#dark!squid game x reader

[lemonsdietcoke]

A Pearl - Player!230

Dark!Choi Su-bong/Thanos x Fem!Reader

Warnings: emotional and physical abuse, NONCON/DUBCON,substance abuse, manipulation, gaslighting, toxic relationships, childhood trauma

Summary: “I fell in love with a war, and nobody told me it ended.” You thought love was supposed to hurt. That it meant holding on when everything burned. Inspired by ‘A Pearl’-Mitski

MINORS DNI

A/n: this story is super heavy so just be prepared going into this. This is probably the darkest thing I’ve written. Also the bold means it’s a flashback. Lmk if yall fw. I love feedback. Lmk what you think!!

……………..

The house is too quiet.

Not the quiet that lulls you to sleep, the kind that hums with the soft rhythm of peace. No. This quiet is suffocating. It weighs down on your chest, fills your throat until you can’t swallow properly, and presses against your ears until every little sound feels magnified. The ticking of the clock is too loud. The hum of the refrigerator rattles through the walls like a warning. And the silence, that awful silence, screams louder than anything else.

You sit on the edge of the bed, the springs groaning under your weight as though the house itself is protesting your stillness. Your fingers move without thinking, the chain of your necklace twisted between them. You tug it forward, letting the locket fall into your palm. The cool metal feels heavier tonight, like it knows something you don’t. You trace the shape of the rose etched into the surface—a small, intricate carving, its petals curling toward the center where the gold is worn smooth from years of touch.

When you were a child, you’d thought the rose was magic. Your parents had given it to you for your twelfth birthday, saving for months to afford something so fine. Your father had clasped it around your neck with careful fingers, your mother watching with teary eyes, saying it was for the little lady you were becoming. You’d carried it with you everywhere, opening the locket a dozen times a day just to see the tiny, faded photo inside—a family portrait taken before everything went wrong. The three of you, smiling despite the faded edges of your clothes, despite the peeling wallpaper behind you. Your father’s arm was wrapped tightly around your mother, and she was holding you on her lap, her hand tucked over yours. You remember the way her hair smelled like rosemary, the way your father’s laugh used to make your chest flutter.

You hadn’t worn the locket in years, not until him. Not until Su-bong had found it in your drawer, tucked away like a secret. “What’s this?” he’d asked, holding it up in the air between two fingers, his expression teasing but curious. When you’d hesitated, he’d snapped the clasp open before you could stop him, his brows raising slightly at the photo.

“Wow,” he’d said with a lopsided grin, tossing it back into your lap like it didn’t matter. “Didn’t know you were the sentimental type.”

You’d put it on that night, your chest burning with embarrassment. You’ve worn it every day since, the metal resting against your skin like armor.

Now, it feels like a lifeline. You wrap your hand around it tightly, letting the edges dig into your palm. The chain pulls against your neck, but you don’t loosen your grip. It’s the only thing keeping you grounded as your thoughts spiral. He left hours ago—another night, another excuse. He hadn’t even stopped to look at you when you asked him to stay.

“Do you really need to go? It’s already late.”

He’d barely paused to shove his shoes on, his hair falling into his face as he fumbled with the laces. His jacket had hung off one shoulder, sloppily thrown on in his hurry to leave. “Don’t start,” he’d muttered, voice low and clipped.

“I just—Su-bong, please.” Your voice had cracked, small and unsure, the way it always did when you tried to hold him back.

That was when he’d stopped. Just for a moment. He’d looked up at you then, a flash of irritation cutting through the haze in his eyes. “I won’t be long,” he’d said, his tone sharp enough to make you flinch. Then he was gone, slamming the door behind him hard enough to make the picture frames rattle against the walls.

He hasn’t come back. You’re not sure if he will.

You glance at the clock on the nightstand. 2:47 AM. The seconds tick by, loud and relentless. You press the locket against your lips, as though the cool metal might soothe the heat rising in your throat. The ache in your chest twists tighter, suffocating and raw, and you force yourself to stand.

The bedroom is dark, lit only by the faint yellow glow of the streetlamp outside. The shadow of the blinds cuts across the walls like a cage. You make your way to the window, each step slow and deliberate. Your legs feel heavy, your bare feet brushing against the cold floor. The night outside is still, the air thick with fog. You half expect to see him stumbling down the street, his head tilted to one side, his steps uneven. But there’s nothing. Just the empty road stretching out into the dark, a void that swallows everything in its path.

Your stomach churns. You don’t even know why you bother looking for him anymore. He never answers your texts when he’s out. He never picks up his phone. He always comes back when he wants to, not a moment before, and when he does, it’s like you’re supposed to forget he ever left. “What are you so worried about?” he always says, brushing you off like you’re a child. “I’m fine. Just let it go, babe.”

He never understands why you can’t let it go.

Your fingers shake as you unlock your phone, scrolling through your empty messages. The last text you’d sent hours ago—“Let me know when you’re on your way home.”—sits unread, untouched. You’d stared at the screen for so long that your eyes had blurred, waiting for the little dots to appear. They never did.

You close the app and toss the phone onto the bed, breathing out shakily. Your chest tightens as you imagine him laughing somewhere, his hand wrapped around a bottle, surrounded by people who don’t care that he’s tearing you apart piece by piece. He’ll come home eventually, his breath hot and sour against your skin, his hands rough and insistent. You’ll let him touch you, because it’s easier than saying no. Because it hurts too much to fight him when he’s like that. Because at least when he’s touching you, you know where he is.

The thought makes your stomach turn. You press your hand to your mouth, your breath shaking against your palm. The metal of the locket digs into your skin again, grounding you, keeping you here, when all you want to do is disappear.

The house is too quiet. The clock ticks louder.

And he’s still not here.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The light in the hallway buzzes faintly, flickering every so often. You’re leaning against the bathroom door, your back pressed flat against the wood, knees curled up tight to your chest. Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, too fast, too loud, until it feels like your whole body is vibrating with it. You can hear him on the other side—his voice rising, slurring, vibrating with that sharp, manic edge that always makes your stomach churn.

“Open the door!” His fist collides with the wood, hard enough to make the frame rattle. “Don’t fucking ignore me!”

The sound sends a jolt through your body. Your hands grip the locket around your neck so tightly the edges press into your palm, the thin gold chain pulling taut against your skin. You don’t even notice the sting. You’re not thinking about anything except how close he sounds. How loud. How angry.

You squeeze your eyes shut, your breathing shallow, uneven. You tell yourself to be quiet—don’t make a sound, don’t move—but your body isn’t listening. Your knees are shaking so badly they knock against the door, the vibration rattling the hinges.

“I’m not gonna fucking ask again!” The next hit is harder, a sharp, jarring kick that makes the whole door shudder. You gasp before you can stop yourself, slapping a hand over your mouth, but it’s too late.

“Oh, so now you’re scared?” he sneers, his voice dropping low and venomous. You can picture the way his lips curl when he says it, that smug, mocking smile that always makes your stomach turn. “What, you think this door is gonna save you? You think I won’t fucking break it down?”

The door shudders again—another kick, harder this time, and you flinch so violently that your head knocks back against the wood. A crack splinters through the frame, faint but audible, and you can feel the panic crawling up your throat.

You press the locket tighter against your chest, the rose etched into its surface digging into your skin. You focus on the weight of it, the coldness of the gold, the soft click of the clasp when it used to open. Anything to keep your mind from spiraling too far. But it’s not enough. Nothing is enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Earlier That Night~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night had started quietly, the house dimly lit as you waited for him to come home. He’d promised you that morning, “I’m staying in tonight, alright? No bullshit.” You hadn’t believed him—not really—but some part of you had wanted to. Some part of you had clung to that tiny, fragile hope like it meant something.

When the door slammed open hours later, you knew.

You’d smelled the whiskey first. It clung to him like a second skin, sharp and sour, mixing with the faint scent of cigarettes that always seemed to follow him. His steps were uneven, his hand gripping the doorframe for balance before he stumbled further inside. He didn’t look at you, didn’t say anything. He just went straight for the kitchen.

You’d stood in the doorway, your chest tightening as you watched him dig through the drawers, muttering under his breath. When he pulled out the pill bottle, your heart dropped.

“Seriously, Su-bong?” you said, your voice sharp before you could stop yourself. “You’re already drunk.”

He didn’t even look at you. He popped the cap off with a flick of his thumb, dumping two pills into his palm and swallowing them dry. “Relax,” he muttered, like you were the one being unreasonable. “I’m fine.”

Something in you snapped. You crossed the room, grabbing the bottle from his hand and slamming it onto the counter. The sound was loud, jarring, but it didn’t make him flinch. If anything, he looked bored.

“Fine?” you snapped. “You can barely fucking stand, and you think you’re fine?”

That got his attention. He turned to you, his gaze narrowing, sharp and calculating even through the haze. A slow, bitter grin spread across his face.

“Oh, so now you’re the expert, huh?” he said, his voice low and mocking. He stepped closer, the smell of alcohol making your stomach churn. “Since when do you give a shit what I do?”

The casual cruelty of it made your throat tighten, your anger dissolving into something smaller, something more fragile. You tried again, softer this time.

“You don’t have to do this,” you said, your voice quiet, careful. “Just… stay home tonight. Please.”

For a second, you thought he might listen. His gaze dropped to the floor, his jaw tightening. He looked tired. Worn out. You could almost see the man you used to know beneath the haze.

But then he shook his head, huffing out a bitter laugh. “I can’t stay here all night listening to your shit.”

You stepped in front of the door before you could stop yourself, your chest tight with something between panic and determination.

“You’re not going anywhere,” you said, your hands trembling as you tried to sound steady.

His head snapped up, his gaze locking on yours. His face twisted into something colder, sharper, and for the first time that night, you felt the first flicker of fear.

“Move,” he said, his voice low and clipped.

You shook your head. “No. I’m serious, Su-bong—”

It happened too fast. One second he was standing there, and the next his hand was wrapped around your arm, gripping so tightly you gasped.

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” he snarled, dragging you to the side like you weighed nothing.

Your other hand shot out instinctively, pushing against his chest as hard as you could. He barely stumbled, but the movement seemed to snap something in him. His hand jerked, his grip tightening until you felt the sharp pinch of his nails digging into your skin.

“You fucking bitch,” he spat, and that’s when you ran.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your breath is coming too fast, too shallow, making your head spin. The pounding on the door has stopped, but you don’t feel any relief. Not yet.

“You’re so fucking pathetic,” he says, his voice quieter now but no less venomous. “Hiding in there like a fucking child. You think I need this shit? You think anyone else would put up with you?”

The words hit harder than his fists ever could. Your hands tighten around the locket until the rose leaves an imprint in your palm, the edges sharp and unforgiving.

You don’t respond. You don’t move. You just sit there, shaking, waiting for him to leave.

Eventually, he does. The front door slams behind him, and the silence that follows is heavier than the noise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The clock’s ticking feels slower now, like it’s dragging time with it. The minutes stretch and warp until they don’t feel like minutes anymore. Just this endless, dragging ache that lives in the pit of your stomach and refuses to leave.

You’re sitting at the kitchen table now, your phone lying in front of you, facedown like it’s mocking you. There’s a mug of tea in your hands, untouched. It’s lukewarm now, the steam long gone, but you don’t put it down. You hold it tightly, your fingers wrapped around the ceramic, because at least it’s something to hold. At least it gives your hands something to do besides tremble.

The house is dark except for the faint glow of the light over the stove. It casts long shadows across the counters, over the piles of unopened mail and empty bottles that have been gathering there for weeks. You keep meaning to clean, but every time you think about it, your body refuses to move. It’s hard enough to get out of bed most days, let alone scrub the smell of him out of the walls.

You glance at your phone again, your chest tightening as though it might vibrate, might light up with his name. It doesn’t. It never does, not when you’re waiting like this. You should be used to it by now, but the sting of it never dulls.

The worst part is, you don’t know if you want him to come home.

You close your eyes, letting your head drop forward, the heel of your hand pressing against the locket that hangs around your neck. The edges of the rose dig into your skin, sharp enough to leave marks. It grounds you, keeps your thoughts from spinning too far out of control.

But the memories are harder to stop. They come rushing in like they always do, filling the silence with the sound of his voice, his laugh, the way he used to look at you like you were something soft, something beautiful, something breakable. He doesn’t look at you like that anymore.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You can still see the first time he smiled at you—really smiled, that kind of stupid grin that made your chest feel too full. You’d been sitting across from him at some shitty little diner, your fork pushing around a plate of cold fries while he talked about some dream he’d had, something ridiculous about a casino and a dog wearing sunglasses. It wasn’t even funny, but the way he told it made you laugh so hard your face hurt. You’d leaned forward, your elbows on the table, and he’d just stopped. Mid-sentence, he’d stopped, like he couldn’t believe you were there.

“You’re cute,” he’d said, simple and easy, like it wasn’t the kind of thing that would stick with you for years.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You open your eyes and the memory dissolves, slipping away into the dark like it never happened. You feel stupid for thinking about it, for still holding onto those pieces of him like they mean something. Like they haven’t been buried under all the yelling and the slammed doors and the nights you spent wondering if he’d ever come home.

You set the mug down on the table, your hands shaking slightly as you fold them in your lap. The quiet feels heavier now, pressing down on your chest until it’s hard to breathe.

What if he doesn’t come back this time? The thought creeps in before you can stop it, wrapping itself around your throat like a noose. It’s not the first time you’ve wondered, but it’s the first time it’s felt real. Like a possibility instead of a threat.

You try to tell yourself that you’d be fine if he didn’t. You’d figure it out. You’d get up tomorrow, make coffee, go to work, clean the house, move on. But the thought of it—of him not being here, of him leaving without even a word—makes your chest feel like it’s caving in. You clutch the necklace tighter, the chain pulling taut against the back of your neck.

He always comes back. He always does.

But what if this time is different?

The clock ticks louder. The house is too quiet.

And you’re still waiting.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The door slams hard enough to shake the walls. You feel it in your chest, a dull, rattling thud that echoes through the quiet house. Your stomach twists, the dread rising so fast it feels like a sickness. You already know how this night is going to end.

You’re still sitting at the kitchen table, the cold mug of tea in front of you. It’s been hours since he left, and you’d given up hope of him coming home sober somewhere around midnight. But now that he’s here, a part of you wishes he’d stayed gone.

You hear his footsteps before you see him, the uneven shuffle of his boots dragging against the floor. When he stumbles into view, it’s like you’ve summoned him with your thoughts. His hair is messy, sticking to his forehead with sweat, and his jacket is hanging off one shoulder. He looks at you, his eyes glassy, his mouth curling into a sloppy grin that makes your chest ache.

“There you are,” he says, his voice low and hoarse. He sounds almost affectionate, but there’s a sharp edge beneath it, the kind that makes your throat tighten.

You don’t say anything. You can’t. Your hands are clenched in your lap, your nails digging into your palms. You’re trying to stay calm, trying to keep your breathing even, but your heart is already pounding.

He doesn’t seem to notice. He walks toward you, his movements slow and unsteady, and leans against the table with one hand. The other hand reaches out to brush a strand of hair away from your face.

“Why are you sitting here all alone?” he murmurs, his tone soft now, almost sweet. The contrast makes you want to scream.

You pull back slightly, your jaw tightening. “Where were you?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. You hate how small you sound, but it’s all you can manage.

His grin falters, and for a second, something colder flickers across his face. “Don’t start,” he mutters, standing up straight. “I don’t want to hear it right now.”

“I’ve been waiting for hours, Su-bong.” You can hear the edge creeping into your voice now, but you can’t stop it. The anger is bubbling up, sharp and bitter, mixing with the fear in your chest. “You said you’d be home—”

“I said, don’t start,” he snaps, cutting you off. His voice is louder now, the sharpness in it making you flinch. He takes a step closer, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, heavy and sour. “What’s your problem, huh? Why do you always have to make a big fucking deal out of everything?”

Your throat tightens, the words you want to say choking on the way up. You look away, your gaze dropping to the table. You can’t do this tonight. You can’t fight him when he’s like this.

But he doesn’t let it go.

“Look at me,” he says, his voice quieter now but no less demanding. He reaches for your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “Why are you so mad, huh? You missed me?”

You don’t answer. You don’t move. You just stare at him, your chest tight with a mix of anger and something that feels too much like fear.

His thumb brushes against your cheek, and his mouth curls into that lopsided grin again. “Come on, baby,” he murmurs, leaning down until his face is inches from yours. “Don’t be like that.”

The kiss is sudden, his lips pressing against yours hard enough to make you pull back instinctively. You turn your head, breaking the contact, but his hand moves to the back of your neck, holding you in place.

“Su-bong, stop,” you say, your voice shaking. You try to push him back, but he doesn’t budge. His grip tightens, his other hand sliding down to your waist.

“You’re so tense,” he mutters, his lips brushing against your ear. “Relax.”

You push harder this time, your hands pressing against his chest, but it only seems to annoy him. His movements become rougher, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you to your feet.

“Stop it!” you cry, your voice rising in panic. “I don’t want to—”

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” he snaps, his voice low and sharp. He spins you around, pressing you against the edge of the table, his body trapping yours in place.

Your heart is pounding now, the fear clawing its way up your throat. You keep trying to push him away, but he’s stronger, and he’s not listening.

The locket around your neck catches on the edge of the table, the chain pulling tight against your skin. Your hand shoots up instinctively, clutching it, your fingers trembling as you press it against your chest.

“Su-bong, please,” you whisper, your voice breaking.

He doesn’t answer. His hands are on your hips now, his grip bruising as he pulls you closer. The tears sting at the corners of your eyes, but you don’t let them fall. You don’t move. You don’t fight. You just stare at the wall, your breathing shallow, your fingers clutching the locket like it’s the only thing holding you together.

You can hear him murmuring something under his breath—something about how good you feel, how much he missed you—but the words blur together, lost in the haze of your thoughts. You’re not here anymore. You’re somewhere else. Somewhere quiet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The house is still. The only sound is his breathing, slow and heavy as he lies beside you, one arm draped carelessly over your waist. You don’t move. You don’t even blink.

The locket is still in your hand, the imprint of the rose etched into your palm. You stare at the ceiling, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, and try to ignore the ache between your legs.

The tears come later, after he’s asleep. You press your face into the pillow, your shoulders shaking as you cry silently into the dark.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The car engine rumbles beneath you, a low, uneven growl that vibrates through the seat and into your chest. Su-bong’s hand is loose on the wheel, his other arm resting on the open window as the wind whips through the car. He’s not driving fast, but the way he keeps drifting too close to the curb, jerking the wheel at the last second, makes your stomach twist.

You press your hand against your thigh, trying to keep it from shaking, and force your gaze to stay on the road. You don’t want to look at him. You don’t want to see the glassy, unfocused look in his eyes or the faint grin that keeps twitching at the corner of his mouth. He hasn’t said much since you left the bar—just a few muttered curses under his breath, his jaw tight and his grip on the wheel tightening every time he takes a turn too sharply.

You want to tell him to stop. To pull over. To let you drive. But the words stick in your throat, thick and heavy, like a stone weighing you down. You know how that conversation will end. He’ll snap at you, tell you to relax, accuse you of trying to control him. And you’re too tired to argue. Too tired to do anything except sit there and hope the car doesn’t drift too far into the wrong lane.

The silence feels heavier than the rumble of the engine.

“You embarrassed me,” he mutters suddenly, his voice breaking the quiet like a crack of thunder.

You flinch, your hands tightening in your lap. “I wasn’t trying to,” you say quietly, your gaze still fixed on the road ahead.

He snorts, shaking his head. “Really? Because, You had to make a fucking scene, didn’t you? In front of everyone.”

The heat rises in your chest, sharp and stifling, but you press it down. You’ve gotten good at that—at swallowing your anger, letting it fester somewhere deep inside where it can’t escape. “I wasn’t trying to make a scene,” you say again, your voice quieter this time. “I just… I didn’t want you to drink anymore.”

“Why do you care?” he snaps, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. His grin is gone now, replaced by that sharp, mocking sneer that makes your stomach churn. “What’s it to you?”

You don’t answer. You don’t trust yourself to.

The car jerks suddenly as he swerves to avoid a parked car, and your heart leaps into your throat. He laughs—a short, bitter sound that makes your skin crawl—and slams his palm against the steering wheel. “Relax,” he mutters, his voice dripping with irritation. “Jesus, you’re so fucking tense all the time. It’s not that serious.”

It feels serious. Everything about this feels serious—the car, the road, the weight of his anger pressing down on you like a hand around your throat.

You don’t say anything else for the rest of the drive. You just stare out the window, watching the dark streets blur together, and press your hand against the locket around your neck, the edges of the rose digging into your skin.

~~~~~~~~~

The house looks worse than the last time you saw it, though you’re not sure how that’s even possible. It’s his friend’s place. The place they all went to drink themselves into oblivion, and share drugs.

The porch sags under its own weight, the roof dotted with holes that make it look like it’s caving in. The windows are either boarded up or covered with newspaper, and the light above the door flickers weakly, casting the entire place in a sickly yellow glow.

Su-bong doesn’t wait for you to follow. He slams the car door shut behind him and walks up the steps, his boots heavy against the rotting wood. You hesitate for a moment, your hand still resting on the car door, and try to swallow the lump in your throat. You don’t want to go in there. You don’t want to see his friends, to feel their eyes on you, to sit in that awful, stifling air and pretend you’re okay.

But you don’t have a choice. Not really.

The inside of the house smells worse than you remember—like sweat, beer, and something sharp and chemical that makes your nose burn. The walls are yellowed with smoke, the carpet littered with cigarette butts and broken glass. There’s a coffee table in the middle of the room, its surface covered in ashtrays, empty pill bottles, and the faint glitter of crushed powder.

Su-bong’s friends are sprawled across the couches and chairs, their laughter filling the room like static. One of them glances up as you walk in, his bloodshot eyes narrowing slightly. He doesn’t say anything. Neither do you.

Su-bong shrugs off his jacket, tossing it onto the back of a chair, and grabs a beer off the table without a word.

“You’re late,” one of the guys Nam-gyu mutters, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. He’d been friends with Su-bong for a long time. Before you even met him.

“Yeah, well,” Su-bong mutters, twisting the cap off the bottle with his teeth. “Got caught up.”

Nam-gyu glances at you, his gaze lingering a little too long, and something tightens in your chest. Su-bong notices, too. He sets the beer down and shoots the guy a look, his voice sharp as he says, “What the fuck are you staring at?”

Nam-gyu laughs, holding his hands up in mock surrender. His sweaty hair falling around his face, framing it.“Nothing, man. Relax.”

Su-bong doesn’t say anything else. He just takes another sip of his beer, his eyes flicking toward you briefly before turning back to the table.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The hallway feels narrower than it should. The light from the main room barely reaches back here, leaving everything steeped in shadow, the air growing thicker and harder to breathe the farther you go. You can hear the faint hum of the television from the living room, the muffled sound of laughter and the clinking of bottles. The floor beneath you creaks with every step, the uneven boards sticky against your shoes.

The door to the back room is half-open, the dim yellow light spilling into the hallway. Su-bong pulls you inside without a word, his grip firm around your wrist. The door shuts behind you with a soft thud, sealing the two of you into the suffocating darkness.

Your first instinct is to stop breathing. The smell hits you like a wall—stale sweat, mildew, and the sour, chemical tang of old beer. There’s a mattress on the floor, sagging in the middle, its surface stained with patches of something dark and unrecognizable. The fabric is dotted with cigarette burns, the edges curling up like it’s been sitting here for years.

A single roach skitters across the corner of the mattress, vanishing into a crack in the wall before you can even process what you’ve seen.

Your stomach churns, your body screaming at you to leave, leave, leave, but Su-bong is already pulling you toward the mattress, his hands clumsy and insistent as they find your waist.

“Su-bong,” you whisper, your voice trembling. “Stop.”

He doesn’t listen.

His breath is hot and sour against your neck, reeking of alcohol and something sharp and metallic. His hands slide up your sides, rough and impatient, tugging at the fabric of your shirt. You push against him weakly, your palms flat against his chest, but he’s too strong, too stubborn, and you’re too tired to fight.

“Relax,” he mutters, his voice low and hoarse. His fingers grip your shirt harder, pulling it up over your head before you can stop him. “You’re always so fucking tense.”

The room feels smaller now, the walls pressing in on you as the smell of sweat and mildew grows thicker, coating the back of your throat. You tilt your head away from him, your gaze darting to the ceiling, to the cracks in the plaster and the faint shimmer of cobwebs in the corner.

The locket presses against your chest, its familiar weight grounding you in a way that feels almost cruel. Your fingers brush against it, trembling as you press it harder into your skin.

“I don’t want to,” you whisper, barely audible.

He pauses for a second, his head tilting slightly, and you think—for just a moment—that he might stop. That he might actually hear you. But then he sighs, annoyed, and grabs your wrist, pulling your hand away from your chest.

“Don’t start,” he mutters, his grip tightening as he pushes you down onto the mattress. The fabric feels damp beneath you, sticky and rough against your skin, and you can feel something small and hard digging into your back—a piece of broken glass, maybe, or a shard of plastic.

You want to cry. You want to scream. But the lump in your throat won’t let you make a sound.

His hands are on you again, rougher this time, tugging at your waistband and pulling you closer. The mattress groans under his weight, the springs creaking loudly enough to drown out the sound of your shaky breathing.

You stop fighting. It’s always easier that way.

The smell of him overwhelms you—sweat, cigarettes, whiskey—and the sound of his voice blurs into static as your mind starts to drift. You stare at the wall, at the faint shadows moving across its surface, and try to focus on anything else.

Your fingers close around the locket again, the edges of the rose pressing into your palm. You focus on the feel of it, the coolness of the metal, the way it feels against your skin. You roll it between your fingers, clutching it tightly, and let your mind go quiet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The room is silent except for the sound of his breathing—heavy and uneven as he collapses beside you, his arm draped carelessly over your waist. The mattress shifts under his weight, the springs creaking one last time before the quiet settles over you like a blanket.

You don’t move. You don’t speak. You just lie there, staring at the ceiling, your fingers still curled around the locket.

There’s a roach on the wall above you, its legs moving slowly as it crawls toward the corner of the room. You watch it for a moment, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, before closing your eyes.

The smell lingers—on your skin, in your hair, in the back of your throat. You know you won’t be able to wash it off, not entirely. It’ll stay with you, just like everything else.

You don’t realize you’re crying until the tears start to slip down your temples, soaking into the filthy mattress beneath you.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The car ride home is silent.

Not the kind of silence that settles naturally, soft and comfortable. This silence is jagged, sharp enough to cut, stretching tight between the two of you like a rubber band about to snap. The sound of the engine hums beneath you, broken only by the occasional crunch of gravel as Su-bong drifts too close to the shoulder.

His hands grip the wheel loosely, his knuckles brushing against the cracked leather as he leans back in the seat. His head tilts slightly to the side, his eyes half-lidded and glassy, and you can smell the whiskey on him even from here.

You press your hand against the locket around your neck, your fingers curling around the metal as your chest tightens. You don’t dare look at him.

The tension in the car is suffocating, pressing against your chest like a weight. Your throat feels tight, your pulse thudding in your ears. You want to say something, anything, to break the silence—but the words stick in your throat, thick and heavy, refusing to come out.

When the house finally comes into view, you feel a flicker of relief. But it’s fleeting, gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the hollow ache that’s been sitting in your chest all night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The door slams behind you as Su-bong stumbles into the living room, tossing his jacket onto the couch without a second glance. You linger near the doorway, your hand still gripping the locket tightly, as though it might anchor you to something real.

The house is dark except for the faint glow of the streetlamp outside. Shadows stretch across the walls, long and jagged, and the air feels heavy, stagnant, like it’s holding its breath.

Su-bong doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t even look at you. He just collapses onto the couch, his head tilting back against the cushion, his eyes closed.

For a moment, you think he might pass out.

But then he sighs—a long, low sound that seems to echo in the silence—and drags a hand down his face. His fingers rub against his temples, slow and deliberate, and his leg bounces restlessly against the floor.

“You’re mad,” he mutters, his voice slurred but steady.

You don’t respond.

He opens his eyes, tilting his head to look at you. There’s something in his gaze—something searching, something almost vulnerable—that makes your stomach twist.

“Say something,” he says, his voice quieter now.

You stare at him, the weight of his gaze pressing down on you like a physical force. Your chest aches, the words you want to say bubbling up inside you, but you swallow them down. You don’t trust yourself to speak.

His leg stops bouncing. He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together as he looks at the floor.

“I know I fucked up,” he says quietly. “I know that.”

The words hang in the air, brittle and heavy, and you feel your fingers tighten around the locket.

“I shouldn’t have taken you there,” he continues, his voice breaking slightly. “I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have done any of it.”

He looks up at you then, his eyes glassy and rimmed with exhaustion. “I don’t even know why you put up with me,” he says, his voice cracking. “I’m such a fucking mess.”

He stands up slowly, unsteady on his feet, and takes a step toward you. His hands reach for yours, warm and trembling slightly as they close around your wrists.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he says, his voice low and desperate. “You’re all I have. You’re the only thing that keeps me together.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your chest tightening as you stare at him. You want to pull away, to put distance between you, but his grip is firm, almost pleading.

“I’ll do better,” he says, his words spilling out in a rush. “I’ll stop drinking, I’ll stop everything. I’ll get clean. I swear to God, I’ll do it for you.”

You close your eyes, the tears stinging at the corners as you shake your head. “You’ve said that before,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

“I mean it this time,” he insists, his grip tightening slightly. His voice cracks on the last word, and you can feel the tremor in his hands. “I’ll prove it to you. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just… please don’t give up on me. Please.”

He steps closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You think anyone else is gonna love you like I do?” he asks, his tone soft but cutting. “You think anyone else is gonna put up with you?”

Your breath hitches, the words cutting deeper than they should.

“Your family doesn’t want you,” he says, his voice cracking slightly, like he’s holding back tears. “They’ve never wanted you. But me? I love you. I need you. You’re the only good thing I’ve got.”

The locket feels heavy in your hand, the edges of the rose digging into your palm. You want to scream, to push him away, to tell him to stop—but the lump in your throat won’t let you speak.

“What if you can’t?” you whisper, your voice breaking. “What if you don’t stop? What if it’s always going to be like this?”

He shakes his head, his expression tightening with something that almost looks like panic. “It won’t be,” he says quickly. “I swear, baby. I’ll fix it. I’ll fix everything.”

The tears slip down your cheeks, hot and relentless, and you press your free hand to your face, trying to stifle the quiet sob that escapes your lips.

“Please,” he whispers, his voice breaking. He pulls you into his arms, his grip almost crushing as he presses his face against your hair. “Just give me another chance. That’s all I need. One more chance.”

You don’t hug him back.

But you don’t pull away, either.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He falls asleep hours later, curled up beside you on the bed, his breathing slow and even. You sit there in the dark, staring at the wall, the locket clutched tightly in your hand.

You want to believe him. You want to believe him so badly it hurts.

But deep down, you already know this isn’t the last time he’ll make this promise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first sign is the smell.

It hits you when you walk into the living room one evening, faint at first, like a memory trying to claw its way to the surface. You pause in the doorway, your hand tightening around the frame as you try to place it. It’s familiar. Sharp and acrid, clinging to the air like a ghost.

Cigarettes.

He’d thrown out the pack weeks ago. You’d watched him do it—watched the way his jaw tightened as he flicked the lighter one last time, muttering under his breath about how he didn’t need it, how it was “just a habit” and “no big deal.”

“I’m serious this time, baby,” he’d said, his voice almost convincing. “No more of this shit. I’m done.”

But now, the smell is here again, seeping into the walls, curling in the back of your throat like smoke.

You don’t see him at first. The room is dim, lit only by the faint glow of the TV, the sound muted to a soft hum. The curtains are drawn tight, blocking out the fading daylight, and the air feels heavier than it should.

He’s on the couch, slouched low with one leg thrown over the armrest, the other foot flat on the floor. A cigarette dangles from his fingers, the ash building up dangerously close to the filter, and there’s a bottle of something dark and half-empty on the coffee table.

Your stomach twists.

“Su-bong?”

He doesn’t look up. His eyes are fixed on the TV, the flickering images reflecting in his glassy gaze. The smoke curls up from the cigarette, disappearing into the stale air, and you can see the faint rise and fall of his chest as he exhales slowly.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice trembling slightly.

He blinks, slow and deliberate, like it takes effort to process the sound of your voice. When he finally turns to you, his lips curl into a lazy, lopsided grin that makes your chest ache.

“What’s it look like?” he mutters, holding up the cigarette like it’s some kind of joke.

You take a step closer, your hands curling into fists at your sides. “I thought you quit.”

He shrugs, leaning back against the couch with a sigh. “Yeah, well.” He takes a drag from the cigarette, the ember flaring bright in the dim room, and exhales the smoke through his nose. “Didn’t stick, I guess.”

Your chest tightens. You can feel the anger bubbling up inside you, sharp and hot, but it’s tangled with something else—something smaller, something that feels too much like disappointment.

“You said you’d stop,” you say, your voice breaking slightly.

He laughs—low and bitter—and takes another drag, the smoke curling around his lips as he exhales. “Yeah, and you said you’d stop nagging me. Guess we’re both full of shit, huh?”

The words hit harder than they should, knocking the air out of your lungs. For a moment, all you can do is stand there, staring at him, the lump in your throat growing tighter with every second that passes.

It doesn’t stop with the cigarettes.

The next day, it’s the pills. You find the bottle on the kitchen counter, the cap loose, a few of the tablets scattered across the surface like they’d been spilled in a rush.

Your heart sinks as you pick it up, the plastic cool against your palm. You stare at the label, your chest tightening as you recognize the name—one you haven’t seen in weeks, not since the last time he swore he was done.

You don’t even notice him standing behind you until his voice cuts through the silence.

“You going through my shit now?”

You spin around, the bottle clutched tightly in your hand. “I found it on the counter,” you say, your voice sharp. “You’re not even trying to hide it anymore?”

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing slightly, and you can smell the faint tang of alcohol on his breath. “What’s your problem?” he mutters, snatching the bottle from your hand. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Your voice rises, trembling with anger and something closer to panic. “You promised me, Su-bong. You said you were done with this.”

He laughs again—that same bitter, careless sound that makes your chest ache—and shoves the bottle into his pocket. “Yeah, well, promises can be broken.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It all comes to a head one night when he stumbles in late, his steps uneven and his voice loud enough to wake the neighbors.

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, the locket clutched tightly in your hand, when you hear the front door slam. The sound reverberates through the house, rattling the picture frames on the walls, and you feel your chest tighten as the familiar dread settles over you like a weight.

The footsteps are uneven, shuffling, and you can hear the faint clink of glass as he moves through the house. By the time he reaches the bedroom, your hands are trembling, the metal of the locket cool and sharp against your skin.

The door swings open, and he’s there, leaning heavily against the frame. His hair is a mess, sticking to his forehead with sweat, and his jacket is hanging off one shoulder. There’s a bottle in his hand, nearly empty, and his grin is wide and lopsided, his eyes glassy.

“Hey, baby,” he slurs, his voice low and hoarse.

You don’t say anything. You don’t move. You just sit there, staring at him, your chest tight with a mix of anger, sadness, and something that feels too much like fear.

He stumbles into the room, dropping the bottle onto the floor with a dull thud. The smell of whiskey clings to him, heavy and sour, and when he sits down beside you, the mattress dips under his weight.

“Why’re you sitting in here all alone?” he murmurs, his voice soft now, almost affectionate. The contrast makes your stomach turn.

You pull back slightly, your jaw tightening. “Where were you?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He shrugs, leaning back on his hands. “Out.”

“You were supposed to be getting clean,” you say, your voice trembling.

He laughs—soft and breathy—and shakes his head. “Clean’s overrated.”

It’s different this time, though. The relapse isn’t just about him anymore. It’s about you—how much you can take, how much you can survive before the cracks in your foundation become too wide to repair.

You sit there in the dark, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, the weight of his relapse pressing down on you like a hand around your throat. The locket is still in your hand, the rose etched into its surface digging into your palm, but it doesn’t feel like enough.

It never feels like enough.

He’s laughing softly now, his voice slurring as he mutters something you can’t quite hear. His head tilts back, his eyes fluttering shut, and you know he won’t remember any of this in the morning.

But you will.

You always do.

The next day, he’ll act like nothing happened. He’ll grin at you over a mug of coffee, his hair still messy from sleep, and he’ll say something stupid, something that would’ve made you laugh once. And you’ll smile back, the same way you always do, because it’s easier than saying what you’re really thinking.

But deep down, you’ll know: this is how it always goes.

This is how it always ends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The house is too quiet.

Not the quiet that lulls you to sleep, the kind that hums with the soft rhythm of peace. No. This quiet is suffocating. It’s the kind of quiet that makes you feel like you’re the only person left in the world.

You’re lying in bed when you notice it. The sun is just starting to rise, the pale light slipping through the blinds and stretching across the room in thin, fractured lines. You’ve been awake for hours, your eyes fixed on the ceiling, the locket clutched tightly in your hand.

It takes you a moment to realize what’s different. The absence is subtle at first, just a nagging thought at the back of your mind that you can’t quite place. The blankets beside you are crumpled but empty, the faint imprint of his body still visible in the mattress.

You sit up slowly, the ache in your chest twisting tighter as your gaze darts around the room. His boots aren’t by the door. His jacket isn’t hanging on the chair.

Your stomach drops.

No. He wouldn’t. Not like this.

You stand quickly, the blood rushing to your head as you make your way to the living room. The floor creaks beneath your feet, the sound echoing in the stillness, and you feel your chest tighten with every step.

The living room is empty.

The couch is still rumpled from the night before, the faint smell of cigarettes lingering in the air. The ashtray on the coffee table is full, the edges of the glass stained yellow from use. But he’s not here.

You check the kitchen next, your hands shaking as you push open the door. The counters are cluttered with empty bottles and crumpled receipts, the remnants of another night that you’ve already lost track of. His mug is still on the table, the coffee inside gone cold, but there’s no sign of him.

The panic starts to set in now, creeping up your throat like a sickness. You check the bathroom, the hallway, the spare room that neither of you use, but it’s all the same.

Empty.

You make your way back to the bedroom, your chest heaving with shallow breaths, and grab your phone from the nightstand. Your fingers tremble as you unlock the screen, scrolling through your messages with a growing sense of dread.

Nothing.

No missed calls. No texts. No explanations.

You press the phone to your chest, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might break through your ribs.

He always comes back.

You tell yourself this over and over, like a mantra. Like a prayer. He always comes back. No matter how far he goes, no matter how bad the fight, he always comes back.

But deep down, you know this time is different.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You find the letter hours later, tucked underneath the ashtray on the coffee table.

It’s written on the back of an old receipt, the ink smudged in places where he’d pressed too hard. The handwriting is rushed, uneven, but you’d recognize it anywhere.

“Sorry.”

That’s all it says.

Just one word, scrawled across the paper in shaky, uneven letters. No explanation. No apology. No promise to come back.

You read it over and over again, your fingers gripping the edge of the receipt so tightly that it crumples under your touch. The word blurs as the tears spill down your cheeks, hot and relentless, but you don’t stop reading it.

It’s the only thing he left behind.

The house feels bigger now, emptier. You wander through the rooms like a ghost, your feet dragging against the floor, your hands brushing against the walls as though you’re trying to anchor yourself to something.

His things are gone. Not everything—just the essentials. His jacket, his boots, the backpack he keeps in the closet. The rest is still here, scattered across the house like he’s planning to come back for it.

But you know he won’t.

You sit on the edge of the bed, the letter still clutched in your hand, and stare at the locket around your neck. The rose etched into its surface feels sharper today, the edges digging into your palm like a warning.

You think about the last time he smiled at you—the kind of smile that made your chest ache, that made you forget, just for a moment, how much he hurt you. You think about the way his hands felt on your skin, the way his voice sounded when he said your name, the way he used to make you feel like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

But that man is gone. Or maybe he was never real to begin with.

You don’t cry at first.

The tears come later, in the middle of the night, when the weight of the silence becomes too much to bear. You lie on the floor of the living room, the receipt still clutched in your hand, and sob into the empty space where he used to be.

The locket feels heavy against your chest, the chain pulling tight against the back of your neck as you curl into yourself.

You think about calling him. About texting him. About driving to every shitty bar and trap house in the city just to find him. But you don’t.

Because deep down, you know it won’t change anything.

He’s gone.

And he’s not coming back this time.

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

Summary: After getting attacked at the train station, you get rescued by a mysterious stranger. But is that really better?

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20

Part 21

Part 22

Epilogue I - Fucking Finally

Epilogue II - After Ever After

Alternate Timeline - Your girl to death and beyond

To be continued. 🔜

[pacofprunes]

let me help ya’ relax.

thanos / player 230 x reader (squid game)

warnings — noncon, public (voyeurism), tears, kissing, use of the word bitch, use of the word rape, pussy kissing, choking, slight / barely but manhandling,

by clicking read more you consent to reading this content and you are 18+

“hey beautiful.”

“the hell?”

standing right in front of you, or rather over you, player 230. it was night and everyone was asleep or sitting in a corner somewhere. you didn’t know this guy besides seeing him the first two games and seeing him act like a fucking lunatic. you sit up and gather yourself.

“what do you want?”

“oh you know, just wanted to talk to a pretty girl.”

he does a cheeky smile. you stare. what do you even say to that. thank you i guess…?

“uh—”

“no need to thank me, it’s what i do. just such a great fucking guy right?”

he picks at the cross on his neck before pulling a pill out and holds it out to you.

“you use?”

“what?”

“drugs. do you do drugs? or have you done them before?”

how the fuck did he manage to bring his shit in here for one, and for two; why the hell is he more worried about doing drugs rather than living. that’d be the last thing you’d be thinking about.

“no. i dont do them and i dont have any interest in that.”

he does a fake pouty face.

“come on babe, loosen up ya’know? don’t wanna stress your pretty little face out.”

he pops the pill in his own mouth. where was this guy going with this? he clearly wants to stay here, hence the big blue ‘O’ on his jacket. so if he’s bored he should go talk to the people on his side. how the hell could you relax watching people you’ve gotten close to or even have just spoke to once die? meanwhile this dudes been jumping around having the time of his life while he’s been here. if this game ended tomorrow, he’d join it again a million times over. or maybe he wouldn’t but the drugs in his system sure as hell would.

“yeah, no… i appreciate your kindness but i don’t even know you and i think i’m just gonna lay back down.”

he grabs your hand and starts shaking it aggressively.

“my names thanos, it’s great to meet you! now you know who i am.”

he smiles again. you just stare. that’s not how it works at all. you could tell he was waiting for you to introduce yourself but you just brush it off and tell him again you’re going to lay back down. before you go to turn over and lay though, he grabs your face with both of his hands and presses your lips together into a deep kiss. he holds you there for a good while, and it felt like you were suffocating.

“what the fucks wrong with you?”

“baby, you could be my new drug! change that ‘X’ into an ‘O’, we’d be absolutely unstoppable!”

“this is real life you idiot, not some fucking video game!”

you slap his hand away from you and try telling him to get lost, but he just grabs your wrist and pushes you back onto your bed. you yell at him to get the fuck off of you but he just presses a finger up to your mouth hushing you.

“sex is a great way to relieve stress. just let me make you feel good. don’t be too loud though, unless you want the others to see us. but by all means, do it. it’s only going to make me harder.”

he laughed and winked at you. you suck the air through your teeth and he still holds onto your left wrist with one of his hands while letting the other one push at his chest. you’re more cautious with your voice level now and in a whisper you try again to get him to go.

“i don’t want to have sex with you, can you just go? go jack off in the corner or mess with literally any other girl here!”

he ignores you for the time being and goes to push your pants down, but with your free hand you grab his hand to stop him.

“gee babe, how sweet of you to wanna hold my hand! but uh, i kinda need it to get to the fun part.”

he ignores your hand continuing to grab at his, not proving to be much use at all besides annoying him. he pushes your pants down, and then your panties to your ankles; acting as sort of some form of restraint. it would prove to be somewhat more difficult to kick at him now as your footing would get caught in the pant legs. he sits up off of your chest finally and starts to pull his pants and boxers off. you wanted to scream at him so badly to get off of you, to scream for some help, but you knew nobody would and all they’d do was watch. it wasn’t anybody’s problem and they weren’t going to make it theirs.

he cups your sex and starts rubbing circles at your tiny little hole to get you all soaked and ready for him. he leans down and he kisses it. he was literally about to start making out with your fucking pussy.

you squeezed your eyes shut and a couple tears come sliding down. god, first you’re in this game that seems normal, then people around you start getting shot, nobody wants to go home, and now you’re getting rapped by some crazy ass drug addict that calls himself fucking thanos. thanos! you’re pulled out of your thoughts when you feel his thumb on your face and him wiping your tears. you slightly open your eyes and he kisses you again. this time with your free hand you push as hard as you can at his face. he moves back and he makes an ‘ow’ face and rubs his forehead. he grabs your used to be free wrist and just pushes it to your side and holds it there.

“it’s always the prettiest bitches that play fucking hard to get.”

he lines up his cock with your somewhat wet hole. he maybe would’ve spent a little more time prepping you but you just ticked him off and he wasn’t going to help you anymore than he already has.

“it’s alright, i’ll have screaming my name and this whole place will know it by the time we’re done baby!”

oh god you were gonna be sick. you feel the sudden intrusion and you immediately tense. biting your lip back from screaming and shaking your head, tears flying left and right. you try to bend and claw your fingers at his hands that are holding yours down but it proves to be futile. you yell at him, while still keeping your voice down to stop and that he’s gotten enough and that he should go.

“agh—please—”

“please? you—fuck’—you want me to please keep going? well you don’t have to tell me that, i was already going to!”

he keeps a fast pace going, and the bed might as well of slid off of the shitty bars it was being held up on. everybody sleeping above you could definitely feel the whole thing moving. you try to fish your legs out of your pants legs to at least have some sort of way of pushing him away but it proves to be slightly harder than you thought.

“fuck babe—you feel so—fuck- so fucking good.”

he sucks the air through his teeth breathing heavy, while you’re doing the opposite and holding your breath.

“god you’re so tight, and you’re so — m’- so hot. i wish i could feel every inch of your — agh - you’re body but you’re too much of a fucking bitch, so i gotta keep ya’ still.”

he stops at an in thrust and moves his face down to yours, causing his cock to go deeper in you and causing you to bite back a moan and squeeze your eyes shut. he presses his forehead to yours, your sweat causing them to almost stick together. he whispers to you while keeping perfect eye contact.

“but you’re my fucking bitch right? you’ll be my dumbed out little whore, baby. should get a tattoo on ya’ that says thanos’s bitch.”

he laughs, now moving down to your neck, starting to kiss all over it. leaving sweet marks all over as he starts thrusting into you again. you just feel his heavy hot breath against your neck and you just stare up at the bars above you and hold in the choked up sob threatening to come out. you feel his cock tense in you, threatening to shoot his load out and your eyes widen. he starts thrusting harder. he lets go of both your wrists and before you can even breathe out, relieved from the slightest bit of less pressure, he wraps both his hands around your throat and looks you in the eyes the whole entire time.

“come on bab — fuckk’- babe. look at me pleas- come on, watch how good you — you make me feel.”

you start to scratch at his his hands and his arms. he’d most definitely be marked up all over by the morning. finding it increasingly more difficult to breathe. you finally decide to look him in the eyes, sending him a pleading look to stop and to quit choking you, your face slowly starting to turn a shade of blue. upon your eyes looking at him, seeing those teary orbs and pleading face, it sends him over the edge. he sends a curse your way before he surprisingly pulls out, his load going all over the bed. he lets go of your neck and pulls up his boxers, falling on top of you. his weight making it hard for you to completely catch your breath. you start to choke and hiccup on your own tears before he looks up at you and strokes his hand across your face, catching a few tears in his hand.

“i told you it wouldn’t be bad at all. don’t you feel a little more at ease now? are you prepared for the games tomorrow?”

not at all. was he fucking delusional? he lays his head back on your chest, looking up at you like a child, and rubs his hands up your sides.

“tomorrow when we vote, you better change to an ‘O’. wouldn’t want my pretty girl to betray me after all.”

he does a fake pout at the end of that. you go to sit up to pull your pants back up but he stops you.

“uhm, allow me. wouldn’t want you to do any hard labor! i’ll take care of it all for ya.’”

he pulls your panties and your pants up and sits up off of you, getting his own pants situated. he grabs your hand and presses a kiss to the top of it, looking at you in your eyes with a smile, your eyes still watering. and you send a glare his way.

“ouch babe! you hurt me here.”

he smacks his chest a couple times where his heart was.

“i’d stay here and sleep with you, but my friends will want a piece of you too if they find out that’s what i did tonight.”

you shudder at the thought of that.

“but dont worry. i’ll see you tomorrow. i’ll see ya at breakfast, yeah?”

he pulls you in for one long kiss and you push him away and he almost falls into the next bed over. he grabs at his heart again dramatically.

“ugh, i don’t wanna leave you. we’ll talk tomorrow though, kay? maybe have some more fun too.”

he winks at you again before turning over his shoulder and literally skipping away, running with his arms in the air and his hands in fists. you just hug your knees, crying into them, and now more than ever you wanted to go home. god this was so fucked. you just wanted to go to the bathroom and wash all over yourself but you knew they wouldn’t let you in. you just keep a tight grip around your knees, trying to find some sort of solace while you’re stuck here.

[izzyzt]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥’𝐬 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞

the salesman (gong ji-cheol) x f/reader — squid game

| Y/N confronts the recruiter after two years, but he turns the tables with a sinister game and a chilling warning: “This is your only warning, sweetheart.”|

———————————————————————————

Y/N slammed the door to the cheap motel room shut, tossing her bag onto the creaky bed. The room smelled like stale air and mildew, but she didn’t care. This wasn’t about comfort; it was a pit stop on her endless hunt for him.

It had been two years since she escaped the Squid Game alive, but she was anything but free. The blood money still sat untouched in a locked safe, a constant reminder of the lives she took and the people she lost. And above all, it reminded her of him—the man who started it all.

The man who gave her that damn card.

He had a face she couldn’t forget, one that haunted her even now: sharp features, a smile too charming for someone so cruel, and eyes that sparkled with amusement no matter the circumstance. She didn’t know his name, but that didn’t matter. She’d been chasing his shadow ever since, following every lead, every whispered rumor.

Tonight, she’d finally seen him again—on the subway. He was sitting there, calm as ever, as though the two years of her obsessive search had been nothing but a game to him. She had pushed through the crowded train to get to him, but he slipped out just as the doors opened, vanishing into the bustling platform.

And now here she was, back in this dingy motel, trying to piece together her next move.

But then, a voice she hadn’t heard in two years broke through the silence, smooth and playful.

“Took you long enough.”

Her blood froze.

Y/N turned sharply, and there he was. Him.

He was sitting in the armchair by the window, one leg crossed over the other, his posture relaxed. His suit was sharp and pristine, a stark contrast to the shabby room, and his eyes sparkled with an unsettling combination of amusement and mischief.

“How did you get in here?” she demanded, her voice sharp and trembling with anger.

He tilted his head, like a curious child trying to solve a puzzle.

“You really should learn to lock your doors, Y/N.”

Her fists clenched at her sides as she stepped toward him, her body burning with rage.

“What do you want?”

He stood, taking his time, adjusting his cuffs as though she hadn’t spoken. When he finally met her gaze, his smile widened.

“What do I want?” he repeated, stepping closer. “That’s the wrong question. You’ve been looking for me, haven’t you? Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

Her rage boiled over, and without thinking, she threw a punch at him.

He caught her wrist mid-air with startling ease, his grip firm yet calculated. He didn’t flinch, didn’t blink—just smiled as though she’d done exactly what he wanted.

“Now, now,” he murmured, his voice dangerously calm. “Is that any way to greet someone you’ve been chasing for so long?”

She yanked her hand free, glaring at him with fire in her eyes. “You ruined my life!”

His brow arched as he took another step forward, forcing her to back into the edge of the bed.

“Ruined it?” he echoed, his tone soft, almost pitying. “Or gave it purpose?”

She wanted to shove him again, to scream, but the way he was watching her—calm, unflinching, almost playful—stopped her in her tracks. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin, holding it up between his fingers like a magician about to perform a trick.

“Let’s play a game,” he said, his voice light and cheerful, as though they were old friends.

Her jaw tightened.

“I’m not playing anything with you.”

He pouted, tilting his head.

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart. Heads or tails. You pick.”

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he replied, flipping the coin between his fingers. “Just a simple game. Call it.”

Her hands balled into fists again, but this time she swallowed her anger, narrowing her eyes.

“Heads.”

He grinned, flipping the coin high into the air. It caught the flickering light as it spun before landing neatly in his palm. He didn’t reveal the result right away, instead stepping closer, so close that she could feel his breath against her skin.

“Are you sure about that?” he whispered, his voice low and intimate.

“Just show me,” she snapped.

He opened his hand slowly, revealing tails.

His grin widened as he leaned in, his hands moving to the bed on either side of her, caging her in. The space between them vanished, his presence suffocating.

“Looks like you lose,” he murmured, his tone deceptively gentle.

“What now?” she spat, refusing to let the proximity rattle her.

His smile softened, but the intensity in his eyes burned brighter.

“Now, we see how far you’re willing to go.”

She tried to shove him away, but he didn’t budge. His gaze never wavered as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

“You’re messing with my work, sweetheart, and I can’t let that happen.”

Her breath hitched as his hand brushed against her jaw, tilting her chin upward. His grip was light, almost tender, but it sent shivers down her spine.

“This is your only warning,” he continued, his lips barely an inch from hers. “Back off. Or next time, you won’t see me coming.”

With that, he released her and stepped back, adjusting his cuffs as though nothing had happened.

Y/N glared at him, her chest rising and falling with barely controlled rage.

“I’m not stopping,” she said, her voice trembling with defiance.

His smirk returned, sharp and dangerous.

“Good,” he said, walking toward the door. “That makes it so much more fun.”

The door clicked shut behind him, leaving her alone in the suffocating silence. On the table by the window, she noticed the coin he had left behind, perfectly balanced on its edge, a taunting reminder that the game was far from over.

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ your love is like a drug (but it isn't enough) ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by anon ˚₊ ⊹

ft. the salesman (+ kang dae-ho) x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ being a mere “sugar baby” was never enough to begin with, not when he wanted to possess you entirely┊2.3k words

contains: yandere salesman!! obsessive/possessive behaviors, drugging, kidnapping/abduction, legal age gap (reader is early 20s, salesman is mid 40s), jealousy, mentioned smut, handcuffs (not kinky)

➤ author's note: sorry for the lack of posts!! this isn't very good and is pretty rushed, but it's something, i hope to post more soon!!

the arrangement between the two of you is simple. you needed funds to pay off college tuition, he wanted companionship from a pretty thing like you and was willing to give you anything money could buy for it. there wasn’t much else to it, or so you thought at first.

you were hesitant at first when he came to you with his proposal, as expected. most people only joke about being a sugar baby and never anticipate actually doing it, but desperate times call for desperate measures. you were living in a cramped apartment with two roommates, working a job at the local bakery where he met you, and a full-time student trying so hard to get her degree. stressed and overworked seemed too weak to describe your situation, and you needed a reprieve even if the most convenient solution was rather taboo to most people. although, most people wouldn’t turn down a golden opportunity like the one he was offering you. you could have anything your heart desired as long as it had a price tag: jewelry, luxury clothing items, foreign cars, merchandise from your favorite media, and whatever else you could think of. there seemed to be no limits to his wealth, and all you had to do was spend time with him whenever he called for you.

sometimes he would take you on shopping trips to help you navigate the opulent malls and pick out what he thought looked best on you, often talking to the store assistants the entire time to help dress you up. it left you feeling like an antique doll with how they put you in extravagant dresses, treated you delicately like porcelain, and ignored you for the most part as if you didn’t have sentience or an opinion about what you liked. it didn’t really matter if you liked the blue dress more than the red one or if you thought the material was itchy, he was the one paying and you often stayed silent because of that. 

sometimes he would take you out for dinner in fancy restaurants whose names you couldn’t pronounce properly and wine that cost more than what your monthly rent used to. he would frown each time you instinctively pick the cheapest item on the menu, but you never pick the most expensive one out of good conscience, so you settle for somewhere in the middle. occasionally he would run into someone he knew, another bigwig businessman you presume, and while he’s polite, his smile doesn’t reach his eyes and you can tell he’s annoyed that his time with you has been interrupted. you’re not sure why though, you don’t think your company is anything worth noting. 

once he took you on vacation to a tropical foreign country after hearing you complain once about the winters in korea. first-class tickets, of course. no matter how hot it became, you only ever saw him in a suit in tie, never seeming to break a sweat or having a hair out of place. now that you think of it, you’ve ever seen him in formalwear, completely nude, or in a towel after the fact. the air of formality never leaves him, even in your most vulnerable moments together.

truthfully, he’s strange, not just because of his choice of dress. even if he’s older, you’re curious as to why he isn’t married when he’s tall, handsome, rich, and well-educated. you also wonder about his past since he rarely ever talks about himself, much preferring to hear you talk about your day or whatever was weighing on your mind instead. most of all though, you want to know why he chose you of all people when you’re nothing special and think of yourself to be average in all aspects.

oh, and did you mention that you didn’t know his name? you always called him ‘sir,’ asking about it a few times just for him to tell you it wasn’t important, not seeming to mind the nickname. if anything, he seemed to like the reminder of the power he had over you.

still, you didn’t push anything. you didn’t feel like you had a right to when he was basically financing your entire life at the moment. besides, you were just grateful your sugar daddy was a good-looking businessman who didn’t force affection on you when you didn’t want it rather than some slimy old man. there wasn’t much to complain about other than his excessively mysterious nature, so you continued to say nothing and just smiled as you always have.

you were so fucking stupid, not blind to the warning signs but choosing to ignore them. learning the answers to all your questions came at a heavy cost. if only you had known then what his true nature was like, just how twisted his mind and feelings were, you would have run far and never looked back. although, knowing his insanity, he probably would walked through hell to track you down and bring you back to his arms.

it all started to fall apart with a guy you met at a local cafe, running into him when you turned a corner and knocked over the boxes he was carrying. while rushing to help him out, you thought he looked familiar and asked about it, quickly finding out that he was the younger brother of an old coworker whom you were close with. he seemed to brighten up like a lightbulb went off in his head, immediately knowing who you were saying that his sister mentioned you a lot. you were embarrassed yet curious to know what was discussed, which led to a lengthy conversation over coffee and cake once his shift was over that ended with you giving him his number. 

it was history from there. although the two of you were only friends at the current, there was an undeniable undertone of romance behind every word, touch, and interaction. you couldn’t help it, not when he was naturally so sweet, attentive, and most importantly, emotionally available while also treating you like an equal. you know you shouldn’t yearn for that when an imbalance of power was standard for your “unique” relationship with the other older man in your life, but it made you feel so seen and human instead of a little glorified pet. dae-ho may not have much money, but he made you so happy in a way you’ve never felt before. it felt so right to be with him, two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together.

was it really so bad to ���cheat” on your sugar daddy? it’s not like there was a contract involved that was binding you to him, it was only an exchange of your time and affection for his money. there was never a conversation about seeing other people, so as far as you were concerned, there wasn’t any real reason why you couldn’t flirt a little with dae-ho, but you still tried your best to keep him as a little secret and was careful never to bring it up to him. he seemed to be extremely busy with work at the moment anyways, you haven’t been seeing him for days at a time with the only notice from him being a couple million of won each morning for you to treat yourself while he’s gone. you often found yourself calling up your new friend and spending the money with him instead.

it was a simple business relationship with benefits, that’s what you told yourself because that was all it was to you. you didn’t love that man and you didn’t think he loved you, you loved his money and he loved your pretty face.

truthfully, his adoration for you was deeper than skin and ran to the bone, more intense than the burning rays of the sun. 

one second, you were having dinner with him during one of this few free night during this busy time, smiling and chatting about whatever all dolled up in a pretty purple silk dress and amethyst jewelry, the next, you woke up groggy atop a large king-sized bed with a cold metal handcuff wrapped around your wrist fastening you to the post. you blinked a few times slowly, trying to get your vision to focus as you unsuccessfully tried to tug yourself free. the room was unrecognizable to you, but it was clearly that of a home and not a hotel. the curtains were drawn shut and too far away for them to pull them apart, but even if you weren’t bound, you didn’t have it in you to move an inch. it was as if all the energy in you was zapped and replaced with a banging headache. you groaned softly at the dull pain, barely able to hear the door creak open followed by footsteps.

there was no need for an introduction nor a need for you to crane your head in the direction of the sound, you recognized him by his overwhelming presence alone and could read the stupid smirk on his face as if he’d won some sort of game you didn’t even know you were playing to begin with. all of the warning signs were blaring danger in your head, rather than ignoring it like you usually did, this time you were too weak to run away when it mattered most.

“ah, darling, you’re already awake? i thought the drug would have lasted a bit longer, but i can see that you’re resilient, as always. did you really think i wouldn’t notice that there was a new man in your life?”

“what… what the fuck are you talking about…?”

he stood next to you, making you feel so small compared to his towering height like a cornered mouse at the mercy of a cat, “i’m talking about that ex-marine, kang dae-ho.”

“... how did you..?”

“you aren’t very subtle, my dear. again, did you really think i didn’t know about it?” taking a step closer, he sat next to you on the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight, and gently stroked your cheek with the back of his hand. “i must say, i’m rather displeased, but not surprised. that’s what happens when i don’t keep my eye on the prize at all times. thankfully, he won’t be bothering you anymore, i took care of him as i do with everything…”

“w-what… what did you do to him?!” your voice was finally raised above a whisper as you shot up from your spot, only to cringe in pain at the splitting sensation in your mind and lay back down, exhausted at the sudden exertion. 

he pouted at you childishly like he was disappointed you assumed he hurt him, or maybe he was disappointed you only now found the strength to panic when that boy’s safety was being compromised. “i didn’t do anything.” he was acting offended at the accusation like it wasn’t completely warranted after he drugged you and abducted you to god knows where. “i just played ddajki with him— maybe slapped him around a bit— nothing permanent. all that matters is that he’s out of the picture and you’re in my arms again, as it was always meant to be. do you have any idea how hurt i was to see you in the company of that boy? do you really think he could provide for you like i can? honestly, it hurt me so much to see you leaning on him like you’re a couple, especially at that movie theater— are our dates not enough?”

“you crazy ass motherfucker— so you were stalking me this entire time?!” you felt so pitiful and useless, wanting to curl up into a ball and wail about your predicament. he would get a pick out of seeing you suffer, you’re sure, so you tried your best to blink back the tears. “so you’ve been sick in the head this entire time? is that why you’re still single at your age? guess money and a handsome face isn’t enough when you’re a fucking psychopath!”

if it was anyone else on this earth, he would have slapped them so hard their face would swell and they could taste blood in their mouth for the disrespect, but since it was you, he was willing to brush it off as bratty behavior like a baby kitten biting at his fingers. 

“why did it have to be me?” you voice cracked, “you could have anyone you want: models, actresses, daughters of billionaires— why do you want some stupid college student who barely knows what she’s doing with her life?”

he didn’t answer you, choosing to remain silent rather than tell the truth or a lie. there’s nothing to say if he doesn’t even know the answer himself. “just get some rest, my love, i’ll be back with food in an hour.” 

and with that he left, ignoring you trying to kick and scream for your freedom. he didn’t know why he had grown so fond of you where he felt it was necessary to drug and kidnap you, but it would have ended up this way regardless of whether or not he first approached you with his proposition. if he didn’t approach you, he would have been stalking you from the shadows until he couldn’t take it anymore. he was never a patient man, but he was never someone who formed such intense attachments either. 

you were different from anyone he’s ever encountered before, even if neither of you knew the reason why. your company and affection was like a drug that gave him a high he’s never experienced before, like he was struck in the heart with cupid’s arrow and filled with ecstasy with every thought, but it wasn’t enough. it would never be enough with the way things were going, but now that he’s keeping you locked away like a beautiful butterfly in a silver cage for his eyes only, he feels the edge being taken off knowing that you were where you belonged and kang dae-ho was waking up on a mysterious island. love is really something special, isn’t it?

request from anon

sugar baby reader x the salesman but lowkey (or highkey LMAO) YANDERE DARK pretty pleaaasee 

[yup-thats-me]

pump it up!

pairing: pervert!gym!trainer Wi Ha-Joon x dumb!fem!reader

summary: the infamous gym trainer in your city has set his eyes on you!

warning: masturbation, suggestive, dark 18+

a/n: enjoy this as fiction, please. this is not meant to portray the actor in any bad light. it's pure fiction. leave if it makes you uncomfortable. this is the edit that inspired me btw<3

gym!trainer Wi Ha-Joon whose pants felt a bit too tight as soon his eyes landed on you. pink bow prettily tied on your pretty head, matching with the pink sports bra that clung to your chest for the life of it.

gym!trainer Wi Ha-Joon who immediately drops the weights he was lifting, his legs taking him to you. he knew he had to get his hands on you before someone else did, or maybe you were already someone else's? fuck it. he'll take his chances.

"do you need help?" his voice ever so gentlemanly. no one would even imagine how he wanted to push you against the wall and smash his lips with yours, his hands roaming around your body like a hungry beast, oh how he would grind—

"oh yes, please!" you said with that innocent smile. oh how he wanted you to scream his name while he abused your hole

you laid on the weight bench, nervously looking up at the metal bar. you needed to get it done, yes but that doesn't mean you can't be scared. it must be fate that the trainer came to your rescue, almost like an angel.

Ha-Joon smiled, his hands on the rod ready to lift it up if you mess up. the first one was okay, your arms straining, lifting it up. Ha-Joon helped a bit in lifting it up.

like a pervert, he quite enjoyed seeing you strain under the weight. he did not even tried to hide the fact that he was shamelessly staring at you, his eyes hungry.

but you paid no mind, of course. to you, the man was simply a gentleman helping you out. after you were done, Ha-Joon would workout around the same equipments beside you, smiling every now and then and on his toes to help you out.

he would ask for your name before you left, his mind creating images of you under him, begging for him to stop but he of course, won't. later that day, Ha-Joon would make several mistakes. call your name to his clients, dropping barbels mindlessly. what could you say? his mind was filled with you and only you.

one day when you let him take a swig from your bottle, he decided it was a sign from you. from then on, his touches would linger more than appropriate, his hands travelling to places, its all innocently of course.

when you hugged him thanking him for always looking out for you in this unknown environment, it was so hard for him to even breath. however, he was not willing to let the opportunity slide though.

his hands would roam around your back as he diverted your mind with his sweet words and sweet smile. he could only hope then that you won't be able to feel his hard on pressing against you, but if you did, even better.

as soon as you left, he would rush to the gym shower, stroking his cock with the same hand that had been on your skin, your name falling from his lips almost like a spell.

and finally, when one day you came to the gym, not with your usual gym outfit, and your eyes red and lips puffy from crying, he was feeling a bit too happy than he should have. finally, your asshole of a boyfriend had cheated on you. how lovely.

pervert.

[erajunex]

Who wants a smut one shot about this man?

Lemme know if you wanna be added to the tag-list!

[oc-brainstorms]

My strange addiction 18+

Perv!Dom!Voyeur!Kang Dae-ho x Sex addict!Fem!reader/Thanos x Reader(kinda)

This is part 1, part 2 is here!

Synopsis: SMUT! Sex addict reader finds Dae-ho jerking off to her and Thanos having sex, she makes it her mission to try him out next and Dae-ho treats her exactly how she wants to be treated wink wink

warnings: Kinda dark/swearing/mentions of death/murder/ kinda cheating?/Mentions god(in a bad way)/Voyeurism/bathroom sex/public sex/mentions of anal/smut/reader uses thanos/Dae-ho is kinda pervy/rough/non-con?dub-con?ish/unprotected sex/p in v/Oral (M receiving)/daddy kink/reader is a sex addict/horny af/reader is fucking feral/overall filth/aftercare/angst/fluff/reader has some major issues (I haven't slept so if I've forgotten anything let me know) READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

Words: 4.5K (it’s a long one)/

Unedited! there's gotta be a few mistakes in it but I wrote this instead of my dissertation and sleeping so take it for what it is I guess.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was never one to drink, do drugs or jump off tall things all for a little adrenaline rush-No, I was particular in my chosen addiction. Sex was always my vice. I tasted it one and couldn't get enough. It’s never really mattered to me what they look like or how good at it they were, if the thought pops into my head then it’s all I crave, like an itch that demands to be scratched. Sometimes I don’t even want it, like when a smoker who's trying to quit doesn't even think about lighting the cigarette in their mouth, it's basically a habbit.

Many interactions with vile, disgusting men and bad life choices led me right here, surrounded by people in green sweatsuits playing deadly children’s games for money. It’s not exactly where I thought I'd end up, I always thought I’d die in a ditch somewhere-discarded and used without a care in the world.

Salty sweat drops fall on my forehead from the purple-haired man thrusting to his hearts content in an out of me, grunting in my ear like he's on a mission. He’s not bad, a little too desperate and loud for my liking but hey, a fuck is a fuck. Plus he was pretty good-looking under the whole wannabe-bad-boy-rapper persona.

“You like that? hmph-So good-so so good.” He grumbles, his voice mere groans of hot breath in my ear.

“Feels so good daddy-please keep going please!” My voice was no higher than a pathetic whisper in return, becoming conscious of the creaks the bed was emitting, echoing in the empty space of the room. Thankfully many people this side had died in the previous game.

My hips were beginning to ache from the angle I’m spread to- My jaw clenching as I feel him wrap his hands behind my knees and shove them up until they hit my shoulders. The pain was easing from my hips but it did nothing for the lack of excitement I was feeling. It was a little mundane for me, stuck in missionary while he has the time of his life-but it will satisfy my needs nonetheless.

I can’t help but let my thoughts wander, craning my neck to glance over his shoulder as his pounding continued, just listening the the sounds of our skin slapping and the weak sounds of the bed frame holding us up.

My attention is suddenly drawn to a rusting from a bed on the other side of the room. Under the glow of the obnoxiously large piggy bank I can just make out a large figure, laid in bed with the covers just covering his hip. Squinting into the darkness I make out rapid movements under the covers.

Is this perv getting off to us?

I let my eyes linger for a while, feeling myself getting wetter from the idea of this stranger pleasuring himself to the sounds of us fucking. Trailing my eyes up I can just about make out his number, 388. Taking a mental note, I try to peak at his face through the darkness.

A gasp gets caught in my throat as I make eye contact with dark eyes that stare back at me. His whole face wasn't clear but I could sense his eyes burning into mine as he welcomed himself to the free porn he was witnessing.

‘So fucking wet for me.’ Thanos panted out, snapping me back to his attention. Thankfully his head was buried in my neck and he was too busy chasing his own high to notice my distraction.

Maybe I should give him a show.

I took my hands and placed them firmly on Thanos’ chest.

“Stop.” I manage to gasp out, pushing him back enough to look at his face. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are crazy, Purple strands sticking to his forehead. His thrusts stagger a little before coming to a stop.

“What the fuck is wrong girl, why are you stopping me when I'm about to fill you up?” The tone of his voice is slightly erratic, and a little too loud-but I had new priorities than everyone else's sleep.

“I just wanna ride you Daddy, please?” Fluttering my eyelashes up at him, I knew he couldn't disagree with me, especially as I clenched myself around him.

“Fuck okay-okay.” He talks over himself, gripping at my sides to manoeuvre me on top of him.

I knock my head on the metallic grate on underneath the bunk on top of us, but don’t even stop to acknowledge the pain, I've got a new task to complete. I can’t let poor 388 go to bed unsatisfied now can I?

I reposition myself straddling him, letting my hands rest on his chest while he sinks his dick into my hole. I’m already pretty raw so it stings from the stretch, feeling him throb inside me from the sensation, a small gasp erupts from my throat.

Rocking my hips back and forth, I feel him glide in and out of me, making sure to arch my back and stick my ass out to give the best possible view to my new friend.

“Just like tha-fuck just like that.” he mutters through staggered breaths. I can feel him getting close so I need to do my best with the time I have.

In a brave move, I move my hands up from his chest and glide them up my body, stopping to grip onto my breasts and squeeze, Hard. I moan louder than necessary, but not loud enough to cause a scene.

Bouncing hard on his dick, I bring my hand to my throat and start to lightly choke myself, throwing my head back and feel my hair hit my back.

“Fuck this pussy, oh god, oh my fucking god-so good, so tight oh fuck.” I hear him groan, reaching his climax as hot spurts of cum squirt inside of me, filling me up.

I lean forward, laying my chest back down and craning my neck to glance over my shoulder. I watch how 388’s covers slowly come to a halt, a subtle shake as he finally finishes. I wish I could hear him trying to catch his breath over the snoring of the rest of the room, but ill sleep happy with the knowledge I've done my job-for now.

“You finished right, girl?” My attention is drawn back to the heavy breathing of the purple haired asshole under me, his hands still feeling up my hips and ass as I catch my breath.

“Yeah sure.” I nod, through gritted teeth, slipping him out of me and laying beside him.

“Good, gotta take care of my girl, especially when she’s being so damn good for me!” He ruffles my hair before turning over, falling asleep almost instantly.

God he has so much faith in me not to kill him in his sleep.

My mind didn't relax enough to sleep, too focused on all the ideas I had to get my way, I will seduce this man, I don’t even care if he’s ugly or horrible. Anyone that desperate to cum clearly needs my help, maybe he’ll actually make me cum.

My lord isn’t it bad I'm more focused on this than the games? well I guess it is a game of sorts… wtf is wrong with me, anyways.

I roll my eyes and try to push my thoughts away. Ignoring the sweaty body next to me, I pull my crumped clothes back onto my body and lay back down, fading off to a dreamless sleep.

----

The most irritating and mind-numbing sickly song wakes me up in the morning. That along with the bright lights is enough to make me kill someone-even outside of the game.

I’ve never been a morning person, nighttime is where all the fun happens-hell I don't even wake up till gone 2pm most days. However, this morning I have a task-find this mystery man.

I sit up in bed-taking no notice of the absence of the man next to me, and try to brush my fingers through my knotted hair, pinching my cheeks and lips to look more alive.

God did they have to give us these ugly ass outfits.

Doing the best with what I have, I tie up the top into an extreme crop and pull the joggers down lower on my hip, lazily throwing the sweatshirt on.

It'll do.

I scan my eyes around the room like a predator hunting its prey, reading everyone’s number until my eyes land on the one I'm looking for.

Bingo.

He’s tall, good looking-man bun be damned, chuckling along with something an older man is saying and a-is that bitch pregnant? Damn. He stretches, his muscles flexing as he does, almost having me salivate on myself. He doesn't even glance over here before waltzing over to to the breakfast queue.

My footsteps are fast but inconspicuous, anyone else probably would’ve thought I was just hungry- and I guess they'd be right, but not for food.

I manage to squeeze in behind him, shuffling my feet closer to his.

“You’re pretty cute for a perv.” His shoulders stiffened, glancing at me over his shoulder.

‘What?” He mutters back to me, his eyes raking over my body before returning his eyes forward.

“I thought guys who liked to watch people fuck without them knowing were balding and lived in their parents basement with food stuck to their face and a box of tissues next to them.” Ok, that was a weird thing to say- but am I wrong?

His breathing takes a sharp incline as he shuffles forward with everyone else in the line.

“I wasn't watching you.”

“It’s okay baby I'm not mad a you, was I good for you?” my voice is confident but low, closer to his ear than before because of the people joining the queue behind me. Not sure if he's really as in to public humiliation as he is into public masturbation.

“I'm sorry, okay?” he whispers, without glancing back. More of a whimper really, slut.

“I just told you I'm not mad.” Im more short in my answers-im starting to get bored from this restrictive situation. I do get bored easily.

My lips almost touch his ear as I lean in, playing dangerous.

“Should've let me know you needed it daddy, this pussy has your name all over it.” I stroke over his back as I come down, tits grazing his back.

He chuckled darkly, looking down at his shoes, before turning his body to to me, a slick smirk playing on his mouth as he leant down and met my eyes.

“Really? Because to me it looks like it has that guy’s cum all over it.”

He blinked, before turning back and continuing to follow the queue.

I don’t have an answer for that, he really got me there to be fair.

My lips form a sharp line and I feel a heat rush to my cheeks, I kept my eyes down and stayed silent. I didn't know I could still feel embarrassed by anything-but here we are. I also tried to ignore the wetness growing between my thighs at the situation, the degrading really does it for me I guess.

He grabbed breakfast from the guard before sauntering off, out of the corner of my eye I saw him silently giggling to himself as he walked away, asshole.

I picked up my pathetic little apple and grumbled, taking a harsh bite out of it. If he's playing hard to get then I guess I'm just gonna have to play harder.

----

After the games, the vibes really sucked. Thanos was loud and annoying as usual but at least he didn't let me die. That was kinda nice of him, or maybe it was the fact I promised him anal if he got me through it-but nevertheless, it good to be alive.

I spent a long time in the bathroom, making sure I looked perfect after that mess. I also scrubbed myself raw, feeling dirty after the game, and the fuck and especially after 388’s comment. The 5 minute shower I somehow convinced the guard to let me have did wonders. He did watch me the entire time-but at least I'm clean!

After we once again got voted to stay, I got bored of the repetitive conversation and laid on my bed, staring at nothing in particular.

I glanced down over my feet at the door to the bathrooms, taking notice of the tall pretty boy leaving.

I didn't think twice about it, my feet moving on their own. I had to have it out with this man- he acts like a disgusting pervert watching me fuck and suddenly he's all cocky? I don't think so.

Thankfully the guards really don't give a fuck about who goes into what bathroom. I stand outside waiting, watching for the door to open. I didn't want to enter the bathroom and catch him pooping- I may be deranged but I'm not a total freak.

He wasn't in there long, and nobody had come in or out since him. Hearing footsteps approaching the door I give a quick wink to one of the guards, Showtime.

He barely opened the door before I pushed him back inside, closing us in the empty bathroom.

“Woah.” He managed, jumping on the defence and getting ready to attack before his eyes locked on me.

“Oh its you.” he relaxed, sighing.

“You miss me?” I asked sweetly, leaning back against the door with my hand resting on the metal handle.

“It's hard to miss you when you keep showing up,” his hands moved to his hips and his face bore an amused smirk, playful.

“You upset me earlier, thought you'd wanna make it up to me.”

“By telling you the truth? if that upsets you darling then you put have a real hard time with everything else in here.”

“Listen, you-”

“No you listen,” He steps towards me, a strange dominance lurking under his voice.

“I have enough going on here without some needly little whore deciding she's important enough to start bratting out because I used her pathetic show of attention-seeking to get myself off.”

My breathing increases as he steps closer, I was not expecting that to come out of his mouth, I’m not often too stunned to speak but somehow he's done it in the two conversations I've had with him.

I stare up at him through my lashes, my mouth dropping open a little as I pant through it. God is this turning me on?

“You gonna do something about it, tough guy?” Is all I manage to conjure, coming out in a stupidly quiet voice.

“Since you seem so desperate for me I'll do you a favour and put that dirty little mouth to use shall I?” He suddenly reaches forwards and grips my hair in his hand, a sound between a moan and a sob exiting my mouth as he does.

He shoves me across the room and into a stall, pushing us both in before slamming and locking it shut behind us. His grip stayed strong in my hair.

I don't know what I thought this guy would be like, I thought he would be a sweet little perv who helps pregnant girls and laughs along with old men’s jokes and then rubs one out while watching two people fuck like animals.

“Kneel.” He demands, his grip one my hair beginning to give me a headache. I don’t move, sure I've had men be rough before but this really took me by surprise.

“You want me don't you?” He spits out, but something in his eyes seemed softer, like a shimmer of guilt washed over them.

“Yes sir.”

“Then be a good girl and show me how much you want it, down on your knees.”

My knees buckled by themselves, gripping his thigh for support I hit the dirty bathroom floor and looked up at him with wide eyes.

“You know what to do slut, I'm sure you've had enough practice.” His eyes were back to being hard now, whether it was all the emotions during the games or something else had hardened him, and he desperately needed release, and Im more than happy to help with that.

I bring my hands up to his waistband, dragging down the green joggers and his boxers down together, watching as his hard cock flung free.

“Spit on it.”

I swirled my tongue around my mouth and tried to muster all the saliva I could, bringing my lips to the tip of his dick and letting my spit slowly drip onto it.

His eyes glaze over and he leans his head back, a groan slipping through his lips.

Taking my chance, I grab his throbbing cock with my hand and slowly pump my spit all over his shaft.

“I-is that good daddy?” I manage to stutter out, hand moving up and down as I slowly trail my tongue up his tip, tasting the pre cum that's already leaking out.

What the fuck is wrong with you, get your shit together.

“You know that's good slut, you're just begging for my validation aren't you?” He chuckled again, that deep chuckle he keeps doing that sounds like he's just been told a dirty joke, amused but interested.

I ignored the degrading tone and looked back down to his cock, its big and throbbing-a lot bigger than what I'm used to, or at least than what I've had in a long time.

Nervousness seeps into my brain but I push it back, taking him into my mouth and guiding him to the back of my throat.

As my nose hits his clothe stomach, my head is whipped back by his grip on my hair, a sudden flash of pain strikes my cheek and I feel tears welling up in my eyes from the sting.

“I asked you a question slut, or are you too stupid to use your words?” The look in his eyes flashed with amusement, like he was speaking to a cute puppy who just learnt a new trick.

“Yes sir.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes sir, I want your validation.” It hurt to spit the words out, but as soon as I did my head was thrusted back onto him.

He doesn't speak for a while, just grunting softly and leaning his head back against the cubicle wall with his eyes shut, fucking his dick right to the back of my throat like I'm nothing but a fleshlight he's using. All I can do is stifle my gags and take him, my face wet with my tears and the saliva dripping down my chin.

“So.Fucking.Good.” He chokes out between thrusts.

My mind goes black with everything else other than pleasing him, nothing but the pain in my throat and the blurry vision of his body above me.

His breathing quickens and I'm sure he's about to cum, my hair now fully being ripped out by the strength of his hands tangled in it.

“What should I do?”

I look up at him and try to muster up the most confused face I can under the circumstances, managing to furrow my eyebrows.

“Should I cum…down your throat?” His thrusts begin to slow slightly as he drags out his question.

“Or on this pretty little face?” His finger drops down and traces my jaw.

“Or should I have you lift up your shirt so I can cum on those perfect tits of yours, baby?” His questions receive no answer considering my mouth was still bing invaded by his thick cock.

“No, No, I know the perfect place.” His voice is dominant and looms over me.

With a swift movement he pulls me off of him, one arm under my armpit while the other stays in its place in my hair. They glide down to my own joggers, ripping them down to the floor along with my underwear, leaving me exposed and shaking from all the sensations of my body.

His large hands find my thighs and grips onto the backs of them.

“Jump.” He orders, and of course I follow through. Before I know it I’m pinned up against the cold wall, and being forced to bounce on his solid dick that's thrusting in and out of me at a rapid pace.

My arms find his shoulders and I cling on, hiding my whimpers in the Crook of his neck as I let him use my cunt for his pleasure.

“You want me to make you cum don't you doll?” He teases.

“Ye-Yes s-sir, please sir, yes, yes, yes!” I hate how the pathetic yelps come out of my mouth but the pleasure rocking through me takes my mind away from any embarrassment.

“That other little boy couldn't do it for you could he? You need a man to make you cum don't you huh?”

“Please make me cum Daddy, I'll do anything.” my voice sounded more like broken sobs coming through my lazily parted lips, already cock drunk from this humiliating situation.

He grips my wrist tightly and drags it between my legs.

“Rub yourself, c’mon princess I know you can do it,” His sweet words hit my ears and I immediately obey, becoming a gasping, moaning mess as I rub rapid circles around my sensitive clit.

Almost immediately after I feel myself reaching my climax, my head throwing itself back as he lunges for my throat, leaving sharp hickeys down my neck.

His breathing changes and soon after he's open-mouthed kissing my neck as I feel him pump his cum up into me, the grip he has on me weakening with every moan he produces.

As he lets go of the hold he has on me I drop to the floor, knees weak after the use he put them through. Im tired, and sore and sticky, I can feel him dripping out of me and onto the disgusting toilet floor. My eyes are heavy and my face flushed, with chapped lips and baby hairs sticking with sweat to my forehead and a tangled mess behind.

As the glow of my orgasm fades I get the same sinking feeling I always get when I finish, the feeling where Im immediately disgusted and ashamed and just want to cry and try and forget that I've just made a fool out of myself for a strange man.

I bring my hands to my face and sigh deeply, still trying to catch my breath. I forget the man*-whose name I still don't know* is there. Im sure he’ll see himself out eventually.

My unravelling show of self-pity is interrupted as I feel the man crouch down next to me, silently watching me cry into my hands.

Awkward, I bet he's regretting even meeting me now.

“Hey,hey.” He coos, his voice softer than soft. He seems afraid to touch me as his fingers ghost over my arm.

I bet he's so fucking irritated god I would be.

Imagine you've just fucked someone out of pity and they start crying on the fucking floor.

“I’m just gonna clean you up okay angel?” I sniffle and stop in confused awe. Moving my hands away from my face I wipe the tears off and pull them down until my eyes are peaking through.

He keeps eye contact for a moment before reaching over and grabbing toilet paper from behind him, ripping some off he starts to clean up the mess between my legs, uttering small apologies as I hiss from the contact.

“Shh..it's okay baby, you're okay.” His words are soft and comforting as he manoeuvres my clothes back on me. His hands stop at my waist as he tries to catch my eyes, but I'm looking everywhere but his face with my half-lidded gaze.

“Can I see that pretty face again? Please baby, let me clean you up.” I nod, eyebrows still subtly furrowed in suspicion.

With the softest touch he moves my hands away from my face, taking them in one of his and using the other to gently wipe off any moisture that remained. His touch felt like a feather grazing my skin, it was nice, I've never been treated so nicely before.

He fucking hates me doesn't he, oh well what do I care, I don't care anyways.

He places a hand on my knee, not in a way that's sexual but more of a calming gesture, probably to help stop the shaking by body has absentmindedly started doing.

Everything inside me is telling me to run, push him away and go find my bed to rock myself to sleep in, but something about the kind care in his eyes and the gentle touches he's gracing me with is making me want to stay here for as long as I can.

His other hand comes up to my hair, his fingers attempting to gently remove the knots that had built up from his harsh tugs.

‘Did I hurt you, go too far?”

I shook my head.

“Why are you doing this?” I broke my silence, voice barely audible.

“Doing what, sweetness?” He glanced down at my face, his voice soft and caring with a glance of concern.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” The words left my lips with a short chuckle, not an amused, joking chuckle, but more of disbelief and confusion-like when you hear something so ridiculous you can't help but let a chuckle slip out.

I sound so fucking pathetic.

“I’m taking care of you, you deserve it.” His confusion grew, his eyebrows getting more furrowed together the more he took in the disbelief on my face.

“You don't even know me, I don't even know your name, you don't know mine.”

“I would like to.” I stopped, staring blankly at him.

“My name Is Y/N.” I mustered up, I'm sure he doesn't really care-but it would be nice to be on a first name basis with this man, at least he's being helpful.

“Beautiful name, it suits you.” He spoke without moving his head away from the focus he had on my hair.

“What's your name?”

“Dae-Ho” His fingers freed themselves and he leant forwards, placing a soft kiss to the top of my head.

“Thank you.”

“What for?” he whispered against the skin of my forehead, the coolness of his breath causing a shiver to sneak down my spine.

“For telling me your name.”

Thank you for being nice, for holding me softly, for being so sweet and kind and affectionate to someone you don't care about.

“Angel I will tell you every single thing I know if it makes you happy.” My breath hitched and all wordings fell short in my throat. His eyes were light and kind, he didn't seem at all to mind easing me through this mini meltdown.

“Why?”

“I told you, i’d like to get to know you.’ He paused, his mind seemingly somewhere else, thinking deeply about his next words.

“Would you like to sleep in my bed with me tonight? i’d like to be able to hold you now, it feels wrong to part ways after this, unless you have plans with the crayon you were sleeping with before.” The sarcasm in his voice seeps through when he speaks about Thanos, a subtle spit of jealousy perhaps mixed in with his words.

Interesting development.

---------------------

A/N: Lit havent slept and wrote this with no editing so if its ass lmk lol- also my first piece of writing on tumblr! exciting times-many ideas ahead.

[crimeandpunishments]

toxic nam-gyu headcannons!

pairing(s): namgyu (player 124) x fem! reader

content warning: namgyu is a bum, dark! namgyu, emotional abuse, slight nsfw mention, non-consensual recording, drug use, coercion

word count: 384

a/n: come get y’alls juice!

> let’s get one thing straight

> he’s the guy who says “bros before hoes!”

> thrives off the approval of his group leader (i mean we’ve seen him with thanos)

> sheep mentality

> when you guys are hanging out with his friend group and one of them pulls out a plastic baggy containing a pills

> you best believe he’ll try to coerce you into taking it, practically begging you in front of his friends

> his friends will brush it off with a laugh saying it’s fine but you can feel the anger coming off of nam-gyu

> let’s just say that ended up being a looong night

> you guys argue a lot

> and he’ll gaslight you every time

> accuses you of cheating too

> constantly threatens to break up with you

> when he can see your eyes welling up, he’ll mock you for crying claiming you care too much and snicker in your face

> he doesn’t actually want to leave you (not yet at least) and you receive a weak apology from him asking you to come over

> make-up sex

> you guys don’t do dates

> well proper dates

> even if you guys do plan a proper date, like a restaurant or cafe, he’ll stand you up

> you get a text three hours after the meet up time claiming he can’t make it

> you later found out it was because he was playing video games the whole time

> speaking of games, i feel like he’s the gamer bf type

> his room is not clean at all

> there’s dirty laundry piling up on the floor, bed unkempt, mattress stained, and a lingering stench is in the air

> he would definitely have a piss bottle

> you have to hold your breath every time you come in or you’ll get whiplash

> back to the “dates”

> the so-called proper dates consists of fucking and watching him playing his games

> dark! namgyu for a bit but he’ll secretly record you on his phone

> hella hickeys kind of person

> he needs a way to mark you

> he’s also not a big after-care person so after the sex, he’ll throw you a towel with a questionable stain and tell you to clean up

> then he just goes back to his game

> but don’t worry, he will cuddle with you as you watch him play

[rose24207]

Roseee’s Masterlist

ℕ𝕒𝕧𝕚𝕘𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟

𝖦𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾

Mafia - 🖤 Angst - 💔 Fluff - 💗 Suggestive - ❤️‍🔥 Dark - 🩶

Humor - 💛

Squid game

The Salesman:

• How my dad does it 💔💗

-> Ji-Woo imitates her father’s Ddakji game at school, offering chocolate for wins and punches for losses, believing it’s what he would do, forcing her parents to reevaluate the lessons she’s learning from him.

• Just a Salesman 💔🩶

-> Your perfect world shatters when a furious stranger bursts into your home, accusing your loving, devoted husband of being a monster responsible for countless deaths.

-> pt.2

Player 333 / Myung-gi:

• The Triangle’s Mercy 💔🩶

-> You defy the rules of life and death, sparing Player 333 on the field and pulling your gun on another player in the dormitory, leaving him questioning why a guard would protect him.

Spiderverse

Miles Morales!42:

• I got this 💗

-> Miles never lets anyone touch his hair except his mom, but when she’s not around, he just might make an exception.

• Web of feelings 💗💛{💔}

-> When Spider-Girl is dosed with a love potion and falls for her enemy, the Prowler, he must fight to undo the chaos while questioning if this fake love could ever become real.

• Ma Meilleure Ennemie 💔💗

-> Two enemies, bound by hatred and an undeniable connection, navigate a love-hate relationship where each becomes the other's greatest blessing—and worst curse.

Harry Potter

Fred Weasley:

• that’s rich 💔{💗}

-> After a painful breakup, Fred finds you in the depths of your heartache and confesses his regret, leading to an emotional confrontation that leaves you both questioning whether love and healing are still possible between you.

• new year, new chapter 💗

-> Fred’s New Year transforms into a celebration of love, family, and new beginnings as he learns he’s about to become a father.

• spinning into love 💗

-> During a game of Spin the Bottle, Fred’s jealousy over a harmless kiss pushes him to confess his long-hidden feelings for his best friend, leading to a heartfelt and love-filled moment.

• a second chance at forever 💔💗

-> After surviving the explosion that everyone believed had killed him during the Battle of Hogwarts, Fred reunites with you, who, overwhelmed with relief and love, proposes to him on the spot.

• Get a room💗

-> A disciplined Slytherin is tasked with tutoring the Weasley twins, but between Fred’s chaotic charm, George’s relentless teasing, and their combined knack for trouble, resisting their antics—and Fred’s growing affection—proves impossible.

• I‘m okay 💔💗

-> During the chaotic Battle of the Seven Potters, Fred is consumed with worry when his girlfriend is the last to arrive at the Burrow, battered but alive, prompting him to stay by her side all night, vowing never to let her face such danger alone again.

• Potions and Obsessions 🩶

-> in which Fred‘s crush gets caught in the middle of a love potion and instead of giving her the antidote, Fred is keeping her all to himself.

George Weasley:

• What they’re like 💔💗

-> George confronts his friends after overhearing hurtful comments about his Slytherin girlfriend, defending her fiercely and making it clear that their behavior won’t be tolerated.

• Lucky git💔

-> George hides his heartbreak as he gives Y/N advice on pursuing Fred, knowing he’ll never be the one she chooses.

• Forever and always 💔💗

-> On their wedding day, George comforts his bride after finding her placing flowers on her parents' grave, reminding her that their love and future together will always honor the ones she’s lost.

• Love beyond house colors💔💗

-> After a secret relationship strained by house rivalry, George proves his love for his Slytherin girlfriend by standing by her side after a Quidditch injury and publicly declaring their relationship.

• Home for Christmas 💗

-> George invites his nervous girlfriend to the Burrow for Christmas, reassuring her with his warmth and humor, and she quickly realizes she’s already part of the Weasley family’s chaotic love.

• Long day, warm night 💗

-> After a grueling day as an Auror, you come home to George, who lifts your spirits with a cozy dinner, heartfelt affection, and the perfect night of love and laughter.

• a dance too late 💗

-> George hesitates too long to ask his crush to the Yule Ball, only to discover she's going with Harry as friends, but amidst the festivities, he finds the courage to confess his feelings, leading to a magical evening spent together.

Formula 1

Lando Norris:

- The Norris Family - Mafia - 🖤

• When mom looses her cool 💔💗

-> You finally snap after you catch your kids lying about a party and afterwards teach them a lesson about responsibility.

• Party pact 💗{💔}

-> Amelia and Jacob, the spirited teenage children of a strict but loving Lando, attend a party where their bond is tested as Jacob protects his bold sister while ensuring they stay out of trouble and honor their father's trust.

• Unseen tears 💔{💗}

-> A mother struggles with emotional isolation and her distant family until her husband finally steps in to confront their children and begin mending their fractured bonds.

• Amelies Innocence 💔 {💗}

-> Lando’s kind and patient wife loses it when she finds her six-year-old daughter with a gun in her hand.

• Family Business 💗

-> An evening where Lando and his wife recognise themselves in their children.

• Shadows and Sunlight💗

-> In the dangerous world of Lando Norris, a ruthless mafia boss, his kind-hearted wife and their contrasting children create a family full of warmth, love, and the delicate balance between light and dark.

• The balance of Us💗{💔}

-> As Lando navigates his dangerous world, his fiercely curious daughter and gentle son test the delicate balance of their family, while his kindhearted wife remains his unwavering anchor in a life of chaos.

• A lesson in Strength and Kindness💗

-> When Jacob stands up for a bullied classmate and gets in trouble, Lando and Y/N work together to ensure their son learns the value of both strength and kindness, teaching him that standing up for others can be just as important as following the rules.

• Switching Sides 💗

-> In a day filled with business and adventure, Lando and Y/N teach their children the balance of strength and kindness, reminding them that family is their true source of power and purpose.

- Imagines -

• More than enough 💔💗

-> Lando, living a modest life, discovers that his girlfriend is a secret billionaire CEO and battles his feelings until she reassures him that he is her home and true happiness.

-> P2

• Right here 💗

-> Lando feels overlooked as you get carried away with friends at the club, but after expressing that he misses you, the two of you reconnect and focus on each other for the rest of the night.

• Tested 🖤💗💔

-> Lando, raised to see vulnerability as weakness, pushes through the flu to maintain his mafia image, but ultimately allows you to care for him when his facade cracks.

• Stress Shopping 🖤💔💗

-> After a heated argument, you storm off on a stress-shopping spree with Lando's card, prompting a call from his bank, but the fight ends in heartfelt apologies and a reminder of his love for you.

• No, you’re not 💔

-> You and Lando have been inseparable since childhood, both secretly in love with each other but too afraid to confess—he believes you deserve better than him, and you think his flings mean he could never see you that way, leaving your feelings tangled in unspoken fears of ruining your lifelong friendship.

• What she is to me🖤💔

-> In the ruthless world of power and betrayal, Lando’s desperate attempts to shield you from the darkness of his empire begin to unravel when a mysterious woman threatens to destroy the fragile trust between you both.

• why didn’t you tell me? 🖤💔💗

-> Lando discovers you’re hiding your illness to avoid worrying him, leading him to care for you tenderly through the night, reaffirming how deeply you mean to him.

• Prom dress 💔💗

-> You sit with Lando after a disappointing prom night, as he reassures you that you don't need perfection to be valued and offers comfort, reminding you that you're not alone.

• Mr. Overthinking 💗

-> Lando navigates the overwhelming mix of excitement and fear about becoming a dad, constantly panicking but finding reassurance in your steady support.

• Nothings new 💔💗

-> Lando, overwhelmed by relentless bullying and emotional strain, reaches a breaking point, leading to a heartbreaking breakdown where he finally allows himself to cry and lean on you for comfort.

• mistletoe and mayhem 💗💛

-> Lando comes home to find you tipsy on Christmas Eve, takes care of your chaotic but endearing antics, and tucks you in with a smile.

• Winter depression 💔💗

-> Lando helps his girlfriend navigate the numbness of her winter depression with patience, love, and small acts of care, reminding her she’s never alone even in her darkest moments.

• In sickness and in secrets 🖤💔💗

-> When you break up with Lando to protect him from your illness, he uncovers the truth, confronts you, and promises to stay by your side, ensuring you receive the best care and his unwavering love.

• though the scope 🖤💔💗

-> Lando, unaware that his wife is the mysterious sniper who has been secretly protecting him, becomes obsessed with uncovering their identity while she struggles to keep her double life hidden to ensure his safety.

->P2

• sounds fun 💗

-> Lando, the shy and self-doubting "nerd" at school, slowly gains confidence as he bonds with you over shared interests, despite his moments of insecurity.

• bribary🖤💗💛

-> Lando Norris, a notorious mafia figure, struggles to get along with his girlfriend's cat, Milo, who constantly hisses and scratches at him, until Lando decides to win him over with a little bribery, resulting in an unexpected truce.

• Christmas shopping 💗

-> Lando carefully shops for thoughtful Christmas gifts for his girlfriend in Monaco, gracefully handling paparazzi attention as he envisions her joy on Christmas morning.

• racing hearts 💔💗

-> Lando panics over the fear of losing his F1 career if he marries his princess girlfriend, says hurtful things, loses her, and later learns from her father that his fears were unfounded, prompting him to win her back and reconcile.

• the weigh of words 💔💗

-> After a heated argument fueled by his frustrations on and off the track, Lando's harsh words pushes you away, forcing him to confront his guilt and fight to mend your relationship through heartfelt apologies and unwavering effort.

• unspoken doubts 💔💗

-> After a misunderstanding fueled by media rumors about Lando’s connection with Magui, you start to doubt their relationship, pulling away from him. But Lando’s commitment to you is unwavering, and he fights to clear the air, proving that his love for you is real and strong.

• stream interrupted ❤️‍🔥💗

-> While Lando is streaming, his focus shifts completely when he sees you dressed in a revealing Halloween outfit, leading to a steamy distraction that leaves both of you cutting the stream for a more private celebration.

• the way to her heart 🖤💗

-> Lando tries to impress you with his lavish lifestyle, but when he puts in the real effort to show you his true self—cooking dinner and building a blanket fort for a cozy night in—he finally wins your heart in a way money never could.

• native language 💗

-> Lando’s playful attempts at learning his partner’s native language bring them closer together, with each small phrase exchanged deepening their connection without the need for grand gestures or complicated words.

• background cuddles 💗

-> While Max Fewtrell tries to focus on his stream, chat becomes obsessed with Lando and you cuddling in the background, turning his gaming session into a hilariously chaotic third-wheel adventure.

• make them pay🖤💔💗

-> When your favorite café is shattered by violence and your friend needs help, you turns to your mafia husband, Lando Norris, to bring justice and restore peace to those you hold dear.

• an unlikely pair 💗

-> Lando has always had a crush on you , but you never really noticed him. When a teacher forces you to study together, you begin to get closer, but doubts arise when your ex teases Lando, making him feel like he’s just a tool for you to pass exams.

• if he gets too close…🖤💔💗

-> Lando breaks up with you to keep you safe from his dangerous world, but when you unknowingly agree to a date with one of his enemies, his protective instincts override his restraint, forcing him to confront both his feelings and the secrets he’s kept from you.

• soft for you 🖤💔💗

-> Lando Norris, a dangerous mafia leader, shows nothing but love and gentleness to his darling, but when she hears whispers of his darker side, he reassures her before taking ruthless action against the man who planted doubt in her mind.

• second chances 💔💗

-> After overhearing his son reveal how hard his mother works to make ends meet, Lando confronts his ex about her struggles and offers them both the stability and love they deserve

• Nerd in love 💗

-> A kind-hearted cheerleader befriends the school’s shy, bullied nerd, standing up for him and forming a heartfelt bond that defies expectations and whispers.

• Off-camera temptations 💗❤️‍🔥💛

-> Lando gets caught off guard when you flash him off-camera during a TikTok prank, but his playful confusion quickly turns into suggestive teasing

• you matter more 🖤💔💗

-> After a misunderstanding involving an unwanted kiss, Lando proves his loyalty to the you by confronting you, clearing up the truth, and eliminating any threat to their relationship

• more than enough 🖤💔💗

-> After overhearing gossip that shakes your confidence in your relationship, you begin to pull away from Lando, only for him to confront your fears head-on and prove his unwavering love and commitment.

• Dinner with a little fame 💗💛

-> Lando meets your family at a chaotic dinner where your parents are clueless about his fame, but your teenage brother’s over-the-top reaction exposes his celebrity status, leading to hilarious misunderstandings and eventual acceptance.

• Tangled hearts 💔💗

-> After a one-night affair leads to an unexpected pregnancy, Lando falls for you, but when you overhear gossip about him dating someone else, you pull away, only for him to reveal he was planning to ask you on a date all along.

• By my side 🖤💔💗

-> Mafia boss Lando Norris fights to prove his love to his maid after cruel gossip causes her to doubt their relationship, ultimately winning her trust and heart.

• Until someone shinier comes along 🖤💔💗

-> Y/N wants to break up with Lando after a cruel guest claims he’ll leave her for someone better. Learning the truth, Lando confronts the guest and reassures Y/N of his unwavering love.

• Yours to protect 🖤💔💗

-> After your toxic ex shakes your confidence, Lando reassures you of his love—but secretly plans to ensure your ex never hurts you again.

• Fake or real? 💗💛

-> A fake proposal for free dessert turns real when Lando confesses his love, changing their prank into something genuine.

• Rivals or lovers? 💔💗

-> Lando and his teammate, initially fierce rivals, slowly begin to realize their unspoken attraction for each other, transforming from enemies to lovers as they confront their fears and vulnerabilities.

• Not now. Not ever 🖤💔💗

-> Lando, consumed by anger during a fight, unknowingly frightens you, causing you to flinch and pull away, leaving him devastated by the realization that he made you fear him and determined to earn back your trust.

• Little secret 🖤💔💗

-> Lando Norris, a mafia boss, falls for a woman hiding her past with an abusive ex and a child she’s trying to protect.

• Brothers bestfriend 💔💗

-> Lando and Carlos younger sister secretly fall in love, risking their relationship with Carlos when the truth comes out.

• Hidden in plain sight 💗💛

-> Lando secretly dates Zak Brown’s daughter, but everyone already knows.

• You belong to me 🖤🩶💗

-> Lando becomes possessive and jealous when he finds you dancing with one of his men at his club, and demands your attention for himself.

• He‘s mine 🖤💔💗

-> Lando tracks you down after two years and discovers your son, vowing to protect you both and rebuild your trust.

• That‘s my girl 🖤💗

-> The girlfriends of illegal street racers compete in a high-stakes race, with you driving Lando’s car to victory and surprising everyone, including Lando, with your skills.

• Prove it 🖤💔💗

-> In a tense and emotional confrontation, you try to leave Lando out of fear, but he proves his unwavering love and devotion, vowing to change and earn your trust.

• Tiny💗

-> Lando overcomes his fear of holding his tiny newborn daughter, discovering an overwhelming love and sense of responsibility that changes him forever.

• Fine line💔💗

-> After a painful breakup with Oscar, you find unexpected love and healing with his teammate Lando, navigating the complexities of loyalty, heartbreak, and new beginnings.

• Hidden past🖤💔💗

-> Lando discovers his girlfriend’s secret criminal past, born from her desperation to protect her family, and vows to stand by her side despite her insistence on handling it alone.

• Misunderstanding 🖤💔💗

-> A misunderstanding over cryptic texts from Lando’s sister leads to heartbreak and confrontation, but ultimately strengthens the trust and love between him and his girlfriend.

• Copacabana 💗💛

-> A stunning performance on Let’s Dance sees you and Lando sharing an undeniable chemistry as you dance to Copacabana, captivating the audience with your graceful moves, bold connection, and breathtaking energy, leaving everyone in awe of your magical partnership.

• bound by blood and fate🖤💔💗

-> After a devastating breakup, Lando is pulled back into your life when an accident reveals not only your fragile state but also the existence of the baby he never knew you carried, forcing him to confront his love for you and his vow to protect his growing family

• Right time🖤💔💗

-> When an intruder threatens your life, Lando's protective instincts take over as he saves you and vows to eliminate any danger, all while you help him find solace in the aftermath.

• Is there someone else?🖤💔💗

-> When Lando grows distant and secretive, leading you to suspect infidelity, you uncover his dangerous efforts to protect you from a rival threatening his place in the criminal underworld.

• shattered trust💔{💗}

-> Lando dumps you for another woman, but soon regrets it and tries to win you back.

• Fourth time‘s the Charm💗💛

-> In which Lando tries to confess to you but gets interrupted every single time.

• The Rookie’s Mistake🖤🩶💗

-> In which a Rookie makes a mistake by unknowingly flirting with someone that belongs to Lando.

• Shadows🖤💔💗

-> Lando’s ruthless mafia life is shaken when his vulnerability, Y/N, becomes a target, forcing him to protect her at all costs.

• The heirs weakness 🖤💗

-> there is only one person who can crack Lando's shell infront of his men.

• Simp sessions and sliding into DM‘s💗💛

-> Y/N openly simps for Lando Norris during a Beta Squad video, and he surprises her by sliding into her DMs.

-> P2

• Interrupted Stream 💗💛

-> Lando is streaming and the chat seems to like his girlfriend more than him.

• Safe Place 💗💛

-> feeling exhausted, Lando calls his girlfriend for a night to allow himself to relax.

• Worth it? 💔

-> after a regretful night, Lando realises how much he really messed up and if it was even worth it?

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris, @dr3wstarkey, @hurtblossom, @ernegren, @esposamultifandom, @darleneslane

[chilkookiepal]

Man In Suits

(Salesman x female!reader)

Summary:: you come across a stranger twice before agreeing to a game , you win big but what of the losses you take at unclarified stakes

warnings ! age gap ,stalking ,manipulation,mentions of married saleman ,detailed smut scenes, violence , there's more to come so i will edit this part<3

MNDI!

Part 2

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He is a nameless man but he knows you, he did his homework and so he knows all there is to know of you

YN LN

Age 22

Born to immigrant parents with no form of recorded identification, well you technically do but for an adult you are a pathetic case , stuck in a foreign country without a penny to your name, not a polite plan but your useless parents love you , right YN?

no?

Well then , you're fucked

It honestly doesn't matter because you are easily just another piece of disposable trash, a useless gullible thing and a walking target for all that could eat alive a weak thing as yourself but you might have had the angel of luck on your shoulder to have stood in that same store as him on that damned day

it was just something about you , you had too much potential, in fact you were so pathetic he could see you in the game uniform the moment he laid eyes on you , way before even knowing your name but he is and always has been a meticulous character so he stood, patiently, kept his face from recoiling as you nearly got on your knees to beg for the vacant position in a disgusting store without a clue that he was cracking his neck to slap the lights out of the store owner right behind that counter

Is this all you can get for yourself

he judged harshly with a sense of superiority as he observed you already making you a mental profile

He wonders if you even took time to research this sorry excuse of a store in all your desperate glory ,did you know of the two male companions that assisted this sleaze behind the counter in keeping the store dead as it was ,did you know that they could be far worse than the slimy pig who is just dying to fuck you, he tugs at your arm to let out with an even slimier tone

"I will call you on Monday, I promise"

and he winks

that was it ,all it took for you to leave your number there on a piece of paper

he isn't even looking for the fractures in humanity at this point and just like all the people who end up in that dumpsters , you too look like a victim of your own choices ,like trying to mix yourself with low lives who don't even try to hide the fact that they are salivating at the mounds of flesh that spill from the top of your dress

that is where he draws the line between himself and humans , humans like you and them , he is not rooted in excess and somewhere at the core of his values he really believes that his innate human desires do not control him

you have some tricks up your sleeves he will give you that , you really had not notice him stood behind you this entire time and like the user you are you turned to face him , a scowl taking over your features as you bump into him , you take a good look at him ,

Crisp suit and not a hair out of place, he looks put together , far handsome than any man in this hell hole but the briefcase in his hand makes you want to scoff for this particular part of town and you conclude  that the man is probably another pretentious bastard who belongs right where he's shopping ,staring for a second before you are pulled back to reality by the sound of your potential boss' voice telling you to make room for the customer making you mutter a simple sorry as you brush past the man whose face is housing a faux smile

Cold eyes that give nothing at all staying glued to yours , your face and never below your chin , that was easily a new with a man , especially in this part of town but then again he could just be a Jehovah's witness , those can be fun to mind fuck

you sway your hips in a hypnotic manner feeling the store owners eyes on you all the way through that exit , you were pathetic yes , not dumb...you knew that you were never going to get hired and if he called you back he would just be looking to get his dick wet

the patient man ,stood in his suit staring dead into the eyes of the man behind the counter with that faux smile that never meets his eyes, he lays flat a greeting to the man across him commanding the man's attention and when his eyes fall on the man in front of him it takes him a moment to respond but suited man with his practiced smile lays an offer just as the slimy man parts an inch of his mouth to speak

"Would you be interested in playing a game with me ?"

"What..." he scoffs as he puffs out his chest and gives an insulting look that could easily match his follow up words

"sir , a game ?...-''he lays his hand on the surface counter and laughs slightly ridiculed ''do you think this place runs on ''games '', mmhm? whatever makes you think i have the time to play some stu-''

''Seo Davis,''the salesman smiles bringing the man to a halt for a second , he watches him intently and waits for him to get ready to speak again and just like those games he enjoys so well , as  the guy opens is mouth to speak the suited man speaks ''age :42 ,You're drowning in debt... 2.3 million total  with 70 percent of your store losses going to the loan sharks ,and that is not even a brink of your financial problems Mr Seo, Creditors are circling, waiting to pounce.., but ten again by the time they get here this place will be a shell of what it never was -'' he quirks an eyebrow ''you know why? You're already so desperate, paranoid and defensive...'' he laid down his briefcase , clicking it open to the man's eyes '' You'll do whatever it takes to survive''

he can already see it in the man's eyes , the greed unhinged ''So, Mr. Seo, tell me... Are you ready to play a new game? One where the stakes are high, but the rewards are higher?'' with a gulp from the man , he picks the red envelope and the quiet store had for the first time in a while the loudest blend between ddakji slaps and the suited man's firm hand making contact with the store owner's face .

That was a month ago

you never got that call back .

over the course of that and this month you could feel the joys you had for life slip out of you as you sat through another gathering with your moter and the company of friends she kept , you had become another conversation , pitied and reduced to what your peers earned that you didn't , to your beautiful body that didn't necessarily go with your face , to your pickiness that left you single and unmarried for the rest of your life

you hid well , behind scowls and smart emarks back to your critiques but that night you felt crazy , your nails digging into your arm to draw blood and silence the mind , he had to admit , it wasn't easy to track down a person whose last records dated back to when they were just eleven years old , that was when your passport expired and you were still here

stuck in a country that gives you nothing at all

he had no choice but to find you , follow you around , you weren't that hard to tail once he abandoned finding you by the system , he could have found someone to track you for him but he was also always a perfectionist , preffering a certain degree of dilligence , if ou were going to end up in that dumpster he needed to verify that you were truly worthy of the title of honorary trash and that is how his research began , only three days after that store encounter

he had to work a little overtime and even then following you around had come to be the easiest routine he ever had to follow even though it at the cost of his personal fun time usually scheduled at local homeless parks , he didn't mind given thhat so far you hadn't come around dissapointing him

you had been so good for him , so easy to watch in a manner that your routines albeit random became of solace to him to watch you about in your wasted days

he could only trust that you would continue to do right by him and agree him to at least one game because even if you personally don't subscribe to any debt you still suffer the consequences of your parents incompetence

he knows that you know of their pending debts because you still go around getting slapped on the wrist with every chance you manage to drag your pathetic self out of bed , you are a defeated little mess and none of the burdens you carry on your shoulders are really yours , the game didn't discriminate

he studied you to be left with just another predictable case on his hands , he was right about you , he was confident in your potential but he drags a nervous breath as he stalks towards your slumped form in that train station's silver bench, crying

you were crying, good . he wonders if you'd look him in the eyes at least once , he had yet to see your eyes bloodshot and all watery , God , he needs to get a grip

,you don't see him coming , you only look to your left to see a familiar unsettling faux smile of a stranger you couldn't care less of , his signature sly smile reflecting back to you your vulnerability and desperation that he is about to exploit ,despite your attempts to protect yourself with a tough exterior you are surprisingly oblivious to the dangers that linger around you ,him included

he knows he has gotten you when you let that ounce of recognition keep you rooted in your seat with the escape of a sigh that leaves your chapping lipd

"hello miss-''

"No-no-no , I don't want jesus christ , infact if you come across him tell him that I don't want eternal life , I would hate to do this again , let alone forever''

you take a deep breath , closing your eyes briefly after you little melt down

he couldn't care less, you already strike him as an abrupt little thing , your vulnerability does that for you , you are simply defensive , if he had been here for the reasons your impulses accuse of him maybe he would have had to persist harder but then again he has so much better for you , his faux smile deepening as he questions

''are you okay?''

you divert your eyes from him looking at your hands that tremble slightly , he doesn't really like to waste his time but he dangles a tissue in font of you , this one is from the kindness of his heart and he gives you the time to collect yourself before laying out the big apple in that low smooth tone that should aid you in trusting him

"would you like to take a break from your worries and play a little game with me ? ''

''game?''

the briefcase clicks open the same time as you whip your head towards him ,a briefcase you have held at such harsh judgements laid open before you , a neatly organised compartment consisting of two square , envelopes? blue and red , cash , loads of cash...you should be excited , intrigued at the sight of the cash but just below it stares back at you a revolver , loud and shiny

when your glossy eyes go to meet the suit man your nose unintentionally scrunches at that casual smile of his , unsettling as ever as he speaks ''you could win really big and do away with your family debt in just three games , Miss YN-shii'' the man operates at such a natural robotic pace which just poses another blazing red flag in your interaction ,you know better than to indulge this stranger , nothing of him calls you to trust him but it's at the back of your mind that he made use of your name when he lays open between you two that briefcase of his , you proceed to ask gulping hard at the stacks of cash

''what kind of game?''

he smiles smugly holding two colored envelopes between his nimble fingers

''amongst these two envelopes , one contain the precise amount of the money owed by your parents and the other contains a penalty ,which one do you choose Miss YN?''

I haven't agreed to playing yet-

the thought is far from finished when he notes to you that time is ticking and you fold so sweetly under pressure , the meek little thing you are , ocd and eager to please would be caught dead before ever missing a deadline let alone disappoint anyone at all and so the salesman pouts

you are impulsive under pressure , you note as your hand flies to the blue envelope , it's bright that's your humble reason as the man's eyebrow shoots up , unreadable prompting a sight out of you as you await promised penalty while he opens the envelope

''oh -"

"what's the penalty " you ask voice barely above a whisper

the man's smile grows wider as he reveals to you a small paper that has you rolling your eyes

"Seems like you have won temporary reprieve Miss Yn, penalty has been reprieved...for now, you are left with two chances "

the envelopes change and you pick again, blue again and you honestly don't know what you are still doing here but perhaps you are at your wits end with all the doors shut to your face, you throw caution to the wind as you recall being rejected at a local strip club , they were blunt telling you that you were not what the locals pay to see , you scoffed and you have zoned out

The mans face turns serious and, you look angry , almost missing out on the fact that you won

"Congratulations Miss Yn ," in your face is a card written exactly 800k won and a bank card attached at the back, there is a crease in your eyebrows , questions swim there, doubt and suspicion too

"how do I know that you are mot just bullshitting me  , what if none of this works?"

he slides a card towards you , triangle, circle, square and a phone number printed on the back

It's strange, too easy and you don't believe in angels or easy luck not for you, especially not for you of all people

"I give you 24 hours to bask in your victory Miss Yn, the details of your penalty remain on hold until then"

you are confused , cat really got your tongue and you stay puzzled even as the man bids you farewell

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ + _ _ _ _ _ _ + _ _ _ _ _ +-------+_ _ _ _+-------+_ _ _ _ _

you had clutched tight the envelope from the strange man for the rest of that night , barely slept a wink looking him up on the internet , it had started with the card of shaped symbols which lead you to preschool stuff , you so badly wanted to believe that maybe he was a preschool teacher but your wide awake senses rejected the idea so greatly your nose bled at 2am in the darkness

, you tried with the number as you further spiraled into desperation....NOTHING. When the morning came your feet carried you back to that train station , you occupied the very same seat as you had that day , you waited before you were seeking him , trails that lead you back to that store , or what you think to once have been a store , ashes and broken glass residing there, you seeked your surroundings for a strange yet familiar face until a part of you is convinced that he is just a fragment of your imagination , a byproduct of the immense stress and disappointment of you daily life

you wander and wander until you are stood in front of an atm , fucking around to find out , and find out you did.

your father's bank balance reflected back at you sums and amounts you would never even dream of ,800k as the man had said and you still couldn't believe it.

you could have just enjoyed it but you wanted the catch , a fault , anything to tell you that you were deluded,

you went home , you often thought about what you'd say you to your parents who sheltered you with all they could manage as you entered the threshold of your home , a tought that goes away as soon as you meet the joyed expression of your father who is somehow confident that he won a quarter of the lottery , he wasn't far off as it all felt surreal only , as he showed you a dramatic text from an unsaved contact

congratulations mr LN on your lottery win of 800k , your victory has been deposited into your account , enjoy~!!

you felt scared , you wondered if you had been baited to some illegal scheme that could lend not you but your father in prison

you prayed not as you went from confused to making excuses to deciding that you needed to contact the suit man , you dialed quickly the number on the card , it rang before a feminine voice greeted on the other side "hello, who's this?"

the crease of your eyebrows could only get deeper as you frowned

"Hello , may I please talk to the man...''you cringed at your tone and the ridiculousness of the situation , the realisation that you didn't even know his name ,''he wears suits and carries around a briefcase-" beep

the line disconnects before you are done and you try the call again, double checking each digit before pressing call , this time the woman get's to talk before you do

"I will pull your tongue out and wrap it around your neck until you die if you ever call my husband again.''

she didn't even wait for your response before cutting off the line

third time is a charm , you seem to be blocked as you are immediately rejected before calling it a day , not entirely though given that your desperation was venturing on the lines of paranoia ,it was a joyful day in your home , your father still convinced that he won the lottery which meant that you got no thanks at all for your efforts , not to be mistaken , you appreciated the heat of having to explain yourself or the mysterious money being removed off your shoulders but a teeny tiny list of reasons overwhelm you , for starters...was it a coincidence that the money had gotten to your father as a simple run into the luck of lottery, your efforts entirely discarded , you technically didn't have to do much for the money which is what posses the biggest threat to you right now , despite wanting to tell yourself that you won this money fair and square the rationed part of yourself cannot simply accept that life would just be so...giving? to you of all people...what was all tat about a pending penalty?

it's nearly 24hrs since  you last came across that man,' would he have shown up if you hadn't gone to the bank ?

a lot of things were unclear as you laid awake for the second night in a row ,you needed answers that the chat assistant in your pocket could not answer , and so you slipped on your  pair of slippers  , you just wanted to clear your head and that path lead you to the opposite end of the subway from where you sat yesterday , even at these late hours exhausted people occupy the place , probably people with jobs to return from, you wonder if some may even be going to thier jobs and somewhere between your thoughts you get lost, your fingers becoming the object of your focus on your lap amidst the quiet noise of a busy station

you are strangely calmed by the waves of trains and the chaos of your mind is muted until the waves are blending with something else , clapping?

You lift up your eyes and you don't have to search far because right across you through the windows of a train stands a confident suited man who throws a familiar red envelope to the ground, you quickly realise that he is flipping the blue envelope on the ground before proceeding to slap the man across him, hard and fast

It's natural that your eyebrows crease as the man is handed some cash before the suit man is leaving up the stairs

you are even more skeptical of him but you still run after him as soon as the train departs and you risk your life with the hopes of possibly getting some questions answered

It's not really a surprise by the time you reach the stairs there is absolutely no one but you keep going, in your head you think you will just run into him and the idea makes your palms sweaty. The man carries a gun, he slaps people and.. -he's turning a corner down the sketchy passage

every part of you, rational is screaming at you but your feet still work very fine so you jog after him, he must have impaired hearing because you heave painfully and your slippers basically slap the ground beneath your feet loud enough to reach him, as you reach the corner you scan briefly before he's right there, he suddenly appears in front of you under the flickering exhausted lights and the familiar scent of his expensive cologne overwhelms your senses

at the first eye contact you make with the man you bow your head , contemplating your decision to case after him , you hadn't even prepared a what you would say to him and now all your senses were screaming at you to turn back

you have to talk yourself into staying rooted as he takes slow steps towards you ,the distance between you two is becoming smaller by the minute and you are actually getting scared because because the summer rain hits you without warning and his faux smile is nowhere to be seen tonight in place of his faux smile is a darkness occupying his eyes

you don't know if it could save your life but you bow and issue out a greeting

he does take a halt ,right in front of you , you are preparing your next words when he reaches for your cheek ,eyes deep and set on yours as he slowly backs you against the wall , the pad of his thumb caresses the area and you are highly aware of him and everything around him

you wonder if you look as brave as you intend to present to te man in front of you getting on your tippy toes to glance behind him and letting the fact that it's only the two of you here sink just as you decide that you are allergic to silence , the one he is presenting to you anyway

"do you live around here , ajushi?'' you continue to avoid his eyes looking around the area just to distract yourself from the fear bubbling beneath the surface

"I don't''

he doesn't beat around the bush as he pops out the biggest question

"why are you following me? YN"

the hand on your cheek trails slowly down until i's at your neck where his rough thumb massages in meditated motions on the column of your throat ,

''I wasn't-'' the hold on your neck turns not so gentle yet not enough to disrupt your breathing pattern , it's a warning just as the words that follow up

''I have an idea , you answer my questions , for every answer that I don't like i add pressure to your precious little neck

-with that , be mindful of what you answer miss yn, '' he loosens his hold slightly finally flashing you a formal smile , nowhere near friendly even with his full set of teeth on display

''so Miss YN , have you been following me?"

his eyebrows shoot up in an expression that makes you think for a second that he is actually adorable , only the hand on your neck makes you start talking

"'I tried to call you ,on the number you gave me but a woman answered and told me that I would be dead if I ever called her husband again"

he hums just as his hand tightens , you can for a second taste the faux courage exit you system as you try to gulp down the sheer panic bubbling up

he shakes his hand side to side ''that just won't do YN-

why are you following me ?''

''I wanted to thank you , my father recieved the money but I couldn't find you anywhere so I went to the train station for some air and then i saw you- you can't stop there ,he is so close to cutting your air flow

''I wanted to talk to you and ask about the penalty and why my father is convinced that he won the lottery , you walked too fast and I couldn't call you so I ran , I didn't mean to follow you''

you did it again , your frustrated meltdown thing and now you were crying , he should feel sympathy

but fuck you look far better than he imagined you would with your eyes all watery ,he's pushing and at the sight of your hands shooting up to where he clutches your neck adding pressure by the passing second you become quite aware of the nearest news headline

"woman , 22 found in the nearest ditch-''

"would you like to come with me or return home to live in the devastating shadow of the peanuts that your brother earns , hmm YN?''

he let's go of you and you cough violently shooting a glare in his direction as he reaches a hand towards your face swiping a tear before sucking the section of the thumb

you shake your head no and you expect him to be...well.. himself about the matter but he simply turns away to leave you in the pouring rain teeth chattering , you are not even sure where you are so you do the next dumbest thing , block his path

"t-t-take me - with you''.

[lemonsdietcoke]

Parting Gift - Player 230

Dark!Thanos/Choi Su-bong x Fem!Reader

This is part 2 of my mini series love ridden (you don’t have to read part 1 but it helps you get a deeper understanding of their relationship)

Warnings: Toxic relationship,Emotional manipulation and gaslighting, DUBCON/implied sexual misconduct, power imbalances and coercion,mentions of substance abuse,threats of self-harm, mentions of bruising, vomiting, unreliable memory

Summary: “It ended bad, but I love what we started.” A night out, was supposed to be a distraction, a step to moving on. Instead it leaves you questioning everything. Loosely inspired by Parting gift-Fiona apple

MINORS DNI!

A/n: ahhhh here it is! This is very much a wild ride so be prepared and get comfortable lol. Lmk if yall fw. I love feedback. Lmk what you think!!

……………………..

“Two years.”

It echoes in your head as you stare at your phone. The screen blinks, illuminating the dark, quiet apartment, and your reflection stares back at you. Hollow eyes. Lifeless skin.

You don’t even recognize yourself anymore.

Two years of late nights.

Two years of broken promises.

Two years of fights that always ended the same way — with you apologizing for things you hadn’t even done.

Two years of Su-bong.

The notifications keep coming.

Messages. Missed calls. Voicemails.

You blocked him a week ago. You had to.

Before that, you let the calls go unanswered. You left his texts on read. But after that voicemail, you couldn’t take it anymore.

It wasn’t just the things he said.

It was the way he sounded.

Drunk. High out of his mind. Slurring his words like he could barely get them out.

You’d heard him like that before, of course. Countless times. But this was different.

The shaking breath at the beginning of the message.

The muffled sound of a bottle cap hitting the floor.

The distinct rattle of a pill bottle.

And then his voice —

Low. Rough. Desperate.

“You know, if you don’t fucking answer me…”

There was a pause. You could hear him breathing.

“Maybe I should just end it all.”

Another pause. Longer this time.

The sound of pills being shaken in his hand.

“It’s in your hands now.”

You remember sitting on the floor of your new apartment, the phone clutched in your hands, shaking so hard you thought you might drop it.

That was the breaking point.

You blocked him.

It was hard. Very hard.

What if he was serious?!

What if he did it and it was your fault?!

But it didn’t stop the nightmares.

It’s been a month since the breakup, and you haven’t left your apartment in days.

The dishes are piled up in the sink. Your laundry is overflowing.

You haven’t brushed your hair in three days.

The weight of it all feels suffocating.

You thought leaving him would make you feel free.

Instead, you feel empty.

When your phone buzzes again, you ignore it.

It’s probably Ji-hye.

She’s been trying to get you to go out for weeks.

“You need to live a little,” she said last time you saw her.

But you don’t feel like living.

Still, when your phone buzzes again, you pick it up.

Ji-hye ★ˎˊ˗ (9:17 PM): Come out with us tonight. Please?

Ji-hye ★ˎˊ˗ (9:18 PM): There’s a new club opening in Itaewon. It’ll be fun.

Ji-hye ★ˎˊ˗ (9:19 PM): I’m not taking no for an answer.

You stare at the messages for a long time.

The thought of going to a club makes your stomach turn.

You haven’t been out in two years.

You haven’t been you in two years.

But the apartment feels too small.

Too quiet.

Too empty.

Fuck it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The shower burns your skin.

You scrub until you feel raw, as if you can wash away the last two years.

But no amount of scrubbing erases the bruises —

The ones he left on your heart.

When you step out, you wipe the fogged mirror and stare at your reflection.

Your hair is a tangled mess.

Your eyes are rimmed with dark circles.

You look like someone who’s been barely holding it together.

This isn’t who I am, you tell yourself.

You plug in your hair straightener. You do your makeup.

By the time you’re done, you almost feel like yourself again.

You rifle through your closet, pulling out a black dress you haven’t worn in years. It still fits — snug and short, hugging your body in a way that feels foreign after months of oversized hoodies and leggings.

When you step into your heels, you wobble for a second.

It’s been so long since you’ve worn anything but sneakers.

But when you look in the mirror again —

You see her.

The girl you used to be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ji-hye and her friends are already tipsy when you meet them outside the club.

She squeals when she sees you.

“Look at you! You look amazing!”

You try to smile, but it feels forced.

The club is packed.

Neon lights pulse to the beat of the music.

Bodies move together on the dance floor.

Ji-hye hands you a shot as soon as you walk in.

“Drink up!”

You down it quickly, the burn making you wince.

“Another?”

Why not?

By the time you lose count, you’ve had at least six shots.

Maybe more.

You stopped counting after the first round of tequila.

The room spins slightly, but you feel good.

Better than you’ve felt in weeks.

You laugh with Ji-hye.

You dance with strangers.

For the first time in a long time, you feel free.

And then you see him.

At first, you think your eyes are playing tricks on you.

But when you blink, he’s still there.

Su-bong.

He’s standing near the bar, his eyes locked on you.

His hair is messy, his shirt unbuttoned at the top.

He looks the same as he always does —

Rough around the edges, disheveled in that careless way that made you fall for him in the first place.

But there’s something in his eyes —

Something dark.

Your stomach twists.

The room feels too hot.

You grab Ji-hye’s arm.

“Ji-hye. Is he…?”

Her eyes widen.

“Oh shit.”

“What the fuck is he doing here?”

She bites her lip, looking guilty.

“I didn’t know. I swear. But he’s friends with Seung-ho.”

She nods toward one of the guys in their group — a guy you don’t know well.

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Your heart pounds in your chest, a wild, frantic beat.

You down another shot, your hands shaking slightly.

Maybe if you ignore him, he’ll go away.

But he doesn’t.

When you look up again, he’s moving toward you.

You see him before he speaks.

The way he weaves through the crowd, his gaze locked on you like he’s on a mission.

You look away.

You try to pretend you didn’t see him.

But it’s too late.

He’s right there.

“Hey.”

His voice cuts through the noise, low and rough.

You don’t turn around.

You keep your eyes on your drink, your knuckles white as you grip the glass.

“I didn’t know you came here.”

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.

Your whole body goes stiff.

“Fuck off, Su-bong.”

Your voice is steady, but your heart is pounding.

He doesn’t move.

Instead, he slides into the seat next to you.

Like he belongs there.

Like nothing happened.

“Come on,” he says, his tone light, almost teasing. “You’re really not even going to say hi?”

You turn to him, your eyes flashing.

“Why would I?”

He shrugs, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Because you missed me.”

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it.

“Missed you?”

You set your drink down, leaning closer.

“You left me voicemails threatening to fucking kill yourself. Do you know how fucked up that is?”

His expression doesn’t change.

He doesn’t flinch.

Instead, he tilts his head, studying you.

“Did it scare you?”

Your blood runs cold.

“What?”

“Did it scare you?” he repeats, his voice soft.

“Did you think I was going to do it?”

You stare at him, horrified.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

His lips twitch into something that might be a smile — but there’s no warmth in it.

“I just wanted to talk to you,” he says, his tone almost casual.

“And you wouldn’t answer. You wouldn’t talk to me.”

“So you thought threatening to kill yourself was the way to get my attention?”

Your voice is shaking now, anger and fear mixing in your chest.

He doesn’t answer.

Instead, he reaches for your hand.

And you’re too stunned to pull away.

“I missed you,” he says softly.

“I don’t know what to do without you.”

You rip your hand away, standing up so fast your chair scrapes against the floor.

“Don’t fucking do that.”

Your voice is loud now, cutting through the music.

“Don’t pretend you’re some fucking victim.”

His expression hardens.

“I’m not pretending.”

“You are.”

You step closer, your chest heaving.

“You always do this. You always make it about you. Like your fucking pain is the only thing that matters.”

He stands up slowly, towering over you.

“I’m in pain because of you.”

You scoff, shaking your head.

“That’s bullshit.”

“Don’t lie to yourself.”

His voice is low now. Dangerous.

“You love me.”

Your hands tremble at your sides.

“I don’t.”

“Yes, you do.”

He steps closer.

“I know you do. You wouldn’t be this angry if you didn’t.”

You hate how he gets in your head.

How he twists your words.

“I don’t love you,” you say again, but it sounds weaker this time.

He leans in, his breath brushing against your cheek.

“Then why haven’t you moved on?”

The question hits you like a punch to the gut.

And you don’t have an answer.

“Let’s go outside,” he says.

His voice is softer now, coaxing.

“It’s too loud in here.”

You hesitate.

“Please.”

He reaches for your hand again, and this time, you don’t pull away.

“Just talk to me.”

Your heart is pounding.

Your mind is spinning.

And against your better judgment —

You follow him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The alleyway outside the club smells like cigarette smoke and spilled beer.

You cross your arms over your chest, shivering slightly. The night air feels too cold against your skin, cutting through the warmth of the alcohol.

Su-bong lights a cigarette, his hands shaking slightly as he brings it to his lips.

For a moment, neither of you speak.

Then —

“What do you want from me?”

Your voice cuts through the quiet, sharp and strained.

He exhales a cloud of smoke, his gaze steady on you.

“I just want you.”

You laugh, bitter and harsh.

“Do you even hear yourself? You had me, Su-bong. You had me for two fucking years, and you—”

Your voice cracks.

“You fucking broke me.”

His jaw tightens.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

“But you did.”

Your chest heaves, your breath fogging in the cold air.

“Over and over again.”

“I know.”

He takes a step closer.

“And I’m sorry.”

It’s the softness in his voice that undoes you.

That fucking softness.

Because for a split second —

You almost believe him.

“I never wanted to hurt you.”

His words hang in the air between you, soft and deliberate, like he’s trying to carve them into your skin. And you hate how much they make your chest ache.

You hate that it’s him standing here, saying these things. Again.

“You say that like it fucking matters.” Your voice comes out steadier than you feel. “Like it changes anything.”

He exhales smoke, eyes never leaving yours. “It does matter.”

“No, it doesn’t.” You shake your head, your arms tightening around yourself like it’s the only thing holding you together. “You’ve hurt me too many times for it to matter.”

A pause.

A flicker of something in his eyes.

And then, softly —

“I couldn’t stop.”

The words hit you harder than you want them to.

Your chest tightens, your mind flashing back to the nights he stumbled through the door, high and out of it, mumbling half-assed apologies through the haze.

“I don’t know how to stop,” he continues, his voice quiet. “Not without you.”

You close your eyes, willing the tears to stay put.

“You can’t keep doing this,” you whisper. “You can’t keep blaming me for your fucking choices.”

“I’m not.”

“Then what the fuck is this?” You gesture between the two of you, your voice rising. “What do you think you’re doing right now?”

“I’m trying to fix it.”

Your laugh is sharp, bitter. “Fix it? You can’t fix this, Su-bong. You can’t.”

He flinches at the way your voice cracks.

But he doesn’t back down.

“I can try.”

You shake your head, the weight of it all pressing down on you. The months of pain, the sleepless nights, the voicemail that still echoes in your mind.

“You’re fucking selfish.”

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t deny it.

“You don’t love me,” you say, and it feels like you’re ripping your own heart out. “You love what I do for you. You love having someone to pick up the pieces when you fall apart. Someone to save you.”

“That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Your chest heaves. “You only ever show up when you’re desperate. When you need something. And I’m fucking done being that person for you.”

He takes a step closer, the cigarette forgotten between his fingers, burning down to the filter.

“I don’t want anyone else.”

You hate the way your heart twists.

“I want you.”

You shake your head again, but it’s weaker this time.

“I love you.”

And there it is.

Those three fucking words.

The words that used to make your heart explode. The words that used to make you believe in him, in a future that never existed.

“I can’t do this without you,” he says, and his voice breaks, just a little. “I’ve tried, Y/N. I’ve tried to be better, but I’m fucking lost without you.”

Your hands tremble at your sides.

“You’re only lost because you never tried to find yourself,” you whisper. “You’ve always expected me to do it for you.”

His eyes soften, that familiar vulnerability creeping in.

“I’m trying now.”

“No, you’re not.” You take a step back. “You’re trying to pull me back in. That’s all you ever do.”

A beat of silence.

Then —

“I miss you.”

The words cut through the night, soft and raw.

And you feel yourself wavering.

Fuck.

You press your palms to your face, trying to breathe, trying to steady yourself.

“You don’t get it,” you whisper. “You don’t get what you did to me.”

He takes another step closer, so close now that you can feel the heat of his body.

“I never stopped loving you.”

Your chest heaves, your heart pounding.

“I don’t want to hear that.”

“You need to.”

“No, I fucking don’t.” Your voice cracks, tears burning at the edges of your eyes. “What I need is to move on.”

His hand reaches out, tentative, trembling.

But when his fingers brush against your arm-

You flinch.

It’s instinctive.

A reaction you couldn’t stop if you tried.

And the look on his face?

It’s devastating.

He pulls his hand back slowly, like he’s been burned.

“I’m not him anymore.”

The words are quiet, almost desperate.

“I’m not the guy who fucked up. I’m not the guy who hurt you.”

“You are.” Your voice is soft, but firm. “You’ll always be that guy, Su-bong.”

His gaze drops to the ground, and for a moment, you think he’s going to give up.

But then he looks up again.

“I just want to talk,” he says. “Five minutes. That’s all I’m asking.”

You hesitate.

The rational part of you — the part that’s spent the last month piecing yourself back together — is screaming at you to walk away.

But your heart?

Your heart is still caught in the web he’s spun around you.

“ we’re already talking…” you slightly slur your words, the alcohol taking full effect.

“Five minutes,” he says again, softer this time. “At my place. Please.”

And against your better judgment —

You nod.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake to the sensation of weight.

Heavy. Suffocating.

An arm draped over your waist. A body pressed too close, warm breath against the back of your neck.

And for one blissful second, you’re still half asleep. Still caught in that hazy space between dreams and reality, your mind fogged over with sleep, soft and pliant.

But then your eyes open.

And everything sharpens.

The bedroom is dark — curtains drawn, faint slivers of morning light sneaking through the cracks. The air is stale, tinged with cigarette smoke and something faintly metallic. It smells familiar.

And the weight around your waist?

It’s Su-bong.

Your stomach lurches.

No. No, no, no.

You squeeze your eyes shut, your heart pounding in your chest, the dull ache between your temples throbbing harder with each beat. Your mind scrambles to piece together how the fuck you ended up here. The last thing you remember clearly is the club — Ji-hye pulling you onto the dance floor, shots of tequila burning your throat, the neon lights swirling around you.

And then —

His voice.

His hands.

And now you’re here. In his bed.

You hold your breath, every muscle in your body going rigid. His arm is still heavy across your waist, his hand curled loosely against your hip, fingers twitching like he’s dreaming.

Carefully — so carefully — you think maybe you can slip out from under him.

Carefully, you reach for his wrist, your fingers trembling as you try to lift his arm off you. The sheet rustles softly, the sound too loud in the suffocating silence. You freeze, your breath hitching.

He stirs.

A small, unconscious noise slips from his throat, his fingers curling slightly against your hip.

Your heart slams against your ribs.

Please don’t wake up.

You stay frozen, your body stiff, your breath shallow. His arm feels impossibly heavy against your waist, like it’s anchoring you to the mattress. Slowly — so slowly — you ease it off you, inch by inch, until it finally falls to the bed.

He murmurs something in his sleep, low and unintelligible.

You freeze again, your pulse roaring in your ears.

He doesn’t wake.

You let out a shaky breath, the sound barely audible, and sit up as quietly as you can. The room tilts slightly as you do, your head pounding with a dull, persistent ache. You press a hand to your temple, blinking against the dizziness.

The sheets are tangled around your legs, the fabric twisted and damp with sweat. You untangle yourself carefully, your fingers trembling, your movements slow and deliberate.

His body shifts slightly behind you, his breathing deepening for a moment before settling back into a steady rhythm.

Move.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed, the floor cold against your bare feet. The hem of your dress rides up as you stand, the fabric wrinkled and twisted, clinging to your skin.

You glance back at him, your chest tight.

He’s still asleep.

But his face is turned toward you now, his hair falling into his eyes, his lips parted slightly. He looks softer like this, his usual sharp edges dulled by sleep.

It makes your stomach turn.

Focus.

You force your gaze away, scanning the room for your things.

Your phone.

Your purse.

Where the fuck are they?

The panic sets in slowly, creeping up your spine like cold water, inch by inch. You scan the room, searching for your things, but the room looks almost exactly the same as when you left a month ago.

Cluttered. Messy. The ashtray on the nightstand is overflowing. Empty bottles litter the floor. The same crumpled blankets. The same cigarette burns in the carpet.

Like time stood still.

Like he hasn’t moved on.

Your stomach twists painfully, nausea creeping in at the edges. You stand, your legs unsteady, your head pounding. The ache in your body — between your thighs, in the muscles of your legs — is impossible to ignore.

You take a step toward the bathroom, your hands trembling as you reach for the door handle. You need a moment to breathe. To think.

To figure out what the fuck happened.

The bathroom is as grim as you remember. The light flickers when you turn it on, casting everything in a sickly yellow glow. The mirror is streaked with water stains, the sink cluttered with half-used toiletries.

You close the door behind you, locking it with a shaky hand.

And then you catch your reflection.

Your lipstick is barely there anymore, smudged at the edges. Your mascara streaked under your eyes. Your hair is a tangled mess, the carefully straightened strands now knotted and frizzy.

But it’s the rest of you that makes your breath catch.

The dress you wore last night is twisted around your waist, the hem wrinkled and pulled too high. Your thighs are bare. You pull at the fabric, tugging it down, but your hands freeze when you see the faint bruises.

Finger-shaped bruises.

They’re light, barely there, but you know what they are.

Your stomach drops.

You lift the hem of your dress higher, revealing more bruises along your inner thighs. Some small, faint smudges of blue and purple. Some darker.

You press your fingers to them, your skin flinching under your own touch.

Did I fall?

Did I—

Your mind races, scrambling for an explanation, for anything that makes sense.

And then your eyes flicker lower.

Your underwear is backward.

You stare for a long moment, your brain struggling to catch up with what you’re seeing. The waistband digs awkwardly into your hips, the tag twisted around to the front.

You blink.

Once.

Twice.

Your stomach churns violently.

You lift the toilet lid, falling to your knees as you retch. There’s nothing in your stomach but bile, burning its way up your throat.

When you’re done, you sit back on your heels, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. The bathroom spins around you, your head pounding, your chest heaving with shallow breaths.

You reach for the sink, pulling yourself up slowly, your hands gripping the edge so tightly your knuckles turn white.

Your eyes flicker back to your reflection.

The bruises.

The backward underwear.

The ache between your legs.

Did we—

No.

No, no, no.

You grip the sink harder, your nails digging into the porcelain.

‘I don’t remember.’

That’s the worst part.

You don’t remember anything.

You remember seeing him at the club. You remember yelling at him, calling him out for the voicemail. You remember him pulling you outside, the alley reeking of cigarette smoke and beer.

And then it’s all a blur.

Flashes of his voice. His hand on your arm. The way he looked at you — dark, desperate.

But nothing else.

Your chest tightens painfully.

You want to leave.

You need to leave.

You unlock the bathroom door with shaking hands, your heart pounding in your chest as you step back into the bedroom.

But when you step inside —

He’s awake.

Su-bong is sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his fingers tangled in his hair. He looks up when he hears you, his gaze locking on yours.

And the first thing you notice?

He’s sober.

There’s no haze in his eyes. No slurred speech. No unsteady hands.

He’s completely sober.

Your stomach twists painfully.

“Morning.”

His voice is soft, tentative.

Like he’s testing the waters.

You don’t say anything.

You take a step toward the nightstand, searching for your phone. Your purse. Anything.

But he stands up slowly, blocking your path.

“Hey.”

His voice is softer now, coaxing.

“You don’t have to run.”

Your hands tremble at your sides.

“I don’t remember anything,” you whisper, your voice cracking. “I don’t—”

“I know.” His eyes soften, his brows pulling together in that familiar expression of concern. “You were really drunk.”

Your heart sinks.

“What happened?”

He exhales slowly, running a hand through his hair. “You saw me at the club. You… you wanted to come back here.”

You shake your head, your stomach churning.

“I don’t remember that.”

You must’ve been really drunk because from what you remember you weren’t exactly happy too see him. How did you go from fighting with him to begging to be back at his apartment?

“You were drunk,” he says again, like it’s the answer to everything. “It’s okay. I took care of you.”

Your chest tightens painfully.

The bruises.

The backward underwear.

The ache.

“What do you mean, you took care of me?”

His gaze flickers away for a moment, his jaw tightening.

“You wanted to come back,” he says softly. “You told me you missed me. That you wanted to… you know. Talk. Figure things out.”

Your mind spins, scrambling to fill in the blanks.

“I don’t remember,” you whisper again, your voice shaking.

“I know.” He steps closer, his voice low, soothing. “It’s okay. I missed you too.”

He reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing yours.

You flinch.

But he doesn’t pull back.

“I missed you,” he says again, his voice softening. “I love you.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. They only hurt so bad because he was saying them now. After everything.

And for a moment —

You don’t know what to believe.

“You were wasted, Y/N.”

His words come soft, careful, like he’s tiptoeing around something fragile. His body language matches it — slouched shoulders, a furrowed brow, the faintest slump in his posture like he’s weighed down by concern.

Your stomach churns.

“I… I wasn’t that drunk.” The words feel hollow as they leave your mouth. A lie to yourself, as much as to him. You’d lost count at six shots. At least six. Maybe more.

His lips press into a thin line, a faint shake of his head following. “You could barely stand.”

Your hands curl into fists at your sides, knuckles trembling.

“I don’t remember…” You force the words out, hating how small they sound, how they let the power tip toward him.

He exhales slowly, running a hand down his face.

“I don’t know what you want me to say. You were crying. Saying you missed me. That you needed me.” He pauses, eyes meeting yours, steady and unwavering. “What was I supposed to do, huh? Just leave you there?”

The breath punches out of you. Crying? Saying you missed him? Needed him?

That couldn’t be true. That can’t be true.

But your mind betrays you. A flash of his hands steadying you on the dance floor. His voice coaxing you into the alley. The warmth of his hand brushing yours.

Pieces fall together, but the picture is fractured, missing the crucial moments. And that’s what he’s counting on.

“I don’t…” Your voice cracks, a fresh wave of panic rolling through you. “I wouldn’t—”

“You did,” he says firmly. Not loud, but firm enough that it cuts through your protest. “You were falling apart, Y/N. I couldn’t just—” He stops, dragging his hand through his hair like he’s trying to collect himself. “I had to help you.”

Help you.

The bruises on your thighs burn like a brand.

“By bringing me here?” you snap, your voice rising. “By—by—” You stop yourself before the question comes tumbling out: Did you touch me?

His face hardens just slightly, enough to send a shiver skittering down your spine. “I wasn’t going to let you go home alone. Not like that. You don’t even know what could’ve happened.”

“What do you mean what could’ve happened?” Your voice cracks, pitching higher, panic seeping in. “What did happen?”

He holds your gaze, and for a moment, his expression softens again. “Nothing happened.”

The words should feel like a relief. They don’t.

“Nothing?” Your voice is small, but there’s a sharp edge to it.

“Nothing,” he repeats, stepping closer. Too close. “You needed me, Y/N. And I was there for you. Like I always have been.”

Always.

Your mind spirals, reaching for anything concrete, any moment from last night that you can grab onto. But it’s all a haze, smothered by the tequila and the smoke and him.

“I don’t…” You press a hand to your temple, the ache blooming there sharp and relentless. “I don’t remember asking to come back here.”

His hand reaches out, brushing against your arm, and you flinch without meaning to.

His eyes darken at that. “You’re scared of me now?”

You want to say yes. But the word lodges itself in your throat, too big to swallow, too dangerous to spit out.

“I’m not scared of you,” you lie.

“Then why are you acting like this?” His voice is soft, low, almost tender. “I didn’t do anything wrong, Y/N. I just—” He stops, his jaw clenching. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And now you’re looking at me like I’m a fucking monster.”

He steps closer. You step back. The space between you feels like it’s shrinking, suffocating.

“Why am I here, Su-bong?” Your voice is stronger now, the edge of panic sharpening it. “Why the fuck was I in your bed?”

He tilts his head slightly, his brows knitting together like you’ve just said something unreasonable. “You wanted to be here.”

“No.” You shake your head, your chest tightening. “I didn’t. I wouldn’t—” Your voice cracks, the words tangling in your throat. “I don’t even remember coming back with you.”

His expression doesn’t shift. “You were drunk,” he says simply. “You don’t have to make this a big deal.”

You laugh — bitter, sharp. “Not a big deal?” The words tumble out before you can stop them. “Not a big fucking deal? I don’t even know what happened, Su-bong. I don’t—” Your breath hitches, your stomach twisting violently. The next words catch in your throat, almost too heavy to force out. “Did we—”

You can’t say it. You can barely think it.

“Did we have sex?”

He doesn’t react right away. Not outwardly. But you catch it — the faint flicker of tension in his jaw, the way his gaze shifts to the side before finding yours again.

“Why would you ask me that?” His voice is steady, but there’s something too measured about it, like he’s rehearsed this answer in his head a thousand times.

“Because I don’t fucking know,” you snap, your hands trembling. They curl into fists at your sides, shaking with every ragged breath. “My underwear’s on backwards, Su-bong. I have bruises. And you’re acting—” You stop yourself, your throat tightening painfully. “You’re acting like you did something.”

His jaw tightens again, and this time his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. He exhales slowly, dragging his hand through his hair.

“I didn’t do anything you didn’t want,” he says finally, his tone low but clipped.

It’s not an answer.

It’s not a fucking answer.

“What does that mean?” Your voice rises, panic flaring again. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means you wanted to come back with me,” he says, sharper now, a flash of frustration cutting through the veneer of calm. “You were all over me at the club, Y/N. I told you we shouldn’t—” He cuts himself off abruptly, his fingers raking through his hair again, the strands spiking in every direction. “But you wouldn’t let it go.”

Your stomach twists painfully, the nausea creeping back in full force.

“I wouldn’t let it go?” Your voice cracks, disbelief bleeding into every syllable. “You’re blaming me? You’re saying I—”

“I’m not blaming you.” He exhales sharply, his voice softening just slightly, like he’s trying to rein himself back in. “I’m saying you wanted this. You made that clear.”

“I don’t even remember!” Your voice breaks now, raw and jagged, splintering through the room. “How can I want something I can’t fucking remember?”

He steps closer, and this time you’re too stunned, too frozen, to move.

���Y/N.” His voice drops lower, almost pleading, his hand twitching at his side like he wants to reach for you. “You were drunk, yeah. But you weren’t—” He hesitates, his gaze flickering over your face. “You weren’t out of it. You knew what you were doing.”

The words settle over you like a lead weight, pressing down on your chest until it feels impossible to breathe. Your mind scrambles to piece together the night before, to fill in the blanks, but it’s all fog. Hazy flashes of neon lights and pounding music and his hand on your arm.

“I don’t—” Your voice falters, cracking under the weight in your chest. “I don’t know what to believe.”

His expression softens slightly, his shoulders lowering as he steps closer again, closing the gap between you.

“You don’t have to decide anything right now,” he says, his voice coaxing, soothing. He reaches for your hand, brushing his fingers against yours.

You flinch.

The motion is small, instinctive. But he catches it, his gaze darkening for a fraction of a second before he carefully, deliberately pulls his hand back.

“I don’t know what else to say to you,” he murmurs, his tone taking on a faint edge of frustration again. “I tried to do the right thing, Y/N. I could’ve left you at the club. I could’ve let you go home alone. But I didn’t.”

He looks at you, his eyes steady and unwavering, and you hate how much they make your stomach twist.

“I stayed.” He takes another step forward, close enough now that you can smell the faint trace of his cologne, mingling with the smoke and stale alcohol lingering in the room. “Because you needed me.”

You press your back against the wall, your hands gripping the hem of your dress so tightly it crumples in your fists.

“I don’t remember needing you,” you say, your voice small but sharp, each word cutting through the thick tension in the room.

His gaze drops to the floor for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. When he looks up again, there’s something different in his eyes. Something dark.

“Then maybe you should ask yourself why you’re here.”

The question hits like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from your lungs.

You don’t answer. You can’t.

And in the silence that follows, he steps back, his expression shifting to something softer, more familiar.

“I missed you,” he says, his voice low, almost tender. “And I know you missed me too.”

“Just… stay.”

The word hangs in the air between you, heavy and suffocating.

Stay.

You want to run. You want to grab your things and get out of this apartment, out of this nightmare, and never look back. But your legs won’t move. Your feet feel glued to the floor, weighed down by doubt and fear and something else—something softer, something that aches when he looks at you like this.

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” you whisper.

His jaw tightens, his hands curling into fists at his sides. But when he speaks, his voice is soft. Vulnerable.

“I know.” His gaze drops to the floor for a moment, then back to you. “I don’t blame you for feeling that way. But I’m not the guy I was before, Y/N. I’m trying. I’m trying to be better.”

You hate how much those words hurt. How much you want to believe them.

“You shouldn’t have brought me here,” you say, your voice trembling. “I didn’t ask for this.”

“You did,” he says firmly. “Maybe you don’t remember, but you did.”

The words cut through you like a blade, sharp and cold. You don’t believe him. You don’t want to believe him.

But the tequila haze clouds everything, blurring the edges of the truth.

“Just give me a chance,” he says, stepping closer again. “Let me prove it to you. Let me—” He stops himself, his voice catching. “Let me fix this.”

Your throat tightens, the weight of his words pressing down on you, crushing.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you whisper.

He reaches for your hand again, and this time, you don’t pull away. His fingers are warm, steady, wrapping around yours like they belong there. Like they always have.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” he says again. His voice is so soft, so careful. “Just stay. Please.”

Your chest heaves, your breath shallow and uneven.

And then—

Your phone buzzes.

The sound cuts through the tension like a knife, sharp and jarring. You jerk your hand away from his, your heart leaping into your throat as you spin toward the nightstand.

Your phone is lying there, screen glowing faintly in the dim light. Ji-hye’s name flashes across the screen.

Your stomach twists violently.

Su-bong doesn’t move. He stands frozen in place, his gaze fixed on you. You don’t look at him. You don’t want to see whatever’s written on his face.

You grab the phone, your fingers trembling as you swipe to open the message.

Ji-hye ★ˎˊ˗(9:04 AM): You good? Please tell me you didn’t go home with him.

Your breath catches, your chest tightening painfully.

“Who is it?” Su-bong’s voice cuts through the silence, low and steady, but there’s an edge to it now.

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Instead, you take a shaky step back, clutching the phone like it’s the only thing tethering you to reality.

“Y/N.” His voice is softer now, coaxing, but there’s a sharpness beneath it, something dark and unyielding. “Who was it?”

“Ji-hye.” The name barely makes it out of your mouth, your voice cracking on the second syllable.

He hums, low and quiet. “What did she say?”

You glance down at the screen again, the words burning into your retinas. You good? Please tell me you didn’t go home with him.

You don’t know what to say.

What can you say?

“Y/N,” he says again, stepping closer. His voice drops lower, quieter, like he’s trying to keep you from bolting. “Talk to me.”

Your chest heaves, your breath coming faster now. “I need to go.”

The words feel weak, hollow, and you hate how they tremble as they leave your lips.

“Go where?” His question is quiet, but there’s a weight to it that makes your stomach turn.

“Away from here.”

The second the words are out, his expression shifts. The softness in his gaze hardens, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“If you walk out that door…” He trails off, his voice cutting off like he’s biting down on the rest of the sentence.

Your heart races, panic rising in your chest. “What?”

His jaw clenches, the muscles in his neck tightening. “If you walk out that door, you’ll never see me again.”

The words hit like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from your lungs.

There’s a finality to them, an edge that cuts too deep. You don’t know what he means — if he’s talking about leaving your life or leaving altogether — but it doesn’t matter.

It scares you.

And he knows it.

His gaze stays locked on yours, unflinching, unwavering. “I’m serious, Y/N.”

Your phone buzzes again in your hand, the sound startling you. You glance down at the screen.

Ji-hye ★ˎˊ˗(9:06 AM): If you’re with him, just leave. I’ll come get you.

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you.

Su-bong takes another step closer. “You don’t have to leave.” His voice drops lower, almost a whisper. “We can talk. We can figure this out. But if you walk away now…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t have to. The threat lingers in the air between you, heavy and suffocating.

Your fingers tighten around your phone, Ji-hye’s message flashing like a lifeline in your palm.

“Y/N.” His voice is softer now, pleading. “Stay.”

You look up at him, your chest heaving, your mind spinning.

And in that moment, you don’t know what scares you more; the thought of staying, or the thought of leaving.

[dyingswanpavlova]

"Your girl" - Part 16 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: You get lucky and you get to go out. And then you're not so lucky anymore.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder and rape, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation, mentions of sexual activities and desires, oral sex, rough sex, choking, face slapping, biting, breeding kink, degradation kink, not beta-read, if I've missed any please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

The darkness wasn’t the worst part. It wasn’t even the uncertainty.

The worst part was, that after everything that had happened, you were back in here.

Back in the closet.

Back in the small, cramped space of the empty closet, where you had spent quite a few days so far. Back then it had always been to discipline you, to break you, to turn you into someone you were not – or someone you knew you were, deep down.

Whatever it was, it was in the past. You had really thought it had been the last time back then, but there you were. On your knees, breathing heavily and leaning against the wall for support.

The dizziness was so apparent that you felt you might lose the ground beneath your feet any second. Something was off.

You had often felt sick in your life, but this was different. You were different.

You weren’t supposed to be there. No matter the reason. Not like this, not anymore, not-

How did it get to this point yet again?

You kept your eyes closed and tried to breathe calmly, shutting the darkness out. In your head, you recalled everything that had happened that day. It had started so good. Almost like you were in a movie. And now you were here again.

In and out. In. And out.

You remembered the water. Soft and warm, as he slowly poured it over your head. God, it had felt heavenly. His ministrations, his kisses on your neck and the warm water which glided down your skin in a way that made you melt. Nothing was sexual about it, it was simply…warm. And safe.

With your back pressed against his chest, you leaned back against him in the bathtub. It wasn’t all too spacious, but it was enough. It was all the better, actually. You felt him so close without really feeling him. Without the sensation of having his hands reach for the sensitive parts of your body. Instead he ran them up your back and gently massaged your shoulders, easing every knot and tense muscle until you felt like a new person.

You kept your eyes closed and sighed softly, reveling in the way the warm water hugged your lower body. The callouses on his hands sent shivers down your spine, while he kept gently massaging you. He went from massaging, to soaping and cleansing with a fresh bit of lukewarm water. The thing you loved most was when he slowly poured it over your head and gently massaged your scalp with his fingertips.

“Oh God, that feels so good.” You heard yourself whisper, followed by a soft sigh. You heard the way he smirked behind you, before he rested his chin on your shoulder and pressed a soft kiss against your cheek. That made you smile in return.

“Are you feeling any better?” He murmured.

You had spent the previous night tossing and turning, feeling rather dizzy, despite the fact that you lay down flat and had your eyes shut. That happened sometimes, it had always been like that. There were some nights when you simply felt sick and the only thing that helped was fresh air and a cool cloth on your forehead. Both things he had done for you. He hadn’t hesitated to pull out his chip and open the window. Then he went to the bathroom and came back with a damp cloth. He had placed it over your forehead and eyes and spent half the night sitting beside you, occasionally dampening the cloth anew. You had never seen him like that. So soft, so concerned. So…everything you loved about him.

Of course you loved his darkness all the same. Probably not all of it. You didn’t quite appreciate when he got angry and cut your hair. But that hadn’t happened ever since that one time.

He hadn’t dared to lay down or even think about sleeping, until you were firmly asleep.

The next morning he waited for you, when you woke up, a buttered piece of bread and a cup of tea by your bedside. You had somehow choked it down, because you didn’t quite feel like yourself yet, but it had helped. And now you were here, in his gentle embrace, enjoying his warmth and care.

“Very much.” You whispered back. “Thank you.”

He hummed in response and picked up a soapy cloth, with which he began to gently rub your back.

You closed your eyes and suppressed a content moan. “You’re spoiling me.”

“Someone has to.”

That made you chuckle. “And that someone has to be you?”

He briefly stopped with his ministrations and you could practically hear the way he raised his brows. “Don’t even joke about that.”

That gave you a warm smile. “Silly old man.” You murmured.

He laughed at that and pinched your side, causing you to shriek out a laugh and nearly flood the whole bathroom floor. “Who are you calling old?”

You chuckled and looked over your shoulder. “I won’t take it back.”

He cocked a brow and pinched your side again.

“Okay, okay!” You laughed breathlessly. “You win.”

He smirked and pulled you flush against his chest again, wrapping his arms around your torso. You gently circled his wrists and pressed a soft kiss against one of them. “I’m really happy.” You said quietly.

He was quiet for a moment, obviously caught off-guard by your words. It was like a part of him still expected you to try and flee if you got the chance, just like a part of you always expected his hand to twitch when you teased him too much.

“Why?”

Your brows shot up in surprise. “Can’t you ever just leave things be?”

He hummed and shook his head. “Why?”

You shot him a cocky grin. “Because the most handsome man in South-Korea decided to abduct me.”

“Abduct? Oh, please. It’s not my fault you got no sense of self-preservation.” He shrugged. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to get into strangers cars?”

“If I refused you back then, don’t you think you would have found another way to get me? After all, you did some pretty sketchy shit long before.”

He smirked. “Do we have to go on about this every day now?”

Now it was you who hummed and smirked right back at him. “After all, you went and stole my underwear. How original.”

“Don’t make me tickle you again.”

“No, no, no, no, no – ah!” You laughed and splashed some water in his face. He responded in kind, so you had to squeeze your eyes shut.

Low laughter rumbled in his chest, until eventually he fell quiet again and gently caught your chin between two fingers. “I’m happy that you’re happy.”

You smiled warmly. You had no response for that.

You leaned back against him and closed your eyes. Everything was perfect. This was far better than anything you had ever read in any book, seen in any movie or imagined in your head. He was your dark prince, your savior. You were indeed made for each other. You saw it now. He was twisted, it was no secret and he had hurt you in more than one way. But none of them were irreparable. He had hurt you, locked you away, humiliated you, played with your life – but he had also freed you. He had shown you what love meant. What passion was. That you were indeed someone. Someone worthy of love and care. You were his.

And he was yours.

“Would you like to go out to eat today?”

Your eyes snapped open in a cartoonish way and you sat up straight faster than intended. You spun around and stared at him like a fool.

His lips twitched at the corners and his eyes twinkled in amusement. “So, is that a yes?”

You kept staring at him. A part of you expected it to be either a test or a joke, but despite his amusement, he seemed rather serious about it.

“Really?” You whispered in a voice that was barely audible. You wanted to be happy about it, but a part of you held back. Your mind was ready to, but you body braced itself for a fit of disappointment.

But his expression didn’t waver and instead, he nodded softly.

“I trust you.” He said gently. His words, combined with his soft voice, sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. “I trust you not to deceive me.”

Of course you heard the subtle threat behind his words. It was barely noticeable, but it was there. You were quite good when it came to reading his intentions. His emotions. They were there. Even when he tried to make it appear like there were none.

“I won’t.” You whispered further. “I’d never.”

Two hours later you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, nervously fidgeting with your ponytail. You couldn’t tell what it was exactly that made you so nervous. Was it the fact that you hadn’t been properly outside in months? Had the world changed in the time being?

No.

No, it was something else.

You were afraid. Terrified, even. You were terrified of making a mistake and destroying the lovely cloud that had built around you. The safe space that you felt whenever you were around him, taking a bath together or cooking, while he stood behind you, a hand on your hip as he watched what you were doing over your shoulder.

“Take as much time as you need.” You heard him call out from the living room. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

You took a deep breath to calm yourself. You looked good. You wore the dark green dress and you felt as confident in it as you possibly could. It still felt kind of foreign for you to go out, looking like this, being on his arm. But you knew you would manage it. He would help you through it. Talk you through it. Hold you and guide you, the same way he always did.

And so you finally made your way out.

He sat on the couch, his ankle over his knee and he stared down at his hands, while he waited. He wore a suit and a tie, his hair slicked back casually like it normally was. He looked so effortlessly perfect.

Once he noticed you, he looked up and his entire face lit up at the sight of you.

“Look at that.” He murmured and you smiled.

“Can we?”

He got up and held out his hand to you. Your fingers intertwined with his, you slowly made your way towards the door.

“Don’t be nervous.” He whispered in your ear as he slowly reached for the chip in his chest pocket. “I’m right here.”

You nodded and nibbled on your lower lip, when you heard the soft click of the door. And it opened. Just like that. It was open, open for you. You trembled when you stepped over the threshold. For the first time in how many months? You were outside. Outside. In the real world. But you weren’t the same woman you were when you first came here. The timid mouse who knew nothing but the reality she made for herself. No, now you were here and you were his.

His girl.

You took the elevator to the first floor and took a long glance around. So many things you hadn’t noticed the first time. The black wall that was such a big contrast to the other, white ones. The ceiling fan.

The letter box.

The letter box – it had to have his name on it. It had to. He lived here, right? He had to be there, there had to be some kind of record of him. He was someone, he was holding your hand for God’s sake, he had to-

He followed your gaze and his hold on your hand tightened subtly.

He leaned down, so his lips grazed your earlobe and he whispered: “Go ahead. Take a look.”

It sounded almost challenging, but you were sure, he wouldn’t punish you. Not even if it was a test. Not here, at least. Not outside. Not now.

So, you took a shaky step forward and your gaze followed the rows of names.

48, Apartment 7c belonged to…Blank.

A frown pulled at your lips and he smirked down at you.

“Silly girl.” He mused. “I thought you understood that I’m a ghost. Now, come. You must feel famished.”

You swallowed down your disappointment and followed him.

The moment you felt the warmth of the sun on your skin, the soft breeze of the wind, you stopped walking for a moment. All you could do was freeze on the spot and close your eyes, relishing in the way that it all made you feel. How could you ever before have taken this for granted?

It was perfect. It was Heaven.

You hardly even recognized his gaze on you as all you could focus on was the fact that you were alive.

Alive.

And well. As well as possible, at least.

He smiled at the sight of you and stood back, his hands clasped together in front of his lower body.

“How do you feel now?”

You inhaled deeply and tilted your head back, enjoying the warmth, the love you felt.

It was a single word, but it was hardly enough to capture the way you truly felt.

“Perfect.”

The way to the restaurant went without any further incidents. You decided to walk, because it wasn’t that far and because you had practically begged him to. You wanted to revel in the feeling of this freedom for as long as you could. It didn’t take much to convince him, but he kept his hand on the small of your back possessively the whole way. You didn’t mind that though, not one bit. It was the perfect addition to this wonderful day actually. You belonged to him and he didn’t let you forget it.

When you finally reached the restaurant – a cozy, little Italian place – he led you inside and your heart skipped a beat. The place was filled with all kinds of people, all of them going on about their day and barely acknowledging you. You felt his gaze on you the entire time, obviously trying to gauge your intentions, trying to make sure you stayed in your place and didn’t try to play any tricks on him. But nothing could have been further from your intentions. All you could think about was how you were here, how you kept asking yourself if all of this was real.

Your eyes sparkled in the intimate light of the afternoon sun that shone through the windows as you kept glancing at everything as if you saw it for the first time.

It was like that of course, but it wasn’t your first time going to a restaurant. But it was your first time going out as the woman you now were.

As his.

His eyes followed you with a mixture of amusement and adoration.

The waiter came and he ordered something to drink for the both of you, as well as pizza, pasta and a salad. You hardly even recognized any of it, because you were lost in your own world. Once the waiter left, he reached for your hand and gently squeezed it, capturing your attention.

“How do you feel?”

You smiled brightly. “Thank you.”

He cocked a brow and leaned back. “That’s how you feel, hm?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “No, I just…I feel so…” You sighed deeply and gently ran your thumb over the back of his hand. “I love it here. And I love you.”

His lips curved into a slow smile. “Looks like I’ll be forced to take you out more often then.”

Soon the food and the drinks arrived and you stared down at everything with wide, nearly wild, eyes.

“Dig in, darling.”

You took a bite of the Carbonara pasta and you immediatelyhad to bite back a groan. “Oh God, this is good.”

He smirked as he watched you eat in silence.

“Why aren’t you eating?”

“Give me a moment.” He murmured. “I’m appreciating the sight.”

That made you smirk. “Stop buttering me up and eat something. I feel like a caveman compared to you.”

That made him laugh. A warm, rich sound. A sound you adored and you wished to hear for the rest of your life, actually.

“Don’t be silly.”

“I’m not the silly one. Open up.” You picked up the spoon and looked at him with a mischievous gleam in your eyes. Despite his reservations, he obeyed and parted his lips, allowing you to feed him a spoonful Spaghetti Carbonara. He hummed in response and licked his lips in a way that made your own mouth run dry.

“Delicious.” He purred.

You looked at him with the same mischievousness and slowly lifted the spoon to your lips, the same spoon he had just lapped at, and it disappeared inside your mouth.

His eyes darkened as he watched you with a playful gleam. “Tease.”

You smiled innocently and took a bite of the pizza. It tasted warm and rich, the cheese was practically melting on your tongue. “Me? A tease? Never.”

He grinned and playfully flicked your earlobe.

You laughed and swatted his hand away.

“Hey!” You bit your lip and tilted your head to the side. “I’ll show you what a tease can do.”

Before he even had the time to react, you placed your hand on his knee, sliding it up the tiniest bit on his thigh. His eyes widened and he nearly choked on his tea. Poor him. It was probably hot.

“Don’t you dare.” He murmured.

Your fingertips wandered up further, while you kept your eyes fixed on his. All the while you used your free hand to take another bite of the pizza.

“Don’t I dare what?” You murmured in feigned innocence.

He exhaled slowly through his nose as he watched you through his darkened eyes.

“You know exactly what I mean.” He said lowly.

Your hand just barely skimmed over the growing bulge in his pants, but you caught the way he closed his eyes and held himself back from making any sounds.

“You-“

You began to gently massage his hardness through the fabric of his pants and now you clearly heard the way his breathing sped up.

You had no idea what on earth was going on with you. This wasn’t like you, not at all actually. But the day had started off so wonderful and it only ever got better. He was so sweet and considerate, though he was always on guard. You just wanted to make him melt a little, like he always did you.

“You were saying?” You whispered softly.

He finally looked up at you through half-lidded eyes.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

You looked deeply into his eyes and a new sort of heat covered your cheeks and inside your chest. You wanted nothing more than to see him crumble, to bring him to the edge of ecstasy.

“But I can.”

You glanced around and before he knew it, you were already under the table. The table cloth was so long that it covered you completely and kept you from prying eyes.

His own eyes widened and he nearly let out a startled breath. He glanced around as well, before his eyes settled on your form under the table. His gaze was as incredulous as it was hungry.

“Are you insane?” He hissed while you were already on your best way to free him from the confinement of his slacks.

You smirked devilishly and didn’t make any sound, you just focused on the task at hand. A second later he was free and yet another second later, your mouth enveloped him.

He tensed beneath your touch and his hand instantly tangled in your hair. You observed the way his eyes fell shut and he didn’t even try to keep a straight face.

“Oh God, you’re such a fucking idiot.” He breathed out and tightened his hand in your hair. “Oh God, yes, like that. Don’t stop.”

You gently sucked on the tip before you took him in completely again, causing him to bite back a groan.

You heard someone passing by and he quickly straightened up, schooling his expression, but the look in his eyes was wild.

You made a point of sucking slightly harder whenever someone passed by your table and he tugged on your ponytail warningly.

You smirked against his skin and flicked your tongue against his tip, before you slowly pulled back.

“Tell me that you love me.”

His head snapped up and he looked at you with a frown. “What?”

You nearly brushed your lips against him, but pulled back the last moment, leaving him aching and bucking his hips against the place where your mouth had just been.

“Tell me that you love me.” You whispered again.

He stiffened and glanced around, as if that was the most scandalous part about this.

He grunted and shot you a dark look.

“Stop this.”

You made a point of almost kissing him, before you pulled back again.

He let out a soft sigh, but didn’t try to guide your movements. He just stared at you with growing impatience.

“Come on-“

“It’s true, isn’t it? So, say it.”

You licked along his shaft, but missed the tip on purpose. His eyes fluttered shut and he cupped your cheek in his hand. His touch was surprisingly gentle. You had actually expected him to be beyond livid.

“I love you.” He breathed out and ran his thumb along your temple.

Your heart skipped a beat and you swallowed. He still had trouble saying it and you were well aware that it wasn’t the most elegant way to tickle it out of him like that, but sometimes you just needed it. You needed to feel like you were in control of something. And he needed to learn it, right?

After all you had learned so many things for him.

Dresses. Sex. Trust.

Pain.

And love.

“I love you, too.” You whispered back. But you didn’t give him time to think about your words or the fact that he had said them, because you quickly went back to pleasuring him and this time, you weren’t being teasing about it.

Instead you worked your mouth on him in a way that had him writhing and trembling in his seat. His grip on your hair was tight, but not in the way it usually was. He didn’t hold onto you to guide your movements. This was your show. You were the one in control. He just kept his tight hold on you to keep himself from making any sounds.

When you felt him spill himself into your mouth, his body was shaking so hard, it was probably obvious for everyone close-by. But you didn’t care and he obviously didn’t either, because he buried his face in his free hand and tried to breathe out as quietly as he could. The pleasure nearly sent him spiraling off his chair. After a long, tense moment his breathing slowly slowed down and his grip on you became gentle again. He looked down at you with a soft vulnerability in his eyes that you didn’t get to see often. You had caught him off-guard, while also making him feel like he was indeed the one in control.

And his eyes were soft.

He glanced around to make sure there was no one watching, before he swiftly pulled you back up onto the chair beside his. His draped one arm around your waist and used the other one to quickly get himself decent again.

“You’re such a minx.” He breathed out, still trying to normalize his breathing.

Your lips felt swollen and sore, but you didn’t regret it one bit. You had come to love doing this to him. Nothing turned you on as much as the way his eyes darkened in pleasure.

He cleared his throat and tugged at his tie. His perfect appearance seemed rather disheveled now and the sight made you smile. You loved being reminded of the fact that he was human. That under the whole act of being stern and angry, cold and emotionless, he was indeed a man with flaws, a man with a past, a man with a name.

He gently tipped your chin up, before he picked up his tea cup and lifted it to your lips, tilting your head back. The hot liquid burned down your throat, but you appreciated the way he always took care of you.

He never allowed you to feel used afterwards. Never. Not even when he was angry with you.

“You’re so beautiful like that, you know that?” He murmured as he set the cup back down.

“How?”

He smiled at you. “When you let go and you’re just being yourself.”

That made you laugh. “You think that was me being myself?”

“Mhm.” He purred. “It might be hard for you to believe, but I think exactly that. Under all that sadness and that silence of yours, there’s actually a girl, hungry for life.”

Your eyes softened as you stared up at him.

He licked his lips and released a slow breath.

“And I, darling, I am dying to be the one to satisfy that hunger.”

The rest of the meal went by without any further outbursts – and it was wonderful. You spent your time laughing and talking about all kinds of things. You learned more and more about him and he learned the things he didn’t already know about you. His family and his childhood were still a taboo topic, but you didn’t mind that. You were sure, once the time was right, he would let you in about that part of his life as well. Just like his job…and maybe, just maybe, even his name.

More than one and a half hours later, you were back outside, slowly making your way through the streets which became more and more crowded the closer you got to the city.

Since everything went on so smoothly, he decided to take you out for a small shopping trip as well. You still felt rather lightheaded after the short night you had, but you couldn’t bring yourself to protest. Every moment outside felt like a little piece of Heaven to you.

So, you walked in silence, his hand on your back and his gaze flicked to you every now and then.

He seemed to be rather deep in thought and you caught yourself wanting to ask him what was on his mind, but you didn’t. You were quite caught up in your own mind.

A few minutes later you reached the mall, a rather crowded space, something that made you feel a bit uneasy. You didn’t like places like this one, so you normally avoided them. But this time you weren’t alone. His hand on your back gave you a great measure of comfort. You curled into his side and took his arm, ready to walk the halls like a normal couple.

It felt surprisingly normal.

You still felt his slightly suspicious gaze. He couldn’t relax, couldn’t relax entirely. Not even the fact that you had just been on your knees for him, when you were normally so closed-off. He had a hard time trusting, something you understood well. But a part of you still wished he would finally try and trust you fully.

As if to reassure him, you shot him a soft smile. He returned it, surprisingly, and his grip on your back eased slightly.

“Where would you like to go?” He murmured into your ear.

You smirked and glanced around.

“The bookstore?”

That made him laugh. “Such an odd girl. The bookstore it is.”

You made your way through countless rows of books, reading and dreaming yourself into the stories, while he stayed firmly by your side and kept his gaze on you. Whichever book you picked up and held in your hand longer than fifteen seconds, he gathered it and propped it under his arm. By the time he scooped up the fifth book, you frowned at him.

“What are you doing?”

He frowned right back. “I’m buying them?”

Surprise flashed over your features, before you suddenly felt like laughing. “What? But I put them back.”

He shrugged. “You seemed to like them.”

You tried to hide the flutter in your chest. “But-“

“Shut up and keep looking, okay?”

You smiled down at your hands, before you set the book you had just held back down and made your way to the cash register.

Of course he picked up that book as well. You held it for a solid twenty seconds.

A few minutes later, you were back to wandering the mall. He had the bag with the books firmly in his hand and he had somehow convinced you to make a stop at Victoria’s Secret as well.

So far, your style had consisted of whatever fast fashion you found that was rather comfortable and didn’t bring you any fuss. But he insisted.

He insisted that you deserved more than that. That you deserved to feel like a princess.

And so he led you down the hallway until you made your way to the lingerie store.

And to your surprise, everything there was beautiful. You had expected to find it rather cliché, but no. Every piece you touched felt like a soft caress.

He made you try on at least seven pieces. A silky, red robe, lingerie of all kinds, a black negligee, a white corsage. And everything looked good on you.

You had half expected him to creep up on you in the changing room and retaliate for what you made him go through in the restaurant, but he waited in front of it patiently, eying every new fit with curiosity and awe. You felt rather relieved, because you still felt the tiniest bit dizzy and the thick air in there didn’t make it any better.

His eyes widened and he tugged at his tie, regarding you with a long look every time, making you turn around from every angle. And eventually, he bought them all for you.

What else did you expect?

He carried all the bags through the great halls of the mall and you couldn’t help but find yourself smiling softly. It felt too perfect. He was too perfect.

When you glanced up at him that time, something felt strange and odd.

He didn’t immediately glance back at you. He wasn’t keeping his focus on you in a way that threatened to suffocate you. Instead, he walked beside you with the firm belief that you wouldn’t slip through his fingers. The thought sent a shiver down your spine. Was he finally growing more comfortable? Was he finally trusting you?

You kept staring at him for a moment, feeling caught up in your thoughts, unable to speak. You stared at him and the way his handsome features were tugged into a thoughtful, yet soft expression.

You loved him. And suddenly you wanted to tell him.

You opened your mouth, ready to say the words, when someone bumped into you from the side. It was an elderly couple and the woman quickly regarded you with an apologetic smile. You returned smile and looked back at him, just as quick, only to realize he wasn’t right next to you. Instead there was a group of about seven women, walking around with pink dresses and crowns on their heads. One of them wore a white dress instead and you realized it was most likely her bachelorette party. You caught sight of her face and she glanced right back at you. You smiled softly with a whole lot of fondness in your eyes and she immediately returned the smile.

What a wonderful thought. To have friends and well…A fiancé.

Was that something you could ever anticipate? Was that something you could allow yourself to dream about? Or were you destined to feel nothing but disappointment, whenever that topic came up in your mind?

The moment was fleeting and you quickly looked up to match his pace again, but you suddenly realized he wasn’t anywhere close by. He was a few steps ahead of you. It wouldn’t have been dramatic, if it wasn’t for the crowd of people that slowly built between you.

You saw him come to a halt and check the crowd between you. The softness in his expression immediately turned into something darker. The thoughtfulness turned into anger. And beneath the gentleness of his eyes, which had been there up until then, you saw it.

Panic.

You opened your mouth and raised your hand, waving and trying to make your way back to him, when suddenly-

You gasped out loud when someone suddenly squeezed your elbow. You yanked your arm back forcefully and shot the man a dark look, but he quickly held up his hands in a placating gesture.

“Forgive me, miss.” He said in a British accent. “You looked like you speak English. Am I right?”

You frowned slowly and looked up again to catch sight of-

“I just wanted to know – Can you tell me where to find the…uh…” He fumbled with a piece of paper in his hands.

“I’m not from here.” You said, panic rising within yourself. If he thought you had left him? Oh God, of course he would think that.

“Yes, I could tell as much.” The stranger with the dark blonde hair smiled apologetically. “May I ask where you are from?”

“What did you want to know?” You nearly snapped.

You weren’t normally as uncivil, but you couldn’t help yourself. Your patience was wearing thin and you had long but lost sight of the man you loved and who would undoubtedly punish you for this, if you got really unlucky.

“Of course. Pardon. I was asking myself, do you know where I can find the market square?” He smiled hopefully.

“No.” You said shortly. “I told you I’m not from here.” In a softer tone, you added: “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, please, don’t worry. I’m sure I’ll make it somehow. Pardon me, I really don’t mean to pry, but is it possible you’re from England? Your accent-“

“I really need to find my husband.” Husband. The word sounded equally as ridiculous as it felt thrilling on your tongue.

He held up his hands again and took a step back. “Forgive me.” He smiled. “I got the hint.”

“No, I’m not making this up.” You suddenly felt guilty. “I mean, I was just-“

In that moment you felt a hand on your shoulder, squeezing possessively and you knew it was him, without having to look. When you did meet his gaze, his eyes were blazing and wide, a small stutter to his breath. Your own eyes widened and you opened your mouth helplessly.

“I’m sorry.” You said gently. “There were those women and then this man asked me for-“

When you looked back to introduce him to the mysterious stranger, you suddenly realized he wasn’t there anymore.

“I know.” He hissed lowly in your ear. “I saw him. Now, move.”

He didn’t say a single word all the way home. His eyes were narrowed and he carried all of the bags in one hand, so he kept his other hand on your arm. He held you by your wrist, tighter than before. His tight grip and the tension is body gave away how he truly felt.

Furious.

You swallowed and tried to keep up with his pace as you silently stumbled alongside him. You knew the dynamic had shifted and you were probably in trouble. It felt like that one time he caught you by the open door, only that now you had the great hope that he wouldn’t cut your hair for it.

Or try to choke you to death.

He pushed you into the elevator and pressed the button, only for another woman to enter. He shot you a dark, warning look. It made you sad if you were honest to yourself. Just when you thought that maybe he trusted you, he suddenly didn’t anymore.

You forced a smile when the woman glanced your way. She returned the smile and a few floors later, you made your way back towards the apartment. Somehow, you had a feeling this would be the last time you felt any freedom, for a long time.

Still, you followed him quietly when he held the door open for you. He stepped inside right after you. The sound of the door clicking shut announced the end of your short-lived dream of love and freedom. You closed your eyes to brace yourself, but you hardly had any time to.

He let go of the bags and pushed you against the wall, keeping a firm grip on your shoulders.

Oh, no.

“Do you want him, huh?”

“What?”

“Did he touch you?” He growled without any concern for what you had to say. “Did he get his fucking hands on you, huh? Did you like having his dirty fucking hands on you?”

You knew you were probably supposed to be afraid. But what you felt rather than that was surprised.

Surprised and offended.

And also a tiny bit relieved.

You had expected him to be furious because you got lost in the crowd. Because he’d probably think that you tried to leave.

But he…he was angry, because of the guy?

Was he…

“Are you jealous?”

He slammed your wrists against the wall and gritted his teeth in fury. “Damn right I am.” He hissed. “Did you enjoy the way he ogled you? Did you fucking enjoy it?”

His hands were shaking with barely suppressed anger, but he was somehow holding himself back. For your sake, most likely.

Your chest heaved rapidly.

“He didn’t touch me.” You breathed out.

“Are you sure?” He spat out. “Are you sure you’re not lying to me? You’re such a-“ He stopped himself and closed his eyes.

“I’m such a what?” You said quietly.

His eyes snapped open and he glared at you. “You don’t get to give me an attitude. You better keep your mouth shut or else-“

“I’m such a what?!” You snapped back. “Say it! Say it, what am I?!”

He pondered with himself, it was obviously on the tip of his tongue.

His self from a few months ago would have had no trouble to say the word.

But not only you had changed. He had, too.

And now he seemed rather careful when it came to  harsh insults which he had no right to throw your way.

“What am I?” You gritted out. “Say it.”

He took a long breath, trying to calm himself down.

“Did he touch you?”

“He touched my elbow to stop me. But I didn’t let him.”

He bristled and clenched his jaw so hard, you feared he might break his teeth.

“Did you enjoy it?” He spat out. “Did you enjoy his fucking hands on you? Do you wish he was here to fuck you, huh? Do you want him to fucking fuck you?!”

“No!” You took a shaky breath. “No. No.” You then whispered. “I told him I need to find my husband.”

For a second he froze and stared at you with an intensity that was almost painful.

Husband.

You saw the way his eyes flashed and his heartbeat faltered.

“That…that means nothing.” He forced over his lips. “You still let him touch you.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he slammed his hand down over your mouth and pressed tightly against it. You gasped in surprise, but held still otherwise.

“Do you know him? Huh? Is he some bastard from work, who tried to get in your pants while you were there?”

Your eyes widened in horror and you quickly shook your head.

“Yes, I’m sure he is.” He gritted out and pressed his whole body against you, pinning you against the wall. “Or maybe he did. Maybe he did get in your pants, huh? Maybe the whole virgin thing was just made up to mess with my mind.”

A pang of hurt made your stomach churn, but you tried to suppress it. He didn’t mean this. He was just angry. And whenever he got angry, he said things he didn’t mean.

“Did he fuck you?”  He spat out. “Did he fuck you? Did he push his goddamn, tiny cock inside you? Did you enjoy it? Did you enjoy him?” His voice slowly turned into a whisper. His anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but that was not what you heard when he spat out his words. You heard desperation.

“Do you want him? Do you want him more than me?” His eyes held the same desperate, near-pleading look and you felt your heart soften.

You shook your head again and the look in your eyes mirrored his. Quietly pleading with him to believe you.

When he slowly pulled his hand back, you took a shaky breath.

“I’m yours.” You whispered breathlessly. “I’m only yours.”

The look in his eyes didn’t change, but he loosened his grip ever so slightly.

One of his hands slid down to cup your cheek.

“Say it again.”

“I’m yours.”

“Again.”

“Yours. I belong to you. Only you.”

“Again…”

“I…”

Your eyes fluttered shut when he captured your lips in a bruising kiss. Nothing about it was gentle. The softness of the last few days, weeks even – it disappeared. He kissed you like a man starved, desperate to claim what was his and remind you of that fact.

He pushed his tongue into your mouth and slid his hand further down, wrapping his fingers around your throat. You tilted your chin up and allowed him to. Something about it felt so incredibly thrilling. The way he controlled you, controlled even the fact if and when you were allowed to breathe – you trusted him with your life. And it turned you on like crazy.

You stumbled back to the bedroom, discarding your clothes on the way without ever taking your hands off each other. It was such an intense feeling, the overwhelming passion of being so angry and yet…wanting him.

Wanting him with every fiber of your being.

And he seemed to feel the same way, because he dragged you along and pushed you onto the bed with a low growl. He pressed down against you and moved his leg between your own, while he quickly unclasped your bra and threw it aside. He was only left in his slacks, which you undid with now rather practiced ease, after doing it nearly every day for weeks.

You wrapped your legs around his waist and he responded with another deep growl, before he pushed his tongue back into your mouth. His hands ran down your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He began to trace kisses down your jaw and neck, over the curve of your breast and back up, until you writhed underneath him, begging and arching your back.

“Stupid girl.” He grunted and bit your lip hard enough to draw blood. You moaned and pushed him back, which he didn’t take all too kindly. He hissed and pushed you further down, biting your lip again and now you felt the soft, metallic taste of your own blood on your tongue. You whimpered in response and before you could stop yourself, your hand cracked against his cheek. It wasn’t a hard slap, but enough to catch him off-guard; enough for his head to snap to the side.

Your eyes widened and you let out a startled gasp. He stayed like that for a moment, before he slowly turned his head and looked at you with an unreadable expression.

A part of you was almost sure, oh God, you were going to die.

All of you, actually.

He kept staring at you for a long moment, his lip twitching in what could only be anger. And eventually he crashed his lips against yours again, soothing the bite with his tongue.

Your eyes fluttered shut and you swallowed your relieved sigh, the moment when you felt his hand wrap around your throat again.

“I’m the only one who’ll ever get to fuck you.” He hissed out, one second before he pushed himself inside you and left you gasping for air.

“Fuck, wait-“

“No, baby, no. I’m going to fuck you and you will take it. Aren’t you my good girl? Aren’t you daddy’s good girl?”

He began to fuck you in a punishing pace, not giving you any time to adjust to the sensation of having him inside you at all. You moaned in a mixture of pain and undeniable pleasure, because the feeling of giving up control like that, it did all kinds of things to you. He hadn’t had you like this in weeks, you couldn’t tell how many it had been. And somehow, you missed it.

Fuck, you missed it.

As if on cue he tightened his grip on your throat and you gasped in surprise.

“Do you like this? Huh? My naughty girl. My little whore. Aren’t you my little whore? Huh? My personal little fucktoy?” He grunted while he kept fucking you in a way that made you feel like you were being ripped apart. He kept hitting your sweet spot with such a ferocity that you were sure you were going to burst any second.

“Answer me.” He growled. “Are you my whore?”

Your eyes rolled back in your head, but you forced yourself to nod.

“Good girl.” He breathed out. He suddenly shifted so that he was no longer holding you by your throat with his hand. Instead he pushed his arm behind your head and wrapped it around your neck, pressing his biceps against your throat, while he kept fucking you furiously.

He cut off most of your air supply and you felt a sense of panic rise within you.

He was so strong, too strong for you, so fucking hard and…

You couldn’t breathe, so you clawed at his arm like a cornered animal.

He smirked. The fucking bastard smirked.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you.” He mocked.

You tried to choke out a response, but all that came out was a strangled sound. You were nothing more than his toy to use, his to torment, but suddenly-

Ah, fuck.

You came with an intensity you had probably never felt before. Your eyes rolled back so far, you were afraid they might stay that way and your hips lifted off the mattress, pressing against his. You couldn’t speak, but that didn’t mean you were quiet. The strangled sound of your moans reached his ears and he moaned in response. Your walls clenched around him and it never seemed to stop.

It went on and on and on…Until the feeling finally passed.

He immediately pulled his arm back and you collapsed on the bed, hungrily gasping for air. You hadn’t even realized how you clawed at his skin so hard that you broke it.

He bit his lip and looked down at you with a soft frown. “Are you okay?”

“Fucking bastard.” You breathed out and now it was you, who silenced him with a kiss. He was still moving his hips, moving in and out of you, but with gentler movements now, so he didn’t cause your body to go into overdrive.

He smirked against your lips. “Bastard? That’s new.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You whispered and buried your hand in his hair, tugging on it. You weren’t exactly gentle about it.

“Feisty.” He groaned into the kiss.

“You have no idea.” You murmured.

With a swift movement, that seemed to kick all the air out of his lungs, you pushed him back and shifted so that you straddled him instead.

“What are you-“

“I said”, you said lowly, “shut up. You nearly killed me. You don’t get to speak.”

The idiot had the audacity to smile.

“You seemed to like it.” He teased.

Your face flushed red in embarrassment and you glared down at him. “I’m not…denying that. But still. It’s my turn.”

His brows rose in surprise, but before he could say anything, you lowered your hips down against his and guided his hardness back inside you. He groaned and his head fell back against the mattress.

“Fuck, there’ll be nothing of me left tomorrow.” He breathed out.

“Makes two of us.” You whispered. Your throat felt sore, but you didn’t care. You wanted to ride the hell, the life out of him. You wanted to see him broken, battered, bruised and satisfied to death.

You began to move your hips, moaning every time you felt him so incredibly deep.

“Are you sure you can handle this? Aren’t you maybe biting off more than you can chew?” He murmured, but it sounded strained.

“Do…you…ever…shut up?” You breathed and squeezed his face in one hand. A particularly hard thrust later, his façade finally crumbled and his eyes fell shut. You did that pelvic floor exercise thing on him you had read about, squeezing him in, taking him in, making him feel you even closer and something suddenly snapped inside of him.

“Fuck-“ He gripped your hips so hard, you were sure you’d have new bruises in the morning.

You kept grinding against him, once, twice, thrice…

And then you stopped. You pulled back and hovered in the air, holding yourself up against his shoulders.

The sound he made was pathetic.

Since it was him, it was a mixture of pathetic and furious, though.

“What are you doing?! Get back-“

“No.”

His eyes widened and he lifted his hips, but you pulled back even further.

“No? What do you mean No?!”

“I’m not in the mood anymore.” You said flatly. His eyes were so wide, he looked insane.

More so than usual.

“You’re- Not-“

That was his weak spot. No matter how terribly he yearned, ached for you, he wouldn’t fuck you when you weren’t in the mood. Right?

It was one of the things you loved so much about him. Sure, in the beginning he told you he’d fuck you whenever. But you quickly realized that wasn’t entirely true.

He did love to push your boundaries and make you take far more than you could, but he didn’t ever try to have you when you didn’t want him to.

“Unless you beg me.” You smirked down at him.

He narrowed his eyes. “Excuse me?”

“Mhm.” You purred. “Beg me and I might consider it.”

His eyes slowly closed and you saw the way he throbbed and twitched.

“No.” He murmured. “I’m not going to beg you.”

You rocked your hips down in a gentle movement, running your warm, slick core along his throbbing hardness and he moaned.

He moaned.

“Fuck- You’re so-“

“Come on.” You whispered as you teasingly rubbed yourself against his tip. “No one’s here. Just you and me. You’re the man.” You leaned down and kissed the spot below his ear, causing him to moan again. “You’re the man.” You repeated softly. “You’re in charge. You’re my everything.”

“Damn right I am.” He groaned out.

“My whole world.” You breathed out and pressed yourself against him again, which caused him to throb even more.

“Please.” He finally breathed out, barely loud enough to be audible.

You closed your eyes and lowered yourself down enough for his tip to be pressed against your entrance.

“What?” You whispered breathlessly.

He bit his lip almost hard enough to draw blood. “Fucking hell.” He grumbled. “Please. Please. Don’t be a fucking demon. I taught you everything you know.” He swallowed and bit the inside of his cheek. His forehead and his eye brows twitched in a way that showed off his internal struggle, his anger, his desperate need for control.

And you didn’t want him to feel like that.

Never.

So you breathed out a gentle “Thank you”, before you slowly pressed yourself down against him, letting him enter you carefully. He closed his eyes shut and moaned again.

“I fucking hate you, you know that?”

“Oh, I hate you far more.” You whispered and slowly kissed a path along his neck. You ground your hips down against his, causing him to let out a ragged moan.

“Fucking devil.” He groaned.

“I’m yours.” You buried your face in his neck and began to ride him slowly, sensually. Gently. But deeply.

He moaned and moaned, the sound making blood rush to your head. “Again.”

“I’m yours. Only yours. I’m…your…”

His release exploded over him like a wildfire, because you felt the way he gripped your hips painfully and held you down against him. You felt the way he came deep inside you, filling you with the promise of being his, being his forever.

“God, I- I-“ He moaned again and ran his hands up your back, causing you to shiver while he rode out his release. You had never seen him like this, so lost in his pleasure that nothing else existed.

It took him a full minute to catch his breath and regain the ability to open his eyes and look at you. The look on his face was nothing short of reverence.

“I love you.” He whispered.

His words surprised you. So far he hadn’t been able to say it without some kind of trigger, without some greater power than his own mind. But now he said it and you knew he meant it.

“I love you more.” You breathed out.

He scoffed breathlessly. “Impossible.”

You smiled exhaustedly and rested your chin on his chest. You loved the feeling of having him inside you until your bodies decided it was time to disconnect. That always took a few minutes.

“Totally not impossible.”

“Absolutely impossible.” He murmured. “I painted the fucking walls apricot for you.”

Your eyes widened and your lips twitched into an incredulous smile. “You did what?”

He smirked and averted his gaze. “Yeah. That’s the most remarkable thing I’ve done for you so far.” He murmured sarcastically.

That made you laugh. “Shut up, you know what I-“

There was a sound that interrupted you. At first you couldn’t tell what it was for it was so unfamiliar. But then you suddenly understood. The doorbell.

His doorbell.

He frowned, obviously equally confused. No one had had tried to visit him so far. He was a ghost. There was no fucking name on his mailbox. Who would possibly-

The thought of it being an ex-girlfriend of his suddenly sent a fresh wave of nausea down your body. You stared at him with a frown and he raised his brows in curiosity. But instead of asking you, he could probably tell what you were thinking. So, he did something else instead. He fumbled for his shirt, which he barely reached across the floor and pulled out the chip.

“Here. Go get it.”

Your brows shot up comically. “What? Me?”

A test. It had to be. A last test.

“Yes. Go on. I trust you.”

Your heart skipped a beat and you took the chip with shaky fingers. Really? He trusted you?

Trusted you with the key?

You stared down at it and then back at his face. It meant so much to you.

“Are you sure?”

He smiled slowly and pulled you down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Yes, you silly girl. Go.”

A minute later you had wrapped yourself back into your dress and slowly made your way towards the door. You were already about to press the buzzer, to let whoever it was into the building.

Who could it be? Most likely some housekeeper service again. The thought of the janitor still made your stomach churn, but you pushed it down for now. You had never even asked what he did to the body. The truth was you actually didn’t want to know.

You were about to press the button, when you heard something. Someone cleared their throat. Your eyes widened when you realized that whoever it was, stood right in front of the door.

Your paranoid self didn’t trust people easily, especially after the last person you trusted abducted you – no matter the final outcome.

You decided to give a brief look through the peephole before you opened it. You most likely wouldn’t know the person anyway, but your inner child wanted to be sure it wasn’t an axe murderer.

So, you stood on your tiptoes and glanced outside only for your eyes to settle on…

You stumbled backwards as if you’d been struck. The nausea you had felt all day suddenly seemed to have a reason and you immediately felt incredibly sick.

Thank God you stumbled into him, because you suddenly felt like you couldn’t hold yourself upright.

“Hey.” He gently held you in his arms and frowned down at you in concern. “What is it? Who was it?”

“That guy.” You gasped out. “The one who asked me for directions.”

His expression immediately darkened. “What?”

You nodded quickly. “It’s the same guy. I’m sure.”

His frown deepened and his lip twitched again, not in amusement, but lust for murder.

He gently pushed you behind him, before he took a step closer himself and looked outside as well. For a short moment he didn’t seem too alarmed. It was odd, yes, he had probably followed you. A freak, a stalker. Not of the good kind.

But then he suddenly stiffened. And you knew something was wrong.

“What-“

He grabbed you with a bruising grip and dragged you along until you reached your bedroom. You gasped when he ushered you inside and pushed you into the closet with renewed ferocity.

“What-“

“Stay in here.” He hissed. “Don’t you dare come out until I tell you to.”

He slammed the door shut and you slumped against the wall. Your legs felt like jelly and your heart was pounding wildly in your chest. There was a ringing sound in your ears, loud enough to almost make you go deaf.

You buried your hands in your hair and stared at the spot in the darkness where he had been only a second ago.

You closed your eyes and tried to focus. Voices. You heard voices.

Quiet at first. And suddenly louder.

Tears stung your eyes and you pressed a hand against your mouth to stop yourself from making any sounds.

It wasn’t all that-

A loud crash made you flinch so hard, you immediately got a headache.

And then the dizziness came back. The darkness around you felt like a rollercoaster and you slowly sunk down to your knees, while you tried to breathe calmly.

In and out. In. And out.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

What could it have been about it that he panicked? That he felt he had to lock you back in here?

By the time the door finally opened – you couldn’t tell if it had been minutes or hours – everything was messy cloud of loud, bloodied frenzy.

The blood. The blood. So much blood.

He spoke and spoke, but he was too far away. His voice wasn’t real, his twitching eyes weren’t.

His words weren’t. Oh God. Oh no.

Oh God, mother.

And then everything went black.

_____________________________

Tag list 1:@mitsuki-dreamfree@kpopsmutty69@heroine-chique@vkeyy@mizuwki@blu-brrys@z0mbi345@yourpointbreak@ayieayee@freddyzeppsworld@lola11111111@indifitel6661@salesmanlover08@laurenbenoit70@lalalaa2210@lila-marshal@auspicious-lilana@0-aubrie0@lovelyaegyo@theredvelvetbitch@violentbluess@muriels-lover@dorayakissu@eviebuggg@muchwita@ririgy@strxlemon@obsessedwthdilfs@kiwilov3@misty-q

Author's note: GUYS WTF My brain is made of pudding right now, so please forgive me if I made any mistakes or talked shit at some point :(

I'm sorry that it took me so long!!! I had NO idea how to start this chapter, but now I finally made it. I started this at around ten in the morning and now it's ten pm omg. With breaks of course!

I'll try to mention every request/suggestion, if I forget something, please let me know!!!

Also, the requests that didn't/won't make it into the story, I'm planning a sequel and probably a few oneshots concering these two!

@sleepingkittiesworld : her riding him

Anon : her being sick and him caring about her

Anon : the choking during smut

Anon : dinner date outside / another Anon : him taking her to a place she likes (in this case Italian food)

@tommydarlings : innocently taking a bath together

A few people had similar or different suggestions about him getting jealous, so I'll just sum that up under jealousy: @dilfismz , @kidswhoneedhugs , @c3ce , @moondustfairies

Thanks to @babyscilence for "Did he paint the walls apricot for her?" that stuck with me so bad because that JUST MAKES SENSE

Going out in general : @hayakamis-blog , @mswannadiesworld

Going out and getting lost in a crowd : @ririgy

I hope these were all, if I forgot someone, please let me know!

Also great thanks to each and everyone of you! Sometimes I find myself wanting to thank someone in particular for being cute or being a great motivation/inspiration, but somehow, that's all of you!!! I love you, guys!

[pacofprunes]

my house, your house, aka, my girlfriend, your girlfriend. (mi casa, su casa)

thanos x fem!reader, nam-gyu x fem!reader

warnings — noncon, cursing, lowercase, drugs, injections(1), oral(fem), needles, nam-gyu and thanos argue like children, 3sum, protection not specified but you can assume none, thanos is referred to as su-bong by the reader, nam-gyu calls thanos “T-dog” once, lowkey nam-gyu is manipulating thanos or some shit im ngl, too much to count

“come on bro, cut me some slack, i’ll pay you back, you know im good for it.”

thanos stood in front of his good friend and dealer nam-gyu. desperate for some more drugs. he didn’t have the money though and was damn near about to get on his fucking knees just to get one more pill.

“i cut you slack everytime i sell to you thanos. i’m cutting you slack right now actually and you still don’t have enough.”

thanos runs his hands through his hair about to lose his cool. despite needing more, thanos would never allow himself to actually run out. he always has something on him. if he ever truly runs out, you’ll catch him with a shot of mouth wash in his pocket or some random ass prescription meds.

thanos opens his cross up, frowning at the little amount of pills left before popping one in his mouth. after sitting for a few seconds he shakes his head back and forth intensely before he jumps up.

“alright man! how bout you let me pay in some other way, huh?”

nam-gyu scoffs before he starts to laugh.

“you tryna sell yourself to me?”

thanos pushes him back by his shoulder.

“nah bro, what the fuck? i ain’t that bad! now you? you are an absolute junkie, i could see you doing that. you’re worse than me! stickin’ needles in your arms and shit.”

nam-gyu just scoffs again before biting his lip back. him and thanos were close friends. best buds. in fact, he lost a lot of ‘customers’ due to the fact that he’d sometimes give shit to thanos for free and they all wanted a piece of that. he was thinking of a way he could let thanos pay it off before you pop into his head. god you were fucking gorgeous. perfect face, perfect body, and such a perfect girl. despite dating a junkie and hanging around junkies, you yourself didn’t really use. only thing he’s ever seen you do is vape and smoke some weed. he’s expressed to thanos numerous times how perfect you were, and thanos was probably too high to give a fuck. and he’s high like 90% of the time. you were the one girl thanos actually wanted to date and stay with and not just fuck a couple nights of the week or whenever he hit you up. clearly you were perfect.

“give me a turn with your girl.”

thanos looks at him confused.

“my girl?”

“yes, your girl. i want a turn. you know, fuck, hit it and quit it, whatever you wanna say.”

thanos scoffs at him before looking away for a second. he was never opposed to sharing a girl in the past but you were different. you weren’t thanos’s fuck toy, no, you were thanos’s girl. and there’s a difference. a big difference. but nam-gyu was his bro. his best bro. he could share you with him.

“i’m not opposed to it but she’s not gonna want to, i mean look at you.”

now nam-gyu hits thanos and he just laughs. saying he was joking.

“okay, but seriously. my girl isn’t gonna wanna sleep with you. for one, she’s loyal, she loves me, and,”

nam-gyu stands there waiting for him to say something else and finish his sentence before saying a sarcastic ‘and?’ back to him. thanos shrugs his shoulders.

“that’s all i got.”

nam-gyu rolls his eyes before throwing a shoulder over thanos.

“cmon, you haven’t ever taken no as an answer, huh?”

thanos pouts his lip out to the side and thinks for a second.

“i mean, from her, yeah.”

nam-gyu lets out a heavy breath before throwing his head back.

“just for one night. why don’t you treat her like any other bitch you used to do and just force her to let it happen.”

thanos looks offended at that and moves nam-gyus shoulder off of him. wondering if the drugs were really worth it. yeah if it was mutual between all of you he wouldn’t have really cared but he knew what nam-gyu was clearly insinuating.

“she’s gonna break up with me if i do.”

nam-gyu pauses to think before handing him a pill.

“oh man, really? for free?”

nam-gyu snatches his hand back.

“no. give this to her. it’ll make her a little drunk is all’. she won’t even remember by the morning.”

thanos thinks before snatching the pill out of his hand, looking down and inspecting it. he mumbles something under his breath.

“some fucked up shit,”

he lets out a heavy breath before looking at nam-gyu and points a finger at him.

“alright bro! but ima be there the whole time. and ima be getting my fair share with her too. she’s my girl after all, alright? i’m the one who knows how to please her.”

nam-gyu smirks at him before he gives him a nod.

“whatever you say. just don’t touch my dick or nothin’,”

thanos scoffs before taking a hit of his vape.

“not in a million fucking years! you don’t got nothing to worry about.”

—

“cmon babe, i take em’ all the time! just give it a shot.”

you look at your boyfriend like he’s gone crazy. he’s never tried to make you do drugs except for the first few times you met. the most you’ve done was smoke weed with him, he knew you didn’t do that crap. you didn’t even like when he did it but you supported him either way. why he was trying to pressure you to take this pill? you had no idea.

“what’s going on with you? you know i don’t do that crap.”

he playfully shakes you by your shoulders, giving you a fake pouty look.

“please baby…it’ll put you in this trance and make us feel like you’re on cloud nine. it’ll make falling asleep together in bed feel like a magical dream.”

you give him a concerned look before you act as if you’re gonna grab the pill from him but you just push it up to his mouth. he wouldn’t even let it slip past his lips.

“see! you take every drug under the sun and you wouldn’t even take it. why are you trying to give me something that you don’t even want?”

he lays his head on your shoulder and holds one of your hands and massaging it in his hand.

“it’s not that, i just already took one and you can’t take more than one in an hour!”

you deadpan at him.

“just get some alcohol or something if you’re really concerned on making our bedtime magical.”

he sighs before playfully pinching your arm, you let out an ow.

“you always played hard to get.”

you laugh.

“but that’s why you love me, is it not?”

he kisses you before pulling away and looking you in your eyes.

“you’re right.”

he pulls away completely now before making an ‘o’ face.

“oh, right, nam-su’s coming over in a few. kay’? kay.”

you give him a contorted look before complaining that you wanted to go to bed or that he never told you but he just ignores you, skipping away and shutting the bedroom door behind him. you press your palm into your forehead and let out a groan. he was literally going to be the death of you. but you loved him and his stupid antics.

—

“she wouldn’t take it man. i gave her the puppy dog eyes and everything!”

nam-gyu face palms himself before pulling something out of his pocket. a needle.

“hit her with this.”

“oh hell no. that’s that crazy ass shit you use, we’re not using that.”

nam-gyu shrugs before injecting the substance in his arm and thanos gives him a grotesque look.

“look man, just wait till she goes to sleep. she’s a heavy sleeper. i end up on top of her every night and i got some loud ass snores after drinking too much and she still doesn’t wake up.”

“how longs her going to sleep gonna take?”

“like now,”

“now?”

“yes. what are you complaining for? you took an hour longer to get here so she already fell asleep.”

thanos leads nam-gyu to your guys shared bedroom and slowly creeks open the door and peeks in before signaling nam-gyu to follow. on the bed was you sound asleep, not suspecting a thing.

“aw man, I don’t know if i should let you do this. if she wakes up she’s gonna know and break up with me. she’s already pissed at me for tryna’ get her to take that stupid ass pill you gave me.”

nam-gyu just slaps him on the back and brushes him off before he goes to sit next to you on the bed. the bed dipping down and you slightly moving toward the dip. he moves your hair behind your ear and brushes his hand down your cheek to your neck. your actual boyfriend just standing in the corner hitting his vape. the room starting to become a literal cloud. nam-gyu moves down and pulls down your pajamas, viewing your pretty legs, rubbing his hand on the inside of your thigh before pulling your panties down. thanos takes the vape out of his mouth and moves closer before nam-gyu can even put a finger in.

“you’re not very good at…this. i know what her body likes so i’ll take care of it and then you can do almost whatever.”

nam-gyu rolls his eyes before moving away from your pussy, leaving that to thanos and moving his attention up to your torso.

“could you cut the good protective boyfriend crap? you’re letting your shitty drug dealer best friend fuck her without asking just so you can pay for some more drugs. pretty fuckin’ hypocritical if you ask me.”

he laughs and thanos just stares at him blankly before turning his attention back to you. he lays his head on your stomach, rubbing his hands over it before going back down lower in between your thighs. starting to rub you in all the ways he knows you and your body loves.

“you’re all worried about me gettin’ rough but i’ve seen how you’ve fucked bitches before and it certainly ain’t nice.”

thanos looks back up at nam-gyu.

“oh don’t worry, i still fuck like an animal. i haven’t gotten soft, don’t think that for a second. but her, this is thanos’s girl! i let her get her high and i get mine. don’t wanna rip her pretty pussy apart.”

nam-gyu hums in response and snakes his hand under your shirt, groping you and teasing your nipples between his fingers, harsh pinches that if you were awake it’d have you screaming. such harsh pinches that it might as well wake you up. thanos still focused on your pussy, slaps wherever he can manage to hit nam-gyu without seeing, mumbling that he was gonna wake you up.

“she isn’t gonna see me if she wakes up. she’s gonna see you, so she won’t even be mad.”

thanos sits up between your legs and starts fucking with his own pants and boxers, pulling them down. nam-gyu looks over before quickly looking away, slapping his hand over his eyes.

“man, i didn’t wanna see your dick, put that shit away!”

thanos scoffs.

“we’re fucking my girl and you didn’t expect to see my dick? i’m gonna have to see yours! and i know mines bigger.”

he mumbled that last part.

“ugh, please let me go first. i don’t wanna put my dick in after you, that’s basically me fucking you.”

“okay? you should be honored.”

“honored that i’m fucking you?”

“i’m fucking thanos man. you should be honored you even get to see me like this and that i don’t stab your eyes out!”

nam-gyu scrunches his eyebrows together at him.

“yeah, i kinda think i want you to.”

“want me to what?”

nam-gyu slaps his forehead.

“stab my eyes out you fucking idiot.”

thanos ignores him, mumbling some curses before slowly pushing himself into your tight hole. he sits there for a minute before immediately thrusting himself into you fast as fuck and rough as shit. he grips his hands on your hips, to the point where it would definitely bruise in the morning. he continues chasing his own high until he abruptly stops due to the huge stir you just made in your sleep. nam-gyu holding in his laugh due to thanos’s ridiculous wide eyes. he was so still you’d think he was frozen from the inside.

“what’s wrong? keep going. you wanted to take her first.”

“shut the fuck up.”

thanos lets out a deep breath before opening his cross and popping a pill in his mouth and throwing his head back just staring at the ceiling, trying to stop himself from being so tense. he pulls out of you and decides to just jack off next to you on the side of the bed so you don’t wake up as soon as they start. pouting to himself because he wanted his girl to help him out instead of his right hand. nam-gyu gets up and places himself between your legs now, not hesitating to slide in, ignoring the stirring that you were doing. it just made his dick twitch even more, all your moving doing the work for him. he starts feeling you up as he slowly moves in and out of you, taking his time before he starts thrusting so hard that you smack the headboard of the bed. thanos drops his dick out of his hand and snaps his head up at nam-gyu?

“are you trying to wake her up?”

“not completely opposed to it. i’m livin’ by ‘if she wakes up she wakes up’.”

“it won’t be an ‘if’ she wakes up if you keep this shit up.”

you start to stir but nam-gyu could careless, keeping his rough pace. your eyebrows scrunching together as you place your hand on your face before propping your arms behind you to push yourself up. but the moment you do that you feel something slide out of you. you felt so full, felt good but at the same time this painful burning feeling. you mumble out for thanos, asking what he was doing and he climbs on top of you, laying his body flat on you before holding your face in his hands, pressing a tight kiss. you’re too out of it to reciprocate. having just woke up. although nam-gyu stopped for the second you completely woke, he quickly decides ‘fuck it’ and starts slamming so hard into you that you hit the headboard again. you quickly contort your face in pain and thanos snaps his head back at nam-gyu, causing nam-gyu to shrug. he snaps his head back to you, your face still in his hands before you go to move them.

“have you been fucking me while i’ve been asleep? what the hell has gotten into you su-bong?”

he quickly presses you into a kiss, this time a much rougher one to keep you quiet as you press your hands against his chest to get him off of you. he moves his hands back to your face, squeezing it tightly. finally he pulls away and that’s when nam-gyu finally pulls out. you hadn’t even known that he was there.

“ah man, she’s awake. whatever, can i use her mouth now T-dog?”

thanos scoffs at him and your eyes widen even more. wondering what was going on and why nam-gyu was here. you go to open your mouth but thanos just presses a finger to it.

“shh babe. i won’t let him do all that.”

“psh, maybe not today but sure you will at some point.”

you yell at thanos to get off of you so that you can leave and he just groans at you, frustrated.

“shut the fuck up. i’ve been pretty nice, huh? don’t piss me off now baby. he’s still here, i could let him do so much more.”

he leans in closer to your ear.

“and trust me, i know he wants to.”

he moves away from your ear and just looks over you, still completely on top of you before clapping his hands together.

“in fact, he wants to do shit that i’d never in a million years dream of doin’ to you. but if you’re gonna start being a bitch i’ll be a nice friend and let his dreams come true.”

nam-gyu rolls his eyes.

“yeah, a nice friend for once.”

“you don’t consider me letting you fuck my girl a friendly thing of me to do for you?”

nam-gyu throws his hands in the air shrugging.

“idontknow man,”

you were still so confused and couldn’t grasp the situation, feeling hands who you could assume were nam-gyus gliding up your thighs and fingers starting to play with your pussy, quickly going to kick at him before his hands hold your legs down and he settles for using his mouth instead. your eyes start to tear up and you take as large as a breath as you can with thanos still on top of you. you start to hit at him again, not caring what he’d have to say before he just stares at the wall blankly for a few seconds, letting you have your tantrum, before unexpectedly throwing his hands at your throat and choking you.

“shh, you’re good. i’ll make breakfast for ya in the morning, whatdya say? i think nam-gyus staying the night tho.”

he lets go of your neck with one hand, the other still staying on your neck and his now using his free hand he sticks out his tongue and puts his finger on it making an exaggerated fake disgusted look. you continue to try to free yourself, black spots clouding your vision more and more. god, why would you decide that hanging around, let alone dating an insanely active drug user and constantly partying with his drug dealer buddy’s was a good idea? now this crazy fuck was gonna kill you and he was gonna have a whole conversation with you as if nothing was wrong while he did it. he puts his other hand back on your neck while you just hold onto his wrist, not bothering to actually scratch at him, but just holding it and looking at him with the eyes that he fell in love with. the tears threatening to spill that whenever he saw he always took care of. hoping some slither of humanity was still left in the guy you thought you loved. he frees his one hand from choking you before your vision fully starts to fade, feeling his hand glide against your cheek before it all goes dark and he finally lets go, letting out a long shaky deep breath. the effects of his drugs starting to let up and his actions starting to dawn on him, quickly checking to make sure you were still alive before quickly getting up off of you so you wouldn’t have as much trouble breathing.

nam-gyu quickly pulls his pants back up and leaves thanos to slide yours up as well. he goes over to him and throws his arm over his shoulder before flicking the cross pendant around thanos’s neck. thanos looks down, not thinking to heavy on it and just opens it, taking the last pill out and popping it in his mouth as quickly as possible. nam-gyu reaches in his pocket and shuffles around before pulling out a bag filled with the pills thanos has been desiring, dangling it in front of his face. thanos’s eyes immediately widen in surprise.

“you shouldn’t have to bitch to me about needing more for at least two weeks unless you take like fifteen a day.”

thanos shakes his hands, wiggling his arms around a little, hoping the drug he just took takes its course as quickly as possible so he can feel better about what he just did.

“don’t worry man. as long as you clean her up i’m sure she’ll wake up thinkin’ it was all just a bad dream.”

thanos takes the bag of pills from him. nam-gyu gave him so much that he knew they all wouldn’t even fit in his cross. he looks at the bag one last time before he looks back down at you. he starts tossing the bag back and forth between his hands like a ball, thinking about what nam-gyu said. yeah, yeah he was probably right. you’d probably wake up thinking it was just some weird bad dream you made up. yeah. he’d make breakfast for you, apologize for trying to pressure you into taking that pill and you’d think it was all just a dream. nam-gyu coughs before speaking.

“so will there be a next time?”

the drugs start speaking for thanos before he could even comprehend what he was saying. before he could actually even know what he was saying. and he’s sure he wouldn’t even remember what he was saying either.

“shit, if you’re throwing this much around then hell yeah there’s gonna be a next time.”

[yourlocalangeldoll]

*ੈ Thinking about Nam Gyu tryna buy drugs after he went broke and into debt after the crypto scam

cw: 18+!, mdni, begrudgingly sub!Nam Gyu(he accepts it eventually), cockstepping, sadistic reader, lowk masochist Nam Gyu, degradation, slut, cunt, bitch and whore name calling, drug mentions, slapping(m), possibly ooc

a/n: got this while reading this by @hauntedfawnn, if you’re a rafe fan go read it, it is SO hot 😮‍💨 i also love making lowk sexist men getting dommed by woman 💋 also dunno if this would count as a blurb or short fic but i’m putting it in the short fic category 💞

“Shit..” Nam Gyu breathed out, breath falling up and down while he leaned back. Hands planted in the ground while he leaned back, sitting on his legs.

You smirked, a sly chuckle escaping your lips as you sat comfortably on your seat. Your feet decorated in cute, pink wedge like heels that matched your strapless mini dress.

You leaned forward, planting your palms on the couch, smirk widening as you pressed your foot harder down against the bulge of the usually dominant and ‘confident’ black haired man. A sadistic sort of glee ran through your body as you watched his mouth open in a silent gasp just to quickly shut it and screw his eyes shut. A hint of tears slowly and barely noticeably escaping the corners of his eyes.

His body lurched forward when your foot showed no sign of letting up, instead increasing in the pressure it had on top of his clothed cock. A soft and choked whine escaping his lips as he felt a masochistic type of pleasure shoot through him. His body jolting to your foot as he let out a choked “fuck..”

And god, he sounded so utterly pathetic. You moved your arms to rest on your thighs, looking down at Nam Gyu with a mocking pout as you tilted your head. “Does it hurt?” You ask rhetorically. “Hm?”

Nam Gyu’s head finally rises up to look at you, an attempt sneer on his face as he spat his words at you. “Shut up slut.”

And boy did he regret them after you practically fully stepped on his cock. A whine tearing from his throat as his other hand to tightly grip your calf. A set of tears finally spilling out of his eyes as he bit his lip and looked back down.

“I’m the slut but you’re letting me step on your cock because you can’t bear to be away from drugs.” You taunt, your tone no longer bothering to hold any faux sympathy. It instead now held a sadistic and amused glint mixed with soft irritation. “You’re so pathetic, are you not embarrassed to be this far gone to an addiction?” You mock, narrowing your eyes and tilting your head in a taunting manner. “And that’s coming from a dealer.”

You glance down at him, taking in his flushed and already almost disheveled appearance. After taking a few minutes to run your eyes over his appearance your sadistic smirk returned to your face. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

The words left your mouth simply, along your foot on his cock which earned a sound that was mixed with almost a sigh of relief but whine of complaint. It was faint but you could still hear it.

Biting your lip you placed your foot down onto the floor again, speaking again in that simple, matter of fact and slightly demanding tone. “Grind against my shoe. If you wanna feel pleasured you gotta work for it.” You said. Battling to hide the smirk as you waited to see his reaction.

Nam Gyu’s head snapped up at your words, his eyes narrowing. If looks could kill.. you’d only be a bit wounded, but it’s still something. “Bitch do i look like some fucking dog for you to boss around?” He spat, his words venomous despite the look of want in his eyes.

You leaned forward, rested your chin in your palm and smirked. “you do.”

“You bitch-“ He started, eyes widening slightly in offence before he remembered what was at stake here- good fucking drugs.

“Just gimme my shit i let you do what you wanted.” He said, his tone firm but words pathetic. He truly didn’t understand his place did he? you’ll have fun changing that.

“Grind. against. my shoe.” You say simply, your tone holding no room for debate. “And you’ll get your free fucking drugs.”

“You cunt, you said-“ But his words didn’t get to leave his mouth. Instead the sound of a slap resounded in his room. Along with a pain running through the skin of his cheek.

Nam Gyu blinked, now looking off to the side where the force of your slapped repositioned his head. It took him a couple seconds and your sadistic chuckle for him to snap out of it. Eyes narrowing as he slowly turned his head back to face you.

“I’m giving you shit i pay for because your ass was dumb enough to put all your money into crypto because some youtuber said so.” You remind, tone harsh as you grabbed his jaw in your hands tightly. Foot coming up to gently nudge his cock- which sent bolts of electricity shooting through his body. Hips betraying his pride and bucking into your shoe. “So do what i said or get the fuck out of here without the drugs.”

Nam Gyu, the pathetic, drug addicted loser he is. Took a second to process your words before looking away and scooting closer to you. His annoying attractive hands coming up to rest on your knee as his hips slowly and unsurely started to rub against your shoe.

You grinned victoriously, crossing your arms and leaning back into the couch back. Your foot nudging whenever you felt the tip of his cock on your shoe.

And just as it thought it couldn’t get better- you started applying more pressure into your nudges against his cock which had him pathetically resting his forehead against your knee, pathetic whine escaping his lips and his movements gradually becoming more desperate. Was he already close.

A hand of yours came up to find way to his hair, fingers entangling with the strands of his hair to rub unmatchingly soft at his head, which earned a soft moan from him. Grin spreading across your face as you spoke. “Aw, close already?”

He didn’t respond, but you knew you were right nevertheless as you felt his movements get more sporadic and desperate.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips as you reached back over for your blunt which was already slowly burning away, its smell filling the room mixed with your sweet perfume. You brought it to your smirk tugged lips, your mind reeling and pussy soaking as you watched your new boy toy and imagined all the things you could do to him.

⟡ ݁₊ . written by yourlocalangeldoll, 2025 on tumblr! © do not repost on any third party website or repost as yours. Doing so will result in me blocking you and reporting.

[whitefeathers]

do you have any noncon namgyu thoughts....

so many. maybe even too many. heres one tho. pure smut

tags: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. dark content, dead dove do not eat, use of the word r*pe, non con, humiliation, degradation, reader isn't from korea and doesn't know korean but no mention of the reader's race (only that she's 'foreign' and speaks english), fem!reader, nam-gyu fucks you in a club bathroom

Nam-gyu's cock slips out of you, only for it to ram back inside harder than before.

"Don't push me out, slut," his hand flexes tighter around your throat, and you choke, trying to breathe but failing. He smirks in your face, toothy and devastatingly handsome if not for him literally raping you. "Only gonna make it worse for yourself."

His other arm is hooked under your knee, keeping it in the air as he fucks you. He has you hoisted up against the grimy wall of the men's toilets in Club Pentagon, your bandage dress ripped to expose your tits and pushed up past your hips to give him access. You thought you looked cute in the dress, and now it's ruined. Nam-gyu thought you looked cute in the dress, too, but god, do you look better without it.

"Please, Nam-gyuuu, stoooop!" you wail, crying messily and struggling to breathe, glittery makeup running down your cheeks. Your voice is shaky from moans you can't keep in, his cock pounding them out with every rhythmic plap, plap, plap of his hips against yours. Nam-gyu is fully clothed other than his jeans and boxers pulled down to his mid-thigh. You're practically naked, tits bouncing with each thrust and panties danging from your ankle, and it makes your cheeks burn with humiliation.

He's fucking you so hard and so deep that it's impossible for it not to feel good, even if you're trying your best to get him off you, squirming in his hold and weakly trying to push him off. He's stronger than you and taller than you, insistent on having a pretty girl's cunt to wet his cock.

"Not gettin' out of it, sugar tits,"

Ew.

You can't fathom how you were attracted to this man just twenty minutes earlier, dancing with him under the strobe lights of the dance floor, letting him buy you drinks and sleazily grind against your ass. He'd whispered his name in your ear and you'd whispered yours, letting him charm you. On the dance floor, he'd said things to you in Korean that you couldn't understand, complimenting you in English while calling you a pretty little whore in Korean. You could only catch the word for pretty, recognising it from your traveller's handbook, so you melted into his arms, letting him press sloppy kisses to your throat and grab your hips.

By the time you'd realised that you were too drunk to be doing this with a stranger in a country where you barely knew the language (or anyone, for that matter), he'd dragged you off to the toilets and insisted on you paying him back for those free drinks. He didn't take no for an answer. Not the excuse that you needed to get back to your friends, the excuse that you were too drunk, the excuse that you didn't want this, not here.

Scumbag.

His hair falls down in front of his face as he looks down at where his cock disappears inside you, and he laughs, panting.

"Fuckin' tiny cunt," he slows down just to watch your hole stretch to take him, dripping wet and puffy. "Warm, tight, wet." He emphasises the last word with a harsh thrust, stuffing himself as deep as he'll go inside you before humping back into you with more vigor than before. You are wet, so, so wet. You can feel it in the way he glides in and out of you, effortless and slick, working your poor guts into mush with each pound.

His hand loosens around your throat, letting you gasp in air. You squeeze your eyes shut, bottom lip trembling. You want this all to be over, guilt twitching in your stomach and sticky warmth twitching in your neglected clit. He's making you feel things no boy has before, and you know something is seriously wrong with you as you clench around him. Your pussy wouldn't be this wet if you didn't want it.

Nam-gyu's thrusts get sloppy and he pulls out, shoving you to the floor and furiously jerking his cock in his fist over you. His jaw is clenched and you look up at him through wet lashes with broken, wide eyes, and that's what makes him cum, shooting hot ropes of silky cum over your tits and your dress.

He groans, running his hand through his hair as his chest heaves, coming down from his orgasm.

"C-can I go?" you whisper as he tucks his softening cock back into his pants, still glistening with your slick. The sight makes another pang of guilt worm its way into your tummy. Part of you enjoyed this.

"Not yet. Lemme keep you for a little while. Pretty to look at."

You think he means for a few more minutes.

He doesn't.