yearns for recognition without having to plead for it — to be wanted, recognised. You’d managed to make him feel all those things without having even to try. He contemplates it — his expression seeping into something softer, more intimate.

He peaks his eyes down at you, craning his neck a little so he can steal a glance at your face — softened, blissed out. A sense of gentle euphoria. He moves his other hand from your hair, to test the waters as he’s slipping his fingertips to slope down the sharp of your jaw — way too delicately for a man of his reputation.

“You needed this, didn’t you?” He asks in a hushed tone, a little grin sitting on his face — teeth poking through the little gap there. Almost smug. You’re enjoying his touch way too much that you don’t reply — only softly humming in response, moving your head to match the movement of his fingers against your jaw and cheek, cat-like, needy for more.

He scoffs a little, “Yeah, you did. Look at you. Practically fuckin’ purring.”

You barely receive his remarks, too blissed — too in thought despite your body’s vacant noise, only responding physically. You lean against him — only realising how much more relaxed you felt prior to a few hours ago in work. You’d never felt an anger or recklessness like that before. You wonder what would’ve happened if your coworker hadn’t pulled you away — sent you home. You open your eyes, staring ahead sharply though still relaxed by him.

He notices, peaking over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of your expression — darting to look at the gash in your cheek, then back to your face. He nudges into your back with his shoulder once to bring you back to the room.

“Call me next time.”

“What?” You mutter, still half in thought as you peak your head over your shoulder to catch his eyes.

“If you get any shit again, I’ll come. Y’know? Do the dirty work.” He replies, voice low — but certain in himself. His eyes darting between yours gently, yet wide and frantically blown from the drug. He’s sees himself in you, the tolerance, the unbearable weight of getting walked over and looked down on. Only difference being that you took action on it tonight — he admired it really. Sometimes he imagines beating Thanos into calling him by his right name. But doing that means loosing a friend — meaning being alone. Or at least he thinks so.

You took that risk — you paid the price. He only wishes he was capable of doing the same.

“Starting with that boss of yours, mhm?” He continues, his thumb and index moving to graze your chin — sitting there, slightly holding to keep your head turned toward him. You gaze up at him. You’d truly thought you’d lost everything tonight, despite gaining some self respect. Even though the staff at work are horrible, you tried to consider them friends. You’d felt they’re the only people you had really. Outside of work — nothing. So taking that action tonight risked it all for you.

Now realising however, that you’re not alone.

You blink at him, awed — entranced. Mouth slightly agape, not used to having someone actually on your side. Someone wanting to be there — to support. The concept had been alien to you, especially since moving to Seoul. You felt like you’d had nobody, until now at least.

“You don’t have to do that. I can handle it.” You mutter, slightly bordering a whisper. An uncertainty laces your tone, doubt being your biggest sin. You could barely grasp the concept of him wanting to help you out. You’d managed it for so long on your own.

“You shouldn’t have to. Gettin’ that pretty face cut up. I’ll deal with that side of things, got it?”

He’s convincing, you’ll give him that. And you can’t find anything else to say or to disagree with. You can only perceive how overwhelmingly surprised you are with him. He cleaned your cut — made you laugh, helped you relax and now he’s offering more. He’d managed to put you at ease and mellow you out quicker than you’d managed to do since you’d gotten here. Months ago.

“Got it.” You manage, voice timidly soft in awe. There’s a softness in the air, a strange one. It shouldn’t feel like something vaguely romantic — because he’s just not that type of guy but it’s inescapable. The way you both gaze at each other, the way his smile droops a little like he’s also feeling it too. Not that you’d either say it out loud, or him, it’s easily something you’d both rather not acknowledge out loud.

Maybe out of fear.

Or just ruining this moment.

Instead you settle on returning to resting your head against his shoulder — his hand moving to flatten atop your head and hold you there.

Maybe one day.

Authors note: guys this isn’t my proudest — been struggling w writers block so I truly fought my way through this one. if u enjoyed tho lmk if u want a part two and PLEASE send some requests if u wish !!!!! i need the inspiration!!!!!!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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writers block 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍💔💔💔💔💔💔

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currently writing a thangyu x reader, bare w me folks ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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300 followers ????!!!!! guys thank you so v much for your support, ily all

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his anthem fr 💔 enjoy (i can’t stop writing & editing him help)

do not claim as your own.

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gang i just finished this fuckass show. kim seo-wan i love you i miss you

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chat i did a thing

little shop of horrors x namgyu ?????? hardcore ❤️

don’t claim as your own, pls give credit ❤️

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TWICE THE FALL

nam-gyu x f!reader

Synopsis: The games came to an end when the majority vote went to X after the mingle game. Your time in the game had been a tricky one — teamed with Thanos and his crew. Despite you voting O, you soon came to realise that being home was better than there, with those people - your life on the line. You had no intention of seeing anyone from there again. Not till one night, you go out with your friends clubbing. Familiar faces set off a feeling you didn’t realise you had.

Warnings drug use, threats, mentions of blood & violence, SMUT!!!!!, f1ngering, dry humping, minors do not interact. +18!!!!!!!!

Adjusting to real life was harder than you anticipated. Though you had only spent at least 4 days in the game, you grew accustomed to it quickly. The concept of your life on the line had been normalised - especially in your group. Thanos, Namgyu — the rest, but they were the worst. Not that they ever tried anything harmful — not toward you, but witnessing them doing that to other people with batting an eye? It set you up in a constant paranoia. So after the mingle game, the vote won to leave. It was strange really. An excitement had grew in you at the idea of coming home - till you remembered there wasn’t much to come back to.

You’d been home now for at least a month.

In the quiet.

You were finding it hard to adjust to the idea of not being afraid all the time. Not having to life your life on the edge — not having to flinch like you did whenever Thanos would shout something absurd down your ear. You hadn’t even socialised. Hadn’t hardly left the house unless it was to work. You realised you’d actually felt more when you were in the game.

That was enough for you to try and kick your own ass back to reality.

You called a friend that same day at the consequence of an ear full from her. Invading questions about where you had been, why you hadn’t been in touch. You made up a lame excuse, knowing they wouldn’t believe you even if you tried. You didn’t want to risk loosing your friends on the outside. The risk of looking insane.

You were sure every one else you met in the game had decided to keep it quiet too.

She invited you to the club that night with the rest of the friend group. You took some convincing but in the end you could hardly resist the urge for a drink - to unwind. So you join them.

The club is bouncing. The vibrations of loud electronic and dance music thrumming into your ears like a drill. You didn’t mind it - in fact after a few drinks you found yourself truly relaxing into it. It reminded you of old times, your old self. Your friends stuck in a group — by the bar as they barked everyone’s drink order over the loud music.

“And then I told him to fuck off!” Your friend shouts over the music to you before you both crumble into a synced laugh - gripping each other. She had a lot to catch you up on - life, work, boy drama.

“Fuck!” You shout, wiping a laughed out tear from the corner of your eye. “I missed this, missed you guys.” You say, softly bouncing your body to the beating music. She grips your forearm, squeezing.

“And to think you weren’t gonna come tonight! Tonight’s a big fucking deal!” She replies, and you process her words - your smile still remaining though. Why was tonight such a big deal? You only stare at her expectingly. She stares back until she realises you don’t know what she’s talking about.

Her mount falls open, a shocked laugh barking it’s way out and into your face.

“Shit! Dannie didn’t tell you?”

You just laugh, shaking your head.

She presses her lips together as if she can’t wait any longer to tell you - her eyes lighting up.

“So you don’t know who’s coming here tonight?” She shouts - the suspense of her reply very slowly starting to agitate you. You’re impatient like that. “Everyone knows! Why’d you think it’s so fucking packed in here?” She shouts again, laughing at you now - signalling around the room to the hordes of dancing people. You did think it was busy for a Thursday night. You can’t help the growing twitch in your smile — irritated.

You take ahold of her hand and squeeze it softly, lowering your head a little closer to her so you don’t have to shout over the music.

“Spit it out.” You say, still amused but your annoyance evidential on the last word.

“Thanos!”

You freeze, your grin stuck in position on your face. She takes your unexcited response and thinks you’re unsure as to who that is. How wrong she is.

“The Thanos? The rapper?” She says, her words intending to re jog your memory.

Your heart leaps a little before it comes crashing down into the pit of your stomach. Suddenly feeling small despite the size of the room — like the walls are sinking in and swallowing you whole. Absolute dread. Your friends bats her eyes at you, confused by your silence.

“Y/n. Don’t tell me you don’t know him — he’s a celebrity.” Her tones faded a little, completely dumbfounded.

A hitch in your breath stalls your reply — blinking yourself back into the room, forcing yourself to smile more - not wanting to look weird. To make her question you.

“Oh!” Is all you can manage, your impending apprehension not allowing you to form a normal human response. You hadn’t even heard of Thanos before the games - though you put two and two together when he would burst out into a random rap to woo you. Your impression on him strictly based off what you saw in the games. Nothing good. Yes, he protected you — he stuck by that, but it didn’t matter much. You’d seen everyone else get the brunt of his and Namgyu’s insanity.

Your friend furrows her brows despite her wide smile. She goes to speak before her head flips left, drawn to the sudden crowding and loud excitement by the entrance of the club.

“Oh my god.” She says bluntly, her head turning to you before turning back to the crowd.

“It’s him!” She squeals loudly, catching your wrist in a vice like grip. “Come with me — if you don’t know him then at least you can get a picture of me and him for me!” You’re quick to protest but she’s quicker - yanking you toward the crowd with her.

As you get closer, so does your anxiety. Snapping down onto you with it’s jaws — a churning in your stomach so sickening that you swear you could throw it up. You want to yank your wrist away - run home and forget everything. Forget the games - Thanos. You came out to drink and forget yet here you are, your friend hurdling you both toward the nightmare you wanted to so badly forget.

She forces your bodies through the crowd until you come to an abrupt halt at the inner circle - jolting your body to a stop.

And there he is. Surrounded by a bodyguard or two, his arm lazyily slung around a girl that clings to his waist like an accessory. His expression smug at the people begging for photographs — pleading for his number, his autograph. He always loved the attention you remember. His hairs still the same you note - wearing an oversized purple graphic tee - jeans, some loose chains and that dammed fucking cross.

Still hanging from his neck like a palace jewel.

You almost choke on the breath you try to take. Unable to stabilise your unease which only worsens as you stare at him. You want to leave.

But the insecurity of disappointing your friend & your alarm towards him keeps your feet glued to the spot. Maybe if you stay still enough, he won’t spot you. That is until your friends lunges toward him - her hands clutching onto his arm. Now feeling more sick that you had originally.

You can’t hear what she’s saying to him over the obnoxious volume of music, you’re almost grateful for that. You shift your feet then slightly - regaining movement in them when you see he’s too occupied talking to your friend. You want to take the chance to disappear till you feel a set of eyes burning into you - but it isn’t Thanos’.

Your eyes simply slip to the right of Thanos and next to him stood Namgyu. His eyes pinned to you. You instantly feel like you’ve been caught red handed for a crime you didn’t commit - the intensity of his stare and the surprise of not expecting him causing your mouth to fall agape.

As if the situation couldn’t get any worse. It just did.

Despite Thanos’ obvious insanity - Namgyu was just as cold. The strong and silent type. You feared him more. He’s dressed in all black - long sleeves rolled up to his elbows which reveal his tattoos - a tiny chain looping his neck, a myriad of rings shared between his fingers. His hairs the same too - neatly tucked behind his ears.

It almost scares you how casual they look. Any average person wouldn’t assume their capabilities and you felt alone knowing their true selves. How easy it had been for them to take a life to save their own.

You’re unable to look away - like his eyes had their own gravitational pull. You just return his stare - like you’re pleading with him with your wide eyes to ever forget he saw you. A silent interaction. You should’ve known better than to expect him to actually do you a favour.

His stare stays on you as he leans up into Thanos’ ear, seeing him mutter something. At the same time, your friend shoves her phone into your hands.

“Is it cool if my friends takes a photo of us?” She beams at him, returning back to his side — Thanos’ eyes finally acknowledging you as soon as Namgyu pulls back.

“This your friend?” Thanos shouts over the music to your friend, bending his arm upward to point a lazy finger at you. A soft smirk cranks the corner of his lip upward.

You want the ground to swallow you up.

You want to disappear.

You simply clutch onto her phone tightly like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Your friends expression fades seeing his attention go to you but she’s quick at working to reclaim it - taking his arm in her hold again.

“Yeah — she’s gonna snap a pic for me.” She says, before turning to you and posing. Thanos doesn’t even bother to pose — his sights still boring through your eyes and into your fucking soul. Namgyu’s staring at you with an expecting stare - almost waiting for you to make a move - intrigued to see if you can keep your cool around her.

His eyes almost daring you to kick up a fuss and expose them for what they really are.

You’re absent minded as you point the phone and spam your thumb on the camera button — taking enough photos so that your friend wouldn’t bother you to take a few more. A second later your friends leaping up slightly and clapping before snatching her phone of you and turning to him in thanks.

The music drowns out all sound as you take a step backward. Their sights on you still - almost threateningly. But you had no interest in sticking around. Your backward steps leave room for people to push their way in front of you - and a second later they’re out of your sight.

You rush to the bathroom.

Finding solace in the end stall as you try to steady your now panicked breathing. It’s like every memory of the game came rushing back within a second — completely overwhelming you. Images of blood — bodies, drugs.

“Fuck.” You hiss, noticing the tremble in your hands as you clutch them together. Maybe you hadn’t realised how badly the games had impacted you — but what made you feel sick above all things, the one thing that worried you to your core?

You found a comfort in their presence.

Maybe it’s a trauma thing.

Maybe not. You didn’t know. But one thing you did know is that you had to calm the fuck down. You suck in a harsh, deep breath and steady yourself.

You couldn’t let them ruin the debut of your new life.

Not even a second later, you’re storming through the dancing crowds - not bothering to notice that the crowd around the pair had died down as everyone went back to their dancing. You had no sights on your friends — probably deep into the club, enjoying themselves as they should. You hit the bar hands first, grabbing the counter as you lean to ask for a shot.

The bartender nods once and prepares it.

You don’t even realise how hard you’re gripping the bar side - your knuckles white - determined to get a drink down your neck and join your friends.

The shots placed in front of you and you instinctively stick out your card to pay but the bartender puts his hands up.

“It’s paid for.” Is all he says with a smile before heading down to serve the next person.

You watch him as he walks away, confused. Yet your questioning is instantly put to rest as you catch the colour purple out the corner of your eye. You don’t even bother to look. If you do, it just makes it real. You pick up the shot bravely and chuck it back, feeling the warm bitterness slide down your throat - you hiss softly, placing the glass down.

“Good?” Thanos’ voice cuts through the music. You decide to treat his question like a passing breeze - completely ignoring it - but not before shooting him a hard stare. He looks at you, helplessly amused by your coldness. You turn your head away and don’t even get two steps before you bump into Namgyu’s chest. His hands instantly find your shoulders, caressing them up and down condescendingly.

“Woah, woah. What’s the rush?” Namgyu says, expression blank as he crowds you - giving you nowhere to go but to step backward and sit back into the bar stool next to Thanos with a thump - back pressing into the hard wood of the bar behind you. You peer up at him, brows furrowed in defeat. You don’t keep your eyes on him for long though. Normally he doesn’t do the talking - so you look to your side at Thanos. He’s staring at you with upturned brows in exaggerated disappointment.

You simply glare and wait.

“Now this isn’t any way to treat your friends, is it?” He finally says, pitifully offended.

You decide not to reply to the obscure question. The three of you were hardly friends, then again - in his twisted mind, he probably thought you were. You just want to go. Your patience already warning thin.

You scowl, gathering all your confidence as you look away and go to stand but Namgyu clamps a hand down on your shoulder — his free hand flicking open a switchblade just inches from your face. A little closer and it would’ve trimmed your eyelashes. It’s a silent threat — your eyes landing on it as it’s metal winks sweetly at you in the clubs purple hues.

Your eyes scatter across the club — instantly hoping someone would notice your predicament. People just dance, sloppily fallen into one another — too intoxicated to even bat an eye. A soft huff leaves your nose — defeated before you look back to the knife, then to Namgyu who’s now smiling cockily at you.

“You gonna play nice?” Namgyu remarks, and gives you a moment to contemplate your next move. You could try and leave again - but you’re smarter than that. A knife in your back would be the equivalent of someone being passed out drunk here. He feels you settle back into the bar stool and takes your silence as obedience.

His smile splits wider, a little hum - pleased, erupting from his throat. He gives your cheek a little squeeze which makes you make a displeased noise as you yank your face out his grip. He’s flicking the knife away and pocketing it the next second.

Your eyes shut in brief relief.

“Y/n.”

Thanos’ voice comes again, pleading out your name to grab your proper attention this time. You realise you can’t exactly work your way out of this — so you give in, for now. You turn your head to him, your eyes opening.

“Answer my question, please.” He whines out, his tone hitting your ears in all the wrong ways.

You lock your jaw at him - your facial muscles visibly flexing from the intensity of irritation.

“We’re not friends.” Is all you reply with. You swear you see a glint of disappointment in his eyes.

He sighs softly, expelling it through his nose as he cranes his head over his shoulder and holds up three fingers to the bartender. Your eyes flicker back to Namgyu, his expression still cocky. You swallow hard — unable to resist mentally noting how good he looked. The thought didn’t last long though as you feel Thanos spin the base of your chair around to face the bar - your hands falling flat against the wood to stabilise the spinny chair.

You watch the bartender pour three shots. Colourful ones. Very in character to Thanos. You gulp hard, eyes flickering to Thanos who’s already smiling at you. You feel Namgyu shift to lean against the bar to the right of you - one forearm against the bar, his other hand holding the back of your chair - now sandwiched in between them both.

“Señorita.” Thanos says quirkily, taking a shot and holding it out to you. You consider it a second too long before he’s already shoving it into your hand - some spilling over the tip of the glass and over your fingers from the force of it. You grimace. He takes his own then, Namgyu following suit.

You stare down, trying to piece together exactly what their play is here. You already considered intimidation, but now Thanos is buying you drinks - which you don’t mind all that much. Drink is drink, but still.

Reluctantly, you’re first to shot it. You hear Namgyu and Thanos doing the same then, their glasses hitting the bar a second later.

You side eye Thanos, watching him take a second to recover from the shot as he sucks in a breath between clenched teeth. Were you done? Could you go now?

“Okay.” He breathes out, looking to you and offering you a smile before he stands up out the chair. You can’t even look up at him before he’s clamping his hand around your upper arm - yanking you out the seat.

“We’re gonna find somewhere a little more private.” He says, leaning down to whisper that to you - his grip on you implying a lingering threat.

“Kay?”

You simply glare up at him. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Thanos sticks his bottom lip out, “Don’t worry, Namgyu’s coming too.” he says, lifting his chin to point toward Namgyu who’s behind you.

“I got weed too.” You hear Namgyu say behind you, chirping up. You keep your narrowed eyes up at Thanos.

“See? He’s got weed too.” Thanos says characteristically, as though Namgyu having weed would somehow sway you into going. You scoff in his face.

“I said no.”

Thanos doesn’t take his eyes off you as Namgyu shifts behind you. You feel him place his hand on your back which causes you to freeze up.

“Relax,” Namgyu says, drawling out the word slowly, his hand stroking your back up and down as though to reassure you. You shoot your eyes to him - he’s smiling slightly, though you could see the wickedness peeking through his eyes. That was the thing with them two. The pair mask themselves too well - any normal person would assume they were caring, thoughtful even. But you knew every smile they give you, every seemingly innocent touch - like Namgyu’s hand on your back - was laced with threat and intimidation.

“We need to talk, okay?” Namgyu continues, and despite his tone lingering on the edge of mockery, you can believe that he means what he says. He’s much better at conveying things than Thanos who’s completely drugged out of his mind. You look back to Thanos.

He gives you a boyish, hopeful smile.

You sigh, dropping your shoulders. The quicker you agree and have that talk, the quicker it’ll be over and done with.

“Okay.” You agree.

The pair hasn’t split from you the entire way to a quiet room. Thanos’ hand on your wrist pulling you along. Namgyu’s hand flat against the middle of your back, enticing you forward. You had forgotten Namgyu had been a promoter at this club - which meant he knew all the right people, all the right quiet spots. Thanos shoots his head over and beckons Namgyu to go ahead and open the door, which he does - always the obedient type when it came to his good friend.

It wasn’t anything special. Two couches - a bar rack or two, a few beer kegs lying around with a tv up on the wall. Looked like a bougie staff room. Thanos beckons his hand toward one of the couches, so you do just that. You sink into it - surprised by its comfiness despite your inability to relax when you see Namgyu lock the door. They join you not a second after, the pair sitting next to each other on the couch directly opposite you.

It’s quiet between the three of you. Only the vague thrumming of the music outside which is now numbed by the walls of the staff room. Thanos still mindlessly thumps his head to the beat of it though.

“Y/n,” Thanos breaks the silence with your name, leaning forward in his chair - it’s leather creaking loudly under his movement.

“Do you believe in divine intervention?”

Namgyu already rolls his eyes at him, now sinking into the seat and pinching the skin on the bridge of his nose. Looking like he’s heard this a thousand times before — like he’s way too tired to call bullshit. Thanos is the open minded type. Namgyu, not so much.

You’re alike with Namgyu in that way, which is apparent as you snort a laugh at Thanos.

“What — like, a higher power?” You say slowly, amused — your mind wondering ahead as you try to figure out where he’s going with this ridiculous approach. Thanos smiles slowly, nodding his head, “Exactly.”

“I’ve been looking for you. The rest of our group too — wanted to rekindle on the outside, you know? And here you are.” He beckons his hands out toward you, giddy. You simply quirk a brow.

“Divine intervention. Fascinating, right?”

You cut him off with ease, “Drop the act. You just want to intimidate us into not running our mouths.”

His mouth stills, open. Your reply catching Namgyu’s attention as he slowly pulls his fingers from his face, eyes locking onto you. Your eyes dart between them both - you had no time for his lies or manipulation. He’s trying to sweeten you up - thinking you’re stupid enough to believe his crap. You want them to know that you know their game, and that you won’t be playing it.

“Right?” You say, stern.

A scoffed laugh leaves Thanos, impressed to say the least. You understand he’s got a career - a status, a version of himself to uphold. You also understand why he wants to protect that, but by finding you all and bullying you to silence for his benefit? It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. The same with Namgyu too. You’d both seen them murder people, meaning you’re a loose end to them.

A grin raises the left corner of Thanos mouth, squinting one eye as he points a finger at you.

“You’re a smart girl, aren’t you? Here I thought you were just another pushover.” He analyses through restricted laughs. His hands slap down onto his knees suddenly as he stands.

“Well, may as well cut to the chase.” He says, plonking himself down on the sofa next to you. Clearly inconsiderate toward the concept of personal space. You exhale, already tired of this situation. Your eyes settle ahead - onto Namgyu, deciding you could tolerate Thanos as long as you didn’t look at him.

Thanos brings his face close to the side of your head, breath hot against your neck.

“I - we,” He pauses, extending a palm to Namgyu who you’re still staring at, “We need to feel confident in knowing you can keep your mouth shut about our little escapade together a few weeks ago.” He mutters, tone laced with a bit more sincerity now as he refers to the games. In fact, you know he doesn’t care if you talk about the games — you know that’s he’s referring to what you had witnessed.

Both of their actions - their murderous capabilities.

Your mouth twitches, now realising you have something over them. They’re concerned that you could taint their reputations. In fairness, you hadn’t even considered it. But there’s something satisfying about having that leverage on them that just tickles your mind in all the right ways. A one sided smirk paints your face.

“You’re murderers.” You say with a new found confidence and you see Namgyu straighten in his seat - on edge, as though his suspicions on you ratting were coming to a slow reality. Thanos is grabbing your chin in a second, forcing you to look at him — he looks disgusted that you would even say that, comically so considering that he is exactly what you accuse him to be.

“How could you say that, huh? We protected you in there — right, Namgyu?”

“Fucking right.” You hear Namgyu mutter in response, but his voice is coming from behind you now. You hadn’t even seen Namgyu get out of his seat — now feeling the couch beside you sinking as he settles there, pressing his chest into your back. Yet again, sandwiched.

You laugh once through your nose at them, glaring into Thanos’ eyes — his grip on your chin discomforting.

You’re not stupid. You know that in the games it was kill or be killed. That sacrifices had to be made. Most of the time, his and Namgyu’s actions strictly followed that principle. It’s the fact that they enjoyed it. Laughed about it — not even batting an eye when discarding someone else’s life. You had wondered when it would’ve been your turn.

You feel the tips of Namgyu’s fingers skimming your bare shoulder, dancing across the skin there before they’re replaced by his chin - settling his head onto your shoulder with a comfy hum.

“You should be thanking us.” Namgyu says into your ear, the proximity of his voice causing a cold shiver across your body. Thanos nods, the disgusted look on his face still remaining.

“Exactly right — shit, when did you get so ungrateful, y/n?” Thanos asks, pinching your chair harder - your strong facade starting to slightly waver at the rising proximity of them both. The need to escape this situation only grew stronger now — not that you’re afraid, but the tension in the room had grown thicker — a tension you didn’t know existed until Namgyu locked that fucking door.

Shamefully, you were enjoying this.

Being sandwiched by them. The warmth of Namgyu’s body heat pressing into your back — the way Thanos can’t help his eyes darting down to your mouth though he try’s to appear intimidating. It’s daunting and extremely testing. All the while making you feel like you’d lost all your self respect. It’s something you couldn’t let yourself succumb to.

So you pick the easier option.

“I won’t say anything.” You simply say, spitting out your words like you’re shocked that they thought you ever would.

“Fucking right you won’t.” Thanos bites out as he releases your chin backward harshly, your body weight falling back into Namgyu’s chest - you see it as a chance to leave, but Namgyu’s already looping his arm around your torso and softly pulling your back against his chest. Thanos is standing the next minute, pacing the room once or twice in thought — probably wondering whether to take your word, if he could trust you.

The drugs have obviously raised his paranoia.

He shoots a look at you — his brows comically curved downward in distain. You can’t help your smug expression.

He snaps then, again - bending over you and pointing in your face.

“You better not tell those pig cops a fucking thing —”

You don’t let him finish, deciding to finish this quick.

“With what fucking evidence, Thanos?” You slur out, your tone slipping into a mockery as you say his ridiculous name.

Was he that fucking high? Even if you wanted to rat them out, how could you? There wouldn’t be a slither of evidence to prove it. You’d just have to live with the knowledge. Your common sense plunges his live wire brain into silence for a fleeting moment.

You watch the realisation set on this face. It’s slow but incoming. A second later - his anger bleeds away, his frown now bleeding into a wide smile. You just clench your jaw at him - unimpressed. So unbothered that you’d even settled nicely against Namgyu’s chest - his fingers playing with the ends of your hair not even remotely a bother to you.

A soft exhale leaves Thanos’ now wide grin. A realising one. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

You want to tell him it’s because the drugs are frying his brain but you choose to hold your tongue.

He laughs right in your face then — not even realising his own stupidity. Too fucking high to comprehend common sense. He runs his hands through his hair frantically as he steps back, overjoyed. Feeling like he’d won.

“Ohhh, y/n — this calls for celebration.” He says before bending down close to you again, prodding his index finger into your forehead, pushing your head back so it rests back on Namgyu’s shoulder.

“You’re gonna stay right here while I get us some drinks, okay?” He says, condescendingly.

“Namgyu will take good care of you — won’t you boy!” He shouts to him before straightening up and heading out the room - the door briefly letting in the loud music before it slams shut behind him. You shut your eyes for a moment and you breathe a sigh of relief. As though a disaster had been completely diverted — realising his junkie brain could’ve settled on killing you even before thinking about the obvious.

A silence sits in the air.

“You know I told that fucking bastard the same shit you just did.”

Namgyu says from behind you — his tone surprisingly bitter when addressing Thanos. Almost as if a facade had dropped without his presence in the room. You decide not to reply — intrigued, feeling as Namgyu’s fingers continue their pursuit through your hair, fiddling - toying. He’d always been the touchy type.

“Told him that there wouldn’t be any evidence whether you ratted or not.”

You simply stay still against him — the urge to look over your shoulder and read his expression becoming more alluring. You hadn’t been exposed to this dynamic — the insecure side of Namgyu. Fuck, you didn’t even know he had it. Especially against Thanos.

You hear him scoff as a hand slopes down your neck, his index and middle finger catching under your chin and stroking the skin there.

“No, he only seems to listen to pretty girls.“

He pry’s your head back and over your shoulder to face him with his two fingers then, a soft tsk leaving his pouting lip as his eyes set on you.

You stare up at him — completely fixed on his gaze. Fixated on his softened tone whenever Thanos isn’t around, like he lets his soft spot for you seep through his hardened edges. You can practically feel his insecurity vibrating off him like live wire. An underlying anger that would soon enough boil to the surface, eventually thrashing out — it’s obvious he hate’s people walking over him.

Being made to feel idiotic.

You can’t help but pity him a little. Just a little, you promise yourself. Anymore than that and you’d start to worry about your sanity. You stare up at him, too concerned to speak but your lips are already parting before you can tell yourself not to.

“He looks down on you.” Your voice comes out in a shattered whisper, as though you know you’re crossing the line just by commenting on it. It’s not that you intend to steer his mind, but in reality you understood his mindset. His expression runs cold the moment you speak though and the next, he’s lifting you off him and throwing you to the other end of the couch.

The soft leather welcomes you though. You simply look over at him, bracing your hands on the couch to lift yourself up - he’s shoving his hand into his pocket, muttering to himself as he pulls out a small bag of pills.

You watch his fingers fiddle with the small packet, greedily sticking his hands in to seize a little blue pill.

“What’s that?” You ask sheepishly. He doesn’t reply - he just slips back onto the couch, pops one into his mouth - the sound of him crunching down on it was the only reply you got. You just gulp down hard, not wanting to push it but you can’t help but watch him - seeing how quickly the drug took effect by the way his shoulders drop in ease. The way the corner of his mouth slightly twitches upward - pleased.

It’s like watching someone breathe their first breath of air.

You pull your eyes away.

They flash to the door. You should leave.

“It helps.” You hear him say then, his voice a little more relaxed and unguarded from before. Your curiosity is a killer, turning your gaze back toward him. His head slants over to you, limp and he blinks his way into a very small smile. You only wonder what he’s feeling.

“What does it do?” You ask, your voice a little bolder upon seeing him more relaxed.

Namgyu inhales through his nose, his eyes creeping up to the ceiling in brief thought before they drag back onto you.

“Makes you forget. Makes you feel strong, you know?” He says, a proud gleam on his face.

You didn’t know. You couldn’t so easily forget, but god, you wanted to. That’s why you came tonight. To drink all the shit away. The games - the trauma, all that blood. Your throat runs a little dry as you drop your eyes. You’d taken drugs in college, a bit of everything really. You dabbled. But you never got yourself hooked like the way him and Thanos had.

They used it like oxygen, and now you’re eyeing the pill packet that’s slack in his fingers like a quick fix.

You swallow hard.

“Can I try?” You ask, too busy eyeing the packet to see the way a crooked grin slips onto his face. You hear him scoff a laugh which makes you look back up at him though.

“What?” You almost snap, your tone immediately defensive. He blinks at you, his grin still plastered onto his face.

“You couldn’t handle it.” He says, but his tone implies that he’s almost daring you. You blink at him, then back down to the packet. You were somewhat timid in the games — quiet. You had been too afraid to even form a sentence most times. Maybe that’s why he’s surprised that you’re asking this of him. You don’t know, but you don’t ask again.

You look away.

You hear him sigh. Then the creaking of leather.

“C’mere.” He says, so you look at him. He’s still sunk into the couch but he’s moved his arm out as if to invite you in. You simply stare. But he’s impatient.

“Quick before I change my mind.”

You move closer to him as though in autopilot. Without a second thought - as though your sensibility had slipped away upon invite. Shuffling down the couch till you’re shoulder to shoulder with him now. You hear a hum in his throat as you settle next to him, as if your warmth was almost a pleasure.

You watch as he dips his finger into the packet again, prying out another blue one, pinching it between thumb and index. It’s in your palm the next second and you can only stare down at it. You feel his eyes burning into the side of your head.

This tiny little blue pill. You know you shouldn’t. You know it isn’t the answer.

But it’s in your mouth the next second, sitting on your tongue softly inside your mouth. You suck on it a little, it doesn’t taste good. He stares at you intensely, as though boyishly excited.

“Don’t suck it,” Namgyu says, twisting his body toward you as he slings an arm around you, bringing his face in a little closer - just to guide you through it.

“Chew it.” He brings his fingers to his mouth as to action you, fingers covering his grin, nibbling ever so slightly on some skin there. He’s watching you like you’re some sort of fascination, like you’re the only woman in the world. You lock your eyes with his, and then crunch. The sound brings a little smile to his face. You smile back a little.

You don’t know how long it’s been.

Thanos still hasn’t come back. Probably moved on to the next thing to obsess over. Maybe some fans, maybe a girl. You didn’t know - fuck, you didn’t care. In fact, there isn’t much thought in your mind at all.

Your heads resting on Namgyu’s thighs, your eyes upward at the ceiling. He’s sat back, looking up too — his fingers softly running though your hair. There’s a comfortable silence between you both. Not in a million years would you have expected to be laying like this, with him. So peacefully.

“Fuck.” You softly whisper. And that’s all.

“Good shit, huh?” You hear, which causes a lazy smile to sit on your face. It was. A white ceiling hadn’t ever been more hypnotic. You don’t even know how long you’d been laying there, staring upward. The room felt more tighter, more warm. The music blasting outside the door had become nothing less than soft hum falling onto deaf ears.

It’s all hazed. Numbed. Feeling as though you’d been struck by lightning and somehow miraculously survived. Living in an aftershock, your skin prickling with false electricity.

“I feel so — heightened.” You say softly, settling on that word like it was the only way to describe what you’re feeling. Not like you needed to describe it to Namgyu anyway, this was like a walk in the park for him.

You hear him hum in agreement before his fingers leave your hair to ever so discreetly travel the pads of his fingertips down your cheek - testing your words, seeing how you respond to the feeling. Despite the delicacy of his touch, it feels like you’d fell into a bed of roses — a soft tickle, like an electric shock - but a nice one. Feeling it so strongly that your eyes flutter closed and back open on impact, enjoying it.

“Feels good, right?” He says, his half lidded eyes now looking down at you in curiosity. He sees the twitch in your smile — the way your eyes close, the slack in your shoulders as you relax against him. He’d always been attracted to you — and you, him. You’d felt attracted to him even during the games, shamefully so. Though you’re the stubborn type. The type to mistrust your own feelings - the type of person who denies a slice of cake, no matter how much they want it. Like you had done with him.

You told yourself no, over and over. Like he’s forbidden fruit.

But the way his fingers caress your cheek like your made out of china glass? You’re not even second guessing your feelings. You just let yourself enjoy it. Enjoy being close to him. No longer an overthinking nag in you’re head telling you that this is wrong.

You open your eyes and tilt your head to look up at him. His palm flattens against the curve of your face as you do - the cold of his rings kissing your skin.

You both stay like that for awhile, staring at one another - almost as though you’re both acknowledging exactly how the other feels - and finding a satisfaction in it. Both so blissfully unaware. Just being able to shut the fuck up and enjoy the impending quiet.

You eyes go to close again, but his hand pats your cheek softly.

“Keep ‘em open.” He mutters.

So you do. The next second he’s carrying his finger tips across your cheek again - as though he just likes the satisfied look on your face. Like he enjoys knowing you’re feeling good under his touch. He slips his fingers down and across your jaw - achingly slow, causing a bristle of goosebumps to prickle your skin. Your mouth twitches again.

He’s deadpan, only his lips are slightly parted - as though he’s analysing every crevice of your face, every dimple - every soft spot. You eyes dare to flutter closed, but you keep them open for him.

His fingers carry on as they graze over your chin, across — but come back on themselves. He tucks the rest of his fingers away, folding them under your chin - only now, the pad of his thumb as it comes to graze your bottom lip.

Your breath hitches to a halt deep in your chest.

You can’t look away. The intimacy of such a simple graze enough to send your heart fluttering wildly against your ribs.

His next words cut through the thick silence like a knife through butter.

“You ever made out while high before?’ He mutters lowly, his thumb now still on your bottom lip.

Fuck.

You can’t even find your words. Trying to form a sensible reply in your head, now an impossible task. All you can think about is how you now know he wants to kiss you — and that you want him to.

“No.” You manage, your voice slightly strained.

“Feel s’good.” He says, his reply as casual as it would be in any normal conversation.

You don’t even know how to reply. You’re simply shocked by his forwardness, his inability to feel shy or ashamed. A skill you wish you had inherited. But you feel it buried deep then - an urge inside you screaming at you, tugging at your vocal cords.

You didn’t know if it was the drugs.

Or maybe some new found confidence. But your next words fall out your mouth so easily that you even shock yourself.

“Can you show me?” You ask, bluntly.

You watch as his jaw tightens, the muscle underneath twitching his skin. An eagerness melting into his expression as quick as you had asked. It’s something about the way you asked for it. Asked him. Not Thanos, not some prick you could’ve been dancing with tonight. Him. It’s like a validation — like he’d been recognised, like you trusted him enough to do it despite how much of a prick he can be.

Even earlier when he threw you off him as soon as you tried to sympathise with him. You could’ve left — shit, he would’ve let you. But you stayed. You chose that — chose to get high. With him.

There’s something about that.

About you.

It strikes him deep in his chest. You can tell by the look on his face as he nods slowly.

“Yeah. C’mere — sit up for me.” He says, a new found gentleness in his tone — like he’s taking on a mantle of taking care of you. You want him to make you feel good. He takes that seriously.

You sit up slowly, an excitement twisting your stomach as you keep your eyes on his. The feeling that you were gonna burst if you held in your resistance much longer. He pats your thigh so you lift it slightly, giving him room as he scoops his hand under — lifting you onto his lap to straddle him.

“There you go.” He coaxes, shifting in his seat to help you get comfy.

Your dress rides up a little as you settle on him, stopping on your higher thighs, clinging to you perfectly. You see him as he watches that — his half lidded eyes unblinking as he huffs softly out his plump lips. Your breath comes out in ragged waves, incapable of calming the exhilaration now building in your chest. You can practically hear your own heartbeat — and you’re so close to him now that you even worry he can hear it too.

His hands settle on your knees first before they slide up your thighs and stop halfway. He squeezes them ever so slightly - eyes watching your reaction like a hawk as you press your lips tight, eyes closing briefly.

He doesn’t do anything else. He just watches you, scanning you — overly aware of how your senses had just spiked. You simply look back then — waiting in anticipation, but you’re waiting a second too long. You realise he’s waiting for you. You did ask after all.

You gulp down the dryness in your throat, dropping your eyes down as his tongue darts out lap his lips slightly. And before you know it, you’re leaning in.

He does to.

Meeting halfway as your lips press together once - softly.

It’s a short lived kiss as you both pull slightly back — still hovering near though.

The contact of that first one had been enough to send your heart plummeting into your stomach. Sending a jolt straight into your pussy — with one mean throb.

He leans in for another — your lips simply connecting again, before pulling away. And then another, and another. Each one just lingering a little longer that the last. By the next one, it’s more inviting, mouths a little wider as your lips greet with a little more edge - an eagerness. Like all you had needed was a second to adjust to one another. A second the adjust to the growing throb in between your legs.

Your lips smush together as the need grows. Both your breaths growing harsh as they expel through your noses. Your lips smearing against one another’s and you both open your mouths in sync - tongues slipping out to clash softly, wetly. The sensation of it pulling out a slow moan from your throat.

He tightens his grip on your thighs hearing that.

Confirming in his head that you feel good. And that it’s all because of him.

One hand slips up your thigh, before sliding all the way up your back - until he reaches the back of your neck, where he grips - tight.

Another moans slips out of you and straight into his mouth.

His tongue laps against yours, swirling — sucking, both your spits mixing together deliciously. The sound of it alone is vulgar — in all the right ways. You need to breathe but he’s got a vice grip on your neck — keeping you there, kissing him. It only makes you breathe harder through your nose, making you more eager as you really lean into the kiss, titling your head - forcing his head back and into the couch as you do. Inviting yourself further in.

It’s messy.

But fuck. He was right.

The drug you’re both on heightened things. Sensations — the kiss. Your skin red hot — pricking alive with goosebumps that ripple across your body like wild fire. So intense that you’re riving against him - chest to chest, your thighs clamping around his hips. The pair of you like animals — starved ones, who’ve finally got their pound of flesh.

It was supposed to just be a make out sesh.

Something timid and sloppy while you both ride out your high.

But you can feel his hardened cock through his jeans against your clothed pussy. It’s like an instinct as you sit on it, grinding down hard — rocking slowly forward in one mean swipe. He’s tangling his hand in your hair the next second and yanking your head back — the separation of the kiss causing you to take a gasped breath out your mouth.

You pant, your lips red - glossy with his spit. You still your hips from grinding as he stares at you — he looks wrecked. His hair now looking unkept, no longer neatly tucked behind his ears.

“Did I tell you to fucking stop?” He says meanly, between breaths.

You don’t say anything - too breathless to form a defence. You roll your hips down on him again, only once. He sneers.

“Nice ‘n slow, that’s it.” He drawls out, leaning back into the couch to watch you as he lets go of your hair, both his hands settling on your hips. You brace your hands on his shoulders - gripping, using him as leverage as you continue to grind down on him.

An hour ago you were calling him a murderer. Half an hour before that, he had a switchblade in your face.

Now, you’re both high and you’re dry humping him.

You could laugh about it if you weren’t moaning softly, your eyes closing as your head rolls back in bliss. His hands tighten on your hips — now moving them back and forth for you, dragging you up and down his hard on which begged to spring out of his fucking jeans. He’s puffing out breaths, then a hiss — or a groan. His noises only making the mess in your panties all the wetter.

“Look at you,” He pants out, staring at you.

“Asked me so nicely for a kiss and now you’re draggin’ your wet pussy all over me.” His voice is gruff — strained through the amount of pants.

He lets out a deep noise — rolling his head back, his cock now in agony from how fucking hard he is.

“Need to fucking taste that cunt.” He grits out between clenched teeth, hips bucking up into you.

“Namgyu,” You moan out, coming back in close as you press a sloppy, wet kiss to his mouth.

He invites it, his tongue darting out to kitten lick your bottom lip once, twice — before he forces his tongue through the little parting in your mouth. You moan into it, his tongue relentlessly exploring your mouth - swirling, expelling his own spit in. You’re helplessly smitten, feeling every little thing he does to you.

The ache is your pussy only grows and you can barely take it anymore.

You reluctantly break the kiss - your hands coming to twist into his t shirt.

“Please,” You groan out, eyes shutting as you rock against him.

“I need more, Namgyu. Please.”

You beg so pathetically - but he finds it sweet. Hot, obviously but still sweet. In fact you beg so sweetly that it makes him sick how much he wants to make you feel good. He’s always been a selfish lover in his past. Receiving blowjobs, handjobs — a quick fuck in the club bathroom, nothing intimate. It wasn’t his style.

But you.

Fuck. You’re like his own brand of heroin.

“I hear you, baby — I hear you,” he mutters against your lips — reassuring you through his own struggle as you’re still rubbing up onto his cock.

“But you gotta let me taste that pussy first. Then I’ll fuck it, yeah?”

You’re a mess against him — listening to his filthy words, sending your head into a spin so furious that you can’t seem to slow down. You just nod, still clutching onto him but he’s prying your hands off him not a second later.

“On your back f’me.” He mutters, peppering your lips with his mouth - the occasional lap of his tongue on your lip. You oblige, sliding off him and onto the couch - your back against the soft leather, cold — still not cold enough to cool you down. Your thighs are practically shaking — the eagerness to feel some sort of relief, to feel his hands on you. God, it’s unbearable.

He’s over you the next second — prying your knees apart. He sits there for a moment, deadpan but his eyes darken. His gaze boring between your legs — at the visible wetness in your panties. You watch his jaw tighten, the way his hair curtains his eyes, only making them appear more shadowed with intent. He’d ate pussy before. He’s done a lot, really. But it had always lacked a passion — never once had he felt an urge so strongly to please someone else other than himself.

It’s almost frustrating for him.

“Shit.” You hear him mutter, through the little gap in the corner of his clenched mouth, followed by an even lower, “fuckin’ slut.”

You’re a desperate mess, splayed out on the couch - and Namgyu sat there admiring you all the while. You just lay your head back, your eyes up at that white ceiling again. There’s a bliss that rolls over you, like a warm heat - seeping into your skin and cosying you sweetly. Like the sensation when you get into a fresh bed while it rains outside.

“Please.” You whisper softly, moving your eyes to plea with him between your legs. You feel him drag a single finger over the wet cloth of your panties - barely a graze. It’s enough to send your head spinning, gnawing down on your bottom lip to stifle a moan. Both hands disappear under your dress as his fingers hook on the waistband of your underwear - you lift your hips as he pulls them down slowly.

“Tell me want me.” He says, his voice low as he discards your panties to the side - his eyes stay pinned to yours. He’s not demanding you, that’s obvious. You can see the slight glint of pleading in his eyes — as though he needs to hear you say it. Needs to feel wanted.

It’s something you understand deeply.

The need for recognition. To verbalise it, is to make it real. He needs that more than you need him right now.

“I want you.” You whisper in reply. But you feel in your chest it wasn’t sincere enough. Your lips part again, a slight hesitation sitting in your throat. He stares at you, waiting.

“I need you.”

Those words pour out of you so intimately that it could’ve passed as a moan. You see his jaw set to one side, that satisfaction rolling over his face with such crude delicacy. He’s pressing his thumb against your clit a second later, grounding it into a slow circle - firmly. Your lips shudder open, then closed - unable to form a noise from the overwhelming relief. Your brows upturning, unable to hold your head up as you drop it back down onto the arm of the chair.

Namgyu uncontrollably sneers, the sight of you like this sending an adrenaline through his veins. Something he try’s to tame for now though - wanting to take his sweet time with you. His eyes drop down to your pussy. With his thumb still circling your clit, he uses his middle and index to stroke down your folds — slipping through your soak, till they stop at your tight hole.

“Fuckin’ soaked.” He grits, ever so slightly prodding your entrance with his fingers to test.

“N’ tight, shit. This all for me?”

You’re not looking at him - your eyes closed, but you can tell by the tone in his voice that he’s desperately pleased. Flattered maybe. You knew you were wet, but you must be really wet to get that response from him. The edge in his voice makes you clench around nothing.

You nod helplessly, then you feel his thumb press firmer against your clit. Your body jolts from the intensity, your eyes snapping open at him.

“Use your words.”

“Yes — fuck, yes. It’s for you.” You pant out, your voice reduced to a desperate mess.

He’s pushing his fingers in you before you can blink — but it’s not slow like his thumb. It’s one hard shove. Piston like, the tips of his fingers instantly hitting that sweet spot buried all the way inside you. You cry out — your body jolting from the force of it — the pleasure rolling over you like tidal waves, relentless and unforgiving.

He keeps his fingers there. Doesn’t move them, he simply curls them slowly - against your walls, and such a simple movement is having you crumbling below him.

You shudder a sweet moan, grinding your hips down against his fingers as to ask for more. But he pulls his fingers out. His eyes are on yours, and they stay on yours while his tongue comes out the lap over his fingers, tasting you.

You’d never seen anything like it, never experienced something so sexual in your life. You’re not even a virgin — but you may as well be by the way your thighs shake — by the way you grow increasingly hotter, intimidated by how fucking filthy he is. It’s contagious, intoxicating. More effective than the pill you both popped earlier. So proven as you reach up and grab his hand, pulling his fingers into your mouth to taste yourself too.

His mouth falls slack slightly at the sight.

Your tongue swirls around his fingers before you release them timidly, your mouth ever so slightly glossy from your own fucking juices. He’s staring at you like you’d just reached into his chest and pulled out his fucking heart. So intense it could’ve been mistaken for revulsion. But, no. Not him.

“Whore.” Is all he can manage to bite out, still stilled in his spot from you’d just done.

A confidence brims your throat, a slow smile craning up the corner of your lip - nothing holding you back with your quick reply.

“Murderer.”

Namgyu glares at you, a tsk coming out of his lips as they part in defeat. He doesn’t bother to deny it now. You’re both far too gone.

“And you’re still begging for my cock.” He challenges bitterly, moving his hands to undo his belt. You keep your eyes on his.

His belts being thrown to the side in a second, his fingers rabidly undoing his button and zipper as he pulls his cock free. Your eyes rake down his body till you see it, your stomach twisting. He’s big. Too big, you think. He holds his cock at its base, ever so slowly pumping it in his fist. His eyes remain on you, thinking.

You feel your pussy throbbing — clenching helplessly. You need it, you need it fucking now. You look up at his eyes again, expectingly. He’s stern — teeth slightly bared through the parting of his mouth from the pleasure of him fisting his cock softly.

“Murderer, huh?” He pants out.

Your expression wavers, realising he isn’t gonna make this easy for you now. He’d been generous this whole time but the second you run your mouth? He’s gonna make sure you know about it. You don’t speak, a timid look on your face now revealing itself.

“Guess that makes you pretty fucked up for bein’ this fucking wet for me then, yeah?” He grits out, now moving his cock to drag through your folds, slowly, relishing every slather of wetness. Your eyes flutter at the sensation, a moan catching in your throat as your head rolls back in bliss.

“Yeah, there it is. See? You’re just as bad.”

You can’t reply, your head reeling from the aching need to have him inside you. You pant out a breath, forcing your eyes down as you watch him slide his cock through your folds.

“You won’t fit.” You pant out, truly meaning your words.

“I’ll make it fit.”

You go to form a defence but his cocks splitting you in two in the next second. Stretching right through your tightness like an unstoppable force. Your mouth opens, a disgustingly load moan pouring out of you. You’re pussy clenches around his cock — sucking him in, and he’s obliging as he continues to push right up until your little sweet spot.

Namgyu grunts — then breathes out, almost sounding shattered from the tightness of your pussy. Hunching over you, his forearms now coming to settle on the couch at either side of your head - caging you in.

“Perfect fit,” he grunts out, grounding his hips against yours slowly.

“S’like you were fucking made for me.”

Your teeth catch your bottom lip, thrashing your head to the side in bliss. As condescending as he’s trying to be, he’s fucking right. Your pussy welcomes him in so perfectly and warm, tightening around his cock and hugging it. But it takes you a second to adjust - despite the overwhelming pleasure, it stings — completely filling you to the point that you’re trying to catch the breath wedged in your throat.

He slowly pulls out his cock, giving you the chance to exhale before he’s pushing it back in. You take it better this time, your pussy now accustomed to the overpowering size. Namgyu’s breath fans your cheek, like he’s trying to contain himself — the feeling of you squeezing down on his cock almost threatening to make him cum already.

You move your hips in a small circular motion, a little noise seeping out of you as you do. He likes hearing you — those little fucking noises you make. He’s clenching his jaw as he moves his hips back before slamming them back in, his cock hitting your sweet spot with ease. You yelp out, your arms coming to loop over his shoulders - fingers gripping into his toned shoulder blades.

Namgyu grunts at that, reeling his head back to look at your face properly.

You open your eyes up at him. Your expression torn between helpless and ragingly eager.

He grins a little, pulls his cock back and grounds back in with all the more force - your body jolting upward from it.

“I like the look in your eyes right now.” He says messily, condescending you. Your face reads needy, like the speed he’s going isn’t enough - that you need more but you don’t want to beg for it again. You glare up at him, but you cannot help the glossing plea in your eyes. He laughs out a little at you, between pants.

“Fuckin’ needy bitch.” He hisses despite his sick smile. His hips are going at a steady pace now, but not quick enough. Not the speed he knows you need.

“Ask me for it.” He pants out, his head so close that his hanging hair cages your own face. You don’t want to give into it — you want to play the game of power, but you know he’s relentless. You know he’ll fuck you slow until you’re a sobbing mess, pleading with him to make you cum. It irritates you — but it turns you on all the more. You use that aggression as you slam up your lips to meet his - crushingly desperate as you both tilt your heads into it.

You moan into it. You hear him moan too. The noise from him only fueling your fire as you bring his bottom lip into your teeth, gnawing hard — drawing a speckle of blood before you pull away, your head hitting the arm of the chair with a thud. You pant up at him, your chin raised as though you’d just made a bold statement.

Namgyu darts his tongue out and tastes the bit of blood on his lip.

“Fuck me. Hard.” You demand, and he’s staring at you like you’re a fucking god. He doesn’t reply, he just grabs your legs and hauls them around his hips as he picks up his speed — the sound of his hips slapping yours becoming louder and louder. Your eyes roll back, your mouth falling open wide from the euphoria.

He sees your open mouth and wastes no time as he spits into it harshly.

You look up at him — shocked, but he’s clamping his hand over your mouth the next second.

His hips pick up a quicker pace, the sound of your pussy squelching around him filling the room.

“Fucking swallow it.” He grunts out, teeth clenched as he drives his cock into you at a relentless speed. He watches your throat bob as you swallow his spit and then yanks his hand away from your mouth, his own mouth replacing it a second later.

You’re soaring. Room filled with sounds of your wetness, creaking leather and mutual moans. Stifled moans as your mouths welcome each others - his fingers reach down between your bodies to pinch at your clit, twisting it. You’d cry out a moan if you weren’t sucking on his fucking tongue.

You feel it then. That build. Your stomach slowly twisting inward - like an elastic, threatening to snap and loosen you up beneath him. He feels it too - the way your pussy hugs his cock all the more desperately. It’s all too much — you’d never fucked like this in your life. Never fucked high. Never fucked someone you’re supposed to hate.

It feels impossible.

Your breath hitches, your head pulling away from his as the moans roll out of you more ragged and uncontrolled.

“What?” He grits out, his tone mockingly pitiful. “You gonna cum on my cock?”

You can’t answer. Your chest rising and falling in aggressive rhythm. It’s too much — you already know you’re gonna cum harder than you ever have before. In fact the anticipation of it causes your hands to grip his hips, pushing — trying to ease his pace so you don’t truly unravel below him.

“No you fuckin’ don’t.” He mutters out meanly as he prys your hands off his hips, using one of his hands to vice clamp your wrists together — now holding them above your head.

You cry out, helpless - especially as he somehow picks up his pace. His hips cramming against yours meanly — without mercy or give. He doesn’t let himself cum. Not yet. Not until he sees you truly unravel.

“Namgyu —” You stutter out as you reach closer, your wrists wiggling in his grip.

“Open your fuckin’ eyes.” He cuts you off and as you peel them open for him,

You cum.

Your orgasm rips through you, starting red hot deep in your pussy. You cry out — loud, now grateful for the volume of the music in the club. The pleasure shoots through your legs — shaking them, and it’s so overwhelming that you can barely breathe. He’s glaring down at you, fascinated with the way your pupils blow wide — eyes glossing with tears that you can’t subside from the overpowering pleasure crippling you. He smiles — twisted, sickeningly pleased.

“Thaaaat’s it.” He groans out, now reaching close just from the sight of you cumming.

You’re barely responsive, your orgasm had ripped through you so hard that you could barely catch enough breath to keep a steady head. Your head spins — vision blurred as you helplessly blink up at him, lips swollen - hair reduced to a mess.

You just about slur out your next words.

“Fill me up — Namgyu, please.”

His breath shudders at your words and as he try’s to form some sort of horny response, he’s already cumming.

His face twists, eyes cramming shut as he leans his forehead against yours. You feel every muscle in his body clench - contort, tighten. He’s groaning out — sweetly, almost timidly. Like he can’t keep up the facade of a man who’s in complete control.

You feel his cum shoot into you, warm and slick. It’s delightful — your eyes closing as a little satisfied moan slips out of you.

You don’t know how long you’re both laying like that until you feel his body relax — his head coming down to lean into the crook of your shoulder, heavy pants ripping through you both. The rooms warm — thick, the sweat clinging to you both now drying.

You don’t feel any guilt.

There’s no dread.

In fact you feel more at peace with your mind now that you had done in a month. Like you’d took all your control back.

You feel him twitch as he lifts his head after awhile. He’s flushed, his hair clinging to the sweat on his forehead.

You look just as equally wrecked as he does.

You both stare at each other. There’s no snide comments, no demeaning. Just your warm breathes meeting in the middle.

The only thought that slips into your head is the only one that concerns you.

How the fuck could you possibly stay away from each other now?

Authors note: gang this took me SO LONG to write wtf ???? but anyways, plz plz plz enjoy !!! had way too much fun writing this <3 stay strong namgyu nation ❤️

[cigsaftsx]

guys how we feeling abt a thanos x reader x namgyu

[cigsaftsx]

GUILTY CONSCIENCE

namgyu x f!reader

inspired by anonymous request!

Synopsis: You & Namgyu were together for just over a year. A rocky relationship however. His addictions being the main reasons for this - and you had reached your limit eventually. You threw his shit out of your apartment and him along with it. He would show at your door every night - begging. But after a while, he stopped. Only a few months later, you sign up for the games but you instantly regret it when you see the familiar face of your very recent ex boyfriend.

warnings: toxic behaviour, sexual tension, sexual content/ nsfw, mentions of violence, rough content - punishment, mentions of death & threats.

You didn’t believe in hell, the devil or the consequences of sin. You lived in blissful ignorance.

Though your beliefs were tested after a game of Red light Green light.

People shot dead like cattle. Without mercy or chance. It without a doubt terrified you. This was not worth the money you so desperately needed.

During that, you hadn’t noticed him. Namgyu. Your ex. It had been a few months now so it was still fresh. Only a month ago had he stopped showing up at your door in the middle of the night - pleading for you, for your forgiveness. One night he even begged you for your pussy — you remember watching him through the keyhole, how he clung to the door, muttering against it ‘fuck, i miss you - please, baby - fuck, even your pussy. that fuckin’ pussy — c’mon, open up - you know I can make it up to you.’

You knew better than to give in, although he begged so sweetly. And, oh, how you wanted to take him back - but your anger had outweighed your pity. You’d long had enough of how his loyalty lay with his addiction more than you. Acting like his carer, a babysitter - your self respect knew better than that.

Your senses had been so blinded during the first game that you hadn’t seen him - but he saw you. Shaking and crouching down behind the player in front of you as you all formed lines of protection. His gaze set on you most of the game despite his own stress. Perhaps you being there had gave him the push he needed to get through it.

As soon as you leaped across the finish line, you fell with a thud. The impact knocking a gust of wind out of you. You sat, legs bent as your hands laid palm flat on the floor - heavy pants ripping out of your chest as the after shock set in. Tears burnt the edge of your eyes - but you can’t blink, so they don’t fall. Only when the game ends do you look around at the rest of who had made it - there was still a lot of you, but there was a significant loss. Your eyes glaze through the crowd, until they land on him. He’s staring at you across the field, stood there, his expression almost blank - but a longing laid behind his eyes. A shock that you were there, and a relief that you had made it.

You both remain like that for a moment - acknowledging each other.

Till you come to your senses - remembering how it had been, and that anger slowly slips back - so you rip your eyes away, inhale a sharp breath and force yourself to stand.

You intended to stick by your word.

You and him were over. You only hoped that your current situations didn’t pull you back together.

You headed back to the main hall. It’s sickeningly quiet as everyone climbs the stairs - no doubt in fear and shock. You’d never seen someone die before - in that way, so brutally. A million questions ripping through your head as you keep your eyes pinned to the floor. Was there a way out? How many games are there? And how long would you last until your luck would run out. You could die here.

You feel a tug on your sleeve, the weight causing you to stumble down a step as you whip your head around.

Namgyu looks up at you.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He says, clutching to your sweaters sleeve. You try to tug your arm away but his grip is too tight. Players start moving around you both to carry on up the stairs.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You hiss, challenging him.

He shifts his footing, swallowing a hard lump in his throat. You both knew the answers. You both needed the money. Although he hadn’t expected you to be in a place like this - playing for money. He remembers how you would scold him for gambling. Yet here you are.

His silence lets you realise that this place wasn’t actually out of character for him, so asking him now seemed a little silly. You are both aware of his greed — how he blows through his savings for a score. You exhale, yanking your arm hard enough so that your sleeve leaves his grip properly this time.

“I have bills. Outstanding ones.” You explain, turning away to continue up the stairs. He’s quick to catch up, walking at your side like a lost puppy.

“Listen — we’ve been played. These fuckers are killing people — like this is some SAW movie level shit, so we gotta stick together, yeah?” He says, eagerly, almost pleading with you as his hand comes up to grip your sweaters material. You could laugh in his face if you weren’t so sick to your stomach with what you had just witnessed. You simply shake your head, keeping your eyes ahead.

“You don’t know anyone here, right? So you’ve only got me. Let’s just —"

You cut him off before he gets the chance to continue, snapping your head to him.

“Are you fucking dumb?” You snap, glaring at him.

“We’re split, Namgyu — over. Okay? I have no intention of rekindling that, especially not here — not when my life’s at risk.” You come across mean, you can admit that. But for him to be so clingy and caring now? After everything? Yeah, it pisses you off.

He glares at you.

“So let’s just - not. Okay? Leave me the fuck alone.” You finish, staring into his eyes for a moment before turning away and heading up the stairs one by one. Your heart aches — as though seeing him now had brought all your old feelings back. You knew your feelings for him hadn’t gone, not really. But you have to stay strong - for yourself, for your own respect. You figured you had to keep a clear head to survive this and being around him wouldn’t help that.

“Fucking cunt.” He mutters, loud enough for you to hear.

You whip your head over your shoulder at him - he’s smiling. Not a nice smile, but one of those smiles he’d pull when you would once argue. A bitter smile. An evil one. You don’t even bother to reply, so you turn back and continue up. An argument deemed pointless.

When it came to voting, you felt relieved. The idea that there could be a way out was like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You only hope everyone else shares the same mindset - surely they would? But that concept left your head whirling when people voted for O. Your stomach twisting — unbearably so, an anxiety you couldn’t just ignore as the pace of your heart batters against your chest. They were taking the lead. And as Namgyu approached the podium and hit O without any hesitation? Your jaw fell slack. Though you didn’t feel so surprised. Just sick. Sick of him. Your eyes follow him as he heads over to the O side of the arena, standing next to Thanos who you were vaguely familiar with. Namgyu had spoken about him to you before - rather passionately at that - you remember telling him not to get involved. Of course, he hadn’t listened.

When your turn came, you stood there for a moment, staring down at the buttons. You really needed the money. But was it enough to risk your own life? You shudder at the intensity of the choice. You hear a little whistle from behind you so you turn and Namgyu is staring at you, smiling darkly. He makes an O shape with his hands as though to sway your choice. That was enough for you to whip around and bring your fist down onto X.

You take the badge and strap it to your chest.

You wanted out.

You don’t even spare him a glance as you head to opposite side. He watches you all the way there, jaw visibly clenching in frustration.

O still won the vote.

The hall was quiet when it came to dinner. You kept to yourself, sat on your bottom bunk as you looked down at the serving. Sweet potato and water. That was it. Despite not having the appetite, you settle on keeping your strength up. You reluctantly take the potato and sink backward till your back hits the wall of your bunk. A soft sigh escaping you as you take a bite.

Your eyes flicker over to Namgyu’s group. They’re all taking, plotting probably. But Namgyu is staring at you. He felt bad about calling you a fucking cunt — kind of. More so like he is kicking himself, knowing that wouldn’t be the way to win you over and as soon as he sees you looking, he gets up. You’re quick to avert your gaze back down to your food, burying your head. You know he’s coming over, but you pray he doesn’t. You just take another bite - your face heating up, not wanting another confrontation.

You only hear his foot falls coming closer and stopping at the edge of your bed.

You don’t look up.

He knocks on the metal frame of your bed. As though knocking on a door. You squeeze your eyes shut before looking up at him, he’s leaning his forearms on the overhead of the bunk beds frame. Food box in hand.

Your annoyed glare is enough for him to bring his hands up into a surrender pose.

“Easy, baby — I come in peace.” He mocks, the slight grin on his face making you grimace.

“Go awa—“ He sits down on your bed with an exaggerated exhale before you can tell him to leave. You huff, pulling your legs upward and away from him, eyes rolling as he gets comfy, crossing his legs boyishly.

He places down his food box between you, his potato untouched. You stare at it before your eyes flicker up to him.

He’s smiling proudly, nodding down at the food before nudging the box toward you.

“Eat.”

You frown. “I already have.”

“Then eat more. I saved mine for you.” He picks up the potato and holds it in front of your face, nodding his chin toward it as though enticing you to have a bite. Was this really his idea of apologising? Some weak attempt at winning you over? You wouldn’t fall for it. Though inside? You’d love to lean over and take a sweet bite, all the while keeping your eyes on his. To tease, but you shrug the thought away. You’re over, you remind yourself.

“What is this? A peace offering?” You mock, harshly.

Namgyu’s arm slacks slightly, his elbow coming to rest on the bed though he keeps his hand upward with the potato in his grip. Almost giving in, but he’s not so easily defeated. He likes the chase, admittedly. Though his patience isn’t his strong suit.

“Call it what you want. I’m being kind, aren’t I?” He says, his tone sort of defeated, his smile faltering ever so slightly. You don’t say anything, dumbfounded by his stupidity. His full smile comes back then, convinced that your silence means you’re coming round to him. He extends his arm fully again.

“See? Now drop the bitch act and have some. I know you want to.”

You figure you’re still hungry. But you wouldn’t give into him so easily. You swat his wrist away from your face, the potato falling from his grip and rolling away onto the floor. You both watch it go. You didn’t exactly intend to discard the food like that - to dirty it on the floor, but you figure it would help get your point across. He looks back at you, smile gone - mouth agape. You look back.

“Fuck off.” Is all you say.

You look back down and unscrew the lid of your water cockily, bringing it to your lips but it splatters over you when he smacks it out your grip - then leaning forward to twist his grip into your sweater - pulling your toward him. You grip his wrist with both hands as you come face to face with him. Alas, you knew his patience was hanging thin. You took some pleasure in that.

“What do I gotta do, hm?” He hisses out, close enough that shouting wasn’t necessary. A pleading laced his tone - almost desperate and it reminds you of he would beg outside your door of a night time.

“Tell me — What? You wanna hear me say sorry? Hm?” He tugs on your sweater a few times. You just stare at him. He had been a shitty boyfriend. An apology would be nice — but you knew that wouldn’t cut it. Not at all. You’re not frightened or intimidated in the slightest - in fact, hearing him like this washes a sense of longing over you which you wished would go away. It would be so much easier to hate him. Spit in his face and call him a loser. Curse him. Push him away. But you don’t. You just watch him, your eyes flickering into both his eyes.

He stares back, his face a frustrated scowl.

A few moments pass like that and he visibly calms down. Eyes dropping downward. He unlaces his hand from your sweater and you thinks he’s done until he places his palm firmly on the side of your neck. Fingers groping the back of your head. The placement alone felt familiar to a threat. You swallow hard. A shaky exhale leaves him, the warmth of it fanning your face from the proximity.

“Here’s what’s ‘gonna happen.” He says, nodding to himself with his eyes shut. Though he’s talking to you, it also looks like he’s talking to himself - like he’s confirming the plan in his own head.

You only glare quietly, almost a little worried for what he’s about to say.

“In the next game, whatever it is — you’re with me.” He opens his eyes. They’re dark, menacing - but keen. Almost protective and extremely demanding.

“You’re also gonna press O for me tomorrow, aren’t you? Not like you did today — pressing X like a fucking traitor.”

You go to shake your head no but he stills your head with his grip and nods yes.

“Yes. You are.” He says firmly. A sly smile creeping onto his expression. You’re too tired to argue, so you let him have this. You know inside that come tomorrow? You won’t be anywhere near him. You feel strong inside knowing that. Knowing you can take that power from him. But for now? Play the game. So you stay silent.

“I’m gonna take care of you.” He continues. He speaks so confidently and proud. As though in his head he feels like he’s wooing you. His grip on your face loosens and he pats your cheek condescendingly. Before you know it he’s swinging his legs off the side of your bed and standing up - leaning forward to rest his forehead against the frame, looking down at you.

“You know where I am if you get cold in the night.” He drawls, as he runs his eyes down your figure before they snap back to your eyes. You can’t deny the flutter in your stomach when he says that, and a soft little exhale pushes through your lips as you glare upward to him.

He smiles, and steps backward a few times — looking proud before he spins around to walk back over to his group.

Once he’s a fair distance away, you let the breath you’d held escape.

By the next day you had managed to avoid him all morning. Stayed out of sight - even switched to a bed further away from your old one so he’d be confused.

And even better, come the next game - the six legged pentathlon? You’d already wormed your way into a nice group before he could even get near you. You could hear him pleading with Thanos to keep one space available in their group while he looked for you and it didn’t take him long to find you standing with a bunch of strangers. He paces over to you, frowning.

“Been lookin’ for you all morning, let’s go.” He grabs your sweater and goes to pull you but you yank your arm back.

“I have a group.” You say sternly.

Namgyu eyes the group and scoffs a laugh. “Please. These fuckin’ losers?”

You cross your arms, clearly standing your ground. His jaw flex’s sternly, and before he goes to say anymore, Thanos calls for him.

“Nam-Su! We got a full team - move your ass!” Namgyu doesn’t look over, his sight still harshly trained down into you - viper like. You can’t help but smile at Thanos getting his name wrong.

“Go on, Nam-su.” You tease.

He grinds his teeth - annoyed that you picked up on that. It’s one of his biggest pet peeves. Instead of arguing, he steps backward and turns on his heel, heading back. Shooting you a glare over his shoulder as he does. You knew that you’d hear what he has to say later. But for now, you needed focus.

As people played in the groups, the crowds of the players slowly began to celebrate them. Shouting and encouraging them - and it felt wonderful. During this, your team had befriended another. Gi-Hun’s team. Both your teams celebrating together as the playing teams won each individual game. And it was quick how friendly you and Dae-Ho became. Clutching onto one another in rejoice when other teams actually passed the game.

Namgyu, however, seethes in rage as he watches you cling to Dae-Ho’s arm when you yell in thrill. Thanos bumps his shoulder into Namgyu’s.

“Hey — bro, isn’t that your ex señorita?” He quips, eyeing you - frantic mid high.

Namgyu doesn’t reply, glaring ahead.

“Shit, it is. Bro — that’s crazy disrespectful, bro. Shit — look at the way she’s clinging onto that guy.” Thanos continues, not helping Namgyu’s obvious frustration. In fact it only fuels him. Dangerously. This was his limit.

You watched Namgyu’s team then. Finding yourself hoping they’d pass, annoyingly. Yes. Yours and his situation was very rocky - bordering toxic. Yet deep down, your feelings still remained. Rather strongly. You pushed him away only in the hopes that it’d be easier to get over him. And obviously, the last thing you wanted was him dead.

They passed, and you breathed a sigh of relief.

Your team then passed with flying colours too. The occasional stumble but you had made it and as you head back to the hall, you can’t help but think about Namgyu. You’re just glad he’s okay, nothing more, you tell yourself. You had to keep strong against him. Against your own mind.

You gnaw at your lip though — remembering you would have to deal with him once you’re back. Your disobedience earlier would be an issue for him.

You decide to avoid him and stick with your group until the next vote rolled around.

They call your number up and make sure not to spare him a glance. You decided the cold way was the best way.

You press X.

You suspect you’d get an ear full from him eventually.

But surprisingly, he didn’t try for the rest of the evening. Maybe because you were sat with your new friends, or maybe because he’d truly given up — that your coldness toward him had shooed him away. Either way, as hard as it is, you feel a relief. That you don’t have to worry about him hanging over your shoulder any more.

So you head to bed at peace.

You wake at some point however. It’s dark — only the sound of breathing and an occasional snore was all that could be heard. Everyone sleeping. You squeeze your eyes shut and roll over. Then roll over again. Trying to get back to sleep felt impossible. You roll onto your back with a huff - staring up at the ceiling, reaching up to rub your eye when you feel the texture of long dried blood on your face still. Probably from the first game.

The thought of it still being on you makes your stomach churn so you roll out of bed and pace toward the door — knocking twice — a moment passes. A pink guard answers.

“I need the bathroom.” Is all you whisper. They grant you the access.

You hadn’t noticed Namgyu trailing not far behind.

You’re very precious about your hygiene. In here, it isn’t a concept. Not respected. So as you look into the bathroom mirror, you grimace at the sight of old blood scattered across your face. Wasting no time on running the tap and scrubbing yourself clean of it. Once you’re done, you only sigh, gripping the sinks counter as you look into the mirror.

You need to go home.

Dropping your head as a tear brims your eyes — having a moment alone meant time to think — reflecting on the actual weight of this situation. Thinking about your family — friends.

You miss them.

How you had taken them for granted so.

You sniff and dry your tears and face with your palms, combing your fingers through your hair frantically until you look reasonably put together. The last thing you wished for was to look weak.

With a heavy sigh you looked upon yourself again and nodded - trying to encourage yourself. You push your weight off the sink and head back toward the door. You open it.

And there’s Namgyu, waiting.

Looking erratic and unkept. Your mind races for a moment — quickly deciding this was a bad situation and instinctively you slam the door in his face. He’s quick to react though, pushing against it — wedging his body through the remaining gap.

He’s a lot stronger than you.

And he overpowers you with ease, slamming the door open - causing you to stumble backward into the bathroom. Your eyes blow wide — scared. He fucking followed you here in the dead of night. Had he been awake the whole time — watching you? Waiting for the perfect opportunity?

“Hey, you fuck.” He seethes, taking a few steps in before slamming the door behind him. It was the only way out and now he’s blocking it. Leaving you with no options. You continue a few more steps backward before you buck it toward a bathroom stall with the hopes of locking yourself in. But he’s too fast. It’s merely a second before you feel him twist a fist into your hair and yank you backward - falling into him. You cry out, helpless — but not quite as you seize the opportunity to bring an elbow backward and into his gut — hard.

You hear an oof noise gust out of his mouth and he releases his grip momentarily. That hurt him, you note. You turn and he’s clutching his stomach, hurdled over so you step around him fast — making it toward the door as you yank it open desperately with a cry.

His hand shoots out next to your head — palm flush against the door, slamming it shut. Caging you in.

“You fucking traitor —" He says into your ear, his tone different — more erratic and frantic, emphasising the word traitor. Sounding how he would when he’d come home late at night, high. But he couldn’t be high. Surely? Then you think about Thanos. His reputation makes you question whether he smuggled something in.

“Namgyu—“ You choke out, about to plead with him until he yanks your body around to face him — shoving your back against the door.

“Look at me when you use my fucking name.”

You look up at him, your expression showing worry — unsure of his intent. A silent plea glosses your eyes as your chest heaves heavily.

He peers down at you like a predator to prey. A line of sweat across his forehead, his hair messed and greasy — curtaining his face.

“Did you enjoy yourself today?” He asks sarcastically, a sickening grin forming on his face as he grips your jackets collar with both hands.

“Get the fuck off me.” You hiss - gripping at his wrists to give yourself some stability in his clutches. You raise your chin up at him to show whatever bravery still remained in you. He breathily laughs at that. He’s reached his limit now, remaining patience he had has finally spanned out of control - gone. He’s like an electric wire - snipped in half, whirling and sizzling.

He makes a sad awww noise lowly, as though to mock you - pouting his lips out as if to feel sorry for you. “I tried to play nice, y/n.” Namgyu whines out childishly, a hand coming around the back of your neck to hold there firmly. You try to resist his clutches but he’s too demandingly strong - his other hand coming to pet the side of your face.

“But you didn’t want to — What? Was me being sweet to you not good enough?” He continues with his tone, as though he were speaking you as if you’re lower than him — his childish and condescending tone being enough to irritate you beyond. Yet you can’t say anything, admittedly scared. Not scared of him — or maybe a little, but scared about your willpower. You’d grown less angry toward him — which only meant you were growing soft. You weren’t sure how much longer you could take before your act would crumble and you come crawling back to him.

You merely whine in his grip — he enjoys that, smiling.

“So wha’ do I gotta do to make you drop this bitch act?” He says, craning his head down to meet your eye level - brows raising.

“Do I have to fuck it out of you?”

Your eyes widen a little. Oh god. Your mind betraying you in an instant when you think back to all the times you were both up late — fucking. About how he’d sometimes take you bent over the kitchen counter, stuffing his cock in you from behind — your bodies riving together like dogs in heat. All sweat and name calling —— telling you how much he loves your sweet fucking cunt.

You instinctively press your legs together. Desperate to ignore the growing heat between them.

Of course, he notices that. His eyes flickering down briefly to your legs before snapping them back up to you. An ever so soft gasp — exaggerated, leaves his gaping mouth. You forget he knows you. Like, really knows you and not just that but your body.

He knows when you’re happy - sad, but especially knows when you’re turned on. He takes pride in that now, wearing that realising expression on his face with pride as he straightens up, mouth agape and still dragging out his degrading gasp. You can only glare - your resolve slowing pulling down that facade you’d held for so long.

He brings his lower lip into his mouth to gnaw on it, humming a uh uh - with a head shake saying ‘no.’ He jams a foot in between yours and kicks your legs apart. He knows exactly what you’re fucking feeling and he won’t let you get away with it.

“You haven’t got a door to hide behind now, have you?” He mutters, referring to the times he’d show up begging for you back - and how you’d hide behind your door to avoid him. Not this time.

He leans in close.

“I fucking see you.” He seethes, face dangerously close to yours. You can’t help the quiver of your lip and desperate plea across your face. You feel your kept responsibility fading - slowly crumbing beneath him - the ache in your pussy now turning into a throb.

You close your eyes, leaning your head back against the door - trying to muster your remaining strength to resist him.

“Yeah.” He drawls out slowly, nodding — “That’s right, you’re just a fucking tease, aren’t you?”

He’s playing his own game now. You had managed to push him over the edge, to break his patience. You’d took great pleasure in that. But now it was his turn. His turn to break you.

And you simply can’t take anymore.

“Stop this, Namgyu — please.” You whine out — breaking your silence. Your hands hesitantly come up to curl into his shirt - clutching tightly - pulling yourself forward to rest your forehead against his chest in defeat with a thump. Burying your face to hide the shame of your surrender. You just simply melt against him — finally. Inhaling softly, smelling his smell - the familiarity of it - even the warmth of his chest as it heaves against your head. You swear you hear his heart thrumming.

You don’t feel any distain toward yourself as you press against him like this. Maybe a sense of guilt — but your feelings for him come plummeting back in the second you touch him. Smell him. This is you giving in. Waving the white flag and you only hope he accepts it.

You stay like that for what feels like a lifetime. The anticipation of his next move eating you alive.

You feel his hand pet through the hair on-top your head. The corner of your lips upturn a little — relieved.

“So, who’s the cocksucker you got all cosy with today from that fuck-head group?”

You still, eyes opening with an impending sense of dread.

He isn’t done. You swallow the hard ache now forming in your throat.

“What?” You whisper, unable to let yourself look up at him - shocked that your psychical submission hadn’t worked a charm. You note how he’s still petting your hair, softly — too softly, given the context of his question.

“You heard me.” He replies — his voice eerily calm.

You already know he’s referring to Dae-Ho. But you also know that it wasn’t anything like that. You realise how hard it’s gonna be to convince him otherwise. You take a shaky breath in - mustering courage as you crane your head to look up at him slowly - still clutching to his chest as though he were keeping you afloat.

He looks down at you with a soft, expecting smile.

You can’t find your words — too worried to say the wrong thing.

He raises his brows once - nodding ever so slightly, like he’s encouraging you to reply. But there was nothing you could say that would explain the situation better than a:

“It’s nothing like that.”

Namgyu stays smiling. “Clutching and smiling with a man you’ve never met? — that’s nothing?”

You can’t move — speak. The idea of defending yourself felt suddenly useless. All you can do is nod your head - rather frantically - desperate to plead your innocence. He’s still petting his hand through your hair — and you’re starting to become overly aware that his actions, expression and tone aren’t aligning with the things he’s saying. It makes you anxious.

“You did it to fuck with me. Didn’t you?”

“ — No, Gyu.”

“Gyu? Don’t talk to me like I’m a fucking idiot and get cute — it’s a little late for that.” He retorts quick, smiling fading - shutting down your attempts at calling him by the shortened version of his name that you had done when you were once together.

He looks away from you and ahead - as though in thought. You still remain holding onto him - looking upward, not liking the silence he know plays into. Suspence being your worst enemy.

“Please.” Is all you can muster - not liking the contemplation on his face.

He takes in a sharp inhale - his shoulders dropping dramatically on the exhale.

“Maybe in the next game I’ll make sure he doesn’t see it though — and his little shitfuck group.” He begins, returning his gaze downward to you.

“Just to set an example.” He finishes, bringing his head downward a little closer to you as he says that — to whisper, to twist the knife. Your blood runs cold — a shudder rippling through your body which breaks your stillness — shifting your footing. He’d kill them. He’d fucking kill them.

Just to prove a point.

“No.” You plea, moving your hands upward to clutch onto his shoulders now - desperate. You don’t want their deaths on your conscience — to be responsible for it.

Namgyu only nods sweetly, his smile vaguely returning as if to shut down your debate.

“Or maybe I’ll take you out there now — lay you down,” He pauses to clutch either sides of your face - thumbs pressing into your flushed cheeks. You whine at his grip.

“And fuck you. Nice and loud — make sure to wake ‘em up — make ‘em watch. Just so they know exactly who you belong to.”

He’s close enough to place the slightest ghost of a kiss against the corner of your mouth — barely touching — before putting his forehead against yours, eyes staring heavily into your own. He sways you softly in his hold and despite the seeming sweetness of it — you know it’s a threatening one.

“How’s that sound?” He asks.

As much as his words, shamefully, sent your head into a spin — you knew he’d actually do it. The killing or the fucking. But surely those weren’t your only options here, so you bravely decide on a third. Which means complete submission, which honestly? You didn’t now mind the idea of.

You’d lost the slither of self respect you had.

He won.

You needed him.

As shameful as it is.

Your eyes roll closed, pushing against his forehead with yours — cat like, needy. Flexing your hands on his shoulders to tighten your grip — clinging onto him, raising onto your tippy toes in order to feel closer. Though your height against his doesn’t give you much more of an advantage.

“There’s only you.” You whisper. The truth now spilling out your mouth - a confession. A sick one. Proving that he had won - and that you didn’t mind.

You hadn’t been with anyone else through the duration of your time apart. It wasn’t possible for you — even the concept of someone else’s hands on your body that weren’t his made you sick. You had been incapable of moving on — all you had left during that time was your self respect. That had been enough to close him off.

But now?

That fell apart.

You’re close enough hear his breath hitch.

“Say that again.”

You hear him say — his voice low. The sound of it enough to make your stomach twist — your pussy clench, and your head spin. You writhe in his hold sweetly - uncontrollably moving to graze your lips across his cheek, smearing.

“There was never anyone else.” You continue, your voice low and timid despite the confidence of your confession. You hear his lips puff out a breath — his jaw going slack as your continue your lips across to the other side of his face, only the slightest touch though — no kisses, just a soft graze.

You remember him enjoying that in the past.

Yet you can’t take anymore as your lips move above his — hovering there. As soon as you plant a kiss on him — you’re truly done for. You wouldn’t be able to be apart from him ever again — you wouldn’t want to be.

You softly come closer to plant the ghost of a kiss on his bottom lip - so soft he hardly feels it. You gulp hard - and as you move in to properly kiss him, he pulls his head back.

You let out a desperate gasp from the separation - eyes shooting open to look at him. His expression — blank. You can’t help the furrow knitting your brows together, confused. Desperately confused. You open your mouth to say something - but you can’t find the words.

“Say you’re sorry.” He says blankly.

You don’t say anything - your expression remaining.

“Say you’re sorry for playing the bitch — and fucking mean it.”

A little noise leaves you. Your eyes batting into his — you knew better than to think you could just get your way after that shit you pulled with him. You conclude that maybe his willpower is much stronger than yours. Proving so when after a moment or two in silence, you apologise.

“I’m sorry for playing the bitch, Namgyu.”

He doesn’t look convinced. You swallow hard.

“I acted like a bitch when you were trying to be nice. I should’ve been grateful — I’m sorry, I’m very sorry, Namgyu.”

He smiles then, almost condescendingly proud of you. He likes it when you play nice.

“Good.” He says.

“Now beg me for it.”

“Beg me for a kiss like a good girl.”

You practically shudder at that. He knows exactly what you want but he tells you exactly how you’ll get it. If it were you from yesterday, you’d give him a good slap to the face. But the mumbling mess you are now? Clinging to him? Like a desperate bitch? You don’t find much issue in it despite the shyness now parading your body.

“P-please.” You mumble out, eyes darting downward and back up to him — struggling to look him in the eyes, your new timidness achingly obvious.

“Kiss me — please, kiss me, Gyu.”

“Are you fucking stupid?” He cuts you off, almost laughing. His degrading makes you feel so fucking small beneath him — like every emotion you’re feeling is crashing down and suffocating you. You stutter to a silence when he cuts you off — unsure what you did wrong.

“That’s not how you beg.”

“Get on your fucking knees and beg me properly.” He bites, taking a step back away from you, his expression hard and demanding. Making it very obvious that he’s not fucking joking.

You could whine as he steps away from you — the lack of his warmth as the cold air of the bathroom hits your body. Standing alone like this - in such a mess - only adds to your shame.

And the shame only adds to your desperation.

You hesitate for a moment - before you slowly kneel, keeping your eyes pinned to the floor from embarrassment. Your limp trembling — so fucking upset at how easily you had lost your control. But more so upset at the realisation that you truly needed him — generally. Not just sexually.

Your palms flatten against the cold floor - sheepishly raising your eyes to look up at him.

He tightens his jaw - lips pressed into a straight thin line, just waiting.

You knew he had an insecurity issue. When you were together you could remember him rambling on about Thanos — how he tried to win him over, to get into his group. Attempts of free drinks - drugs, he’d even complain about Thanos getting his name wrong. All signs of an insecure man. You thought it was cute really - but it was obvious here that he wasn’t gonna let you get your way until he was certain in himself that you fucking meant it.

He needed to hear it from you.

To stabilise his insecurity — his jealousy.

But he also takes a great pride in seeing you this way. On your knees — below him, like a beggar to scraps. It makes him feel strong.

Your lips tremble as you struggle to find the words.

“Namgyu —” You try, already dropping your head to the floor from embarrassment and struggle. You breathe deep - bringing your head back up.

“ — I need you. Please, I — I’m sorry. I tried to stay away, I did.” You pause, your words achingly truthful and you come to clutch the ankle of his pants desperately.

You stay like that for a moment.

“I can’t help myself around you.” You confess - lips parting as you stare up at him. Yet his expression doesn’t change — he doesn’t move, nothing. Your chest burning as you try to think of something better to say — something to gage a reaction from him. You’re desperate.

“I’ll even stay away from everyone else in here — I mean it, I don’t need them — just you,” You continue to plead.

“Just you.” You finish with a genuine whisper.

But still, nothing.

And the next second, you crumble with an aching sob — not crying, just a noise of defeat as you lower your eyes away from him. You’d never felt shame so sore, eyes burning into the floor — unblinking — trembling. Feeling like the world around you is swallowing you whole.

Namgyu slowly kneels down to meet your height a moment later - your eyes shooting to him as he does.

His mouth slightly agape, almost looking fascinated by you. Almost surprised that you actually did what he asked. He settles into a squat position in front of you - his wrists on his knees as his hands dangle. You can only stare in anticipation, hoping and hoping that it was enough to let him set you free of this shame.

You both let a moment of silence pass between you.

“You’re a fucking mess.”

You stare in disbelief — his cruelness exceeding anything you’d ever witnessed from him.

He’d truly broke you down.

He stays staring at you and you see the contemplation on his face — you could only wonder what he’d have you do next. His eyes drop down, then back up.

Yet, he decides you’ve had enough. His expression softening, a hand reaching out to you.

“C’mere.” He says and you waste no time and take his hand — letting him pull you against him, your head slack on his shoulder as you move together to find a comfy position on the floor as you slot sideways into his lap - your legs slinging across his thighs.

“That’s it.” He encourages quietly, muttering against you as you melt into his arms as they wrap around you - one hand coming to guide your face to look at him.

“C’mere.” He whispers again, palming beneath your chin and planting a soft kiss on your lips, “There, all better — see?” He mummers, lips still against your mouth and you practically melt, your stomachs knot untwisting — a low whine that you held in for so long pouring out of you - nodding slowly in bliss.

He plants another one on you — less firm and more lazy, slow, like he’s also giving into it - you return it with the same amount of effort. Your lips both smearing against one another’s — slowly wetting with spit, the wet sound of that alone pools a growing wetness in between your legs.

His hand slips behind your head, fingers threading into your hair — petting, like he’s easing you down from the brink of humiliation you were in a second ago. Though his pride still remains - his ego now had been fed, a belly full.

“I knew you’d come around.” He mutters into your mouth in between kisses — like he has to carry on, to degrade despite giving in to what you want. To twist the knife — to keep you on your toes. You’re too carried away to even reply — like an addict getting their score, hungry and eager. Deprived for so long.

“Hmm?” He hums, hand slipping from your head, sloping down your neck and moving to palm one of your tits over your top with an abrupt - hard squeeze. A soft moan leaves you though it’s captured in your mouth mid kiss. You bring a hand to cover his - encouraging him to squeeze again - but he swats your hand away like a fly.

He pulls back from the kiss to look down to see better - you latch onto his neck with your mouth as he does which draws a soft hiss out of him - baring his teeth a little.

He pushes his hand under your top - soothing up your side till he pushes under your bra blindly — pinching your pebbled nipple with his index and thumb. This causing you to gasp, your body jolting in his lap.

Namgyu looks back to you, teeth still lightly bared in a gritty smile as he continues playing with your nipple below your top.

“Still like that, huh?” He hisses, swirling his index finger.

You nod, dazed, so he squeezes your nipple hard again to coax out a reply.

“Yes!” You pant out, “I like it — feels good.”

“That’s better, use your words like the little slut I know you are.”

He looks back down to your body riving and twitching in his lap - humming low in his throat as he pulls his hand out from under your top - palm flush against your skin as it travels down to your lower stomach, rubbing softly. The mere touch sending shivers through your body.

“Dunno how you resisted this like you did — I mean, shit — look at you, you’re practically shaking.”

He mocks, a single finger slipping under your waistband — stroking the skin there — toying with you.

Your hips instinctively twitch upward - unable to bare with the suspense of his lingering touch. “Namgyu.” you whine, pleading with him.

You grab his wrist, silently telling him to carry on - the feeling of your pussy wetting, going untouched - felt unbearable. Your head rests on his shoulder, your eyes peaking up at him.

“Please.”

He smiles to himself before looking at you.

There’s a pause in the air — the look on his face giving you slight concern.

“You’re gonna vote O tomorrow.”

Your mouth slightly falls open. He isn’t asking, he’s telling. But you don’t want to. You still wanted to leave — leave with him.

“I want to go home.” You whisper.

His smile stays, a low single laugh in his throat causing his shoulders to bounce in amusement - his hand now working it’s way under your waistband - all the way down to greedily palm your clothed pussy — firmly. He keeps his sights pinned on you as you gasp at the sudden connection - the firmness of his grip giving you a mix of unease and pleasure.

“Don’t be so fucking selfish.” He coos, smile dropping into a harsh expression - his face twitching meanly as he grinds down the ball of his palm firmly into your clit, still shielded by your panties - no doubt already feeling the dampness collecting there. Your breath hitches, a soft whimper slipping out.

“Please Gyu —” You groan out, tightening your grip on the wrist of his hand in your pants.

“Get your fucking hand off me.” He cuts you off - tone so harsh that you withdraw your hand instantly.

Your lip quivers - your mind unable to balance out the dread of the conversation and the pleasure whirling in your stomach.

“You could press X — we could leave together.” You mutter out between pants, foolishly really. You should’ve thought before you said that as his face stills. Within a second he’s pushing under your panties and running his fingers through your wet folds - a cracked moan ripping out of you.

“Is me playing with your pussy making you dumb?” He hisses, wasting no time in slipping his fingers down and pushing two into your tight hole with a harsh, wet plunge. The intensity of it causes your body jolt upward, a pleasured cry coming from your parted lips as you cling to him tightly to his chest - your eyes rolling closed in bliss. Your head rolls forward and down but he’s quick to grab a fistful of your hair with his free hand and yank your head back up.

“Eyes on me.” He says through gritted teeth, curling his fingers against your walls harshly — sweetly as you tremble, barely managing to keep your eyes open but you try your best as you look at him.

“What’s tomorrow’s vote?” He says, raising his brows slightly as he pulls his fingers out to only push them back in, softer this time though, the sound of your pussy squelching around his digits loud enough for you both to hear.

Your need to go home is excruciating—your need for safety and stability. Wishing for all the simple things like the sun on your skin and the comfort of your own bed. Your family. Friends. In here, you can’t handle the crushing possibility of never having see or feel those things again. Yet those needs crumble away under him. Your mind whirling out of control, unable to even comprehend the right thing to do. All you feel right now is how your tight hole clenches around his ruthless fingers as they sloppily plunge in and out of you.

You look at him through heavy lids that so desperately want to close over and enjoy. Your face showing your inner battle as it contorts - the tremble in your lip making it apparent to Namgyu that you’re about to give into his wishes.

“O.” you whisper faintly - sadly.

He presses his lips into yours — roughly.

You don’t even have a second to adjust - opening your mouth for a breath but he shoves his tongue in to swirl against yours greedily, his fist in your hair pressing your head closer - your jaw already aching from the feverish kiss. He slides his fingers back out briefly you feel before he adds a third, pushing them in slower as they struggle through the tightness of your seeping hole. You only return the kiss more aggressively then, feeling so full - so fucking full.

Your lips smear and slide wetly against his - open mouthed, breathing growing heavier as your mind plummets. You can’t get enough of it as you unleash all that pent up aggression back onto him - taking his bottom lip into your teeth as you bite — drawing a hiss from him. He places his thumb onto your clit then - grounding onto it in a circular grind and you yank your head from the kiss - throwing your head back, a loud moan leaving you.

“For someone so fucking scared, you shouldn’t be this wet.” He mutters, bringing his head near yours just to be able to see the look on your face as he fucks you with his fingers.

“I mean, listen to that.” He says, twisting his fingers in you - a loud sloshing noise apparent as you ooze around his fingers. Your breath catches when you feel your orgasm building - a ripped whine coming out of your gaping mouth. He grins small knowing you’re close.

“Yeahh, there you go.” He coos, picking up the pace of his fingers as they plunge deep against that sweet spot - lips placing a kiss on your chin. Your chest heaves suddenly, on the brink of cumming. He yanks your head back up, wanting to see your face.

It comes crashing down on you the next second - your muscles seizing and your pussy clenching around his fingers tightly, gushing onto them. You cry out a moan, burying your head into his neck as he fucks you through it - slowly slowing the pace of his fingers.

“That’s it.” He whispers, your hips rocking against his hand - any noise coming out of you being complete nonsense, all mumbles and dying moans which slowly change into gentle pants.

He pulls his fingers out of you, whispering a faint “fuck” when he sees your wetness and cum slathered all over his fingers. You open your heavy eyes - he’s already looking at you.

“Made such a mess.” He says, showing you his fingers before brining out his tongue to lap them once - tasting you. You can only whine at the sight of it and he hums softly in enjoyment.

He looks to you after a moment — noting the tired expression on your face. He simply leans to place a soft kiss on your lips, a hand holding the side of your face. You wished it could last forever. That you didn’t have to go back to face the reality again — the reality that by tomorrow you’d be dead. Or him.

So you decide to make the most of tonight.

So that night you slept in his bed.

Authors note: this took me way longer that it should’ve but i fucking loved writing this. ty for the request and hope you all enjoy. please please send more requests for fics so i can bring them to life. love you all. ❤️❤️❤️

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hey!! can we get ex!nam-gyu x fem reader where u keep ignoring him during the games—refusing to team up in six-legged pentathlon, rejecting his food shares, and worst of all, talking to some guy on gi-hun’s team (traitor behavior to him since u r team X, btw). he’s been patient, but that was his last straw so, next time he corners you alone, it goes down 🔥🔥🔥 punishment with sm unresolved tension, bruising kisses and touches, threats, 100% toxic tension, extra spicy n dirty. thank YOU!

bro i am writing this immediately ?????!!!!!!!! your mind

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gang i am officially back from my holiday - submissions are open if y’all have any fic requests ❤️❤️💗💗🫶 i’m also writing part three to cat & mouse so stay tuned for that !! thank you again for everyone’s support !!

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Nam-guy who can’t make you cum…and he complains to thanos about it and he thinks he can so thanos fucks reader and make her cum???

oh this is fun

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roh jae-won as nam-gyu

please credit if used <3

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I can’t wait for part three of cat and mouse broo ur writing is so good ❤️

thank you !!!!!

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CAT & MOUSE PART TWO

namgyu x f!reader

part one

warnings: 18+, drug use, inappropriate dialogue, degrading, sexual themes, dry humping, knife play (kinda?), mentions of blood, strong themes, violence, d3ath.

…

Vertigo. That’s the only word you could use to explain this sensation. But a good vertigo. You almost felt like the halls were rotating as you paced down the paths of the maze. Blending you up - a pleasurable miss-use. The drug had given you an immunity.

Ignorance.

A complete dispel of the weight of your situation.

So strong that you could completely ignore the nausea that brewed in your stomach from the drugs effects. You still knew that momentarily you’d run into a red - that your luck would ware. You also were still aware that you’d have to fight bare handed. But your knew confidence had you practically open armed toward it.

You hum softly. Not too loud, because you’re not that stupid. Just enough to blindly entertain your senses that called out for stimulation. Apart of you thinks about finding Namgyu. Just to play the game. Make him chase you.

Your eyes lift heavily to the ceiling in that thought. But a nearby scream pulls you out of it.

The scream lasts — then a stab.

and silence.

It was close enough to stop you in your tracks. Your pumps skidding to a halt against the rough flooring.

You stay like that for a minute. Almost as though your current high was being yanked into a horrible direction.

You let out a breath.

Then the sound of distant voices comes, and their nearing footsteps.

The sudden change of feeling was enough to scurry yourself against the nearest door. Shoving your body against it. You’re too busy looking ahead for reds to look down at your key as you try jamming your circle shape into a triangle lock.

“ - fuck. “ You splutter as you give in. Pushing yourself off the door and stepping backward. You keep your eyes pinned ahead to the direction of the voices - yet they’re too far to make out who they are. But their proximity is enough to humble you - to almost bring you back to reality, despite you still being sky high.

You only puff out of your lips as breaths push through. Eyes blown wide.

And you quicken your steps backward. Too stoned but not stoned enough to accept death. You weren’t ready. You pull up your balled fists as if to protect yourself and drop them a second later, already lazy.

“C’mon.”

You mutter, breathless, once again bringing limp fists back up - your sleeves rolled down to you elbows. Your mind way too driven by faux courage, by drug induced mentality - nothing it could trust or rely on.

And suddenly, way down the hall, still a distance from you - you watch Namgyu dance around the corner, Myung-gi following behind.

Your hands drop to your side.

Shit.

Namgyu’s doing a Charleston-like dance as he walks - humming to Player 333, who looks less amused. And he spots you first.

You can’t even move as you watch Myung-gi swat Namgyu’s shoulder, his chin lifting to point in your direction. Namgyu’s head turns in your direction, and you feel your blood run ice when his expression goes from boredom to a sadistic - like excitement.

You don’t move.

Neither do they.

You’re a deer caught in headlights.

An excitement had first aroused you when you saw him - but his chilling change of expression suddenly reminded you how you had humiliated him in the waiting hall. How you had hummed and sucked around his index. Slathering it. Taking it back.

All the while taking his drugs.

An impending sense of doom shivered against the back of your neck - and a twitch in your leg muscles told you to run. Yet - you couldn’t move, too afraid that if you moved an inch, Namgyu would be trailing you not far behind.

“Mg Coin.” Namgyu says, turning his head to him although he keeps his sight trained on you.

Myung-gi looks at him.

“This bitch is mine.”

And Myung-gi can only frown slightly. Not that he cared. The pair had already passed anyway. They were simply taking care of loose ends now.

“Meaning?” Myung-gi replies.

“Meaning, fuck off.” Namgyu says, grappling his collar and pushing him away bitterly.

“You - fucking loser.”

It was as though the sight of you had drew his complete attention to you - and off Myung-gi. As if he had been faking have fun with him the entire time.

The two didn’t need each other anyway - and it was apparent that Namgyu didn’t want Myung-gi anywhere near you. Nor any other red.

You were his.

He intended to help you realise that.

Myung-gi fixed his collar that Namgyu had fisted as he backed up - sparing you one glance before turning away.

“Junkie asshole.” Is all Myung-gi mutters as he leaves, but it was loud enough to catch Namgyu’s attention as he looks toward him.

And looks away from you.

And that’s when you take your chance.

You don’t even realise how quick your instincts are as your legs carry you left before breaking into a sprint. You couldn’t remember running this fast ever - and so easily too. You supposed the drug did have it’s benefits.

Namgyu’s head whips back to you, hearing the sound of a shoes scuffing the floor - to only see you fleeing left.

He wastes no time at all in sprinting after you. A gleeful noise leaving his strained throat as he does - an erratic, adrenaline pumped squeal. Overcome with his twisted idea of your own personal game.

You could hear his pumps against the floor not far behind you. And you feel a dread as your thighs start to burn - screaming hot, tired.

Your recklessness always being your number one enemy.

That’s when you see a door hidden around a corner. You take the chance, yanking your tired body behind the wall and flush against the door.

Heavy pants rip out of you, your sweat beaded forehead pressing against the door as your eyes drop down - as shaky fingers fiddle with the lock. Snapping your mouth closed to stop any noise coming from you - anything that would give away your location.

And relief washes over you as the circle key slides in perfectly. A drug hazed smile widening your lips.

You don’t celebrate for too long when you realise you can’t hear Namgyu anymore. Not his incoming foot falls - or the excitement ripping from his mouth. It’s only quiet — too still. Bottom lip trembling as you gnaw on it, preventing any noise to come from you as you keep your eye on the lock.

You turn the key - slowly.

Free hand using the back of your palm to brush strands of hair that clung to your forehead - curtaining your view.

And -

clank!

The door unlocks. The noise way too loud for your liking - too loud that you have to stand there for a moment, the front of your body pressing up against the steel door.

A moment passes, then two — and nothing.

You allow yourself to exhale.

Something sharp then presses into your back.

Namgyu?

“Give me your key.” The person says.

No, not Namgyu.

You peak over your shoulder only to see a blue vest. Your team mate - blood splattered across their face and they hold a knife. Probably the knife of a red they had killed in self defence.

You furrow your brows.

“We’re on the same team.” You say, turning to face them properly.

The player shakes his head frantically.

“No - we’re not. Now give me that fucking key — unless you wanna die. There’s no rule against blues killing blues.”

You clutch your key tightly in your fist. It’s your only way of surviving. It was too precious to give up.

You shake your head, no. The drug in your system making it exceedingly harder to function properly - the walls around you moved as though they took an inhale and exhale. Your back hits the door from the vertigo sensation.

The player wastes no time and runs toward you - colliding against you as you both fall into the unlocked door, falling into the room.

Your back hits the floor hard with a thump.

Your mind so blissfully unaware as you stare up at the stars on the ceiling. You swear they blink at you and you can’t help but smile at it. But you’re pulled out the moment when the player straddles you — knife coming down toward you.

You use the remaining strength you have to block him with your forearm - his wrist struggling against the weight - the knife a small distance from your face.

You spit upward into his face.

“Fucking — bitch!”

He exclaims, pushing harder now as the knife edges closer toward you and you feel your muscles burning - about to give out.

This is it.

You shut your eyes tight.

And then the weight of the man lifts slightly - you hear a slice - then a gurgle.

You open your eyes to see his throat had been slit.

You exclaim as you’re drenched in his blood - scrambling out from under him and crawling backward toward the wall. Breathing heavy as you frantically wipe your eyes to finally see Namgyu above him.

His knife coated in red.

He saved you.

He’d fucking saved you.

Yet you couldn’t help but feel unsure beneath the frantic stress you currently felt. Namgyu’s eyes - dark and blow - fall onto you and he smiles.

“Found you.” He says, pointing his knife at you.

And you don’t take that as a good sign - pushing yourself further back as you use the wall as leverage to stand up. Palms flat against the wall as your chest heaves heavily - the wet blood on yourself making you feel ill.

The thought of him having saved you had quickly washed away.

You consider that maybe he saved you so that so he could kill you himself.

You take a quick step to the right in attempt to go around him - but he copies you, also taking a step to the right. So you take a step left and he does the same again.

“If you run, I’ll only chase you.” He warns in an erratic tone.

You glare at him - eyes falling to the knife on the floor that your team mate had used against you and then back to Namgyu who was now stepping over the dead body.

“How’s my medicine treating you, bitch?”

He seethes, closing in on you until he’s practically standing over you. You raise a hand to hit him but he only catches your wrist and twists it behind your back - pulling you flush against him, now chest to chest.

You writhe against him, wincing. He pouts his lips, his free hand lifting to point the knife into your jaw - not enough to draw blood - but to sting.

“So fuckin’ testy.” He mumbles, managing your wriggling with his easy grip on your wrist - his knee now coming in between your legs - pushing upward to grind slow against your clothed pussy.

And you still then, aware of the knife against your neck - and also overly aware of his knee grounding in between your legs.

You press your lips tight together and keep your expression frowning - not wanting to give him the pleasure of knowing how good it feels.

He beams down at you - his expression a mix between sadistic and a boyish charm. You’re close enough now to notice the blood on his face, the way his hair curtains his eyes - shadowing him. Oh, you want to be scared as you know you should be - but you’re not. The heat building in your stomach and between your legs undeniable.

You both stay like that for a moment.

“Are you not gonna thank me?” He says pleadingly, breaking the silence - the knife coming away from your neck as he uses that hand to rake your hair backward out your face. Admiring you like this.

Your brows furrow, confused.

He frowns at that and twists a fist into your hair, craning your head toward the body behind him.

You grimace at the grip in your hair.

“You’re gonna kill me anyway.” You pant out between gritted teeth, eyes squinting at the discomfort your body is in.

Namgyu laughs at you.

“Silly girl. I still haven’t decided yet - although after your little performance earlier? I definitely considered it.” He pauses to ground his knee deeper in between your legs which causes your eyes to roll back.

He makes a happy noise in his throat when he sees that.

“Thank me first and then I’ll decide.”

He releases the hold in your hair and you put your head against the wall - eyes tightly shut. You didn’t want to give in. To yield and give him the satisfaction.

But you didn’t have much choice.

“Thank you.” You mumble quietly, bitterly.

“I can’t hear you.”

You huff, opening your eyes toward the ceiling, not wanting to look him in the eyes.

“Thank you.” You say, louder now.

You hear him hum, and feel him release your wrist only for both of his hands to hold either side of your face now - pulling your head down, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

His brows are raised, expression: stern.

“Thank you, what?”

Your bottom lip quivers - now feeling a wetness pooling in between your legs. You feel disgusted in yourself at the mere fact that you’re enjoying this.

“Thank you, Namgyu.”

He grins then, wide and wicked.

“There you go.” He praises, his ringed fingers slipping down to your neck where most of the blood from the player is on you. He notices, eyes dropping downward.

“Look at you. You’re a fucking mess.”

He says - disgusted - intent on humiliating you. He shakes his head in false care and cranes his head down to nuzzle your neck, brushing his nose against the shell of your ear.

“You look good like this.” He whispers. You can’t help but whine softly, silently pleading with him.

“Soaked in my mess.”

He continues before lapping a long stripe up your neck - through the blood - with his tongue.

Your mouth falls slack. Tilting your head to the side - dazed, and extremely turned on. Without even thinking, as though on autopilot, you rolled your hips - grinding yourself down onto his knee.

He feels you do that - and he growls lowly, deep in his throat, huffing. Slowly lifting his head again to look at you - to watch your face contort as you grind on him.

Your mind was a mess. A hot one. Mixed between disgust, fright and absolute hunger for him. Feeling like the knot in your stomach will snap — and you’d throw yourself at him.

You couldn’t handle it much longer. The suspense - the unknown. The craving.

You huff softly, tighten your jaw and bravely reach down between you to palm his now painfully hard cock over his pants.

He freezes, glaring at you. You return it with a soft gaze.

“ — fucking slut.”

Is all he manages to groan out, a hand coming to squeeze your neck - and the other coming to cup your face tight, squeezing your cheeks together.

You can’t help but smile slightly against his grip - and you squeeze his cock. Namgyu’s mouth twitches open - gritting his teeth.

“Open your fucking mouth, slut.”

He pants out.

You do.

He stares for a minute - enjoying the sight then leans down close - sticking out his tongue to gently lick your bottom lip. It’s excruciatingly slow. Wet. His eyes dart up to you and you take that as a sign as you stick out your tongue.

“Good girl.” He whispers so softly, licking his lips once before leaning in to lick a long stripe up your tongue.

You let out an open mouthed moan - softly swirling your tongue against his. Namgyu’s hips bucking upward into your palm.

You hear the clatter of the knife hitting the floor as your tongue play churns into a vicious kiss. Full of spit — teeth, gnawing at each other’s lips as though you both couldn’t get enough.

Panting into each others mouths - Namgyu’s hands splaying down your hips, to your ass - then to the backs of yours thighs were he scoops them up, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

You feel the way he grounds his hips - pushing his hard on up into your clothed pussy.

You let out a strained moan - loud, as though you’d held it in for too long and it ripped out of you.

The two of you were too drunk on each other to not even realise that the game was over.

A harsh snap back to reality as Namgyu got prodded in the back by a gun. He whips around, you clinging to his neck as you look past him to see two guards staring at you.

“The game is over.” Is all they say.

…

Authors note: I’m currently on holiday writing this so plz excuse the blunt ending. I’ve already started a SMUTTY part three were Namgyu pays you a visit that night to finish the job so !! lmk if you guys wanna read that <3 thank u sm for the support !!!!

tags: @xuntybitxh