CONTAINS — thanos/su-bong x pregnant! reader (fluff, comfort)
WARNINGS — thanos and reader have matching tattoos, crying, mentions of sex, cursing, pregnant reader, switching of referring to thanos and subong, lowercase,
you joined these games because although you thought it was too good to be true, it was all you could do. your shitty ex su-bong making you invest all your money into some dumbass crypto scam and blowing all of your guys money on drugs, childish bets, and gambling. after he blew both your guys money out, you left him, blocked him on everything, ignored your doorbell when he’d attempt to see you in person, everything. but two months after you broke up, it all came crashing down. you found out you were pregnant. and he was the only one you let see that part of you, it was his. but you were sure he moved on and even if he hadn’t, you couldn’t take him back. if he was this much of an incompetent person, he’d definitely be a terrible father. you didn’t want him in your life or your child’s.
besides some guy you assumed to have dementia or be on drugs, the game was going pretty smooth. until it wasn’t and it turns out the guy wasn’t crazy and people all around you were dying. blood splatting on your face left and right. you finally find a method and stay behind other people and everything was going smoothly again besides the intense stress and pressure. your heart and stomach feeling heavy. but the next time that doll turns around you hear a bunch of screams and you look to the right and see that su-bong was here too, and he had just pushed all of those people. he looked crazed. you just ignore it and try not to think about it, finally passing that finish line and being done with the first game, waiting for a full explanation.
you all move back into the main rooms that contained all your beds and people start screaming and yelling for answers. crying to go home, begging for their lives. you too wanted to go home, but you had so much on your mind. so much that you don’t notice your ex is nearing right behind you.
“señorita! oh my god baby is that you?”
he grabs your shoulder and turns you around to face him and you look up at him, frowning your eyebrows. he starts grabbing your face in his hands, touching all over you, not being able to comprehend it was you.
“oh god, it is you, babe, are you okay? where have you been i’ve missed you—”
“subong, stop. we’re not together, and we never will be ever again.”
you push his hands off your face and step back to put some distance between you two, still giving him a major glare. he reaches his arms out towards you again as if he was slowly trying to pick up a scared puppy.
“cmon— you can’t still be mad. baby, i’ll make it up to you, especially now.”
you look behind him and see a few people waiting on him, clearly eavesdropping. he turns around and looks at you again, a puppy dog look on his face but you shake it off.
“it’s not going to work subong. the debt im in now is insane because of you!”
he holds his right hand out before grabbing your right hand.
“baby please — we got these tattoos together,”
you look down at your hands and see the matching line placements decorating both of your hands. it was a stupid idea. you’d been dating for a little over a year, you shouldn’t had done it, you knew that. but you could barely pay for your bills, you definitely couldn’t pay to remove a tattoo. but deep in your heart you wished he was different, wished you could forgive him because deep down you still loved him. that tattoo was a sick reminder of that everyday. you realize you’d been staring at the two of your hands for a while before pulling away quickly. he looks at you with a smile and hope in his eyes. he places both of his hands on your shoulders again.
“see, we’re meant to be. it was a mistake, i know, i did it out of the goodness of my heart! for us, for you, you know that.”
you scoff at him.
“no. no i don’t know that. we’re not getting back together choi su-bong, that’s final.”
his hands go limp on your shoulders before you speak up, saying your next few choice of words slightly quieter as his fans or friends or whoever was still behind you two, stop eavesdropping.
“and just so you know, i’m pregnant. it’s yours. i’m keeping it. i don’t need you to help me. i’ll find a way to make money and i’ll raise my child.”
he stares at you stunned before you push away and move through the crowd. you hear him yell for you, yelling that cringy señorita pet name your way, but you ignore him, trying to hide in the crowd, listening to what the guards say as he drowns in the sea of people.
the guard mentions voting and how you guys were gonna vote whether to stay or leave. part of you wanted to stay still, but if you died, so did your baby. and you were scared out of your mind, nothing able to comfort you. so you knew you were going to choose to leave. you weren’t in insane debts but you still had a lot. the money they were offering after the first game was nowhere near close enough to pay it all off. you would have to play one more game, maybe even two to pay it off, but you couldn’t take any risks. they start calling from highest to lowest numbers and once they call ‘player 230’, your shitty ex makes his way down the line, skipping to smack that blue button, choosing to stay. it only made you wanna choose the other side even more. your turn comes and you choose to leave, sticking the red ‘x’ on your chest. you could see him staring at you through the corner of your eye, but you just chose to ignore it. creepy bastard.
after arguments and close physical alterations, the voting was over. you had lost, you’d be staying for another game. you wanted to go but at least you’d have an opportunity to make a little more money, you guess…
“excuse me, young lady, would you like to join us?”
you look over to a short older woman holding onto your arm, pointing over to a small group of people who were sitting on their beds. you give her a small smile and nod, letting her take you over there. she signals where you can sit and you move slowly while holding your stomach, letting out a deep breath once you finally get down all the way. you look around and there’s an older man, a younger girl, and another woman with some very strong features. the older woman speaks.
“i mean, i can’t believe they chose to stay! no offense hyun-ju, but come on!”
the older woman smacks her hand down on the bed and you give her a sympathetic and understanding look. she looks up at you before she gets a surprised look on her face and quickly flails herself around to get her composure.
“right! ma’am, this is my son yong-sik, this is young-mi, and this is hyun-ju.”
she pauses looking at you and sits up quickly again.
“oh, and you can call me mrs jang.”
she gives you a teethy smile. realizing she’s waiting for you to introduce yourself you let out an oh and tell her who you are and she grabs your hands into hers and rubs circles into them.
“oh that name is so pretty. a pretty name for such a pretty girl.”
her son yong-sik slaps her shoulder and then they start arguing. you just sit there happy to have the company before you look to your right and see subong on the other side staring at you. you quickly look away and look down at your legs, biting your lip.
“yo, who’s that girl? you were arguing with her earlier. she’s smoking.”
he keeps staring before snapping his head back at nam-gyu.
“you are right, she is smoking hot.”
he pauses.
“well you see nam-su—”
“nam-gyu…”
“right right, nam-gyu, anyways, that’s my girl over there, okay? she just playin’ hard to get right now is all’,”
nam-gyu raises his eyebrows, getting an idea.
“soo, you gonna let me have a turn with that, right?”
thanos slaps his arm.
“nah bro, ive had dibs on her for at least two years.”
he slaps nam-gyus arm again and then grabs it, causing nam-gyu to let out an ‘ow bro’,
“don’t worry bro! i’m sure we can find ya a bitch in here though! keep your mind busy and dick wet and we’re sure to win this whole thing.”
he slaps his arm one last time before nam-gyu slaps him back, thanos just laughing before slowly going back to watching you. trying to figure out how he should go about this. deciding that he’d just wait until everyone was asleep to talk to you again.
night time comes around and you had to piss. this fucking sucked. you had none of your pain killers, and you were about to crawl into a ball and start ripping your skin off from the pain you were in. but right now just focus on pissing. just focus on pissing you thought. you get up slowly, clutching your stomach before walking up to the door to the bathroom, knocking on it, waiting for someone to answer. finally the window slides open and you’re met with a triangle looking at you, or at least you think he, it? is looking at you.
“uhm, excuse me, i need to use the washroom.”
“players may not leave this room past your given curfew.”
the window to the door shuts. you take a deep breath, not willing to cause a scene and just about walk away before a guy walks up behind you and starts making a scene for you. that guy being su-bong.
“hey, me and my girl are tryna fuck, if you want we can do it right in the middle of this fucking room!”
it doesn’t work and the door doesn’t open.
“im not a girl! i have a penis and i know how to fucking aim. the next time you open this door it’s gonna be fucking yellow instead of pink i promise you that! i gotta heavy ass piss stream i been holdin’ and i can let out all over this door!”
you slap him, asking him what he was doing and that he was being crazy. but if you were being honest you were trying to stiffle a laugh. he always was funny, and in your relationship he always knew how to make you laugh. you’re pulled out of your thoughts when somehow what he said actually worked and they opened the door for you both. you make your way to the bathrooms and it’s silent the whole time. he was thinking of what to say to you. a million things running through his mind. you make it to the two bathrooms and you go and open the women’s bathroom door before it feels ten time lighter and you see subong holding the door open for you. giving you a cheeky grin. you just look at him before making your way into the bathroom and the door closing behind you. you hadn’t even noticed that you were holding your breath before you breathe out and realized your lungs were burning.
“i really have missed you, you know?”
you snap your head around and see that he had followed you into the bathroom and you call him a perv, yelling at him to get out.
“hey! i’m not here to fuck alright. i mean, unless you’re down then babe, let’s get it fucking going.”
he claps his hands together and you give him a disgusted look before going into one of the bathroom stalls and slamming the door shut so you could finally piss. but when you were done actually doing your business, you just sat there with your face in your hands. he was stressing you out, this baby was stressing you out, and this place was stressing you out and you were on the verge of a breakdown.
“i’m not coming out until you’re gone.”
you see his feet right under the bathroom stall door you were in and groan. hearing the door creak a little, assuming he was leaning against it, which he was.
“baby, please. i just want us again. i’ve missed you so much, you’ve been the only thing on my mind since you left.”
you started to tune him out and started rubbing your face in your hands even more, feeling your eyes start to water, your breath getting caught in your throat, your sniffing starting to become louder before one of your sobs slips and he hears it. asking if you were okay and you just ignore him, covering your mouth with your hand, continuing to cry.
“please let me in.”
you take a deep breath and slightly get up to unlock the door before sitting back down on the toilet seat, face still in your hands. he crouches down to you and cups your face in his hands before he pulls you in for a hug and starts rubbing circles into your back. your sobs getting louder as you burry your face into his bloody jacket, but you really weren’t thinking about that. god thinking of when you two were like this made you start to regret the past, yearn for a future with you two, and hate the present situation you were in. still crying into his jacket as he continues to try to soothe you with his touch. he pulls away after awhile and pushes your tears away with his thumb. his heart crumbling as he sees your teary orbs looking him in the eyes. you’d cried to him before when you were together, and he had comforted you many times before, but never had he seen you this distraught. he hooks his arm under your shoulder and lifts you to standing and he moves you out of the bathroom stall. you wipe your tears away, mumbling a sorry, avoiding all eye contact with him, looking at the ground.
“baby, look at me.”
your eyes look around at the ground before you slowly move your head up to look at him, a small pout on your lips. biting them from the nerves. it was a bad habit you’d never gotten rid of, you’ve had it since he’s met you. he looks at you, almost looking through your eyes. he places one hand on your arm, and grabs your right hand in his right hand, the matching tattoos clashing together.
“please, give me another chance. we’ll figure out the money, work, all of it.”
he pauses and looks down at your stomach. moving the hand that was on your arm to hold your stomach. looking up at you for confirmation that he could and you give him a small nod before he rubs the side of your tummy.
“i just can’t believe it. you should’ve told me!”
he raises his voice and you look away. still about to completely knaw off your lip.
“i didn’t think you’d want to stay. can you blame me?”
he pauses his rubs on your stomach, other hand still in yours and moves the hand that was on your stomach to your face, making you look at him. putting his thumb on your lips, getting you to stop biting them.
“i promise i want to be there for you and for our baby.”
you take a deep breath and he rubs his thumb on your tattoos.
“i won’t leave you, i’ll be better for us, i promise baby.”
you whisper under your breath. can’t believing you were about to say what was about to come out of your mouth.
“you promise…?”
his eyes light up.
“i promise baby.”
he pulls you into a tight hug and he hears you groan, forgetting that he might’ve been putting too much pressure on your belly. he gives you an awkward smile and he takes your hand into his and holds both your guys hands up to your face, as if showing you that he was never gonna let go of you again, and you two couldn’t be separated. you give him a light smile before letting go of his hand and he gives you a look of confusion.
“what? you never gave me the chance to wash my hands.”
Your junkie ex-boyfriend pays you an unexpected visit.
warnings: graphic depictions of emotional abuse, drug addiction, verbal degradation, non-consensual themes, and toxic, sexually explicit content.
The apartment felt hollow without his presence, though you’d never admit that out loud. Not to your parents, not to your pastor, and certainly not to yourself during those late-night conversations with God. The silence was different now, not the comfortable quiet of solitude, but the oppressive kind that seemed to press against your chest and remind you of everything that used to fill this space.
You knelt beside your bed, the same worn carpet beneath your knees that had cushioned countless prayers over the past three years. The rosary beads felt familiar between your fingers, smooth from use, each one a small anchor in the storm that had become your life. Your parents had given you this rosary back when your biggest worry was whether you’d remember all the prayers correctly.
That felt like a lifetime ago.
“Heavenly Father,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in the darkness. The words came automatically, a rhythm you’d learned before you could properly tie your shoes. “I come before you tonight with a heavy heart.”
The prayer felt different now. Before Namgyu, your conversations with God had been simple, gratitude for your family, pleas for good grades, hopes for a future husband who would love you and lead you closer to faith. Now your prayers were messy, complicated things full of contradictions that would make your youth pastor’s head spin.
You remember you’d met him outside a coffee shop near campus, of all places. He was leaning against the glass door, chain-smoking and handing out glossy flyers for some sketchy club downtown. And your parents had been suspicious from the start. “There’s something about him,” your mother had said after their first meeting, her lips pressed into that thin line that appeared whenever she disapproved of something. “He seems… troubled.”
But you’d seen something else. Beneath the tired eyes and the way he sometimes fidgeted when he thought no one was looking, you’d seen someone who was searching. Someone who asked the right questions, even if he didn’t have the answers. You’d convinced yourself that was enough, that love could bridge the gap between his searching and your certainty.
“Watch over him tonight, Lord,” you continued, your forehead pressed against your clasped hands. “Keep him safe from harm, from himself, from the darkness that seems to follow him.”
The irony wasn’t lost on you. Even now, even after everything, you were still praying for him. Still hoping that somehow, some way, he would find his way back to the light you’d tried so desperately to show him.
The first time you’d seen him use, you’d told yourself it was just marijuana. Everyone experimented in college, right? Even some of the kids from your youth group had tried it, though they’d never admit. You’d prayed about it, asked God to help you guide Namgyu away from substances that clouded his judgment and separated him from divine purpose.
But marijuana had been just the beginning.
“I don’t understand,” you’d said to him one night, maybe six months into your relationship. You’d found the small baggie in his jacket pocket while looking for his keys. The white powder inside had made your stomach drop. “Why do you need this?”
He’d gotten defensive, the way he always did when you asked questions he didn’t want to answer. “You wouldn’t understand,” he’d said, snatching the baggie from your hands. “Your life is perfect. You have your little prayers and your perfect family and your perfect faith. Some of us aren’t so lucky.”
You’d tried to explain that faith wasn’t about luck, that it was about choice, about opening your heart to God’s love. But Namgyu had looked at you like you were speaking a foreign language, like the words coming out of your mouth were incomprehensible.
That should have been your first warning. Maybe it was, and you’d just chosen to ignore it.
“Please, God,” you whispered now, your voice cracking slightly.
“Please help me understand why loving him wasn’t enough. Help me understand what I could have done differently.”
The guilt was the worst part. Your pastor had told you that addiction was a disease, that you couldn’t love someone into recovery. But late at night, when the apartment was too quiet and the absence of his presence felt like a physical ache, you wondered if you’d given up too easily. If you’d prayed harder, loved stronger, been more patient…
But then you’d remember the last night, the night that had finally broken something inside you that you weren’t sure could be repaired.
He’d been gone for three days. Three days of unanswered calls and texts, of driving by his usual spots, of calling his few friends who still spoke to him. You’d been sick with worry, imagining him overdosed in some alley or arrested or worse. Your parents had begged you to stay with them, but you’d insisted on staying at the apartment in case he came back.
When he’d finally stumbled through the door at two in the morning, you’d been so relieved you’d almost cried. Until you’d seen his eyes. Pupils dilated, movements erratic, words slurred and aggressive.
“Where have you been?” you’d asked, and he’d laughed, a sound devoid of any humor.
“That’s none of your fucking business,” he’d said, his voice dripping with contempt. “Is there anything to eat in this shithole?”
You’d smelled the alcohol on his breath, seen the way his hands shook. But what had terrified you most was the stranger looking back at you from his eyes. The Namgyu you’d fallen in love with, the one who’d quoted scripture ironically but with somewhat curiosity, who’d listened to your stories about youth group with affectionate amusement, was gone.
“I was worried about you,” you’d said, trying to keep your voice steady. “I thought something had happened.”
“Something did happen,” he’d said, moving closer to you in a way that made your skin crawl. “I realized what a fucking joke this all is. You, me, this whole thing. You think you’re saving me? You think your little prayers and your innocent act make you better than me?”
The words had stung, but you’d heard them before. What was new was the way he’d grabbed your arm when you’d tried to walk away, his fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks.
“Let go of me,” you’d said, your voice barely above a whisper.
“Why?” he’d asked, his grip tightening. “Afraid I’ll corrupt your precious purity? Afraid I’ll drag you down to my level?”
For a moment, you’d seen something in his eyes that had made your blood run cold. A potential for violence that you’d never seen before, a willingness to hurt you that went beyond words. Your heart had hammered against your ribs as you’d realized how alone you were, how far you’d let yourself drift from the people who actually cared about your wellbeing.
“Please,” you’d whispered, and something in your voice must have gotten through to him because he’d released you suddenly, stumbling backward like he’d been burned.
“Shit,” he’d said, staring at his hands like they belonged to someone else. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I would never…”
But you’d already seen the truth. You’d seen what he was capable of, what the drugs were turning him into. And you’d realized that all your prayers, all your love, all your desperate attempts to save him had only enabled him to sink deeper into a darkness that was consuming him from the inside out.
The next morning, you’d found your jewelry box empty and several bills missing from your purse. He’d been gone when you’d woken up, and you’d known with crystal clarity that you couldn’t do this anymore.
“Give me strength,” you prayed now, your voice steadier than it had been in weeks. “Help me forgive him, and help me forgive myself.”
The breakup had been messy, painful in ways you hadn’t expected. Not because he’d fought for you, he’d barely seemed to register that you were serious when you’d told him it was over. But because cutting him out of your life had felt like amputating a part of yourself.
Your parents had been relieved, though they’d tried to hide it. Your mother had made your favorite dinner and sat with you while you’d cried, stroking your hair and whispering that it was for the best. Your father had simply hugged you and said that sometimes loving someone meant letting them go.
But letting go was easier said than done.
The apartment still smelled like him sometimes. Cigarettes and that cologne he’d worn, the one that had been too expensive for his budget but that he’d insisted on buying anyway. His comics were still on the shelf, the ones he’d left behind in his hasty departure. You’d thought about packing them up, donating them or throwing them away, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it.
Maybe some part of you was still hoping he’d come back for them. Maybe some part of you was still hoping he’d come back for you.
“Help him find peace,” you whispered, finishing your prayer. “Help him find his way back to you, even if it’s not through me.”
You crossed yourself and rose from your knees, your legs stiff from kneeling. The apartment felt even quieter now, the silence broken only by the hum of the refrigerator and the distant sound of traffic from the street below.
Coffee. You needed coffee, or maybe tea. Something warm to chase away the chill that seemed to have settled in your bones.
You padded to the kitchen in your bare feet, your pajamas soft against your skin. The routine of making coffee was comforting, measuring out the grounds, filling the pot with water, pressing the button and listening to the familiar gurgle as the machine came to life.
It was then that you heard it.
The knocking started soft, almost tentative, like whoever was on the other side of the door wasn’t sure they wanted to be there. But it grew more insistent, more desperate, until it became a pounding that echoed through the small apartment.
Your heart stopped.
You knew that knock. You’d heard it a thousand times before. When he’d forgotten his keys, when he’d come home late and didn’t want to wake you, when he’d been too high to figure out how to use his key properly.
“I know you’re in there,” his voice came through the door, muffled but unmistakable. “I can see the light. Just… just open the door, okay? I forgot something. I need to get something.”
You stood frozen in the kitchen, your hand still on the coffee maker. This was not happening. This could not be happening. Not tonight, not after you’d finally started to feel like you were healing.
“Please,” he said, and his voice cracked on the word. “I just need five minutes. I forgot something important.”
The rational part of your mind, the part that sounded like your mother and your pastor and every self-help book you’d ever read, told you to ignore him. To let him knock until he got tired and went away. To protect yourself from whatever chaos he was bringing to your door.
But the part of you that had loved him, that maybe still loved him despite everything, wanted to know what he’d forgotten. Wanted to see him, to make sure he was okay, to convince yourself that he was someone else’s problem now.
“Go away, Namgyu,” you called out, your voice stronger than you felt. “You don’t live here anymore.”
The knocking stopped for a moment, and you thought maybe he’d listened. Maybe he’d finally developed enough respect for your boundaries to leave you alone.
Then it started again, harder this time.
“Don’t be like this,” he said, his voice taking on an edge you recognized. “I’m not asking for much. Just let me get my stuff and I’ll leave. You’ll never have to see me again.”
“You already got your stuff,” you said, moving closer to the door despite yourself. “You took everything when you left.”
“I fucking missed something,” he said. “Something important. Something I can’t replace.”
You pressed your forehead against the door, trying to steady your breathing. Through the peephole, you could see him swaying slightly, his hair disheveled, his clothes wrinkled like he’d been sleeping in them. Even in the dim hallway light, you could see the familiar signs, the restless energy, the way he kept shifting his weight from foot to foot, the slight tremor in his hands.
He was high.
“What did you forget?” you asked, though you weren’t sure why you were engaging with him at all.
“Just… something,” he said, and you could hear the desperation creeping into his voice. “Look, I know you hate me, okay? I know I fucked up. I know I hurt you. But I’m not asking for forgiveness here. I’m just asking for five minutes to get something that belongs to me.”
“Everything that belongs to you is already gone,” you said, but your voice lacked conviction. “I don’t have anything of yours.”
“You’re lying,” he said, and his voice was getting louder now, more agitated. “You’re fucking lying and you know it. Just open the goddamn door!”
The coffee maker beeped behind you, signaling that your coffee was ready. The sound seemed obscenely normal, ridiculously domestic, in the face of the chaos brewing outside your door.
“Stop yelling,” you said. “You’re going to wake up the neighbors.”
“I don’t give a shit about the neighbors,” he said, and you could hear him pacing now, his footsteps echoing in the hallway. “I don’t give a shit about anything except getting what’s mine.”
This was the Namgyu you’d learned to fear, the one who emerged when the drugs took hold and stripped away everything that had made him human. The one who’d grabbed your arm that last night, who’d looked at you like you were an obstacle to be removed rather than a person he’d claimed to love.
“Please don’t make me call the police,” you said, though you weren’t sure you’d actually do it.
“Call them,” he said, and you could hear the bitter laugh in his voice. “Call them and tell them what? That your junkie ex-boyfriend is asking for his stuff back? That’ll go over real well.”
You closed your eyes, trying to think. Every instinct you had was screaming at you to keep the door closed, to wait until he got tired and left. But you also knew Namgyu well enough to know that he could be incredibly persistent when he wanted something. He’d stand out there all night if he had to, pounding on the door and yelling until someone called the police anyway.
“What did you forget?” you asked again.
“Just… let me in and I’ll show you,” he said. “I promise I’ll be quick. I promise I won’t cause any trouble.”
His promises had been worthless for months now, but there was something different in his voice. Something that sounded almost like the old Namgyu, the one who’d listened to your dreams about the future.
“You’re high,” you said. It wasn’t a question.
“I’m fine,” he said, but you could hear the lie in his voice. “I’m totally fine. Just let me in.”
The pounding started again, more desperate now. You could hear him pressing his whole body against the door, could feel the vibration through the wood.
“Please,” he said, and his voice broke completely. “Please, I’m begging you. I know I don’t deserve it, I know I fucked everything up, but I’m begging you. Just five minutes.”
And then, to your horror, you heard something that made your resolve crumble completely.
He was crying.
Not the angry, frustrated tears of someone who wasn’t getting their way, but the broken, desperate sobs of someone who had reached the end of their rope. Through the door, you could hear him slide down to the floor, could hear the way his breathing hitched between sobs.
“I’m sorry,” he was saying, over and over. “I’m so fucking sorry. I know I ruined everything. I know I hurt you. I know I don’t deserve anything from you. But please, please just let me get this one thing.”
Your hand was on the deadbolt before you’d consciously decided to move. Every rational thought in your head was screaming at you to stop, to think about what you were doing, to remember why you’d ended things in the first place.
But the sound of his crying was breaking something inside you, cracking open the careful walls you’d built around your heart over the past month.
The deadbolt clicked open, and you heard him scramble to his feet. You undid the chain lock with shaking hands, your mind still not quite believing what you were doing.
When you opened the door, the sight of him nearly brought you to your knees.
He looked terrible. Worse than you’d ever seen him. His clothes were dirty and wrinkled, his hair greasy and unkempt. But it was his eyes that made your breath catch. They were hollow, desperate, with the glassy shine that meant he was definitely under the influence of something stronger than alcohol.
He’d lost weight, you realized. His cheekbones were more prominent, his clothes hanging loose on his frame. There were dark circles under his eyes, and a cut on his lip that looked recent.
“Jesus, Namgyu,” you whispered, and he flinched at the sound of his name.
“Thank you,” he said, and his voice was hoarse from crying. “Thank you for letting me in.”
He stepped past you into the apartment, and you caught a whiff of his scent, unwashed clothes, cigarettes, and something chemical that made your stomach turn. This wasn’t the Namgyu you’d fallen in love with. This wasn’t even the Namgyu you’d broken up with.
This was someone else entirely.
“What did you forget?” you asked, closing the door behind him but leaving it unlocked. You needed to be able to get him out quickly if things went south.
“I’ll know it when I see it,” he said, already moving toward the bedroom. “Just… just give me a minute to look around.”
“Namgyu, wait,” you said, but he was already disappearing down the hallway.
You stood in the living room, your heart hammering against your ribs, listening to the sounds of him moving around in what used to be your shared bedroom. You could hear drawers opening and closing, the sound of things being moved around.
What could he have possibly forgotten? You’d been meticulous when he’d moved out, making sure every item of his clothing, every book, every random possession had been packed up and removed. You’d even found things you’d forgotten were his, a phone charger, a coffee mug, a book of poetry that had been tucked behind your dresser.
The coffee maker beeped again, reminding you that your coffee was getting cold. Almost without thinking, you moved to the kitchen and poured two cups, one for you, one for him. It was automatic, muscle memory from hundreds of mornings spent sharing coffee before he’d started his downward spiral.
You’d just finished adding cream to his cup the way he liked it when you heard him coming back down the hallway. You turned to face him, the two mugs in your hands, and immediately knew that something had changed.
His eyes were different now. Not just high, but dark in a way that made your skin crawl. There was something predatory in his gaze, something that hadn’t been there when he’d been begging at your door just minutes ago.
“Find what you were looking for?” you asked, your voice carefully neutral.
He stared at you for a long moment, his gaze flicking between your face and the coffee mugs in your hands. Then, slowly, he smiled.
But it wasn’t a nice smile.
He didn’t answer your question. Instead, he moved toward you with that predatory grace you’d seen before, when the drugs made him feel invincible and dangerous. The space between you seemed to shrink as he approached, his movements deliberate and unsettling.
Without warning, he reached out and grabbed one of the coffee mugs from your hands, his fingers deliberately brushing against yours. His skin was clammy and cold, and you instinctively pulled back from the contact.
You watched in growing alarm as he lifted the mug to his lips, took a long sip, and then immediately spat the hot liquid across your kitchen floor. Coffee splattered against the cabinets, dark stains spreading across the white surfaces you’d scrubbed clean just yesterday.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” you demanded, staring at the mess he’d created.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, that unsettling smile never leaving his face. “Tastes like shit,” he said, dropping the mug carelessly onto the counter. “When did you start making coffee this shitty? You used to make it strong, the way I liked it.”
“It’s late, and I don’t make coffee for you anymore,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “I make it for me.”
“Right,” he said, drawing out the word like it tasted bitter. “Of course you do.”
He was already reaching into his jacket pocket, and you felt your stomach drop as you saw what he was pulling out. A crumpled pack of cigarettes, the kind he’d smoked constantly toward the end of your relationship. The kind that had made your apartment reek of smoke and reminded you daily of his deteriorating condition.
“You can’t smoke in here,” you said immediately, panic rising in your voice. “This is my apartment now, Namgyu. You can’t just—”
He laughed, the sound harsh and grating in the small space. The cigarette was already between his lips, and he was flicking his lighter with practiced ease. The flame cast dancing shadows across his gaunt face, making him look almost demonic in the dim kitchen light.
“Can’t I?” he said around the cigarette, his words slightly muffled.
“Since when do you make the rules?”
“Since you moved out,” you said, your voice rising. “Since you decided to throw away everything we had for whatever poison you’re putting in your body now.”
The cigarette was lit now, and he took a long drag, the tip glowing orange in the darkness. When he exhaled, the smoke hit you directly in the face, making you cough and step backward.
“You can’t smoke in here,” you repeated, more desperately now. “The lease says no smoking. I could get evicted. Please, just—”
“Shut up, you fucking bitch ” he said, his voice suddenly cold and sharp. “Just shut the fuck up for five seconds.”
He held up his free hand, palm facing you, and before you could process what he was doing, he pressed the lit end of the cigarette directly into his skin.
The sizzle was immediate and horrifying. The smell of burning flesh hit you like a physical blow, acrid and nauseating. You watched in horror as his skin blistered and burned, the cigarette tip eating through his palm like it was paper. He didn’t even flinch. His eyes never left yours, watching your reaction with something that looked almost like satisfaction. The pain should have been excruciating, but he might as well have been pressing the cigarette into a piece of wood for all the reaction he showed.
“You’re insane,” you whispered, backing away from him until your back hit the refrigerator. “You’re absolutely fucking insane.”
He dropped the cigarette to the floor, grinding it under his heel without breaking eye contact. The burn on his palm was already turning an angry red, the skin raised and blistered in a perfect circle.
“Maybe I am,” he said, his voice eerily calm. “Maybe that’s what happens when an ungrateful bitch like you decides I’m not worth saving.”
“You need to leave,” you said, your voice shaking so badly you could barely get the words out. “Right now. Get whatever you came for and get out, or I swear to God I’ll scream loud enough for the whole building to hear.”
“Oh, you’ll scream for your neighbors,” he said, tilting his head like he was genuinely curious. “But you won’t scream for your precious God? What happened to all that faith, sweetheart? What happened to loving your enemies and turning the other cheek?”
The way he said ‘sweetheart’ made bile rise in your throat. It was the same endearment he’d used when you’d first started dating, when he’d whisper it against your ear. Now it sounded like a mockery, like he was throwing your shared intimacy back in your face.
“Don’t call me that,” you warned, but he was already moving again.
He reached into his pocket with his uninjured hand, his movements deliberate and slow, like he was savoring whatever moment was about to come. When he pulled his hand back out, your world tilted sideways.
Dangling from his fingers was a pair of underwear. Your underwear. But not just any pair, these were new, delicate, nothing like the practical cotton ones you’d always worn when you were together. These were black lace, with tiny ribbons at the sides, the kind of thing you’d bought after the breakup in some desperate attempt to feel beautiful again.
“Found what I was looking for,” he said, his voice thick with something that made your skin crawl.
The coffee mug you’d been holding slipped from your numb fingers, shattering against the kitchen floor. The sound seemed to echo in the sudden silence, ceramic shards scattering across the linoleum like broken promises.
“Where did you—” you started, but the words died in your throat.
The violation of it hit you like a physical blow. He’d been in your bedroom, going through your drawers, touching your most intimate belongings. The thought of his hands on your things, searching through your underwear drawer like he had some right to be there, made you feel sick.
“Why were you going through my things?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
His expression changed instantly, the predatory smile vanishing and being replaced by something much darker. His eyes narrowed, and when he spoke, his voice was full of rage.
“You want to know why?” he snarled, his grip tightening on the underwear. “Because when you were with me, you always wore those fucking granny panties. Those ugly, beige, cotton pieces of shit that covered everything. And now I’m gone and you’re pulling out this sexy lingerie bullshit?”
He threw the underwear at you, the fabric hitting your chest before falling to the floor among the broken ceramic. You flinched as if he’d struck you, the violation of the gesture making you feel dirty and exposed.
“Who are you fucking?” he demanded, taking a step closer to you.
“Huh? Who’s the bastard who gets to see you in that shit? Some clean-cut Christian boy from your church? Someone your parents would actually approve of?”
“Nobody,” you said, but your voice came out weak and unconvincing.
“Bullshit,” he spat. “You don’t buy underwear like that for nobody. You don’t start dressing like a whore unless someone’s paying attention.”
The word hit you like a slap, and you felt tears starting to burn behind your eyes. This wasn’t the Namgyu you’d fallen in love with. This wasn’t even the broken, desperate man who’d been destroying himself with drugs. This was something else entirely, something cruel and vicious that had taken up residence in his body.
“Get out,” you said, your voice stronger now. “Get out of my apartment right now.”
“Or what?” he sneered, kicking at the broken ceramic on the floor. “You’ll call your daddy? Tell him the big bad junkie is being mean to his precious little angel?”
“Fuck you,” you spat, the words tearing out of your throat before you could stop them. You never cursed, your parents had raised you better than that, but something about his presence in your space was bringing out a side of you that you didn’t recognize.
“There she is,” he said, his eyes lighting up with sick satisfaction. “There’s the real you. Not the perfect little church girl act you put on for everyone else.”
“You don’t know shit about the real me,” you shot back, your hands clenching into fists at your sides. “The real me got tired of watching you destroy yourself. The real me got tired of making excuses for a pathetic loser who chose drugs over everything else.”
His face twisted with rage, and before you could react, he grabbed the remaining coffee mug from the counter and hurled it at the wall next to your head. You ducked instinctively as ceramic exploded against the drywall, shards raining down around you.
“Pathetic loser?” he screamed. “I’m a pathetic loser? You’re the one who’s so desperate for attention that you’re buying slutty underwear the second I’m gone!”
Without thinking, you grabbed the sugar bowl from the counter and threw it at him. It caught him in the shoulder, white granules scattering across the floor as the bowl shattered.
“I bought them for me!” you screamed back. “Because for the first time in months, I wanted to feel like a woman instead of a fucking babysitter!”
“Bullshit!” He was advancing on you now, his burned hand leaving bloody smears on whatever he touched. “You bought them for whoever you’re spreading your legs for now. Some clean-cut asshole who doesn’t know what a manipulative bitch you really are.”
“You’re insane!” You grabbed a dinner plate from the drying rack and hurled it at his head. He dodged, and it smashed against the refrigerator. “You’re a paranoid, delusional piece of shit who can’t stand the thought that someone might actually be happy without you!”
“Happy?” he laughed, the sound completely unhinged. “You call this happy? Living alone in this shithole, buying fancy underwear for nobody, pretending like you don’t miss what we had?”
“What we had was toxic!” you screamed, throwing a fork at him that clattered harmlessly against the wall. “What we had was me enabling your addiction while you stole from me and treated me like garbage!”
“I never treated you like garbage,” he snarled, grabbing a coffee mug from the counter and slamming it down so hard the handle broke off. “I fucking loved you!”
“You loved having someone to take care of you!” You were both circling each other now like animals, the kitchen floor littered with broken dishes and spilled coffee. “You loved having someone to clean up your messes and make excuses for you and pretend like everything was fine while you flushed your life down the drain!”
“That’s not true,” he said, but his voice was less certain now, more desperate. “That’s not fucking true and you know it.”
“It is true!” you shouted. “And you know what the worst part is? I actually thought I could save you. I thought if I just loved you enough, prayed hard enough, you’d get clean. But you can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved!”
“I never asked you to save me!” he screamed, his face contorted with rage and pain. “I never asked for your prayers or your judgment or your perfect little Christian conscience!”
“Then what did you ask for?” you demanded. “What did you want from me, Namgyu?”
“I wanted you to love me!” he roared. “I wanted you to fucking love me without trying to fix me! I wanted you to accept me the way I am instead of constantly trying to turn me into someone else!”
“The way you are is broken!” you screamed back. “The way you are is sick and destructive and—”
You never got to finish the sentence because suddenly he was across the kitchen, his hands tangling in your hair, pulling your face toward his. His mouth crashed against yours with desperate violence, all teeth and desperation and the taste of cigarettes and something chemical that made you gag.
You tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong, his fingers twisted in your hair so tightly that moving sent shooting pains across your scalp. His kiss was nothing like the gentle, hesitant kisses from when you’d first started dating. This was possession, domination, an attempt to reclaim something that had never really belonged to him.
When he finally released you, you stumbled backward, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. You could taste blood. Whether his or yours, you couldn’t tell.
The look on his face made your blood run cold. His eyes were wild, pupils dilated, but there was something else there now. Something calculating and dangerous that made every instinct in your body scream at you to run.
“You still taste the same,” he said softly, and the quiet tone was somehow more terrifying than all his screaming had been.
You stared at him, wide-eyed, stunned into stillness. The world felt off-kilter, your breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts as your back pressed into the edge of the fridge. The ache in your scalp from where he’d yanked your hair hadn’t faded, but it was the look in his eyes that left you shaking, like he’d seen straight through your defenses and found the part of you that still wanted something from him.
You hated yourself for it.
“Don’t touch me,” you managed to whisper, your voice cracking mid-sentence. “Please, just—just go.”
But the tears were already falling, hot and heavy and ugly, streaming down your cheeks in uneven lines. You weren’t crying pretty, and you didn’t care. Your nose was running, your lips trembling, your whole body shuddering from the aftermath of the argument and that violent kiss. You could taste him in your mouth, and it made you want to crawl out of your own skin.
He didn’t back away.
He watched you like you were a movie he’d seen a dozen times, like he already knew how this scene ended. When he stepped closer, you flinched, your hands curling into fists at your sides like you could punch the pain out of the air.
But you didn’t move. You didn’t stop him.
Because some sick, buried part of you still remembered what it felt like to be touched by him when things were good. Before the lies. Before the drugs. Before the nights you sat by the window waiting, praying, begging God to bring him home alive.
That part of you still lived somewhere inside your ribcage. And she wasn’t gone yet.
“Don’t cry like that,” he said, his voice low, rough, familiar in the way poison is familiar to someone dying slow. He reached up and wiped your cheek with his burned hand, the smell of scorched skin still thick in the air. “It makes me hard.”
You choked on a sob, horrified at yourself for the way your thighs clenched at his words. Your whole body was betraying you, rewiring itself around him like muscle memory.
“I hate you,” you breathed, but even you weren’t sure if it was the truth.
“I know,” he said, stepping even closer, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. “You hate me. You miss me. You fucking need me.”
Before you could protest, before you could gather any coherent thought, he spun you around and shoved you forward until your hips slammed against the kitchen counter. You gasped, your palms bracing against the cool surface, your chest rising and falling with shallow, frantic breaths.
“I said no—” you started, but the words died the moment you felt his hand between your thighs, bold and possessive like he had every right to touch you. You should’ve stopped him. You should’ve screamed. But instead, you bucked into his hand like your body remembered something your soul wanted to forget.
“You wore this for someone else?” he growled against your ear, yanking the lace panties down your thighs in one rough motion. “Some loser church boy with?”
“No,” you whispered, tears falling anew as his fingers traced over your folds with slow, humiliating familiarity. “I wore them for me…”
“Liar,” he hissed, slapping the inside of your thigh. “Fucking liar. You wore them for attention. You wanted someone to look at you and think, ‘I bet she fucks like a whore when the lights are off.’ Isn’t that right?”
Your breath hitched. His fingers slipped inside you, two at once, deep and practiced, curling just right as your knees buckled.
“Namgyu—”
He growled low in his throat, grabbing a fistful of your hair again and yanking your head back. “Say my name again. Go on. You’re already dripping down my fingers, might as well admit how much you missed this cock.”
You bit your lip so hard you tasted blood. And still, you didn’t tell him to stop.
He shoved his jeans down just enough to free himself, and a second later, he was pushing into you hard and fast, with no preamble, no mercy, no illusion of tenderness. You gasped, the stretch sharp and unrelenting, your cheek pressed against the cool countertop as he buried himself to the hilt.
“Still so tight,” he groaned, one hand gripping your waist, the other pressing down on your back to keep you bent for him. “Like your pussy knows it belongs to me.”
You sobbed again, the shame and arousal mixing in a sickening cocktail that flooded your veins. His thrusts were brutal, punishing, fast. His hips slamming into the backs of your thighs as he used you like a thing, like a possession he’d left behind and come back to reclaim.
“You think anyone else could fuck you like this?” he sneered, pounding into you harder. “You think some little church boy could make you moan like a slut while crying on your knees?”
Your mouth opened but no sound came out. He had you folded over the counter like a doll, your hands slipping on the surface as he drilled into you, as he took and took like you owed him every last drop of what was left.
“Who does this pussy belong to?” he growled, his hand wrapping around your throat as he fucked into you deeper.
You couldn’t answer.
He squeezed just enough to make your head swim.
“Say it.”
“Y-You,” you sobbed, your voice cracked and broken. “It’s yours. It’s always been yours.”
“Damn right it is.” His voice was like gravel, low and victorious. “No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to fuck the faith out of you.”
You came with a violent shudder, biting down on your forearm to muffle the sounds you couldn’t control. The heat, the pain, the degradation, it all blurred into one humiliating wave that crested and crashed over you while he rutted into you from behind like an animal.
He followed seconds later with a loud, guttural groan, spilling into you with no protection, no hesitation. You felt it. Hot, thick, invasive, and the aftershocks left your body trembling, hollow, used.
He pulled out slowly, with a satisfied grunt, and you collapsed against the counter like your bones had given out.
There was silence after that.
The kind that made you want to rip your own skin off. You didn’t turn around. You couldn’t.
You heard him adjust his clothes, zip up. Then footsteps. Then the sound of him crouching beside you.
Something warm brushed your temple.
A kiss.
Soft.
Gentle.
Mocking.
“You may not take me back today,” he murmured, his lips ghosting against your skin, “or tomorrow. But I’ll wait. I know you’re too smart to go for someone else…” He paused, and then added, almost sweetly, “Or I’ll end you both.”
Your breath caught, your body still trembling from everything. Fear, anger, disgust, and something darker still. Something shameful that lived deep inside you, refusing to die.
When you finally turned to look at him, he was already at the door. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the black lace underwear, dangling it between two fingers.
“I’ll take this as a souvenir,” he said with a smirk. “Good night, beautiful. Lock up after me.”
Then he was gone.
And you were alone again.
Broken prayers, shattered dignity, and the smell of smoke still hanging in the air.
summary: during the third game you reunite with dae-ho who is everything but thrilled to have his pregnant girlfriend surrounded by death. requested here.
warning: pregnant!reader, established relationship, hot baby daddy dae-ho 😫 angsty and emotional, mention of financial struggles, survival themes, please enjoy ♥️
word count: 2.8k
The door slammed shut behind you, the loud clank of the mechanism sealing you and Dae-ho inside the small, dimly lit room just as the timer hit zero. For a moment, the air felt charged, thick with all the words left unspoken. You stood frozen near the wall, your hands instinctively cradling your belly, while Dae-ho's tall frame loomed near the door. His jaw was clenched tight as you heard gunshots and screaming coming from the other side of the door, his eyes were fixated on the floor as if forcing himself to maintain composure.
Neither of you had so much as exchanged a meaningful glance in front of the others, too scared of what even a flicker of familiarity might invite in this place where alliances were fragile, and vulnerability was a target. But here, in this room, with no one else watching...
"Dae-ho," you breathed, the sound of his name cracking the tension like a dam breaking.
His head snapped up, and within seconds, he crossed the distance between you, his hands cupping your face as he kissed you fiercely, desperately. It wasn't soft or tender, it was raw, like he'd been holding his breath for days and could finally exhale. His lips moved against yours as if trying to drink in everything he'd been forced to repress since seeing you again.
"You're here," he murmured against your lips, his voice trembling as he pulled back just enough to look at you. His hands slid to your shoulders, down your arms, as though reassuring himself that you were real. "God, you're really here."
Your breath hitched, your chest tightening as the weight of his words hit you. "I didn't want you to know," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.
"That's obvious," he said bitterly, his thumb brushing over your cheek. His gaze softened, his worry bleeding through the anger. "You shouldn't be here. What the hell were you thinking? You're pregnant. And you joined this… this hell?"
Tears stung your eyes as you turned your head away, breaking his gaze. "What choice did I have?" you said, your voice cracking. "We're drowning in debt, Dae-ho. The baby needs a future. What else was I supposed to do?"
"You were supposed to rely on me," he snapped, his hands dropping to his sides, his frustration spilling over. "I would've-" He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair as he paced the small room. "I would've done something. Anything. But you just- You didn't even tell me. You just left me out of this."
"I didn't want to drag you down," you said, your voice trembling. "You've already done so much for us, Dae-ho. I couldn't-"
"Don't," he interrupted, his voice low but sharp. "Don't give me that. You didn't drag me down. You're the one thing in my life that kept me sane." He stopped pacing and turned back to you, his gaze piercing. "And now you're here, risking not just your life but our child's. Do you have any idea what it felt like seeing you out there? Pretending I didn't know you? Pretending I didn't care?"
"I didn't want to need you," you confessed, "Because needing you… it scared me. It still does."
His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking as he looked away, his hands balled to fists before he relaxed them again. "You can need me, damn it," he said softly, his voice low but fierce. "You think I don't need you just as much?"
You pressed a hand to your stomach, the guilt and fear twisting inside you, whispering,"If they know we're connected, they could-"
"I don't care what they do to me," he cut in quickly, his voice rising. "You should've thought about what it would do to me if something happens to you. If something happens to our baby."
The silence that followed was heavy, the air between you thick with regrets. Finally, Dae-ho took a deep breath and stepped closer, his hands finding your shoulders again. His voice softened, though the edge of desperation still lingered. "We'll figure this out, okay? We'll keep our distance in front of the others, but I need you to promise me something."
You looked up at him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his eyes. "What?"
"You don't take unnecessary risks," he said firmly. "You stick to the safest options. You stay out of the way whenever you can. And if there's even a hint of danger, you let me handle it. Got it?"
You hesitated, the weight of his words pressing down on you. "I'll try," you said finally, knowing it was the best promise you could give.
He exhaled, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. "That's not good enough," he murmured. "But it'll have to do."
For a moment, the two of you just stood there, holding onto each other as the reality of your situation loomed over you. His arms wrapped around you gently, one hand resting protectively over your belly.
"I'll get you out of here," he said softly, his voice full of conviction. "You and the baby. I swear it."
Dae-ho held you close for a moment longer before stepping back, his hands still lingering around your waist. His gaze softened, though the worry didn't leave his eyes.
"You should stick to Jun-hee," he said, his voice firm but kind.
You blinked at him, confused. "What?"
"She's part of my team and she's pregnant too," he explained. "If you two stick together, it'll make it easier for me to keep an eye on you. I know I can't be obvious about us, but at least this way, I'll know you're not alone. And I can look out for both of you without drawing attention."
You opened your mouth to argue, but something about the way he looked at you, pleading, almost desperate, made you pause. "You're really planning to take care of two pregnant women in a place like this?"
He huffed a humorless laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just… what I do. I can't not try to help. You know that about me."
"That's not an excuse," you said back, your frustration bubbling to the surface. "You're acting like this is all on me, but what about you? Why are you even here, Dae-ho? You didn't exactly tell me you were planning on joining these games either!"
His expression faltered, guilt flashing across his face. "I was trying to protect you," he admitted quietly. "I didn't want you to know. I thought I could-"
"Could what?" you interrupted, "Fix everything? Take on the world by yourself? You think that's what I wanted? You think I wouldn't have tried to stop you if I knew?"
"I didn't want you to stop me," his shoulders slumped, "I thought if I could win… I could pay off everything. For both of us. For the baby. I didn't want you to worry about anything anymore."
You stared at him, your heart aching at the sincerity in his voice, but the frustration didn't subside entirely. "So you thought it was okay to risk your life without telling me but not okay if I want to do the same? That's not protecting me, Dae-ho. That's keeping me in the dark."
"I know," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "But when I saw you here…" He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling shakily. "I didn't know whether to be furious or terrified. And now we're both in this mess."
The silence stretched between you, heavy and tense. Finally, you sighed, the fight draining out of you. "As you said, we're in this together now," you said, your voice quieter. "Whether we like it or not."
He nodded, his eyes locking with yours. "And as I said, I'll make sure you make it out of here," he said firmly. "You and the baby. No matter what."
"And what about you?" you asked, your voice trembling. "What happens to you, Dae-ho?"
"That doesn't matter," he said without hesitation. "What matters is that you survive."
The conviction in his voice made your chest tighten, and you shook your head. "I'm not letting you sacrifice yourself for me. Not again."
"We'll figure it out," he assured softly, reaching out to take your hand. "One game at a time. But for now, promise me you'll stick with Jun-hee. Please."
You hesitated, the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Finally, you nodded. "Fine. But promise me something too."
"Anything," he said without missing a beat.
"You don't do anything reckless," you said, your voice firm. "No heroics, no self-sacrificing. If we're getting out of here, we're doing it together."
His lips curved into a faint smile, though his eyes remained serious. "Deal."
For the first time since joining these games and for the first time for a very long time, you felt a flicker of hope, fragile, but real. Whatever came next, at least you weren't alone.
Dae-ho let out a shaky breath, and before you could say another word, he sank to his knees in front of you. The sudden movement caught you off guard, but it wasn't until his arms wrapped gently around your waist that your breath hitched. He rested his forehead lightly against your stomach, his large hands cradling your sides with the utmost care, as though you might break.
"Dae-ho," you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.
He didn't respond immediately, just stayed there, holding you as if you were the most fragile, precious thing in the world. After a moment, he tilted his head slightly, his cheek pressing against your belly. His warm breath fanned through the fabric of your shirt, and when he spoke, his voice was soft, tender, almost reverent.
"I can't believe it," he murmured, his gaze softening as it dropped to your stomach. He placed a hand there, his palm warm and loving. "There's a piece of us right here." You couldn't help but smile.
His voice was quiet when he spoke again, the words almost a prayer.
"Hey, little one," he murmured, his words directed at the life growing inside you. "It's me… your dad."
Your hands moved instinctively, threading through his hair. The soft strands slipped between your fingers, grounding you in this surreal moment. Dae-ho closed his eyes at your touch, leaning into it like a man starved for comfort.
"You probably can't hear me yet, but…," he continued, his voice trembling slightly, "I need you to be strong, okay? Just like your mom. And I promise, I'm going to do everything I can to keep you two safe. You're my whole world now, you know that? Both of you."
A lump formed in your throat as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You hadn't expected this, this unfiltered love pouring from him. It made the weight of your circumstances feel both heavier and lighter at the same time.
"I bet you're going to be just like her," he said with a small chuckle, his hand gently rubbing your side. "Strong, smart, way too stubborn for your own good."
You let out a teary laugh, your fingers tightening in his hair. "Hey, don't encourage that."
He tilted his head back slightly, looking up at you with a crooked grin that melted your heart. "Can't help it. It's in the genes."
His gaze softened as he looked back at your stomach, and he pressed a gentle kiss to the fabric of your shirt, his lips lingering for a long moment. The action was so tender, so full of love, that it nearly brought you to your knees as well. He rested his forehead there again, his arms tightening around you.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice breaking. "For everything. For not being there when you needed me. For making you feel like you had to do this alone."
"Dae-ho," you whispered, your own voice cracking as you cupped his face, guiding him to look up at you. "You're with us. That's all that matters."
He swallowed hard, nodding as his hands slid down to hold yours. "I swear to you, I'm not going anywhere. I'll fight through hell if I have to. I'll keep you safe, no matter what it takes."
The tears you'd been holding back finally spilled over, and you knelt down with him, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pressed your forehead against his.
"We'll survive this," he repeated softly, his breath warm against your temple. "And when we get out… we'll make a real life together. The three of us."
You hesitated, your heart hammering as you realized it was the moment to tell him. "Four," you said softly, your hand covering his where it rested protectively over your stomach.
His body stiffened slightly, his brow furrowing in confusion. "Four?" His voice was cautious, almost as if he were afraid to hope.
You nodded, your throat tightening as emotion swelled. "Before I came here, I had a doctor's appointment, and… we're having twins, Dae-ho."
The silence that followed was deafening, his stillness unnerving. For a moment, you worried you'd broken him, but then he slightly leaned back on his knees, his eyes wide and glassy as they searched yours.
"Twins?" he repeated, the word barely audible. His hand shifted, trembling slightly as it moved to cradle your stomach. He said nothing for a while, just staring at you as if trying to comprehend what you'd just revealed. His lips parted, a shaky exhale escaping as his thumb traced over the fabric covering your belly.
"Twins," he repeated again, this time with a mix of wonder and disbelief. "We're having twins?"
A small smile tugged at your lips, despite the tears streaming down your face. "Yes. I wasn't sure how to tell you… or when. But yeah. Two little ones."
His head dropped, forehead again pressing gently against your stomach as he let out a quiet, shaky laugh. His strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. "Two," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't know whether to cry or laugh."
Your fingers softly tucked a strand of hair away from his beautiful face, "You can do both," you said gently, "I did."
He tilted his head up to look at you, and the raw emotion in his eyes took your breath away. His lips curved into a faint smile, one that didn't quite hide the tears slipping down his cheeks. "Twins," he said again, shaking his head slightly. "I didn't even know how I was going to handle one. Now there are two of them. Two little… us."
The way he said it, so in awe, so full of wonder, made your chest ache. "I wasn't planning on telling you here," you admitted, "Not in this nightmare. But I couldn't… I couldn't keep it to myself anymore."
"I'm glad you didn't," he said, his voice steadying. He cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears you didn't even realize had fallen. "No matter what happens in this hellhole, no matter how dark it gets, knowing they're waiting for us? It's everything."
You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Dae-ho, we can't let this place take us."
"It won't," he said firmly, his jaw tightening. "I won't let it. We'll make it. I'll make damn sure of it."
His hands slipped back down to your waist, his fingers splaying over your belly as though he could somehow shield the life growing inside you from the horrors outside. "Two little heartbeats," he murmured, his voice softening. "Do you know what that means?"
You tilted your head, a small smile playing on your lips. "What?"
"It means we're going to need twice the strength," his gaze locked with yours, "But it also means we've got twice the reason to fight. Twice the reason to win."
You leaned forward, your noses almost touching, your hands covering his on your stomach. "We'll do it together," you assured quietly. "The four of us."
"The four of us," he echoed, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss so tender it left you breathless. "You're stuck with me now. Forever."
You let out another teary laugh, the sound mingling with his soft chuckle. "I've been stuck with you for years, Dae-ho. And I wouldn't have it any other way."
For a moment, the world outside that room, the horrors of the games, didn't exist. It was just two lovers holding onto each other and the heartwarming hope bound on a fragile string of the future that was worth fighting for. You allowed yourselves to feel it, this unwavering love, this promising hope that had been buried beneath the fear. It wasn't much, but it was enough to remind you both why you were fighting, to survive, to protect, and to make it out of this nightmare as a family.
And whatever came next, you knew you wouldn't face it alone.
You don't expect your boyfriend to hold you or console you when you find out your pregnant, but you also didnt expect him to leave you without a trace either
Has no correlation to the other preg!reader fic i posted !!
GENRE: angst
PAIRING: Choi su-bong x preg!reader
"Fuck" thanos groans with his head thrown back, his hands covering his face while he steps away from you
Your hold around your stomach tightens as you don't look up, keeping your gaze at the ground
"I thought you were on that shitty pill?" Thanos glanced at you before letting out a prolonged sigh
"You know that it doesn't mean a hundred percent protection" you argue, eyebrows furrowing slightly "it's not my fault! You were the one who-"
"I know geez!"
"Then why are you getting so agitated!"
"Because" thanos spluttered "because this is a kid we're talking about"
You pause, not being able to think of anything to say back, instead retreating your eyes back at your stomach
"And it's my fucking kid. Mine" thanos points at himself in the chest
"Is that why your mad?" You hate the way your voice trembles "because it's your kid and not some random bastards on the street?"
"Watch your mouth" thanos snarls "you know it's not like that, do you want me to say that it is?"
"Ah fuck" your voice a few ratios higher than it usually was, you could feel the lump in your throat forming
Thanos sighs again, his eyes softening as he glances your face and your stomach
"Aish your fucking kidding me man, your the one who started arguing first" he grumbles annoyed, but approaches you with his arms open anyways
You push against his hold at first, anger still flaring inside of you but you end up giving in pretty fast, so desperately wanting to be held
"Are the pregnancy symptoms already kicking in?" Thanos asked while pulling your head to rest in his shoulders "what a pain" muttering under his breath
"You asshole" you sob while your hands ball into a fist
"Hey your carrying the asshole's kid, i don't think your one to speak" thanos adds in quickly, frowning "Don't make this harder than it already is"
Despite Thanos holding you in his arms, you hit him with your balled fist, your face streaming with tears
"Hey stop" thanos frowns "stop before I seriously get mad" he grips your hand "im not mad right now, but if you don't stop i will"
You sniffle softly, your head laying on his chest as his eyebrows are still furrowed with concern over the recent news of your pregnancy
"What are we gonna do?" You ask amidst sniffles
Thanos allows you to lean against him, staring at the wall of the cramped room the both of you lived in
"I dont know" he mutters "we could go to the hospital? Try for a..." his voice trails off. You knew what he was referring to
This just makes your sniffles louden even more causing him to inwardly groan, he never knew how to handle emotions as such, most of the time just shutting up and holding you or something along that line but that didn't seem to be the brightest thing to do and even Thanos knew that
"Su-bong" you whisper, your hands snaking around his waist, pressing yourself closer towards him as if to shield yourself
Thanos winces softly when he hears you call his real name, he always winces when he hears his real name.
He let's out a rough grunt of acknowledgement "What?"
"I don't think I want a abortion"
"Well fuck baby, we can't afford it either way. It was stupid of me to suggest" he lazily responds, while resting his face above your head
"We can't afford to raise it too" you murmer causing Thanos to shift uncomfortably
"I know" he snorts "fuck"
"So what will we do?"
Thanos hears the imploring tone of your voice. Most of the time he was the one asking you that question. In your relationship you were the one who took on the role of the logical one, but here you were, asking Thanos something that you both didn't know the answer to
You look up at him, moving your face away from his chest, your eyes pleading
"You sure you want the kid?" You ask him
"Your already pregnant anyways, i can't do anything about it"
"This isn't a joke" you retort loudly
"Your the one who said you don't want an abortion!" Thanos also raises his voice
"We can't afford it anyways you idiot!"
"Well damn, it's like i didn't just fucking say that like 5 seconds ago" he thundered which immediately cause you to tear up again
Thanos tilts his head down, pressing his lips into a tight straight line, regretting his actions almost immediately
"Hey" his voice rough and deep as he called out to you "look at me"
He purses his lips when he sees you still refusing to face him, your hands hiding your face
"Hey" he says more softly as he moves your hand away from your face "im sorry okay, cmon just look at me"
Thanos leans his head against yours while he clasps his hand around yours
"I'll figure something out" he raspily breathed out "I'll get a day job, fuck it baby, I'll get 2 day jobs"
You had no strength to talk back, choosing to silently nod
Thanos kisses your forehead while he wipes your tears away
"I said I'll figure something out, so stop your damn crying okay?" He says playfully, in an attempt to stop you from crying
You nodd slowly, causing him to smile tightly
he kneels down, facing your stomach "im sure the baby wouldn't want to hear his mom cry huh?" He announces as if though he was talking to the baby
He looks up to your face to see your face, trying to make you laugh or smile or anything at all
"You better not be a shit ass kid" thanos pokes your stomach softly "cause of you, your mom's hormones are going wild already"
"Asshole" you breathed with a laugh "im crying cause of you, fucking prick"
Thanos grins as he looks up to you, standing up he grabs your hand
"I swear" he picks your hands up, placing a soft kiss "ill figure something out for the three of us"
₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊
Finding a job was hard
Especially as a retired rapper who basically got fucking conned by some asshole on the internet
Fucking bitch
Thanos stays up awake, leaning against the wall of the trashy one room so called apartment that you both lived in.
He inhales his cyan blue vape while eyeing the cigarette burn marks that painted the wall
His head thuds against the dirty peeling wallpaper, while you layed asleep on the floor across him, only a thin blanket covering your body
A soft smile graces his features when he notices the slight swell of your stomach
That's his kid right there, that's the mother of his child right there
Thanos couldn't afford to marry your right now, he wishes he could.
Fucking hell, he couldn't even afford a shitty ring let alone a ring that you actually deserved, he'd marry you with a plastic bottle seal if he could but he knew that you deserved more,
Damn, you deserve so much better than him, so much more than what he could give you
The kid in your stomach deserved better too. His kid
Thanos's smile fades away, leaving behind a grimace when he notices that the blanket doesn't fully cover your body, noticing the colour far beyond faded and the material already thinning out
He immediately unzips his jacket, going forward to place it above your body. It was the least that he could do
Suddenly, a piece of paper falls out of the pocket, he notices it as the card from the strange man earlier
Just thinking about it pissed him off, he recieved more slaps than money
Holding the card in his hand, he turns it over, mouthing the number behind the card, he swallows nervously unlike him while contemplating whether it was worth calling
Slowly typing in the digits in his phone he places his device on his ear, holding his breath as the phone rings
Once, twice, the phone continues to ring, thrice, now going four times
Thanos sighs, bringing the phone down, ready to press cancel when suddenly
"In order to sign up to play the game, please submit your name and date of birth"
Thanos breathes sharply, his finger wavering above the cancel button while your sleeping figure which remained unaware of what raced through your boyfriend's head
"Fuck" thanos curses, he glances at you
Thanos's hands trembled as he filled in his details, his pupils dilated, his mouth dried.
He knew what you'd say if you were awake, scolding him for being so naive and believing but you didn't meet that strange man in the grey suit did you?
He bites his lips when he reads the address and time of where he was suppose to go, noticing that the last date of entering the so called games was the current date
"I wont be gone for long" he mutters softly as he stands up, placing a kiss on your cheek before heading towards the door
He puts his old shoes on, the only branded ones he had left from back in his rapper days, the one who had picked for him, the only pair he didn't sell
He slips outside quietly, before sparring you one last glance
"Wait for me, just for a little bit" he whispered with a faint smile though it didnt quite didn't reach his eyes
He glances from your face to your stomach "your dad will be back with shit ton of money, i'll make sure you both live well"
He pauses before closing the door, contemplating for a minute, it felt so wrong to leave just like that,
He didn't want to go, it felt like the wrong thing to do but he steps out of the house anyway
"Take care of your mom when I'm gone"
₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊
The next morning, you wake up warmer than you usually do, but you can't ignore the ever so persistent pounding of your heart
Your heart feels heavier than usual too
Noticing your boyfriend's jacket wrapped around you, you slowly wake up, looking for him
You look for him for the entire day,
it soon turns into 2 days and 2 days soon turn into 2 weeks
The bruise you recieved earlier that day after being chased down the street by some debt collectors begun to sting.
They didn't care whether you were pregnant or not, they just wanted the money you had borrowed from them back
And then that's when it hits you
When your standing on top cold floor of, with only your boyfriend's jacket left as a reminder of him,
He left.
He left without saying anything, without leaving even a single trace, he left not even with a single goodbye
He left you.
Your hand trails to your stomach.
He left the both of you
You sink down, legs giving out as your body trembles, you lie on the wilting cot that served as a place of comfort, sobbing, shrieking, crying his name out
Screaming anything that would have send him running towards you,
But no one comes.
Unbeknownst to you, at the very same time you fall on the ground, thanos's cold body is lifted up from the cold bathroom floor and packed into black coloured coffin
His eyes still wide open, his entire body covered in his own blood
When the guards strip his clothes away, they find something in his pocket
A plastic ring
it couldn't have been worth much, maybe from a kids toy, it left the guards puzzled
What would a person like Thanos be doing with a plastic ring in his pocket?
Perhaps you would understand it better
After all, he held you, consoled you. That prick even left you without a single trace
Gong Yoo has forbidden himself to fantasise about a peaceful family life. He does not deserve one, neither does he deserve you as as his partner.
Pairing: Recruiter/Gong Yoo x afab!reader (no pronouns used)
Summary: You’re noticing how your husband has been acting a little distant lately but he keeps acting like nothing is wrong. You decide to confront him.
Words: 1.1k
Genre: angsty fluff
Warning: Pregnancy description, spoilers for his backstory
(Here are some HCs on him and other Squid game men as dads and how they act during your pregnancy if you’re interested!!)
He mainly married you to keep up his appearances to the public. That’s what he believed your marriage to be in the beginning anyway, but falling for you hit him like a truck Gong Yoo missed to spot while crossing the street. Now he can barely step outside the door without thinking about you, your safety, your cute face, your lips and whatever else there is to possibly think about a person.
Imagining you pregnant was a rather frequent fantasy he had. Not in a perverse way that could make one wonder about how sane he exactly is, but rather about how adorable you’d look when you waddle around the apartment, how it would feel to hold you from behind and lift your heavy belly for you, the sight of new stretch marks decorating your body more and more, listening to you baby’s heartbeat.
Even the unpleasant aspects of a pregnancy seem appealing to him for some reason. Holding your hair during a wave of morning sickness and emptying your stomach’s contents into the toilet, preparing a warm bath for your swollen feet, odd cravings where he can only pray for his child’s health while you inhale your exotic plate with a smile.
While future players of the game slam their dakji square against the one on the floor, Gong Yoo stood there with his arms behind his back, literally drowning in a baby fever. Only the sound of the square hitting the other and failing to flip over unpleasantly ripped him out of the trance, reminding him of his occupation that would make it much harder to have a simple, oblivious and lovely family life.
You noticed how much somber your husband has gotten lately. Sure, he was still affectionate as ever and never failed to bring flowers, chocolate or whatever else you desired, but you could see how something was clearly bothering him. Asking what is bothering him will only result in him using his charming recruiter persona to deflect your worries right back at you, bastard.
One evening, while your legs were draped over his thighs after making yourselves comfortable on the couch, empty take out boxes on the coffee table in front of you. You were the only one paying attention to the TV broadcast though.
Your husband’s fingers slowly traced invisible patters on your thigh while his eyes glossed over nothing.
“You’re so quiet lately. Did something happen at work?” Gong Yoo’s eyes slowly shifted to look at you, his hand coming to a stop on your thigh right above your knee. He leaned his head back against the couch cushion. “I’m just thinking a lot about you lately. You’re quite distracting, you know that?”
Again, he’s deflection your worry and question to turn it right back at you. Unamused, you slid your legs off his lap and lifted yourself from your comfortably lying position. You were clearly unamused and he could tell. A small sigh escaped his lips and he closed his eyes for a moment. “No, nothing happened at work. I’m really thinking about you a lot lately.”
“Then exactly are you thinking about then?” You noticed his eyes trying to shift away from you, anywhere else than to look into your eyes. Your hand gently took his into yours, your fingers interlocking with his. You watched him glance down at your two rings, the rings that symbolise marriage and partnership. He emitted a deeper sigh. “I’m thinking about our future together, I suppose.”
You cocked your head in confusion. “Kids. I’m thinking about kids.” Gong Yoo elaborated. “Our kids to be exact.” His grip on your hand got a little tighter as if you’re about to pull away. Instead, you pulled his hand towards yourself. “So… what do you think?” You mumbled, briefly running your fingers through his hair.
Your husband shrugged, his lips turning into a small frown. “I want them, don’t get me wrong, I just— I don’t know. I’m not sure if I…” He took a deep breath before continuing. “If you want them with me, if I would be a good father… My own father wasn’t the greatest and what if I’m going to be just like him, you know?”
Silence fell between you two, the TV serving as l white noise in the background. An endearing smile broke out on your face as you ran your knuckles over his surprisingly sweaty cheek. Opening up to you takes a toll put of him apparently. His eyes closed shut as you briefly admired his lashes fluttered against his skin. His whole face softened.
“So, firstly, I do want children with you and only you. Remember that.” The cold metal of your ring made Gong Yoo shiver under your touch. Your hand cupped his cheek as he slowly opened his eyes again. “Secondly, you’ll be a good father, someone yours never was.”
Your husband scoffed slightly as a larger smile began to break out on his face. It was a little funny to him how you answered him so honestly and kindly, not even knowing the full story between him and his father and how it ended.
Your words did warm his heart. The fantasy of a perfect life with you didn’t seem so taboo anymore, so distant and unreachable. It felt like it was just a moment away.
Gong Yoo leaned in and placed a lingering kiss on your lips, his lips felt soft and gentle. His warm breath fanned your face as his hand slipped out of yours to cup your cheek and angle your face for his tongue to briefly slip between your lips. Pulling away, his forehead rested against yours as his eyes stared into yours.
“Do you mean that? Are you really sure?” You couldn’t help but chuckle a little at how nervous he really was. “I am as sure as I was when I married you, dear.”
Your husband leaned back in for another kiss, this one was much more brief, teasing almost. “Well would you… like to start trying? For a child I mean.”
💠
Author’s note. Thank you for reading!
As I am posting this I am around 2-3 hours away from arriving at the ski resort. Half of this was written while I was a little nauseous so apologies for any inconsistencies or mistakes as I was in and out of it. The other half was written while I listened to a mix of J-Pop, K-Pop, Hamilton musical, Rap, Odetari. My music taste is quite unique :,) Anyways, I’ll be posting again soon or tonight! It’s going to be either about Thanos or In-ho!
Anyways, make sure to EAT, DRINK and SLEEP enough!!
warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT | RAPE/NONCON. daddy issues. age gap. reader had an abusive dad. physical abuse. degradation. forced blowjob. hitting, slapping, you know the drill. sub!reader. dom!salesman. blood. plot with porn. dont like? dont read. its that easy.
summary: you steal from the wrong man and face the consequences.
continuation to THIEF
MASTERLIST
most girls have some sort of fantasy in their head when it comes to their virginity. a blueprint of sorts— about what kind of man they'd like to lose it to, of how gentle he'd be with them. whether it would be planned and patient or spontaneous after a magical date.
you were one of those girls. so far, you'd managed to stay away from men, not just because none of them fit the standard you created in your head— but also because the idea of being with a man repulsed you. the first man in your life— your father, had broken your heart. so you protected yourself, put a lock on engaging in sexual desires for that special someone you could wholeheartedly give yourself to. you were scared that most men you encounter would be like your father— cold. violent. now, you understand that you were wrong.
the man in front of you was so much worse.
you dont get to wallow in your self pity for long. he hovers over you like a god— his presence alone was suffocating. the fact that his massive hand is currently tugging your head back doesn't help; your scalp stings and fresh tears well in the corner of your eyes. the sight makes him groan. his free hand holds onto his cock— gently stroking back and forth. it's a little darker than the rest of him— tip flushed and some precum gleaming on the top. it's clear all this fighting has been foreplay for him. he's getting off to your misery. his dark eyes flicker over your face, and as you try to pull your head back again, he forces the tip against your mouth; letting the stickiness spread over your lips.
"open up." his voice is breathy, hand tugging your hair back again. you wince. "don't make me ask again."
you shake your head, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks as you glare at him with all the resentment your eyes can muster. your teeth grit together as you clamp your mouth shut. he pauses and settles you with a bored gaze, and before you can realize what's happening, his hand is pulling back and slapping you across the face again.
you fall sideways onto the couch with another sob. you can taste the blood in your mouth, and you cough. he's quick to yank you back up, chuckling slightly when the blood sputters out of your mouth and down your chin. he smears his cock against the dark fluid, before settling you with another warning glare.
"did you act this stubborn with your father too?" he pouts, voice taunting, "no wonder he hit you. you never seem to listen on the first try."
you feel livid, shaking with rage as he mocks you. you open your mouth to answer him, and he takes that opportunity to pry your jaw open with his thumb. he groans as he forces his cock past your mouth, slowly at first before pushing to the hilt, till your nose presses against the light patch of hair at the base. you barely get the time to protest before he's rolling his hips slightly, getting used to the wet cavern of your mouth. the thickness and the intrusion in your throat makes you choke and sputter incoherently around his cock, eyes watering again. your hands hold onto his thighs for support. maybe you can bite his dick right off, maybe—
"and if you bite me," he warns with a little chuckle, as if he read your mind, "i will slit your throat open and fuck it."
you shudder. you know he means it too— you can see the crazed look in his eyes as he cups your head with both hands. you don't want to take any chances. you can barely think when he pulls his hips back and thrusts again, eliciting a choked gargle out of you.
"fuck—" he grunts lowly, using your head as leverage as his thrusts slowly grow faster. your body trembles violently, the lack of oxygen making your head feel faint. "that's it— stay like that."
it's as if he's releasing all his pent up frustration on your little throat— his head thrown back, adams apple bobbing up and down as his thrusts get harder, faster. your choking seems to only spur him on, his hold on you getting tighter as you squirm on the couch, trying to pull back. he's not having it.
he pulls out momentarily and you get only a few seconds to breathe before he's grabbing you by the ear and dragging you off the couch. you shriek throatily and claw at his hand as he pulls you towards the wall and cages you in. your head presses against the concrete as he enters your mouth again, "stop that—" he grunts at your wiggling, pulling your head back and slamming it against the wall. you choke on a sob, feeling lightheaded. "the faster— ah— you make me cum the easier i'll make this for you."
his thrusts are like him— to the point, aggressive and inconsiderate. his hips snap forward almost violently as you claw at his thighs, leaving a few scratches. it makes him moan. your bloodshot eyes glare up at him as you choke around his length, his balls sloppily slapping against your chin. he doesn't make a lot of noise, but when he does it comes from the back of his throat. your head repeatedly slams against the wall as he fucks your face, and between his grunts he lets out another breathless chuckle.
laughing at your suffering.
"i'm getting close," his hand comes up and he pinches your nose between two fingers. you begin to writhe at the sudden cutoff of oxygen, eyes widening, "ah ah- take it like a good slut."
your vision gets blurry, head pounding and throat gurgling as he throws his head back and cums with a loud moan. you're sure you can feel it fill your stomach. it's bitter and you can feel the stickiness of it on the roof of your mouth, on the back of your tongue. his thrusts falter, hips stuttering as his chest heaves, few strands of his well kept hair falling across his forehead. you choke and cough as he pulls out, and stuffs his softening cock back inside his pants like he didn't just violate you.
you gag slightly as you taste the saltiness of his cum mixed with the metallic taste of your blood, and you cough some of it out. you greedily take in as much air as you can, eyes wide and face heated. he tosses you around like a ragdoll. your body is limp as you slump against the wall, shuddering. his foot raises, the tip of his shiny dress shoes pressing against your clothed crotch. his voice is thoughtful, contemplative. like he's talking about the weather. "should i pop your cherry?"
you look up at him, shocked. you can barely see him through your tears. "what?"
with a smirk, he grabs your arm and yanks you forward till your face crashes into his thigh. in your panic stricken haze, you grab onto his leg, clinging to him, desperate for any ounce of sympathy or comfort he can provide.
he has nothing to offer.
his hand comes down to run through your hair, like you're a dog. you lean into the touch, hope that you being responsive would sway any thoughts of him violating you further. he grabs your jaw, making your cheeks squish in his hold. he thinks you look utterly adorable this way. you whimper.
"please don't."
you break down into sobs again. you hate crying. you hate it more so because it makes you appear weak in front of the other person. they never seem to understand that you're crying out of rage, not sadness.
he sighs before shoving you off him. you slouch on the floor and he kneels before you, face indifferent. he gently brushes your hair away from your face, and you slap his hand away.
he's toying with you. playing with your fear. manipulating your emotions as he deems fit and he's revelling in it.
"you—" you pant, choking on another sob, before a crazed chuckle leaves you. full of disbelief, anger, hurt. "you sick fuck—"
"let's not use crude language." he remarks dryly, eyes crinkling as he puts on a smile. the same smile you thought to be charming at first glance. now it just looks empty and manipulative. he pulls out a handkerchief, wipes the sweat glistening on your forehead. "someone really ought to teach you how to talk to your elders."
"you raped me," you snap back, voice cracking as you shoot daggers at him through your glare. you want to lunge at him, to pull out his eyeballs and rip him apart. he grabs your chin, stares into your eyes with an intensity that makes you cower into yourself.
"i taught you a lesson," he shoots back calmly, expression serious. as if he truly believed what he said. "i gave you a glimpse of what could happen if you kept up with your reckless behaviour. surely you don't think you can always get away with stealing from men or talking back to them?"
you snatch your face away and look at the floor again, eyes stony and vacant. you were a fool to think you were made for this life. that you could've lived without a proper roof over your head, the financial security that your abusive father could provide you. but you weren't willing to go back.
not after everything you endured to leave.
your lips wobble. you try to compose yourself, force your face to look cold as you glare at him again.
"i'll go to the police." you take another sharp breath. you try to sound brave, you really do, but the slight waiver of your voice gives you away. "i'll tell them everything. i'll post it on social media. they'll find you and you'll be in jail by—"
you stop talking, merely staring at him as he smiles at you. it's a smile you recognise— one of those smiles that adults like to give to children, as if to say 'aw, you're so silly.' as if you're a naive child who is mindlessly babbling about something you don't know. as if he's the smartest person in the world. you know this smile because your father has aimed it at you multiple times.
"what are you smiling at?!" you snap, voice hoarse. he shakes his head almost fondly, his thumb caressing your bottom lip— spreading the drying blood around your chin.
"it amuses me," he starts, snorting again, "how you still believe in humanity after what i just did to you."
you're frozen as you stare at him, breathing ragged. he stares at your lips, plays with the blood there before pulling his hand back and licking the crimson fluid off his thumb. he tilts his head to the side, eyes coldly boring into yours.
"you want to know how men really are?" he quirks an eyebrow, unimpressed, "they will find out where you live and they'll come have their own fun with you."
"some time will pass and you'll eventually start selling your body to perverted old men on the street." his voice takes that business-like tone again. he stands up, adjusts his suit jacket as he looks around the apartment. "weak little girls like you can't handle that kind of lifestyle."
he bends down and picks up his stolen wallet off the floor. he opens it, pulls out that card you saw before. the one with the weird shapes on it. he holds it out towards you, "here's an opportunity. you can call the number on this and participate in some games that will get you money—" he gestures towards the cash on the floor- your prize from playing ddakji. "— or you can keep living like this and encounter more horrible men like me who won't be as gentle with you as i was."
the last line makes you snort bitterly. right. gentle. his bruises would last for days, the trauma a lifetime. if this is his idea of gentle, you would never want to know what his 'rough' entails. his eye twitches and he smiles back, before dropping the card on your lap.
you stay on the floor, frozen, the reality of what just happened to you settling in. you can keep living like this— pickpocketing men, making ends meet with stolen change, getting raped, and living in this clusterfuck of an apartment just to avoid your father; or you can go wherever all that money came from. his voice sounds faraway when he speaks again.
"i'm trusting you to make the right choice."
he gathers his briefcase, sends one more glance your way before exiting the apartment like he was never there in the first place.
A/N: im not very good with smut, but i tried. i really wanted to write just porn but i physically cant bring myself to do that without adding lots of plot and psychological elements and a backstory. otherwise it feels soulless to me. i hope i didnt bore you. for anyone who read this, thank you. feedback and reblogs are always appreciated. maybe i'll write about inho soon too.
tags for people who commented for a part 2: @rafesbunniebby @screaming-potato @nerdybarbariancupcake @deadddoll
Game of Deception—Lee Myung-Gi/Player 333 x Fem!Reader
summary— You and Myung-gi, share a growing attraction despite the chaos around you. But when his past surfaces, including a pregnant ex-girlfriend, your trust in him is shattered.
Most of the players were asleep, but Lee Myung-gi wasn’t. You noticed him sitting up, his shoulders tense, staring off into the distance.
“Can’t sleep?” you asked softly, pulling the thin blanket around your shoulders as you sat up.
He turned to you, startled for a moment before his expression softened. “No, too much on my mind.”
“Do you want to lie down with me? It might help.” You hesitated before patting the small space beside you.
He gave you a small, shy smile and nodded. “Sure.”
As he lay beside you, the warmth of his body was comforting despite the cold reality of where you were. You felt his arm hesitantly drape over your waist, and you didn’t stop him.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured after a moment, his voice barely audible over the soft snores of other players in the room.
You smiled, your heart fluttering at his words. “You think so?”
“I know so,” he replied, as his eyes roamed your face.
This wasn’t the first time Myung-gi had looked at you like that. From the moment the games began, you noticed his quiet, reserved nature, how he tried to stay out of trouble but always had a sharp eye for the dangers lurking around. It had been during one of those dangerous moments that you first stepped in for him.
Thanos and his bird brained friend had cornered him during the chaos of the first night. “What’s the matter, pretty boy? Too scared to fight back?” Thanos taunted, shoving him roughly.
Before Myung-gi could respond, you stepped forward. “Why don’t you pick on someone else asshole?” you snapped.
Thanos turned to you, laughing until he realized you weren’t backing down. “What’s it to you baby?”
“It’s that I don’t like bullies,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “You think intimidating him makes you tough? All I see is a desperate for attention piece of shit.”
For a moment, it seemed like Thanos would retaliate, but your unwavering glare and the growing attention of other players made him back off. “Whatever,” he muttered, walking away with his friend.
Myung-gi had looked at you with something akin to awe. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said quietly.
You shrugged. “I wasn’t about to let them mess with you.”
From that moment, the two of you stuck together. You shared meals, sitting side by side as the reality of the games sunk in. He always made sure you had enough to eat, even offering you a portion of his food at times.
“You don’t have to do that,” you said one night as he pushed his bowl toward you.
“It’s fine,” he replied, a small smile on his lips. “You need your strength.”
His quiet protectiveness was something you weren’t used to, but you found yourself growing more attached to him with each passing day.
A few minutes after his whispered compliment about your beauty, you leaned closer, your voice low. “Come with me to the bathroom.”
He blinked in surprise but nodded, curiosity evident in how he stared at you. The two of you slipped past the sleeping players and surprisingly indifferent guards. Once inside the bathroom, you led him into a stall and locked the door behind you.
“Myung-gi,” you breathed, leaning back against the wall, your eyes locking with his. His dark gaze flickered between your lips and your eyes, and before you could say another word, he closed the space between you, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was both soft and urgent.
His hands rested on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. The cold stall melted away, replaced by the heat radiating between you.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he murmured against your lips, his forehead pressing to yours.
“You think I’m not just as crazy about you?” you whispered back.
His lips curved into a small smile before he kissed you again, slower this time, as if savoring every second.
The attraction between you was impeccable, impossible to ignore despite the circumstances. His hands traced your sides, then down to your ass, and his lips pressed kisses along your jaw and down your neck.
“You’re incredible,” he whispered.
As the moment intensified, you pulled back slightly, catching your breath. His hands remained gentle on your waist, his gaze searching your face for any hesitation.
“You’re incredible, Myung-gi,” you said softly.
He smiled, leaning his forehead against yours. “And you’re all I think about, even in this hell hole.”
You were deeply attracted to him. You weren’t sure if you were just being codependent due to the harsh reality of the games and you needed something—someone to take your mind off it, or you just really liked him. Whatever it was, you didn’t care. All you cared about was him and possibly making it out alive. All you cared about was pleasing him, having him see you the way you saw him. So, you fell to your knees.
“Fuck, you’re so dirty,” he moaned as you pulled down his pants and boxers in one swift motion.
As you freed him, your lip caught in between your teeth. He was hard and thick, already leaking pre cum from his pink tip. With your gaze locked on his, you slowly took him into your mouth, lips and tongue gliding across the shaft. Myung-gi hissed as you took him further, your hands stroking what you couldn’t take down your throat.
“Fuck baby, just like that,” he rasped, his hand tangling in your curls.
His praises willed you on and you began bobbing your head steadily, saliva beginning to drip down your chin.
“You look so fucking good like this, on your knees for me,” he praised.
His grip tightened in your hair and you dug your nails into his thigh as he began to thrust into your mouth. Each time he did, the bulbous head would hit the back of your throat making you gag.
“I love hearing you gag on my dick,” he breathed, looking down at you, jaw agape.
Your tongue glided across the shaft as his thrusts grew more frantic and without warning, you felt something warm and salty shoot down your throat. He held your head down on his cock, your nose buried in his neatly trimmed pubic hair as you felt his cock twitch in your mouth. When he finally let go you swallowed and gasped for breath.
“You’re fucking perfect,” he said, pulling you up to your feet and placing a kiss on your lips.
While you were happy he felt that way and you were able to please him, something felt—off. But you couldn’t place your finger on it.
You felt Myung-gi’s warm breath on the nape of your neck as he whispered, “Turn around.” His voice was soft but carried a weight of authority that made your heart race but you turned to face the wall of the stall.
There was a sense of urgency in his touch as he rested his hands on your hips, pulling down your pants and your underwear, steadying you. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “Trust me.” The closeness sent a shiver through you, and you let out a shaky breath, nodding.
You gasped loudly as you felt his hard cock tease your entrance, slowly slipping inside you, the stretch burning. He stared down at his cock that was covered in your cream as he pulled out of you, leaving only the tip inside. He slammed back in, your ass recoiling against him as you cried out.
“Quiet,” he whispered, his tone gentle but commanding. “You’re doing so well.” The words sent warmth rushing through you, and you felt his hand snake around to rest lightly at your throat. His other hand reached down, thumb stroking your clit in rough circles, and his lips pressed soft kisses to your shoulder.
His thrusts sped up, growing sloppier by the minute. Each time his cock disappeared inside you, it would hit your g spot making you shudder and bite back a moan. You pushed your ass back against him but it made him tighten his grip around your throat. He called the shots and you absolutely loved it.
“Cum with me,” he murmured against your skin, “squeezing my dick so fucking tight.”
He rolled his hips to meet yours and as you felt his cum spurt inside you, your own climax took ahold of you. You moaned his name like it was the only word you knew, the orgasm the best thing you had ever felt these past few days.
When the moment passed, Myung-gi’s forehead rested against your shoulder, his breathing uneven as he muttered a quiet, “Sorry, I, uh, didn’t mean to cum inside you.”
You chuckled softly, shaking your head to ease the awkwardness. “It’s fine,” you said with a smile. “Not like we need more problems right now.” He let out a quiet laugh, his hand brushing through his hair as he looked at you with an apologetic smile.
With care, he helped you straighten up and quietly cleaned you off. You both slipped out of the bathroom and returned to the dormitory in silence, careful not to draw attention.
Back in your corner of the room, you lay down on the small bed, noticing how Myung-gi didn’t pull you into his arms as he had the nights before. He stayed near, but the space between you felt heavier than it should. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, his expression unreadable as he stared at the ceiling.
“Goodnight,” you whispered softly, hoping to ease the tension.
He nodded, but his response was delayed. “Goodnight,” he finally replied, his tone distant.
You turned over, staring at the other players and willing sleep to come. You didn’t want to overthink it—there was too much at stake in the morning—but a small part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. Still, you pushed the thoughts aside. You needed to rest. The next game wouldn’t wait for anyone.
The nerves in the dormitory felt heavier the next morning, though you couldn’t tell if it was because of the lingering tension from the previous night or the looming threat of the next game. Myung-gi sat across the room, his head bent slightly as he talked quietly with another player, a woman you hadn’t really noticed before. She clutched her stomach occasionally, her face pale and tired.
You tried to ignore it, focusing on your own nerves, but the way they spoke, close and hushed, stirred something bitter in your chest. When their conversation ended, you approached him, your tone light but curious.
“Who was that?” you asked, nodding in the woman’s direction.
He glanced at you briefly and shrugged. “Nobody.”
Nobody. The word lingered in your mind, sour and unconvincing, but you didn’t have time to push the matter.
The game that day was brutal, each second teetering on the edge of survival. You nearly lost your life more than once, the screams of other players ringing in your ears as you clawed your way through. Myung-gi, however, didn’t stay near you like he usually did. He stuck close to the woman—Player 222 and it wasn’t subtle. Every glance he threw her way, every time he stepped in to help her, made your blood boil.
By the time you both staggered back into the dormitory alive, you were too drained to confront him. But you couldn’t let it go. After seeing him ignore you all day, you decided to approach the woman instead.
She sat quietly in a corner, her hands protectively over her stomach. Forcing a small smile, you made your way over, trying to keep your tone friendly.
“Hey,” you began softly. “You did well out there. I know it wasn’t easy.”
She glanced up, offering a weak smile. “Thanks, you too.”
You hesitated, unsure how to broach the topic. “I, uh, noticed you and Myung-gi talking earlier. Do you know him well?”
Her expression faltered. She let out a heavy sigh, her hand instinctively going to her stomach again. “We used to,” she admitted. “A long time ago.”
You frowned, a pit forming in your stomach. “Used to?”
She nodded, her eyes dropping to the floor. “We were together. I got pregnant, and he, well, he wanted me to get rid of it.” She paused. “When I didn’t, he walked away. Scammed me too. I shouldn’t even be here,” she said, shaking her head.
You stared at her, stunned into silence as her words settled over you like a heavy weight. She noticed your expression and sighed again.
“Look,” she said, “I’m not telling you what to do. Make your own decisions. But don’t trust him. He told me he wanted to get out of this together.”
Your chest tightened, your thoughts racing. You swallowed hard, offering her a weak smile. “Thank you for telling me,” you said quietly. “Take care of yourself. And your baby.”
She nodded, giving you a small, grateful smile.
You found Myung-gi sitting alone, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed. You marched over, your heart pounding in anger and disbelief.
“When were you going to tell me?” you demanded.
His eyes opened slowly, confusion flashing across his face. “Tell you what?”
“That your pregnant ex-girlfriend is here,” you snapped.
He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. “You talked to Jun-hee, didn’t you?”
“She told me everything,” you hissed. “How you wanted her to get rid of her baby, how you took her money. And now, what? You’re telling her you want to get out of this together? The same thing you told me?”
“Hey, calm down,” he said, his tone defensive. “It’s not like that.”
“Don’t,” you said sharply, your voice trembling. “Don’t act like I’m overreacting. You’ve been ignoring me all day, sticking by her side, and now I find out you’ve been lying to me this whole time?”
“I didn’t lie to you,” he snapped back. “And don’t fucking say I used you.”
“Didn’t you?” you shot back, your voice rising. “You knew exactly what you were doing. And now you’re trying to downplay it like it’s nothing.”
He groaned, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I didn’t mean for this to happen, okay? Things are complicated.”
“Complicated?” You let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t even care, do you? About me, about her. You’re just looking out for yourself.”
His jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. That silence was all the confirmation you needed.
“I’m done,” you said firmly, stepping back. “Don’t talk to me again.”
You turned and walked away, your chest aching as his voice called out faintly behind you. You didn’t stop. There wasn’t time for this, not here, not now. You had to focus on surviving, even if that meant doing it alone.
SYNOPSIS: after getting into an argument with your boyfriend during your sleepover, your bestfriend decides to help you feel better in a different way than you expected.
AUTHORS NOTE: first wlw fic i wrote pls be nice… also this mayyy or may not be based off true events, me and my hg be getting into some crazy shit at our sleepovers 🤗 anyways enjoy !!
words: [2.5k]
“FUCK!” you shouted, throwing your phone onto the bed in frustration.
“Honestly, if he’s still mad, just break up with him already. You guys have been at it for almost an hour,” Semi said, popping a few chips into her mouth as she scrolled on her phone.
You dropped your head with a groan. “No, you don’t get it! He’s just so stubborn sometimes. I’m trying to communicate but he won’t listen.”
For the past 45 minutes, you’d been arguing with your boyfriend— and getting absolutely nowhere. It had started over something small: an Instagram post.
You had somewhere to be earlier that day, and while getting ready, you realized you looked really good. Naturally, your boost in confidence made you want to take a few pictures and post them. Not for anyone else— just to appreciate yourself.
But, like always, your boyfriend had a problem with it. Apparently, it was an issue because “other guys will see,” and he claimed you only posted it for their validation. You wanted nothing less than another man’s attention, and it hurt that he even assumed that.
You offered countless solutions— even offered to take the story down entirely— but the damage was already done. He was already mad, and nothing you did could fix it.
“He’s acting like a little bitch— it’s embarrassing. I seriously don’t get what you see in him.” Semi muttered with a shrug.
You threw your head back in exasperation. “Stop, he’s really sweet most of the time.”
“And what about the times he’s not?” she shot back.
You collapsed into the pillow and turned your head toward her. “It’s only bad when he’s upset about something… he just gets worked up easily.”
“That’s not getting worked up easily— that’s manipulative.” she said bluntly. “You shouldn’t have to kiss his ass just to have a peaceful day.”
You sighed at her words but you knew deep down she wasn’t wrong. It was a never-ending cycle—barely a week went by without you having to bend over backwards to soothe his ego. As much as you tolerated it, it was wearing you down.
“He doesn’t deserve you,” Semi continued. “Seriously. You're the perfect girlfriend, and he still finds shit to complain about. Who else would deal with his behavior and still love him unconditionally?”
You didn’t respond to Semi. Not because she was wrong, but because hearing it out loud made it harder to keep pretending you were okay—that this relationship was still something worth fighting for.
Your eyes burned, but you refused to let the tears fall. Instead, you curled into yourself and stared at the ceiling, blinking hard, letting silence swallow the you.
Semi eventually put her phone down. “Hey,” she said softly, moving closer. “Don’t let him do this to you.”
You bit your lip, voice barely above a whisper. “I just wanted him to love me… the way I love him.”
There was a beat of silence, then the sheets shifted as Semi reached out and brushed your hair back. Her touch was gentle, lingering— something you hadn’t felt in a long time.
“It’s okay. His love isn’t worth it anyways.” She said, wiping the stray tears off your cheek. “You have a big heart, you just give it to the wrong people.”
Her words turned the faucets on your eyes even more. She saw right through you— and you didn’t know if you were thankful for finally being seen, or disappointed you let yourself be so vulnerable.
Her presence was warm, grounding. When you looked up at her, she wasn’t judging you. She just looked sad— for you. The dim lighting around the room sharpened her features as she hovered over you, closer and more intimate than you’d ever been.
You exhaled shakily. “I don’t want to cry about him anymore.” you whispered. “I just… I need to think about something else.”
She tilted her head. “What do you mean?”
You hesitated. Eyes searching hers, voice low. “I just need a distraction. From him— from everything.”
A pause. A deep, silent pause.
Her fingers threaded gently between yours— as if she were scared you’d float away. Suddenly, she leaned in. It was quick, like she was chasing the moment before it slipped from her grasp.
As her lips met yours, you felt a firework go off in your chest. It felt like all your problems disappeared, and you had nothing in the world to worry about.
Her thumb brushed your cheek as she deepened the kiss, now careful and slow, her lips moving like she was learning you—memorizing you.
You kissed her back with all the ache in your heart. With all the confusion and the quiet yearning you didn’t know had been growing between you for so long.
When she pulled away, her forehead rested against yours, breath shallow.
Those same eyes that once stared at your friend with adoration, looked right at her with nothing but love. She had been the only one there for you no matter what, and she always knew how to comfort you.
Maybe it was the state of vulnerability— maybe it was the fact that you felt truly seen for the first time in years— but something in you flipped. Looking up at Semi, you could tell she felt it too.
Semi let out the softest sound against your before her hands gripped your waist with even more urgency. Then, in one swift motion, she flipped you over, guiding you so you were straddling her.
Your thighs fell open over her lap, your hands braced against her chest. You stared down at her, breath unsteady and heart pounding as the shift in position sent a flood of heat straight between your legs.
“Semi—” you whispered, your voice caught between hesitation and desire.
Her eyes locked with yours, dark but steady. “Shh, it’s okay” she murmured. “Are you comfortable with this?”
As you let out a whiney “yes”, her hands slid under your shirt, palms dragging up your sides as she pulled you down again, your mouths colliding with a new intensity.
The kiss was still careful— but deeper now, hungrier. Her tongue dragged along your bottom lip, urging you to open wider, your bodies pressing together like they were aching to disappear into one another.
You rocked against her without thinking, the friction sending a quick gasp from your throat. The thin fabric of your sleep shorts and her pajama pants did little to muffle the feeling— it was all heat and pressure and desperate tension.
One of her hands found the crook of your back, guiding your hips into a slow, deliberate grind against hers.
It was slow—messy. Like you’d been waiting your whole lives for this moment. Your hands tangled in her hair as she pushed you down, making you grind even harder—pulling a moan straight from your throat and into her mouth.
The kiss was intoxicating. You could spend hours in that same position, studying each other’s mouths as you backed yourself onto her, over and over again.
But suddenly, her lips pulled away from yours with a soft pop, her eyes flicking downward as her expression shifted.
Her hands, once clinging to your back, moved to your waist as she sat you upright. In one smooth motion, she tugged your shirt off and tossed it aside.
Wearing nothing but a bra underneath, you barely had time to react before Semi hooked her fingers beneath the band and lifted it, freeing your breasts.
Then she gently pushed you back down, pressing your bare chest to hers. As you laid there, stomach to stomach, she lowered her mouth and took one of your breasts into it, licking slow, hot stripes across your skin.
A sharp gasp tore from your lips, your back arching into her touch as she traced dizzying circles around your nipple, her other hand finding the second breast—rolling it carefully beneath her fingers.
Your head shot back in pleasure as your hips rolled into hers. A low moan escaped her throat, muffled against your skin. You could feel the vibrations travel straight through your chest, making your body twitch with need.
Suddenly, Semi flipped you around once again, softly placing your head down on the pillow below you as she hovered over your face.
"Fuck, you're so pretty..." she murmured, her voice warm and slick with lust as she kissed a trail down your sternum. "He doesn't deserve all this."
You whimpered, caught between embarrassment and raw desire, your fingers tangling in the sheets. Then, without warning, her hand dipped lower—skimming over your stomach before slipping past the waistband of your shorts.
Your breath caught. “Semi—”
“Shh” she whispered against your neck, teeth grazing the spot that made your thighs clench. “Let me take care of you.”
You did. You let her pull your shorts down your legs, slow and deliberate, her eyes never leaving yours. When her fingers finally slipped between your thighs—you gasped, grabbing at her shoulders as your hips jerked.
She smiled, almost wickedly, as she dragged her fingers through your slick heat. “God, you’re soaked.”
Your whole body trembled as she slid a finger inside, followed by another, curling just right—just enough to make you see stars. "Keep looking at me," she whispered, and when your eyes met hers again, the intensity in her gaze nearly undid you.
“Please…” you breathed, not even sure what you were begging for anymore. She kissed you again, deep and slow, fingers never relenting.
Your moans spilled freely into her mouth as she swallowed every sound you gave her, fingers thrusting deeper, knuckles brushing places that made your toes curl.
Your thighs tensed around her hand, your body arching, desperate and trembling. She was unrelenting—curling, twisting, fucking you slow and steady like she knew exactly what you needed. Like she’d been memorizing your body long before tonight.
“S-Semi, I’m—” you choked out, breath hitching as your nails dug into her shoulders.
“I know” she whispered, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Don’t fight it. Let go for me, baby.”
With a final curl of her fingers and a firm press of her thumb, your vision blurred.
You shattered—hips jerking, mouth falling open in a silent cry, heat ripping through your core in violent, pulsing waves. She held you through it, her other hand gripping your waist, grounding you as you fell apart.
And even as you came down, gasping and twitching, she didn’t stop. Her mouth moved back to your chest, tongue flicking lazily across your oversensitive nipple as her fingers slowed, dragging every last aftershock from your trembling body.
“S-Semi—fuck, wait—too much,” you whined, trying to twist away. But she only smirked, her voice low and smug against your skin. “Thought you could take it, baby.”
You shook your head, dazed and overstimulated, but still aching in that deep, dizzy way. Still clinging to her touch. She pulled her fingers out with an agonizing slowness, bringing them to her mouth and sucking them clean—never breaking eye contact.
“Taste so good” she murmured, voice low and warm as she licked her fingers clean—slow, deliberate. Her eyes never left yours, dark with desire, but soft around the edges.
You were still breathless, your thighs trembling from the high she had already pulled out of you. But the way she looked at you—like she was nowhere near done—sent a fresh wave of heat straight to your core.
She kissed your inner thigh once, then again a little higher, her breath brushing your skin. “Just relax for me, okay?”
You nodded, barely able to speak.
Semi guided your legs open with gentle hands, her thumbs stroking lazy circles into your skin as she settled between them. Her lips trailed soft, reverent kisses from your knee to the crease of your thigh, patient, savoring every inch of you.
“You're so pretty like this,” she whispered, her breath warm against your cunt before she placed the softest kiss right on your clit. You gasped, arching onto her slightly.
She smiled at the reaction, then dipped her head again—tongue tracing slow, teasing strokes between your folds, as if she had all the time in the world. Her hands came to rest on your hips, grounding you, holding you in place without force.
Her tongue moved with purpose but tenderness, curling and licking slow circles that made your eyes flutter shut. She moaned softly against you, sending gentle vibrations through your body, and the sensation made your breath hitch.
"That's it..." she murmured, voice low and steady between soft licks. "Just let me take care of you."
Your hand found her hair, fingers curling in without thinking—more for something to hold onto than to guide her. She was already tuned into every reaction you gave, adjusting her pace with each shiver, each breathy moan.
You felt her mouth seal around your clit, the suction light but unrelenting. Your hips rolled instinctively into her touch, and she welcomed it—humming softly like your pleasure was a melody she already knew by heart.
“I—I’m… fuck—“ you whispered, voice barely audible, overwhelmed by how good, how gentle it felt.
She responded with a kiss to your clit and a quiet, “I know.” Her hands rubbed your inner thighs with tenderness as she slightly increased her pace—adjusting her mouth to your body's responses.
Your fingers tightened in her hair as your body arched, overwhelmed by the warmth building in your stomach and the dizzying pleasure of her tongue. Every movement, every flick, every hum of hers seemed crafted just for you. She made you feel worshipped, adored—even with your legs shaking and your thoughts reduced to pure feeling.
When it hit—when your orgasm rolled through you, quiet yet all-consuming. You let out a soft, breathless cry—body trembling as you melted into the bed.
Semi didn’t stop right away. She eased you through it gently, mouth slowing with care as her hands rubbed your thighs until you softened beneath her completely. Only when your body gave a tired twitch and your breathing grew shallow did she finally lift her head.
She pressed a kiss just above your mound, then another on your stomach as she moved up your body. Her hand brushed the hair from your face before she nestled beside you, pulling the blanket over both your bodies with a soft hum.
You were quiet for a moment, your head resting against her shoulder, her fingers tracing mindless shapes into your spine.
“…Thank you,” you whispered, eyes heavy, voice hoarse.
She kissed your forehead softly. “You don’t have to thank me. I wanted to.”
You nuzzled closer to her warmth, leg slipping between hers. Everything felt hazy, gentle, safe. Her skin was warm against yours, heartbeat a slow lullaby beneath your cheek.
She held you like she didn’t want to let go, her touch light but firm, grounding you as sleep began to tug at the edges of your body.
“You okay?” she murmured quietly.
You nodded into her chest. “Yeah… more than okay.”
A small smile tugged at her lips as she tucked the blanket up to your chin. “Good. Then sleep.” With her arms wrapped around you, her scent lingering in the air, and her body curved perfectly against yours, it didn’t take long.
You drifted off like that—bare skin to bare skin, hearts steady, wrapped in a warmth that didn’t just touch your body, but held your soul.
