#Jae Choi

[gongyoosgf]

THE SILLIES!!

[goose-duck]

[tinyufoboss]

no, no, it's fine

[angel-wing-feathers]

WHY DOES HE KEEP DOING THIS 😭😭

(Hwang Dong-hyuk i’m your biggest fan)

[melercies]

Made these two particular GIFS of these two cause look at them. They're so cute. <33 LOOK AT THEM. I was practically like: "MY SHAYLAAAASSS"

[dailyuh]

they’re so annoying I love them more than anything 💕

insta <3

[1796samuel-seabury1729]

gorgeous men oh my god

[dovediva]

HE'S SO HOT I NEED HIM SO BAD

[come-as-you-are-111]

Touchy boy

Warnings: Nothing! Just fluff!

You had entered the games in an attempt to get out of the debt you were drowning in.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You had promised yourself since red light, green light, you wouldn’t get attached—that you’d keep your head down, play smart, and survive.

And then there was Nam-Gyu.

From the moment you met, he’d been unbelievably touchy. At first, you chalked it up to nerves—maybe he was just the type who needed physical reassurance to stay calm. But then it became routine.

The way his arm would sling over your shoulder when you went to collect your food from the guards.

The way he’d always find some excuse to sit close, knees touching when you guys sat on the steps to the bunks.

The way, after a particularly brutal game (Mingle), he had found you sitting against the wall, shaking, and wordlessly pulled you into his chest—his chin resting against the top of your head, his arms wrapped tight around you like he could shield you from everything.

“Just breathe,” he had murmured. “We’re still alive.”

And you let him. Because, somehow, his touch made everything feel a little less terrifying.

Now, as the next game looms closer, you sit together in the dimly lit dormitory, the hum of tension thick in the air. The beds around you are mostly empty, scattered players keeping to themselves, whispering anxiously about what horrors tomorrow might bring.

Nam-Gyu is lying beside you, one arm draped lazily over your stomach, his fingers tracing random patterns against your shirt. It should feel too close, too intimate for a place like this, but it doesn’t. It feels… grounding.

“You okay?” he asks, voice quieter than usual.

You exhale. “Not really.”

He shifts, propping himself up on his elbow to look at you. His brows knit together, concern flickering across his face.

“You have that look again.”

You blink. “What look?”

“The one that says you’re planning to do something stupidly self-sacrificial tomorrow,” he mutters.

You scoff. “I don’t—”

“You do,” he cuts in, eyes narrowing. “And I get it. You want to play smart, keep your team safe, but you can’t just throw yourself into danger every time. Not when—”

He stops himself.

Not when what?

The unspoken words hang between you, thick as the tension in the room.

And then—softly, like he’s testing the waters—he reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers.

“You don’t have to do this alone, you know,” he murmurs.

Your throat tightens.

Because somewhere along the way, this stopped being just about survival. Somewhere along the way, he became the only reason you still had something to fight for.

A sudden noise—a shout from across the dorm—breaks the moment. Players on both sides, arguing and yelling obscenities at each other.

Nam-Gyu sighs, rolling onto his back but keeping his fingers laced with yours. “I hate this place,” he mutters.

You squeeze his hand. “Me too.”

Silence settles again, heavier now. You should sleep—both of you should—but neither of you move.

“Hey,” Nam-Gyu mumbles after a beat. “If we get out of here…”

You turn your head to look at him.

“…What?”

His grip on your hand tightens. “Let’s go somewhere far. Somewhere warm. Somewhere we don’t have to look over our shoulders every second.”

Your chest aches. “You really think we’re gonna get out of this?”

He shifts again, eyes locking onto yours—serious, determined. “Yea, that’s why we’re voting X tomorrrow.”

And for the first time since you got here, you let yourself believe him.

A/n: Hi my lil monsters! How we likey? Felt like writing a fluffy ass Nam-Gyu fic since everyone thinks my baby is a asshole 😔

Love ya, Twilight

Taglist:

@amoristt @lousypotatoes @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun

Squid game taglist:

@amoristt @lousypotatoes @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun @takuma-talkz

[prodineonblue]

Nam-su

or was it Nam-Gyu?

Guess we'll never know

[gongyoosgf]

THEY’RE SO CUTE AND EXCITED!!

THEIR SMILES AND NAMGYU’S LITTLE HOP? OH I’M SOBBING.

[goose-duck]

hoops

[tinyufoboss]

you can be cute sometimes

[publpi]

bumpin' THAT💜

[melercies]

pairing(s): nam-gyu x reader, thanos x reader (separate)

warning(s): dubious consent, (guys, literally it's just) smut; oral fixation (receiving + giving) & fingering [minors dni], (fem anatomy, but gender-neutral), overstimulation, orgasm denial, degradation, dirty talk, power play, rough handling, choking/gagging, lowercase intended use and my best interpretation of the two characters. <3

author's note: i had to sit there for a good hour to think and just write LMAO PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED/MESSED UP ANYTHING. likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated. i just want feedback. <//3

when it comes to giving oral for nam-gyu, he doesn't do things to please people—he does things for his own gratification. if he’s going down on someone, it’s because he wants to, not because he feels like he should. he doesn’t care about making the experience soft or romantic; he’s crude, rough, and enjoys seeing you squirm under his control.

when he pins you down, his fingers leave marks—his rings biting into your thighs as he spreads them apart, the cold metal contrasting against the heat of his touch. he likes seeing the indents they leave behind, a reminder of how thoroughly he’s going to ruin you.

he's aggressive. his pace is unforgiving from the start—he doesn’t waste time teasing unless he’s feeling particularly cruel. he’d rather get you messy and desperate as fast as possible, just to hear the sounds you make when you can’t hold back.

if he does feel particularly cruel, his fingers ghost over your inner thighs, barely skimming where you want him most. he watches with amusement as their breathing stutters, dragging his fingertips in slow, deliberate circles until you start begging.

you don’t get time to adjust. you don’t get a moment to breathe before he’s already working you up, dragging you towards the edge at a brutal, reckless speed.

his rings are cold against your skin, contrasting with the heat of his mouth, his fingers— and he doesn’t care if it’s too much, if your thighs twitch helplessly against his shoulders.

in fact? he likes it, it satisfies him to see you like this. to see how he could easily reduce you into such a state.

your body can barely keep up, writhing under him, squirming, panting— and that’s exactly what he wants.

he pulls back for just a second, only enough to lock eyes with you, his chin glistening with slick, his fingers still buried deep in you.

“messy already?” his tone is mocking, darkly amused, but he doesn’t give you a chance to respond as he pulls his fingers out for a split second.

before his fingers slam back in, fast and rough, scissoring you open while his mouth latches back on, sucking hard, tongue flicking fast.

you cry out, body jerking, but he holds you down, forcing you to take it. "stay still."

expect zero tenderness. if he drags his tongue slowly, it’s not to be sensual—it’s to watch you twitch and whimper, just so he can pull back and smirk at you when you start begging. he gets off on knowing he’s the one reducing you to a wreck, and he’s not above mocking you for it.

he likes it messy. sloppy, wet, and borderline overwhelming. he enjoys seeing you come undone, saliva and arousal coating his lips, your thighs shaking under his grip. it feeds his ego—he��ll wipe his mouth with the back of his hand afterward, looking smug as hell.

control is a huge factor for him. nam-gyu isn’t the type to let you take charge—he'll literally fight for his life for it, even when he’s the one on his knees. he’ll pin your hips down to keep them from moving or tease you until you're pleading, just to remind you that he decides when you can get what you want.

if you try to guide him—tangling your fingers in his hair, pushing him deeper—he’ll purposefully slow down or pull away entirely. “getting greedy, huh?” his tone is amused, but there’s a warning in his eyes. he wants you to beg, not demand.

if you're close, he slows down—smirking against your skin as he pulls back just enough to make you whine pathetically. “what? you were right there?” his voice is mocking, but his fingers don’t stop, keeping you on the edge without letting you tip over.

when he finally does let you finish, it’s never gentle. his mouth and fingers work in sync, his fingers pressing hard against your most sensitive spots as he devours you. he’ll keep his mouth on you even after you finish and feel sensitive, which pushes you past your limits, he only wants to hear you gasp and stammer. he enjoys overstimulation, making you whine and writhe from how overwhelming it is.

he leans back, grinning like a bastard, dragging his fingers over his lips to taste them before wiping them on your inner thigh—a filthy, possessive mark left behind. “messy, huh? look at you.”

he doesn't do this to be sweet—he does it to own you, to leave you trembling and ruined so you don’t forget who’s in control.

when nam-gyu is the one receiving...he's rough, impatient, and demanding when it comes to being on the receiving end. he doesn't just sit back and let you take your sweet time—he expects you to handle him the way he wants.

the first thing he does? he rests his fingers under your chin, tilting your head up to look at him before he lets you start. the metal of his rings is cool against your skin, his thumb swiping over your lips before pressing in slightly, forcing you to open up for him.

he's not the type to just sit still and enjoy it. he thrives on power, and even when you're the one on your knees, he finds ways to assert dominance—gripping your hair, muttering crude praise, thrusting his hips forward just to watch you struggle to keep up.

he loves it when you choke on him. he won’t stop, either—if you gag, he’ll just chuckle, “too much for you?” before pushing deeper before it hits the back of your throat, enjoying the sight of you trying to take it.

he gets off on the control, but also on the raw desperation—he wants you to want and feel it just as much as he does. if you’re hesitant or shy, he’ll make you work for his approval, guiding you until you learn how to take him the way he likes.

he leans back, spreading his legs lazily, arrogantly, completely unbothered. one arm draped over the couch, the other resting against your jaw, thumb tracing your bottom lip, pressing against your tongue—just enough to feel the heat of your mouth.

“you nervous?” his voice is mocking, laced with amusement, but there’s a challenge in his gaze—daring you to prove him wrong.

if you hesitate? if you take too long?

he exhales sharply, shaking his head. disappointed.

“guess you don’t want it that bad.”

and then he pulls away. completely.

that’s what gets you desperate, isn’t it? the way he edges you emotionally, keeps you craving his approval, keeps you chasing after what he refuses to give?

but the second you give in—the second you grab at his thighs, lean in, take him into your mouth like you need it?

his expression shifts.

the teasing vanishes.

his jaw tightens, his fingers snap back into your hair, gripping tight, forcing you to take him deeper. his breath stutters out, sharp and ragged, his hips twitching as he groans through his teeth.

“fuck—” his head tilts back, his grip tightening just a little more, watching the way you struggle, watching the tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, watching the way your lips stretch around him.

and once you’ve finally learned?

once you give in, let go, take him the way he likes?

that’s when he fucks your throat in earnest, forcing you to keep up, forcing you to take everything he gives.

because nam-gyu will only reward you when you prove you deserve it.

if you're being too slow, he takes over. his grip tightens, guiding your pace with short, sharp thrusts, his rings digging into your scalp as he fucks your mouth exactly the way he wants. he doesn’t care if it’s overwhelming—he gets off on watching them struggle.

he loves using his fingers to make things even messier. if you’re already drooling? he brings a thumb to your chin, spreading the saliva across your lips, watching with a smirk as you take him even deeper. “look at you,” he murmurs, voice dark. “sloppy thing, aren’t you?”

nam-gyu talks—a lot. his mouth is filthy, and he’s not shy about making comments that are meant to degrade and tease. “c’mon, you can do better than that.” “that’s it, don’t stop now—fuck, you look good like this.”

he’s not gentle when he’s close—his thrusts get sharper, his grip tighter. he doesn’t warn you before finishing, either. he expects you to take it, and if you struggle with it, he only finds it more amusing.

if you pull away too soon or try to pull away, he’ll grab your chin, tilting their face up to make you look at him. “did I say you were done? swallow it.” his tone is low and taunting and his gaze is trained onto you, daring you to try and defy him. a command, not a request.

thanos giving oral...he already is a wildcard—his unpredictability makes everything intense. one moment, he’s slow and teasing, dragging things out just to get a reaction; the next, he’s relentless, pushing you to your limit without hesitation.

he enjoys watching—he wants to see every reaction, from the way you trembles to the way your breathing hitches when he finally gives you what you want. it’s like a game to him, figuring out what makes you fall apart the fastest.

unlike nam-gyu, thanos doesn’t always go straight for the kill. he enjoys taking his time, licking, nipping, savoring—because to him, this is just as much about control as it is about pleasure. he'll slow down just to smirk against your skin, whispering filthy things that reaches towards your ears before diving back in—his fingers spreading you open, making you feel every stroke of his tongue.

he loves teasing. hovering his mouth over where you need him most, exhaling warm breaths against sensitive skin, barely touching you until you’re begging. he wants you to feel desperate for it, trembling under his touch before he finally gives in and gives you exactly what you want.

but once he does get serious? he doesn’t stop. his pace is brutal, relentless—he’ll grip your thighs to keep you from pulling away, tongue flicking, sucking, working you over while his fingers sink deep, curling slow and deliberate. he uses his thumb to press against sensitive spots, teasing in sync with his mouth until you’re sobbing from the intensity and continuous stimulation going through you. it makes you feel like there's nowhere to escape.

occassionally, if he sees you gripping the sheets, he pulls them away, intertwining your fingers with his own—a false sense of intimacy before he overwhelms them completely.

your fingers clench the sheets, gripping desperately, something—anything—to ground yourself as he works you over, tongue flicking with calculated precision. the overwhelming pleasure leaves your body tense, trembling, on the verge of breaking.

and then?

he notices.

before you can react, his hands are on yours, prying your fingers away from the fabric, lacing them together with his own. his grip is warm, firm, intimate—deceptively sweet. his thumbs stroke the backs of your hands, soothing, almost tender, like he’s offering comfort.

it’s a lie.

because the second your body relaxes—just for a moment, just enough to be fooled?

he ruins you.

his tongue flicks faster, lips sealing around you as he sucks hard, dragging another wrecked sound from your throat. your back arches violently, but you can’t pull away—he’s got you locked in, hands entwined, holding you down.

it’s cruel. so, so cruel.

he watches you the entire time.

his half-lidded gaze locks onto yours, drinking in every broken expression, every helpless sob that spills past your lips. and when your fingers tighten around his—not out of intimacy, but desperation?

he just smirks against you.

“that’s it,” he murmurs between deep, torturous strokes of his tongue. “hold on tight.”

overstimulation is his favorite game. even after you finishes, he'll keep going, his fingers stay buried inside, moving slower as he licks up every last drop, keeping you trapped under him, driving you past your limit. he enjoys the way you whimper, the way your body tenses from how overwhelming it is, and the expressions that you make just for him only. only him.

he'll be cocky as hell afterward, too. giving you a show as he licks his fingers clean in front of you before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning down at your wrecked figure like he just won something. “what’s wrong? thought you could handle me. didn't think you'd break so fast.”

thanos doesn't just aim to please—he aims to make you lose your mind.

thanos was already dangerous when he's the one being taken cared of—because unlike nam-gyu, who thrives on control, thanos enjoys unpredictability. his reactions shift on a dime, making it impossible to predict what he’s going to do next.

some nights, he lets you take your time—leaning back, watching you with dark amusement, running a lazy hand through your hair as you work and set your own pace, watching through half-lidded eyes. other nights? he’s ruthless, gripping your jaw or pulling your hair, fucking your mouth like he owns it. he snaps his hips snap forward, making you choke.

you're choking? gagging? struggling to breath? he finds it hot as hell. if you start to falter, he just grins. "c'mon, don't tell me you're already tapping out."

thanos leans back against the couch, one arm slung over the backrest, the other hand resting in your hair. his fingers are light at first, barely guiding, barely pressing.

at first, you think he's going to let you do as you please. but the second you slow down?

his grip tightens.

the lazy amusement in his expression shifts—something sharper, more demanding, as his fingers suddenly tangle into your hair and pull.

“not slacking on me, are you?”

his hips push forward just slightly, his other hand tilting your chin up—forcing you to look at him.

and the moment you start moving again?

he grins.

“good. knew you could take it.”

if you're hesitant, he gets rougher. his fingers press against the back of your head, forcing you down just a little further, making you take more than you're used to. "don't be shy now."

his thumb strokes the corner of your lips, wiping away the saliva that drips down your chin, smirking at the mess. he loves seeing you in such a messy state, being so desperate as you try to keep up with the way he moves.

but if you're experienced? he's a mess—growling, cursing under his breath, losing himself in the sensation. he loves it when you swallow around him, when you get sloppy and desperate just to get him off faster.

when he's close? his grip tightens, his voice dropping into something low and commanding. "you're gonna take it all, yeah? being so good for me."

when he finishes, he’s unpredictable—sometimes, he pulls them up for a messy, open-mouthed kiss, tasting himself on their tongue. other times? he just tilts their chin up, smirking down at them with that wicked gleam in his eyes, like he’s already planning what’s next.

thanos doesn't just enjoy oral—he owns the experience. whether he’s giving or receiving, he makes sure it’s intense, overwhelming, and impossible to forget.

[dailyuh]

truly one of my favorite clips from the new behind the scenes footage. why is nam-gyu freaking that hard. acting like it’s life or death 🙄