König @koenig-my-beloved - Tumblr Blog

𝒹ℯ𝓋𝒾𝓁 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓀𝓃ℴ𝓌

pairing - nam gyu x reader summary - You were sweet. Too sweet for Nam Gyu. He knew it the moment he met you—innocent, wide-eyed, everything he didn’t deserve. But he wanted you anyway. Wanted you at his side, even when it meant pulling you into the dark. Through drug deals, bloodstained shirts, sex tapes, and strip club sins, you stayed. Now you’re his. And he’ll destroy anyone who dares touch you. warnings - au!nam gyu, afab!reader, degradation, public humiliation, threesome, nam gyu being nam gyu explicit sexual content, 18+ minors dni!! 10k words a/n - I love nam gyu so much wtf. hehe enjoy!!

You didn’t want to go to the party that night.

Your friend begged you into it, promising it would be “chill”–just a few people, a little music, drinks if you wanted them. But the second you stepped inside the dim apartment, pulsing with low bass and laughter too loud for a Tuesday night, you regretted it.

You stuck close to the wall, clutching your phone like it might save you. You didn’t know anyone here. You were too dressed up. Or not dressed up enough. You couldn’t tell. You just wanted to leave.

That’s when he saw you.

Nam Gyu leaned against the kitchen counter, black hoodie unzipped, silver rings glinting on his fingers as he nursed a drink he hadn’t even touched. He was bored. He came to these parties out of habit more than interest. But then you walked in–wide eyed, shy, pretty–and it was like a switch flipped in him.

You looked lost. Soft. Out of place.

He made his way toward you slowly, like a hunter not wanting to startle prey.

“You good?” he asked, voice low, eyes scanning your face like he already knew the answer.

You nodded quickly. “Yeah. Just waiting for my friend.”

“You don’t know anyone here, do you?”

“...No.”

He tilted his head. Smirked. “Then stick with me.”

You hesitated. He stepped closer. “I’ll keep you safe.”

That night, Nam Gyu never left your side. He never let anyone else get too close. He made sure your drink stayed full, that you hand stayed warm in his. And when you yawned around midnight and said you were tired, he walked you out himself, gave you his number, and kissed the back of your hand like a gentleman who had no business being that charming.

Now

You’re in his passenger seat now, thighs sticky against the leather, soft dress riding high on your legs. There’s lip gloss smeared at the corner of your mouth, and you don’t even notice. He does.

He notices everything.

“You always wear this when you want something, don’t you?” Nam Gyu hums, fingers brushing over your bare thigh. “My sweet little angel.”

You nod before you think to answer, and he smiles like a wolf.

You’ve been his for months now–long enough that people whisper when they see you with him, long enough that your friends don’t ask where you disappear to for days at a time. They don’t want to know.

You go where he goes. To his place. His car. His errands. Even the ones that end in dark alleyways and heavy duffel bags. He never lets you out of his sight. And when he’s not there, you feel hollow.

But he always comes back. He always takes care of you.

You’re his good girl.

“You sure about this, baby?” Nam Gyu asks as he shuts the car door behind you. His voice is low, even, but his eyes flick toward you–sharp and calculating under the streetlight.

You nod, nervous but stubborn. “I just want to be with you.”

He chuckles, brushing his thumb over your lips. “Even when it’s ugly?” He glances down the alleyway where two men are waiting. “Even when I’m not your sweet Nam Gyu, just the monster who makes people disappear?”

You swallow and nod again.

His smile is slow and dangerous. “Alright. But here’s the rule, angel.”

His hand curls around your jaw, not tight–just enough to make you listen. “You keep that pretty mouth shut. You don’t say a word. You don’t look at them. You stay by the car. And if you’re good–real good–I’ll give you a reward.”

You press your thighs together. “I’ll ruin you so bad you’ll forget your own name,” he murmurs, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “That sound nice?”

You manage a soft little, “yes sir,” and he hums like he’s satisfied.

You stay where he told you–seat pushed back just enough to give you some cover, head turned to the side as Nam Gyu steps out of the car. His demeanor changes instantly: relaxed but unreadable, hands shoved into his coat pockets as he strolls up to the two men waiting beside a warehouse.

They talk quietly. No smiles, no greetings. One guy lifts a briefcase. Nam Gyu checks it, gives a short nod, then motions to his own jacket–passing off something that glints under the dim light.

It’s fast. Efficient. Clinical.

You know this world doesn’t scare him. But the thought of something going wrong, of him not walking back to the car–it twists your stomach into knots. You have to force your hands to stay in your lap.

But then he’s striding back toward you, unbothered, cracking his neck like it was just another Thursday night. He slides into the driver’s seat and glances at you sideways.

“You alright, baby?”

You nod quickly, but your heart is racing. He reaches out and runs a hand through your hair. “You did good. Real good.”

And the way he says it? It lights a fire in your gut.

It’s not even ten minutes later when you’re bent over the hood of the car in some secluded backlot, the city lights just faint in the distance. Your dress is hiked up, your face flushed, and Nam Gyu is right behind you, fucking into you slow and deep.

“You didn’t make a sound,” he groans, brushing your hair from your sweaty cheek. “Didn’t move. You’re my perfect girl, you know that.”

Your moan is all breath and need, hands sliding across the car’s cool metal for something to hold on to.

He grins, pulling out his phone. “Smile for me, baby.”

The camera clicks on. His voice dips into a murmur. “Look at this. My angel–makeup smudged, drool on her chin, taking my cock like it’s the only thing she’s ever wanted. You’re so fuckin’ pretty like this.”

You gasp when he reaches forward, thumbing over your swollen lips.

“This video’s just for me,” he whispers. “So I don’t forget how you look when you’re ruined.”

His free hand slips between your legs, and you’re gone–crying out his name, shaking as the pleasure rolls through you. And afterward, when he lifts you up and sets you in his lap in the back seat, he kisses you soft and sweet. Wipes the tears from your cheeks. Tucks your hair behind your ears.

The phone buzzes.

“Saved,” he says with a smirk. “Think I’ll watch that next time you’re not around to fuck me stupid.”

You only stepped away for a second.

Nam Gyu had gone to take a call–something business related, something he didn’t want you hearing. You understood. You always did. So you waited near the back hallways of the bar, tucked between the restroom signs and a neon beer logo humming overhead.

That’s where Jihoon found you.

“You look bored,” he said smoothly, stepping in too close, his cologne sharp and cloying.

You straightened up, uneasy. “I’m fine.”

“Sure you are.” His smirk deepend. “Didn’t expect Nam Gyu’s girl to be so…obedient.”

You blinked. “What?”

Jihoon looked you over, dark eyes gleaming with knowledge that made your stomach twist. He had joked earlier, “you always keep her so quiet, hyung,. Must be doing something right,” but now, now he wasn’t joking.

You stepped back. “Excuse me, I need to–”

“I get why you don’t talk much. I’d keep my mouth full too if he fucked me like that,” Jihoon drawled. “Took me a while to figure out it was you in that video, but once I did…Goddamn.”

Your blood ran cold.

You didn’t speak. You couldn’t. Your mind spun with horror. The video–that video–Nam Gyu said no one else would ever see it. You were on your knees in it, ruined and messy and sobbing through moans, begging for him while he praised you like you were made of gold.

Jihoon winked.

You pushed past him, heart racing, almost falling over your own feet as you found Nam Gyu leaning against the bar, scrolling through his phone. He glanced up, ready to tease you for looking so rattled–but his expression shifted the second he saw your face.

You didn’t have to say anything. Just whispered, “he saw it,” and Nam Gyu turned to stone.

Which one? He didn’t ask. What did he say? He didn’t need to.

Jihoon was still by the hallways, sipping his drink like he owned the place. Nam Gyu moved so fast you almost didn’t catch it.

The glass in Jihoon’s hand shattered first–Nam Gyu’s fist collided with his face, then again, then again. It wasn’t a fight. It was a punishment. It was a goddamn reckoning.

Shouts erupted. People scrambled.

Nam Gyu had Jihoon on the floor, blood splattered across his knuckles, his voice venomous as he snarled, “You watched something that didn’t belong to you.”

Jihoon coughed, wheezing.

“You looked at her,” Nam Gyu seethed. “Talked to her. Thought I wouldn’t find out?”

You reached him only after two other men pulled him off. His chest heaved. Blood dripped from his hand, and his eyes–his eyes looked like they’d kill again if you gave him the word.

And then his gaze fell on you.

You. Shaking, scared. Clutching your arms like they could keep you from falling apart.

He crossed to you in two strides, cupped your cheeks with his bloodied hands like he was afraid you’d disappear.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I didn’t send it. I swear–”

“I know, baby. I know.”

He hissed your forehead. Then your lips. Then your jaw, breath stuttering with how close he’d come to losing his mind. “You’re mine,” he said. “They don't get to see what’s mine.”

You don’t speak on the ride home.

Nam Gyu’s knuckles are still red. The inside of his palm split open in one place, blood smeared across his fingers. You keep your hands in your lap, your head resting against the window, eyes unfocused. But you feel him glance at you every few seconds–checking. Watching. Like he doesn’t quite trust the silence.

The moment the door shuts behind you, his hand catches your wrist. “Wait.”

You pause, turning toward him.

“There’s blood,” he says, thumb brushing along your jaw. “From me. On your face.”

You blink, and he curses under his breath, not at you–never at you–but at himself.

“Go shower, baby. Please. I’ll get your clothes, alright?”

You nod, and the moment stretches. He leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, just beside the smear. Then another, at the corner of your mouth. His voice is hoarse when he murmurs, “Don’t lock the door.”

The water is hot. You sit on the tile floor with steam curling around you like a cocoon. You scrub at the dried blood, the sweat, the fear. You breathe. And when you step out wrapped in a towel, Nam Gyu is already there–waiting on the edge of the bed with clean clothes folded beside him and a bottle of water in his hands.

He helps you dress like you’re fragile porcelain. Pulls the shirt over your head. Brushes your damp hair back with careful fingers. Covers your thighs with one of his hoodies when you climb into his lap.

“You were so good today,” he whispers against your shoulder. “So brave.”

Your arms wrap around his neck, and he pulls you in tighter, like he’s trying to tuck you inside him.

“I’ll never let anyone near you again. I swear.”

You bury your face in his chest and nod, your voice muffled. “I know.”

He presses kiss after kiss to your skin–your neck, your cheek, your temple–until your breathing evens out and your body starts to relax.

“Next time, I’ll kill the fucker.” he says quietly, more to himself than you.

You’re curled up against him on the couch, one of his hoodies swallowing you whole, your legs across his lap. The movie you picked is playing, but neither of you have paid attention in twenty minutes.

Nam Gyu’s hand drifts up your thigh, slow and casual. His phone buzzes once–then again–and he sighs, unlocking it lazily.

“Still talking about that video,” he mutters under his breath, tilting the screen away from you. “Motherfucker’s lucky I didn’t break his jaw.”

You glance up at him. “You didn’t delete it?”

He looks at you for a beat. Then smirks, “Why would I delete this?”

He turns the screen to face you.

It’s you, on your knees. Barely dressed, lips wrapped around his cock, tears in your lashes, drool slicking your chin while he praises you between low moans. You let out the tiniest sound–something between embarrassment and heat–and your thighs press together without thinking.

“Look at you,” Nam Gyu says softly, his tone dark and full of pride. “No wonder he wanted to watch this. You’re fucking hot, baby girl. Look at you.” He swipes forward. “This one–fuck, this angle. Your eyes? The way you choke around me? How could I not keep this?”

You squirm in place, hands twisting in the fabric of his hoodie. “Gyu…” you whisper, breath catching in your throat.

“What?” he asks, sliding a hand beneath the hoodie and up your bare stomach. “You embarrassed? You looked so fucking pretty with my cock in your mouth, baby. That’s not embarrassing, that’s my good girl.”

You let out a desperate whimper and rock your hips forward, needy and flushed and trembling.

“Need something?” he asks, still watching the video like it’s art. “You were begging in this one, too. Just like you’re doing now.”

“Gyu,” you whine. “Please.”

That gets his attention. He tosses his phone aside and grabs your hips, pulling you fully into his lap. You straddle him. Flushed and aching, and he kisses you hard–possessive and rough, tongue deep in your mouth like he owns it. Because he does.

“You want to be good for me again?” he breathes, pressing his cock against you through his sweats. “Wanna make another, pretty girl?”

You nod frantically. “Yes, yes please–”

“Then you earn it,” he growls.

His lips trail down your neck, tongue hot, teeth grazing. One hand cups the back of your head, fingers tangling tight in your hair as he pulls just enough to make you gasp.

“There she is,” he murmurs. “My perfect little fucktoy. Bet you’d let me do anything right now, wouldn’t you?”

You nod frantically, hips grinding against his clothed cock. His grip tightens. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Yes,” you pant. “Anything.”

He chuckles and drags his thumb along your jaw before sliding it down to press against your throat.

“Anything, huh?” His voice drops into a filthy rasp. “Then tell me what you want. What position, baby? You want it soft and slow on the bed? Bent over the couch like a whore? On your knees while I fuck your throat again?”

You squirm, so needy it hurts. “I–I want–”

“Spit it out,” he growls, his hand tightening just enough around your neck to make you flutter. “Tell me or I’ll make you beg for an hour.”

“I want you to bed me over,” you cry. “Please, please, I want it from behind–I need you so bad–”

“Oh, fuck.” He groans, cock twitching against you. “See? That’s what I like. Begging and filthy. Just like my girl should be.”

He presses you down on the couch, flipping you with ease, his hand sliding up your back as he yanks the hoodie up and over your ass.

“You think I should film this one?” he says casually as he slides his cock against your dripping pussy. “Send it to that little fuck who wanted to see you. Let him watch while I make you cum again and again.”

You whimper, voice breaking. “Please–”

“Or better yet…” he leans over you, lips brushing your ear. “I could make so much money posting this online. People would pay to see you like this. Pretty and used and cock drunk. Let them all see what a good little toy you are for me.”

He grabs your hair again, hard, and pulls your head back as he finally pushes inside you, slow and deep until you’re crying, shaking underneath him.

“This pussy’s mine,” he growls, fucking into with bruising and possessive thrusts. “You hear me? You’re mine. No one else gets to have this. No one else gets to touch you.”

“Y-yours,” you sob, loving every second. “Only yours–”

“That’s my girl.”

Your body jolts with each deep thrust, the slap of skin on skin loud and obscene in the dark apartment. His grip in your hair never loosens, forcing your back into a delicious arch while he other hand roams greedily–your hip, your waist, your throat.

“You hear that?” he pants against your ear, teeth grazing your jaw. “That wet little sound every time I fuck into you? That’s how bad you wanted it.”

You’re incoherent, drooling into the couch cushion as your nails claw at the fabric.

“Look at you,” he hisses. “Completely fucking gone. I should take a picture of your face right now–make it your contact photo so everyone knows exactly what you look like when I’ve got you like this.”

You sob a moan as your walls tighten around him, your orgasm crashing through you with a violent ripple. Nam Gyu groans low, filthy and wrecked, fucking you through it, his rhythm never breaking.

“Fuck, that’s it–milk my cock, pretty girl. So desperate for it. So fucking good.”

You feel him twitch, stutter. The hand on your throat slides down, and he presses on your stomach, pinning you in place. His voice turns tight and sharp. “Where do you want it, baby? Inside? You want me to fill you up?”

“Please,” you whimper. “Want all of it–please…”

He growls and slams into you once, twice–then he’s gone rigid behind you, hips flush to your ass, cursing under his breath as he spills inside.

Silence follows, heavy with heat and breathlessness.

He collapses over you, pressing soft kisses along your shoulder as he strokes your waist, grounding you, whispering praise like a secret spell.

“So good for me,” he murmurs. “My sweet girl. Always take me so well, don’t you?”

You nod weakly, boneless and dazed beneath him. He’s already pulling you into his lap, kissing your temple, guiding you with gentle touches to the bathroom.

You’re wrapped in a fresh towel, perched on the sink while Nam Gyu dabs at the faint trace of mascara on your cheek with a warm cloth. His jaw is tight, the earlier heat replaced by something more protective. More reverent.

“I told you,” he mutters, “you’re too soft to be around this shit.”

“But I want to be with you,” you say quietly, eyes wide and still a little glassy. “I don’t want to stay behind.”

He grits his teeth. “It’s not safe.”

You slide your fingers down his bare chest, voice barely above a whisper. “You’ll protect me. You always do.”

His hands falter. “Fuck. You know I can’t say no to you.”

The hum of the engine is the only sound in the car. Nam Gyu’s hand is firm on the wheel, eyes fixed ahead, jaw locked. You fidget beside him, heart fluttering not from nerves–but because you can tell he’s switched into that cold, razor sharp mode. The one he wears when things are about to get messy.

“We’re not here to make friends,” he says finally, voice low and unreadable. “You don’t talk to anyone. You don’t look at anyone. You don’t fucking wander.”

You blink, then nod.

“I mean it,” he continues, eyes flicking to you. “You stay glued to my side. If I say move, you move. If I say run–”

“I’ll run.”

His lips twitch, like he wants to be mad at you for being so quick to agree–but he’s too busy watching over you. From the backseat, he grabs a black hoodie and tosses it onto your lap.

“Put that on.”

You hesitate. “But–”

“You’re already wearing a skirt that shows too much,” he snaps. “Don’t give them a reason to stare.”

You slip the hoodie over your head, letting it swallow you whole. The sleeves go past your hands and the fabric smells like him–cigarettes, leather, mint gum. He exhales slowly, watching you pull the hood up.

“Good girl.”

Inside, it’s loud.

Grimy walls vibrate with the bass-heavy music and the roar of men hyped on bloodlust. Fights break out in circles, sweaty bodies slamming into each other. Money changes hands. Bottles click. Everything smells like booze, smoke, and violence.

Nam Gyu walks ahead of you, his hand gripping yours tightly. His shoulders are tense, steps wide and confident. Like a wolf guiding his mate through enemy territory.

It’s only minutes before you feel the first set of eyes.

Then another.

Men nudge each other. Smirk. One of them–greasy hair, tattoos curling down his neck–leans a little too close when you pass. His eyes rake down your body, lingering even through the hoodie.

“Cute,” he murmurs, loud enough for Nam Gyu to hear.

Nam Gyu stops. His grip on your hand tightens, then suddenly he’s yanking you behind him, shoving you gently toward the wall as he steps between you and the other man.

“You got something to say?”

The guy grins, not backing down. “Relax, man. She yours?”

Nam Gyu doesn’t answer. Just stares him down like he’s already picturing what bone to break first. His whole frame is taut, jaw ticking, a slow burn behind his eyes. “You know what?” he says softly. “I don’t like your face.”

The guy scoffs, but Nam Gyu’s hand twitches at his side. His stance is pure threat.

The man eventually snorts and turns away, muttering something under his breath, disappearing into the crowd. Nam Gyu turns to you immediately, eyes scanning your face.

“You okay?”

You nod, wide eyed. He cups the side of your neck gently, thumb brushing over your skin. His voice drops, barely audible beneath the music.

“Stay behind me. No more close calls.”

You murmur, “Yes, Gyu.”

He leans in, lips brushing your ear. “If one more motherfucker looks at you like that, I’ll beat him bloody in front of everyone here.”

The crowd thickens as the next match begins. Somewhere in the center of the warehouse, two men are going at it hard, fists flying, blood spraying across the concrete. The cheers rise in waves, but Nam Gyu barely flinches. He’s got one arm looped around your waist now, thumb rubbing slow circles through the hoodie fabric as you stand just behind him.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here tonight,” a voice cuts through the noise, low and mocking.

Nam Gyu turns, lazy and slow, and across from him stands a man you don’t recognize–but from the way Nam Gyu’s hand immediately tightens on your hip, you know he does.

“Bringing your girl to the ring now?” the guy laughs, eyeing you like you’re some toy he’s judging. “She doesn’t look like your usual type, man. Bit too…clean.”

Nam Gyu doesn't say anything. Just reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out a joint, and lights it with calm precision. The flame flickers briefly in his eyes–eyes that never left the man’s face.

“Didn’t think you liked ‘em sweet,” the guy keeps going, grinning wider now. “Thought you liked the kind that’d keep up with your mess, not shy little bitches who–”

Nam Gyu exhales a stream of smoke. Slow. Deliberate. His arm drops from your waist as he takes a step forward.

You tense, but his hand shoots out–grabbing the man by the collar and jerking him forward so fast you don’t even have time to gasp.

“You ever say her name in the same sentence as ‘bitch’ again,” he sneers, “I’ll shatter your face so bad you’ll be sipping meals through a fucking straw.”

The man tries to laugh it off, but there’s no breath behind it. Nam Gyu lets him go with a rough shove, and the guy backs off quickly, disappearing into the crow.

You exhale only when Nam Gyu turns back to you. Still calm. Still collected. Like that didn’t even ruffle him.

He takes another drag, the smoke curling around his lips.

“Can I try?”

He looks down at you, and it’s that look.

The one that makes your knees go soft. The one that shuts your mouth without a sound. Sharp and final and all dark hunger.

“No.”

You blink, surprised. “But–”

Before the word can finish, his free hand lifts and gently wraps around your neck. Just enough pressure to still you, to remind you who you belong to.

“Don’t argue,” he mutters, leaning in close, his breath warm and tasting like smoke. “You don’t need this shit. You’ve already got something in your system that keeps you high.”

He squeezes once, soft and possessive, then presses a kiss to your cheek. “You’ve got me.”

You’re tucked behind him again–fingers curled into the back of his jacket, face half hidden by the hood he made you wear. The lights in the basement flicker overhead, and the music is so loud your ears are ringing.

Nam Gyu’s talking low to a guy with shaky hands and a too-skinny frame. The exchange is smooth, money folded, bag slipped from pocket to palm, quiet nods.

You’re quiet. Just like he asked.

Until he pulls out a pre-roll from his jacket and lights it without missing a beat. Your nose wrinkles. And you can’t help it. You huff, “So you can smoke, but I can’t?”

Nam Gyu pauses mid inhale. His gaze cuts to you slowly, like he’s deciding whether or not to bother being patient.

You blink up at him biting your lip with fake innocence.

He exhales a curl of smoke. “Stop arguing.”

“But it’s just–”

“I said stop.” His tone is flat and cold.

But you push–because you’re feeling bold. You like when he’s rough. You like when he growls and drags you away from crowds just to show you who’s in control.

You grin, barely hiding it. “What’re you gonna do, Gyu? Spank me in the middle of a fight club?”

His eyes flash. He takes a slow step toward you and you backpedal into the wall with a laugh until his hand comes down hard on the wall beside your head. His other hand comes up under your chin–firm, fingers splayed across your throat, just enough to make you feel caged.

“You don’t want to be a brat right now, pretty thing,” he murmurs, low and dangerous. “Because I’ll punish you right here. In front of everyone. Think I won’t?”

Your breath catches, thighs clenching involuntarily.

He smiles, mean and dark. “That’s what I thought.”

But you still don’t shut up. You smirk, tilt your head. “You wouldn’t.”

His eyes narrow. And then his hand slides down your body, gripping your ass through the hoodie. Squeezing. Firm.

You yelp, cheeks going hot, looking around quickly–but no one seems to notice. Or they’re pretending not to.

Nam Gyu leans in, his lips brushing against your ear. “You wanna be a brat?” he breathes. “Fine. I’ll make sure every fucker in this place knows you’re mine.”

Before you can speak, his hand slides between your legs, right there over your panties, pressing slow and firm.

You squirm, whimpering, and reach out to grab his hand. “Gyu–”

“No,” he says. “You opened your mouth. Now take it.”

His fingers rub a slow, tortuous circles through the fabric, and your knees almost give out. “If I pull my hand away and you’re soaked through, baby…” he grins, tongue running over his bottom lip. “You’re gonna make me real proud.”

The pressure of his fingers between your thighs fades as quickly as it came, and you’re left dazed, breathless, against the cold wall of the fight club basement.

Nam Gyu looks down at you like he’s bored, but his hand is still on your neck–firm but not cruel, controlling and grounding.

“You wanna act like a brat?” he whispers. “Fine.”

You glance up, flushed and wide eyed.

“Take your panties off.”

“What?”

“You heard me, angel,” he says, thumb brushing over your jaw. “Right here. Right now. And hand them to me.”

“I–Gyu, I can’t–”

His hand tightens around your throat. Not painful, just firm enough to make your legs weak. His mouth is at your ear now, voice dipped in something darker.

“You don’t tell me no. not when you're soaking wet wearing my hoodie. Not when you were moaning in public like you wanted someone to hear. You made this choice.”

You swallow hard. Heat coils low in your belly. Your hands shake as you reach under your skirt, and slowly peel the soaked panties down your legs.

They stick a little, damp with arousal. You want to die.

Nam Gyu watches, eyes locked on your every movement. And when you finally hold them out, face hot with shame, he snatches them from your hand and casually shoves them into his back pocket.

Like it’s nothing. Like he didn’t just take a piece of you in front of half the goddamn room.

“Good girl,” he hums, brushing his knuckles down your thigh. “Now be smart for me.”

You nod silently, throat tight.

“Act normal for the rest of the night. Stay close. Be sweet. And maybe–if you don’t get on my nerves, I’ll let you cum when we get home.”

He leans in, lips kissing your neck. “If I feel like being nice.”

Then he turns on his heel, walking away without looking back. And you’re left trembling, no panties, slick dripping down your thighs–and the weight of his promise burning like fire under your skin.

The rest of the night crawls. Your legs feel too warm, too bare even with your skirt and his hoodie covering them. Every movement, every whisper of air against your skin reminds you: no panties. Nothing but your own slick and his promise hanging like a weight between your thighs.

Nam Gyu doesn’t touch you again. He doesn’t even glance your way.

You follow him like a shadow, just like always–but tonight it’s different. You’re raw and exposed, nerves buzzing, head spinning with want. Every stare from across the room makes you press closer to him. Every brush of your thighs reminds you who owns you.

Finally, finally, he signals it’s time to leave.

The fresh air outside the underground lot hits like a slap–cold, sharp. You trail him toward the car in silence, your bottom lip caught between your teeth.

Then, as you approach the driver’s side, he “accidently” drops his keys. They clatter onto the concrete with a quiet little echo.

Nam Gyu stops. Turns his head toward you lazily. “Pick them up.”

Your chest tightens. You glance around–there’s no one near, but still…this is outside. Open. Exposed.

“Gyu–”

He raises one brow. “I said,” he repeated, voice steady and cool, “pick them up.”

You hesitate, then slowly, carefully bend at the waist. The oversized hoodie lifts, rising up your thighs, baring the curve of your ass just enough to leave no question of what’s missing underneath. You feel the air kiss your skin. Hear the smallest exhale behind you.

Then nothing.

You grab the keys with trembling fingers and straighten, your face burning. Nam Gyu says nothing.

Just takes the keys from your hand, gets in the car, and unlocks your side like everything’s normal.

You trail him inside his apartment like a ghost–silent, aching, skin still flushed. He tosses his jacket on the couch, kicks off his boots, stretches. The casual routine of it all makes you want to scream.

Because you’re dripping, thighs sticky, still pantyless, still waiting for him to keep his word.

But he doesn’t even look at you.

“Gyu…” you try, voice small.

He lights a cigarette.

“Gyu, please.”

Nothing.

You follow him through the apartment, tugging on his sleeve, bumping your head gently against his shoulder like a needy kitten. “Please, Gyu,” you whisper. “You said I could…”

He blows out smoke, and shrugs you off. “If you were really good,” he says. “I’d reward you.”

“I was good,” you plead. “I did everything you said–please, please touch me. I can’t–”

He glances down at you finally, eyes lidded and sharp. “You look real cute begging like that. Like a little stray. Maybe I should keep ignoring you. See how desperate you get.”

Your lip trembles. You drop to your knees without thinking. And that’s when his mask finally cracks.

You’re on your knees before him, hands clutching at the hem of his shirt, tears shining in your lashes. Not from pain, but from need. The kind that makes your whole body ache. The kind only he knows how to fix.

Nam Gyu exhales slowly, like it’s taking everything in him not to snap right now. He flicks ash into the tray beside him, then crouches down in front of you, fingertips grazing your chin.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice low and mean and so soft it’s cruel. “Just pathetic. Whining, begging, crawling after me like some needy little slut.”

You whimper. Nod.

“I asked for obedience tonight,” he continues. “And you gave me attitude. So now? You’re going to ask. Nicely. Clearly. You’re going to tell me exactly what you want. Every filthy word.”

You blink up at him, lips parting.

“Say it, angel,” he urges, thumb brushing your lower lip. “Tell me what you want.”

You take a shaky breath. “I want you to…touch me.”

He tilts his head, unimpressed. “Where?”

Your face burns. “My…my pussy,” you whisper.

His eyes darken. He leans in, breathing ghosting over your face. “Say it louder.”

You squirm, thighs pressing together–but you need this. “Please touch my pussy, Gyu.”

He groans softly, then cups your face in both hands, fingers curling just tight enough to make you feel owned. “That’s better.” He pulls back and stands. “Take off the hoodie,” he commands. “Now.”

You obey immediately, stripping it off with trembling hands until you’re kneeling on the hardwood floor, bare and flushed and dripping between your thighs.

He just watches for a moment–watching your chest rise and fall, watching you tremble. Then he unbuttons his jeans, slow and deliberate. “Hands behind your back.”

You do it.

Nam Gyu steps forward, his cock already half hard and twitching in anticipation. He brushes the tip along your lips, watching your eyes flutter. “You wanna make up for earlier?” he coos. “Be a good girl now?”

You nod frantically, lips parted.

He pushes past them without warning, groaning as your mouth stretches around him. “Fuck, yes–that’s it,” he growls, one hand tangling in your hair, the other gently curling around your throat. “Knew this mouth was made for me. Knew the second I saw you.”

You choke and moan, spit running down your chin. He doesn’t pull back. “Look at you. Crying for cock. You don’t even care who sees anymore, do you? You’d suck me in front of anyone if I told you to.”

You moan around him–yes.

“That’s my girl.”

He pulls you off his cock slowly, dragging your spit-slic lips along him with a hiss, and when your eyes flutter up–desperate, ruined–Nam Gyu grips your jaw tight.

“Up,” he says. “C’mere, baby. I want you to see what a mess you’ve made of yourself.”

You stumble to your feet, shaky, dizzy with want. He drags you over to the full length mirror near the corner of the room and presses you forward until your palms hit the glass. You can see yourself–bare, flushes, cheeks wet, lips swollen, eyes dazed.

He pushes up behind you, his cock sliding between your thighs, dragging through your wetness with ease.

“Look,” he growls, one hand tangling in your hair to keep your head up. “Watch that pretty little face when I fuck you. I want you to see how desperate you are.”

He thrusts into you with no warning, deep and hard, and you cry out–body rocking forward as your breasts press against the cold mirror.

That’s it,” he grunts, his rhythm pounding and cruel. “That’s what you wanted, huh? Wanted to be teased in public, walk around soaked with no panties like my personal fucktoy?”

You can’t even speak. Just moan, sobbing out his name as your reflection trembles in front of you.

“You’re mine,” he spats, hand wrapping tightly around your throat. “Say it. Say you’re fucking mine.”

“I’m yours,” you cry. “I’m yours, Gyu–please, please I need–”

“You’ll take it,” he groans. “Watch yourself cum on my cock like a good girl.”

And you do. Loud. Shaking. Legs giving out under you as you break apart in front of the mirror, eyes locked on the way your body spasms from his thrusts. He fucks you through it, growling praise in your ear the whole time.

After the mirror, after the shaking and the crying and the way you collapsed in his arms like your bones had melted, Nam Gyu didn’t say a word. He just scooped you up and carried you to bed.

Now you’re curled in his lap, oversized shirt tugged back onto your body, hair damp from the gentle shower he gave you. His fingers trail up and down your back, soothing and slow, and his lips ghost along your temple every few minutes like he has to be touching you.

“You okay, baby?” he asks, his voice warm and quiet now. You nod against his chest, sleepy and sore but glowing with it. He presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Did so good for me,” he says. “So fuckin’ good. Took everything like a perfect little doll.” His words make you melt deeper into him. You feel small and safe and loved–even when your thighs are still sticky and your voice is hoarse from begging.

“You hungry?” he asks.

You hum. “Maybe…something sweet.”

He smirks, brushing your hair back. “I got you.”

The next day he takes you shopping. Not to a mall or busy street. He finds little tucked away boutiques, quiet designer shops, places where he can flash a roll of cash and the clerks know better than to ask questions.

“Anything you want,” Nam Gyu says, watching you try on a dress with that lazy smirk. “You look good in everything, baby.”

You try to argue, but he shuts it down fast–hand on your waist, teeth at your ear. “You’re mine. You deserve nice shit.”

You end up with a few bags–shoes, something soft and lacy he definitely picked out for his own pleasure, and a purse you swore you didn’t need.

Then he takes you out for ice cream.

You sit side by side on a low wall outside the shop, the night warm, your thighs brushing under the table as you share a sundae. He feeds you the first bite, thumb catching the melted chocolate at the corner of your lip and licking it off slowly.

“You know,” he says casually, “Thanos asked about you the other day.”

You stare up at him. “Thanos?”

He grins. “My body. Real quiet. But dangerous as hell. Smart, though. Always knows a good thing when he sees one.”

You frown. “He asked about me?”

Nam Gyu nods, chewing on his spoon before leaning. “I might’ve shown him a couple pictures.”

“What kind of pictures?”

He just smirks. Doesn’t answer.

“Gyu.”

“The kind where you’ve got your pretty lips all swollen and your legs shaking,” he says like it’s nothing. “Told him how good you are. How you cry when you cum. He got real quiet for a second and then said… ‘Bet she’d look good on her knees between us.’”

You drop your spoon. It makes Nam Gyu laugh.

“Don’t worry. I told him I’d ask. Figured I’d see if my girl wanted to play.” He licks a bit of ice cream off his thumb again. “So? You curious, pretty thing?”

You sit there, spoon forgotten, ice cream melting between you as the air shifts. The way Nam Gyu’s watching you–lazy, teasing–makes your stomach twist in a way you know too well.

You swallow hard. “Like…both of you?”

He hums. “Mhm.”

You squirm a little on the bench, eyes flicking away. “And…what would you…do?”

He smirks. “You want details, baby.”

You nod, too fast. Nam Gyu leans in, voice low and dripping with sin. “I’d have you between us. One in your mouth, one in your pussy. Or maybe stretched open, stuffed full, crying from how good it feels.”

Your thighs squeeze together.

“Thanos is slow,” he adds. “Patient. He’d take his time with you. Meanwhile I’d be behind you, whispering in your ear about how you look even prettier when you’re being shared.”

You whimper. He reaches over and gently cups your jaw, thumb brushing your bottom lip. “But only if you want it. Say the word and I’ll call him.”

You hesitate for one more second…and then nod. “I want it.”

The next night, Nam Gyu makes you shower. Makes you wear something soft and barely there. Nothing underneath. He’s quieter than usual, but his eyes are darker, hungrier.

“You okay?” he asks, thumb stroking your jaw.

You nod. “Just nervous.”

He kisses you slow. “I’ll be right there the whole time.”

When the knock comes, you nearly jump. Nam Gyu opens the door–and there he is. Thanos. Tall. Broad. Calm eyes, sharp jaw. A quiet, unreadable energy that sends a thrill straight through you. He nods once, respectful. But his gaze lingers.

You sit curled on the couch, heart pounding, thighs pressed tight.

Nam Gyu gestures to you with a smirk. “Told you she was pretty.”

Thanos looks at you–eyes slow, measured–and says, “You weren’t exaggerating.”

Nam Gyu walks over, kneels in front of you, brushing your knees apart. “You still want this, angel?” You nod. He glances back. “Lock the door, hyung.” And then it all begins.

They don’t rush. Thanos stands in front of you now, calm and unreadable. Nam Gyu’s beside you on the couch, fingers stroking your bare thigh.

“Come here,” Thanos says quietly, his voice like velvet.

You glance at Nam Gyu instinctively, like you’re asking for permission, reassurance. He just smirks, taps your chin. “You’re okay, angel. Go.”

You slide into Thanos’ lap, straddling him slowly. His hands settle on your hips–warm and big, but not forceful.

Then Nam Gyu’s beside you again, watching as Thanos cups your cheek, his thumb brushing your lip.

The first kiss is soft.

Then another–Nam Gyu leans in from the side, stealing your lips next. Back and forth, again and again–two mouths, two tastes, one hand on your thigh, the other buried in your hair. You’re dizzy before their shirts even come off.

Thanos peels yours over your head with care. Nam Gyu undoes your shorts, tossing them aside. You’re left in just your panties, trembling in Thanos’ lap, completely exposed under their eyes.

“I don’t know if…” you murmur shyly. “I don’t know if I want Thanos to fuck me.” It slips out before you can stop it, and guilt flashes across your face like a slap. But Thanos only smiles–soft and patient.

“That’s okay,” he says. “I’ll leave that to Nam Gyu tonight.”

Nam Gyu grins, leaning forward to kiss your shoulder. “She’s sweet, huh?”

“Very.”

Nam Gyu runs a finger up the inside of your thigh. “You gonna suck him off like a good girl, though?”

You nod, cheeks hot. He leans in, lips brushing your ear. “That’s my girl.” Then with a lazy smirk: “Thanos can fuck you next time.”

You moan–quiet, wrecked already–and Thanos hums low beneath you. “Next time,” he agrees.

Thanos’ cock is heavy and hard against your thigh, still tucked in his boxers, but the look in his eyes is gentle. Waiting. Nam Gyu kneels behind you, lazy and confident, fingers dragging the soaked fabric of your panties to the side.

You whimper when he slides two fingers through your folds–slow and deep, curling just right.

“She’s dripping already,” Nam Gyu murmurs to Thanos, lips brushing your shoulder. “Think she likes the idea of putting on a show for us.”

Thanos just hums “I’d watch her for hours.”

Nam Gyu smirks. “You will.”

He pushes you back gently until you’re leaning forward in Thanos’ lap, chest pressed to his stomach, and Thanos lifts his hips slightly to free his cock–thick, flushed, waiting.

“Open that pretty mouth,” Nam Gyu purrs behind you, sliding his fingers out and guiding his cock to your soaked entrance. “Show him how grateful you are.”

Your body aches, stuffed full from both ends, your moan vibrating against Thanos’ cock. His hand slides into your hair, not pushing, just anchoring you there gently as he watches your lashes flutter.

“Fuck,” Thanos breathes, watching you take him deeper. “She’s really something.”

Nam Gyu groans behind you, fucking you slow, grinding deep. “She’s mine,” he growls. “But I don’t mind sharing if she keeps being so fuckin’ good.”

You gag slightly around Thanos, your throat relaxing as you try to keep up, spit slicking your chin. Nam Gyu slaps your ass hard, the sting sharp and fast.

“That sound?” he mutters. “That messy choke? That’s what makes it real, baby.” He slams into you harder, making you cry around Thanos’ cock.

“You’re so fuckin’ perfect like this,” Nam Gyu says through gritted teeth. “Torn between us. Crying around his dick while I wreck this pretty pussy. Bet you don’t even know who to moan for anymore.”

Thanos strokes your hair, voice rough now. “You want me to cum in your mouth, sweetheart?”

You nod with wide, teary eyes, and Nam Gyu groans behind you. “She loves that,” he hisses. “Let her.”

Thanos grips your hair a little tighter–not cruel, just enough–and with a low quiet grunt, he cums down your throat. You swallow it all, obedient and eager, eyes fluttering, throat bobbing until he’s done.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, thumb wiping your wet cheek. “Such a good girl.”

Nam Gyu doesn’t stop. “Stay just like that,” he commands, pounding into you now with a punishing pace. “Still full of him. Still dripping from your mouth. You’re mine, baby. Mine. and I’m gonna cum so deep you’ll still feel me tomorrow.”

You cry his name, trembling, falling forward into Thanos’ chest as you start to cum–again–shaking all over.

Nam Gyu groans as he spills inside you, his hand curling around your throat from behind, holding you still as he fucks it out, fucking you full.

When he’s done, he pulls you back, cradling you against his chest, panting against your neck. Thanos just watches, silent and dark-eyed, still stroking your hair. Nam Gyu kisses you temple, still breathless. “Next time,” he murmurs against your skin, “he fucks you too.”

Your body is jelly.

Boneless. Melted. Floating somewhere between overstimulated and euphoric, your skin still tingling from every place they touched. You’re nestled between them on the bed now–Thanos lying back, his arms around your waist, your back pressed to his chest, the curve of your ass resting snugly against his hips.

Nam Gyu is propped on one elbow beside you, shirtless and smirking, lazily dragging his fingers along the inside of your thigh like he’s still deciding whether or not to go another round.

You hum softly, lips parted, cheeks still pink. Thanos’ hand rubs gentle circles on your stomach.

“I didn’t think it’d feel that good,” you whisper, almost shy.

Nam Gyu chuckles, dipping down to kiss your jaw. “Told you.”

Thanos says nothing–just presses a kiss to your shoulder, quiet and reverent. Nam Gyu brushes his nose along your cheek, voice lower now. “Don’t worry, baby,” he murmurs. “We can do this any time you want.”

You shiver. Then, suddenly, Nam Gyu shifts you–gently but firmly. He moves you so you’re sitting up, only for him to slide you back against until your spine meets Thanos’ chest, his thick arms wrapping around your waist to hold you in place.

You gasp, wide-eyed, your head tipping back to rest on his shoulder. Thanos doesn’t say a word–he just holds you, steady and patient, like he was meant to.

Nam Gyu kneels in front of you on the mattress, one hand coming up to stroke your jaw, your lip, your throat. “Next time,” he says, voice like a promise, “you’re gonna let him fuck you.”

You blink at him, heart pounding. “And I’m gonna watch,” he continues. “From right here. Gonna see you stretched around someone else’s cock while your pretty little eyes roll back and you thank me for letting it happen.”

You’re breathing hard now. Heat coils low in your belly again. Nam Gyu leans closer, hsi thumb brushing your lips. “And you’re gonna like it.”

You nod, barely able to speak. “Say it.”

“I’m gonna like it,” you whisper. He kisses you slowly–deep and possessive. Then pulls back and smiles.

“That’s my girl.”

You were so used to following him like a shadow, when he brought you to the club, you didn’t question it. Even when it reeked of sweat, smoke, and too much money. Even when the bass rattled your bones and the VIP suite was full of expensive liquor and half dressed girls.

You sat on his lap. Because that’s where he wanted you. Because that’s where you wanted to be. Thanos was there. Some of the others too–talking, laughing, tossing bills and making crude jokes while Nam Gyu nursed his whiskey with one hand wrapped tight around your waist.

You leaned back to whisper in his ear, “You don’t even like strip clubs.”

He smirked. “Nope.”

“Then why–”

His hand slid down your thigh. “Wanted to watch you squirm in front of everyone.” You swallowed hard. His eyes darkened. Then, slowly, he leaned forward, lips brushing your ear. “On your knees.”

You blinked. “W-what?”

He didn’t repeat it. Just shifted in his seat, hand pushing lighting at your lower back. “Get down there and crawl to me.”

The room didn’t go silent. But it felt like it did. You hesitated. And that’s when he added, louder this time–so everyone could hear: “Be a good girl, baby. Show them who you belong to.”

You hesitated for a second. Just one. Then you slid off his lap, down to your knees on the plush floor of the suite, the room tilting in your peripheral vision as the velvet of your dress pooled around your thighs.

The conversation dimmed. A few chuckles. Some low whistles. Thanos raised an eyebrow over his drink, but didn’t say a word. Nam Gyu’s voice cut through it all–calm, dangerous, amused. “You heard me. Crawl.”

Your throat went dry. You placed your palms flat on the floor, head bowed. Crawling toward him was slow, deliberate–each movement a spark of humiliation and heat that made your body throb.

And he just watched. Legs spread, glass in one hand, the other draped casually over his thigh like he was waiting for a pet to return home. “That’s it,” he murmured. “Look how pretty you are like this.”

You reached his boots. Lifted your gaze just enough to his eyes. He grinned. “You’re such a good little thing, huh? All that attitude at home, and now you’re on your knees in front of my friends.”

Thanos whistled low. Someone else muttered, “Shit…”

But you didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. Because you liked it. You like the way Nam Gyu leaned forward, sliding his hand into your hair like a leash. The way he tilted your chin up and whispered loud enough for them to all hear, “You belong to me.”

Your breath hitched. He leaned in closer, voice softer now. Just for you. “Tell me who owns you.”

Your lips parted. Your voice was a whisper, but it carried. “You do…”

He smiled. Dark, possessive, pleased. “Louder.”

You closed your eyes, shame and arousal crashing together in your chest. “...You do, Nam Gyu.”

“Good girl.” And just like that, his thumb brushed your bottom lip–his silent reward. You didn’t care that they were watching anymore. Because all you wanted was him.

You stayed on the floor. Kneeling between Nam Gyu’s legs like you belonged there, while the rest of the guys fell back into their conversations–like it was normal. Like your flushed cheeks and glassy eyes weren’t right there, on full display.

You rested your hands on his thighs. Innocently at first. But then your fingers drifted. To the waistband of his jeans. To the hem of his shirt. You slipped your fingers just beneath the fabric, dragging your nails over the V of his hips, grazing his lower stomach. He didn’t react–until your hand slid just a little too far.

His hand wrapped around your wrist instantly. “Careful, baby,” he said, not even looking at you. “My gun’s there.”

You blinked. “You brought your gun here?”

Nam Gyu finally turned to you, a slow, lazy grin spreading across his face. “What? You thought I’d come unarmed to a club full of liars and creeps?”

With his free hand, he reached behind his back and pulled the pistol from his waistband–sleek and silent–setting it gently on the table in front of him like it was just a wallet or a phone.

Thanos let out a short laugh. “You’re so dramatic.”

Nam Gyu smirked. “And yet, nobody fucks with me.”

Your hand stilled. But only for a second. Nam Gyu leaned forward, brushing your cheek with his thumb like you were a prize on display. Then his voice dropped lower. Filthier. “How ‘bout you tell them what you did to Thanos the other day?”

Your stomach flipped. Thanos raised his eyebrows, silent but very interested. You swallowed. “W-what?”

Nam Gyu tilted his head, stroking your jaw with maddening slowness. “You remember, don’t you? Bent over the couch. That pretty little mouth stuffed full while he was in your throat and I was in your–”

You slapped a hand over his mouth, face burning. He bit your palm and laughed. “Shy now?” he teased. “You weren’t shy when you were choking on him and begging me to fuck you harder. What was it you said, baby?”

He leaned in close, lips brushing your ear. “Please, Nam Gyu, let Thanos fill my mouth again–I’ll be so good.”

Thanos just raised his glass in a lazy toast. Your face was on fire. Nam Gyu smiled wider. “That’s right. My good little girl.”

You stayed kneeling between his legs, fingers twisting in the hem of his shirt, thighs pressed together. You could still feel the weight of every pair of eyes on you–even if they were pretending not to watch. Even if no one said a word.

You stayed resting your head quietly in Nam Gyu’s lap, his fingers lazily combing through your hair like you were a pet. The room had returned to its usual rhythm–drinks being poured, lazy conversation, soft moans from the stage below–but your heart was still pounding in your ears.

Then one of the guys across the room–Min-ju, you thought–nodded toward you and smirked. “You gonna share that video with the rest of us, or just keep her all to yourselves?”

Thanos snorted into his drink, shaking his head. “Man…”

You looked up suddenly, startled. “Video?”

Nam Gyu chuckled low, dark. “You think we didn’t save that shit?” Before you could even move, he pulled his phone from his jacket pocket, unlocked it, and flipped around it. “Watch this shit,” he said proudly.

He hit play. Your stomach dropped. There you were–on your knees, mascara running, droll on your chin, choking on Thanos’ cock while Nam Gyu fucked you from behind and held your throat with one hand, the other wrapped in your hair.

Your moans spilled from the speaker. Loud. Raw and needy. “Look at that face,” Nam Gyu murmured, stroking your hair again.

You tried to bury your face in his thigh. Tried to pretend it wasn’t you on the screen, crying out, begging, ruined. But he wasn’t having it. He grabbed your jaw, not rough–but firm–and turned your face back toward the phone. “No hiding,” he said softly. “Look how pretty you are. Look how good you took us.”

Your eyes teared up, throat tight with embarrassment as Min-ju let out a low whistle. “Damn. She’s a keeper.”

Thanos just smirked. “She was begging for it.”

Nam Gyu leaned down, pressing a kiss to your flushed cheek. “You love it,” he whispered. “Being our good little toy. Don’t lie.” And the worst part? You did love it.

The laughter faded into the background. You couldn’t stop staring at the screen. Couldn’t stop hearing your own voice play back over and over–moaning, gasping, begging. You felt the heat rise in your face, up your neck, your chest tight and your throat burning.

One shaky breath. Then another. And then–a single tear slipped down your cheek. “Gyu,” you whispered, voice trembling. “Can we go home?”

Nam Gyu blinked. He looked down at you, at the way your eyes glassed over, at how your lip quivered even as you tried to hide it. Something shifted behind his eyes–just for a second. The pride, the smugness–it softened.

He sighed through his nose. Then shoved his phone into his pocket, stood, and grabbed the gun off the table with practiced ease, tucking it into the back of his jeans. You were still on your knees when he grabbed your wrist and hauled you up. “Let’s go.”

His grip was rough, but not mean. Just possessive. The room went quiet as he dragged you toward the door. A few chuckles. A few murmured ooohs. Thanos raised his glass. “She’s in trouble now.” You didn’t look back. You just followed, breath shaky, fingers curled in Nam Gyu’s sleeve.

Outside, the air hit cool and sharp, like you could finally breathe again. The parking lot was quiet, nearly empty, the city humming softly in the distance.

He stopped walking once you reached the car, letting go of your wrist and turning to face. “You mad at me?” he asked, voice low.

You wiped your cheek with your sleeve, sniffling. “No…just embarrassed.”

Nam Gyu watched you for a moment–really watched you. Then he smirked. “Good. That was the point.”

You looked away, swallowing. He stepped closer, “but you can’t lie to me baby.” His fingers brushed down your side, slow and warm. “You’re fucking soaked right now, aren’t you?”

You didn’t answer. Didn’t have to. He leaned in, voice brushing against your ear like silk. “You love being shown off. You loved being ours.”

Your knees felt weak. He opened the car door for you like a gentleman. Like a menace. Like someone who already knew exactly what he was going to do to you the second you got home. “Get in.”

Back at home, he didn’t tease. He didn’t push. Instead, he let you pull him to bed, let you climb into his lap and take what you needed–slow, tender, yours. He held himself back, let you move at your own pace, let you feel in control.

And when you finally sank down on him, soft little moans in his ear, he whispered how proud he was. How good you felt. How beautiful you looked riding him.

You fell asleep wrapped around each other. And when you woke up to him smoking next to you, you begged, “Please, Gyu. Just one hit. I wanna know what it feels like.”

He grumbled at first, but gave in. you curled up beside him on the couch, a blanket across your lap, giggling uncontrollably twenty minutes later with your head in his lap and your fingers tracing the ink on his arms.

“This is so nice,” you whispered.

“Yeah?” he said, smiling down at you.

You nodded, all soft and floaty. “I love you, Gyu.”

He blinked. Smirked. “Say it again.”

You grinned, sleepy and high and glowing. “I love you, Gyu.” And for once, he didn’t joke. Didn’t tease. He just kissed you. And held you tighter. Like he meant it. Like he always had.

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