kiwi :3

I’ve been on tumblr as a reader for a long while, through high school and into college - and now that I got a wee degree and have more time have finally decided to make a blog to write on!!

I love the community that has grown on this app and am always open to chat! I plan to write fanfic and just share my thinks of various things.

I do work the graveyard shift so my posting schedule is sporadic and normally not at ‘prime’ hours but I will keep yall fed I promise 🙏

Some fun facts about me: work at a morgue, I collect pokémon cards, I love to paint and draw, and have 2 children (my cat n my gecko).

I’ll be posting all x reader fics! As for the particular characters / shows I write for you can find them below!!

Style wise, I will be writing multi-part fics, one shots, headcannons and drabbles - these apply to requests too.

I will write smut, fluff, both of them at the same time etc! I will also be the first to admit I’m not the best at angst. I absolutely will try my best if it’s requested- just know it’s not my strong suit. I love angst into eventual smut or fluff, I’m just so buns at straight angst. I will absolutely try though! Just bare with me 🫶

As for pairings: I write for female reader x character , nb reader x character , gender neutral reader x character. OH AND TOTALLY OPEN FOR WLW REQS!! OHHH AND MULTI CHARACTER X READER!! ((All in all I don’t write for male reader - I’m so sorry I just don’t think I got the knowledge to be doin that))

Some fandoms I write for:

I mainly write for Squid Games and BigBang

That being said I also get fixated on other shows and will probably be branching out!

I am constantly getting into new fandoms and having new fixations, so feel free to request anything even if it’s not on the list! If I don’t know the character you’re requesting- just means I got a new show to watch!! :D

Squid Games (Mainly Nam-Gyu and Thanos, but other characters are welcome!!!)

Mostly any other roh jae won character

Alice in Borderlands

You wanna send in a request n are not too familiar with what I write? Here are some basic guidelines to requests / asks I will and won’t accept

I will only write for Fem!Reader or NonBinary!Reader

I don’t write character x character fics. Character x reader x Character is Okie and a bit of character x character with the reader also involved is perfectly fine too!!

I don’t write overly specific physical characteristics (i.e. eye color / hair color / overly specific descriptions). Things like Chubby!Reader or Sleepy!Reader or TattooArtist!Reader, or Sarcastic!Reader or Chronicallyill!Reader are okay and encouraged! Wide categories :))

I will not write any sort of abuse fic or request

Some kinks i will not write for include: scat , noncon , stepcest or incest , drugging , cheating , kidnapping (this list is subject to change)

Any request that has any of the listed items that I won’t write will be ignored and deleted

I’m relatively open to writing new things , so if it’s not on this list and you’re not sure just send it in! We’re all lil freaks here so just lemme hear it!

I keep my asks open most times so I can keep in touch with you all! Feel free to request, inquire, or just chat!! I don’t bite!!

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:

Assistance in cooking? Nam-Gyu has gotten snippy with you if you even attempt to help him chop vegetables sometimes. Not all the times, just the times when his brain is too noisy and the oven fan is too loud and he has 60 things to do at once.

Laundry? The fuck was he?! Some little baby who needed his girlfriend to do laundry for him?! No, he could do that himself!!

Nam-Gyu, for as much as he hates asking for help- there’s one thing that he simply can’t do by himself.

He’s tried. Tried so many times to replicate it in the way he likes but he fucking can’t!! It’s not situated right, makes his scalp feel weird, it’s too tight.

So with a pout on his face and his hands raised high, fighting with his hair, Nam-Gyu coming to you with his face flushed red in frustration.

“I can’t fucking- oh my god.” Teeth clenched so hard you’re sure you can hear the sound of enamel on enamel, the elastic splitting in his fingers. The hair tie audibly breaks, snapping against his wrist and painfully biting against his fingernails.

“I’m going to fucking-“

You watch as he tugs, fighting against a mass of knotted hair that holds onto the elastic in a painful ripping grasp.

“Why the FUCK can I not do this?!?” Nam-Gyu huffs. He’s not even talking to you, more so belittling himself. Brows scrunched and lips turned down, you can see the frustration that’s bubbling up into an overwhelming crescendo.

You sit up off the bed, instantly reaching out and gesturing him over to you, “c’mere.”

Shoulders dropping, hands letting go of his hair and the piss poor excuse of a ponytail, Nam-Gyu is making his way across the room and to the bed.

He doesn’t speak, he usually doesn’t when he has to have you do something for him. Even though you tell him everytime- you don’t mind helping him, you like it!- he’s embarrassed that he even had to ask.

Crawling onto the bed, you can feel the mattress dip below you as the weight shifts.

If you weren’t so concerned with the fact Nam-Gyu seemed like he was about to combust, you’d find it cute. Endearing even with the way he crawls to you, a frustrated pout on his face and his hair a tangled mess.

He sits in front of you without a word, body tense.

“I swear to fucking god- I literally almost had it and this fucking- oh my god I’ll just shave it all off!” Every word comes out before he can even finish the last, an overwhelming frustration lacing each word.

“You won’t.”

“I will! I can’t fucking stand this shit. I can’t even put it up by myself. Like what am I!!? Useless?! I swear I’m going to cut it all off”

“I’ll do it, c’mere.” You say, kneeling on the bed to crawl closer to him.

“I’m a grown fucking man and I have to have my fucking girlfriend do my hair. How stupid is that?!”

“Nam-gyu.” You say, soft but stern, a quick way to cut off his negative thinking.

“Easy, baby.” You mutter, a soft sound of a chuckle coming from your lips. You know it’s serious, it’s a mass of emotions that have boiled over into this confusing anger that he’s already convinced himself is irrational.

“No I’m so fucking for real I can’t stand this shit. I’m going to shave it the fuck off-“

“No you’re not.” You say, the words having been repeated maybe just a week ago now.

Your hands slide around his front, pulling him back into you. Leaning against the headboard of the bed, you’re making sure that Nam-Gyu is properly facing the TV- it’s his favorite show, it will inevitably distract him.

“Yes I am.” His words have a bite to it, laced with a pissed off attitude that you know isn’t directed at you.

Nam-Gyu’s eyes stay fixed on the pattern of the bedspread. He thinks he might cry if he looks at you. Overwhelmed and embarrassed, it’s the last thing he needs.

“I just…I don’t know why it’s so difficult!! Just fucking- am I stupid?! I-I mean, there’s children in preschool who can do better than this shit.”

His ringed hand lifts up and gestures vaguely to the ratted mess that sits on top of his head.

It’s stupid he thinks, being this worked up over his hair. The thing is no matter how hard he tried, it just was too irritating- his fingers tangled, the hair knotted and the rubber band snapping one time- Nam-Gyu was just not having it.

“It’s hard to do…” you say, voice soft and coddling as you look at his hair. Frayed, twisted, knotted, and some of it not even in the elastic, it’s a poor attempt of a ponytail but an attempt nonetheless.

“But you almost had it!”

“Did not- quit tryna be nice about it.”

“No seriously ‘Gyu! It’s better than the last attempt you did.” You say patting his chest, interrupting any sort of negativity that attempts to escape from his lips.

He doesn’t respond, only leans further back into you, pout still evident on his face.

Nam-Gyu is still irritated.

“…can you do it half up half down.”

His voice comes out softer, voice still laced with that adorable pout you know he has etched onto his face.

It’s funny, he doesn’t even have to ask- your nails are already gliding across the middle of his temples to separate the hair in the way you know he likes…in all honesty it’s more “up” than “down”, only the smallest part of hair still dusts his neck- but you don’t tell him that.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

Your voice does things to him he doesn’t understand. Wrapping him in a warmth that melts away the irritation that he’s worked himself into.

That’s almost irritating in itself- how do you have the ability to do such a thing?!?

Nam-Gyu shifts again, arms crossing tighter over himself like some protective shield that that would keep his anxiety hidden.

“I…still should just cut it off.” He prods, like he’s trying to prove to himself that he’s the rational one here. “I look dumb either way.”

Nam-Gyu can feel the way your eyes glare into the back of his head- if there was one thing you hated hearing from him, it was this self deprecating talk.

He’s an adult, he’s aware that what he’s doing is unhealthy, childish at best, but he can’t stop.

“I mean it looks horrible-“

“Quit that.” It’s stern, like you’re scolding a dog.

“No, I’m being serious- this isn’t me just being over reactive-“

“Nam-Gyu.” You warn. Part of you can’t even blame him for this emotional reaction- you’ve had similar moments.

“I’m useless with it- can’t even put it up by myself. Have to have my fucking girlfriend do it- hic!”

Neck yanked backwards by a tight fist in his hair, Nam-Gyu is yanked backwards and comes face to face with you, albeit upside down, but your expression is still readable.

‘You better quit that.’

You don’t even have to say it, he can read it straight from your mind. It’s a small sign of rationality that he doesn’t want to acknowledge or accept.

“Nam-Gyu….” You start, voice low and stern, eyes locked onto his with an intimidating certainty that has him shrinking and his eyes trying to look anywhere but at you.

Another tug of the makeshift ponytail has his eyes being pulled back towards you.

“Do you think that I have poor taste?”

He shakes his head, cheeks becoming flushed in embarrassment like a child being scolded.

“Do you think I lie to you when I call you handsome?”

Another shake of his head.

Your face softens, looking down at him with a deep sincerity that has goosebumps crawling up his back.

Leaning forward, you’re placing a soft kiss on his forehead. You linger there, lips staying pressed to his skin like some silent promise to him.

“I like doing your hair. Keep letting me do it, please.”

Nam-Gyu’s heart skips. No longer can he complain about you doing his hair like it’s some chore- it’s something you enjoy.

He’s not asking you to do it anymore. You’re asking him.

He never thought you hated it, or hated doing his hair- he just assumed that deep down it was a chore for you, something you silently resented him for.

With how you were though…you hardly gave him an option to be irrationally mad, you made it so easy to be ‘okay’…and that was something that Nam-Gyu had never known until you.

You seem to give him the reassurance he never got before in life. 

Settling back in your position, you’re releasing his hair and guiding his head back forward, nails gently running through the black locks, pulling it into the style he requested once more.

Swallowing hard, Nam-Gyu clears his throat, “I’m….” The words die out into a soft squeak as he mulls over what to say, “Thank you.”

You hum softly, nails raking through the knots as gently as you can, “always ‘Gyu. Y’know that.”

Your words are simple yet they fill Nam-Gyu with a warmth that was foreign completely until he met you. Though simple, the words mean everything to Nam-Gyu.

He wasn’t alone anymore. He had you.

Eyes closing and face relaxing Nam-Gyu lets his breathing steady and his body relax back into you. Goosebumps begin to bloom his skin and shivers run up his spine as your fingers run gently against his scalp.

Suddenly he’s not angry anymore. He’s not arguing with a degrading voice in his head. He’s not overwhelmed with emotions that he’s far too aware of.

He’s just with you.

Pulled out of his daydream by two hands on either side of his head, Nam-Gyu’s neck is tilted back and a kiss is placed on the crown of his head.

With an over exaggerated ‘muah!!’ you’re pulling back and looking down at him with a bright smile, “all done~ My handsome prince!!”

Your doting has heat rising to his cheeks. What is just a silly term of endearment for you has Nam-Gyu star stuck for a moment.

Years of being what most would call a ‘junkie’, doing shady shit, not caring much about his appearance and not having a high regard for his life has somehow turned into what Nam-Gyu would call a cliche.

A good one! But a cliche nonetheless.

A home that he wasn’t getting evicted from, a life that wasn’t fueled by one hit after the next, a girlfriend that cared for him and pampered him the way you do?!?

He didn’t have to do everything by himself anymore. He wasn’t alone.

He never would have thought he’d be here in life.

Yeah, he often wonders if this is one of those crazy drug trips that has him living a fake life with an angel because he has no idea how he got here.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*: °❀⋆

There’s no possible way he could be where he is now, cheeks smushed by your thighs and lips glossy with you.

He’s with you. In your bed.

Well not really.

He’s not fried his brain that bad yet- he knows this can’t be real. Fingers pressing into a mirage of plush flesh, Nam-Gyu is pulling you closer like that alone would make you materialize into something truly tangible.

“P-please… s-shit- don’t stop.”

Voice creaky and teetering on the edge of breathlessness, Nam-Gyu could never deny you when you asked so sweetly.

Fingers gripping into the fat of your hips, his face is so deep in your cunt. Tongue splayed flat, every curl of the dexterous appendage has him swallowing down more of your sticky slick.

If he focuses too long Nam-Gyu beings to realize he can’t actually taste you. Mind floating in a realm that’s far from reality, it’s the idea of taste that seems to take over his mouth.

You’d be so sweet- he knows it. Of course, he doesn’t know how sweet, but he’s seen your pretty cunt enough to just assume you’re just as addictive as the sweetest candy.

Deciding to comply with the taunting dream realm that keeps urging him deeper into the complex world of deep sleep, Nam-Gyu is forcing himself deeper into you.

Images of what he knows are moulded together to create something that is only assumption.

How your nails feel raking against his scalp and pulling him deep into your cunt? He can only imagine what it would feel like off the basis of how you usually have your nails done.

Neat, sometimes filed into points or sharpened into the most angular of squares- but always painted with the cutest designs- Nam-Gyu swears the longer he lets himself slip deeper into this world of desires the more he can feel the tips of your nails scratch against his skin as you tug at his hair.

“Y-yes, j-just like thatttt..”

Hips raising off the bed, you’re forcing your hips against his tongue. Folds spread on either side of the eager appendage, he’s groaning into your cunt with each swivel of your cunt onto his mouth.

He knew he’d know what you’d like. What you needed.

Sliding one arm up your body, Nam-Gyu is sinking his fingers into your flesh as he traces it up your torso to his destination.

Fuck, he’s so hard. He can’t take it.

As his hand encloses around your breast, kneading the flesh, groaning into your cunt as the fat spills from between his fingers, Nam-Gyu is rutting his hips against your frilly bedsheets.

Pre-cum leaking shamelessly, he can already feel the sticky mess leak through layers of his clothes and dirty those pink strawberry sheets he always sees in your streams.

“Please- shiiitt- ‘gyuuu”

Eyes fluttering shut and rolling back into his skull, hips working over time, he’s fucking his cock into your mattress over and over and over until the head is raw from rubbing against the fabric.

He’s holding your squirming form down, dragging you down to his face- leaving no room for you to run. Drinking every drop of your arousal down like it’s the water he needed to live, Nam-Gyu can’t get enough.

When he opens his eyes to look back up at you- the beautiful you underneath him- he knows he can’t hold out for much longer.

Brows knitted together, face flushed, hair matted to your forehead and bottom lip caught between your teeth- god, he could cum from the sight alone.

And he did. Because it’s the exact same face you made during the stream he fell asleep to.

Fuck, you were fucking yourself stupid with that little toy- pussy swollen and creaming around the plastic, he swore you had to have cum at least 5 times.

And he beat his dick hard. So hard that he passed out with his phone still in his hand and the stream still running.

Shit. He could feel your cunt on his tongue. He could taste you. You sounded so clear.

You looked so real.

Moaning into your pussy, nails biting into the phantom image of your thighs, Nam-Gyu can hear the faint sound of something that makes a pit in his stomach begin to grow.

No- he can’t wake up yet. Fuck, just a little longer.

Tongue fucking you feeper, pink digit licking along your walls like it would make the taste of you that his brain conjured up stick to his tongue long after the inevitable happens.

Hips humping down into the mattress, his cock is throbbing. His own moans are over taking yours, Nam-Gyu is practically sobbing into your cunt- chasing after an orgasm he would know he’d never get to truly taste.

As if his own psyche is determined to contribute to his downfall, he’s forced to live through the blurry scene change that makes whatever this was so obviously a dream.

He knew what this was…hours of jerking off to your videos before he went to sleep has your siren like self invading every crevasse and fold his brain has.

Even in sleep you don’t leave him alone.

Somehow, Nam-Gyu makes this into your fault. It’s your fault that he’s needing you even in his dreams. It’s not his fault that he’s addicted to you…it’s your fault for being so addicting.

Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight.

He doesn’t know how it led up to this- he doesn’t really care- but now Nam-Gyu is graced with the image of your ass in his hands and his cock so deep in your cunt.

Hips positioning into your gooey walls, every time he’s pulling back it’s like your poor cunt is just sucking him back in with a lecherous sluurrpp as you continue to cream around him.

He’s sick for wanting to continue this, no? Surely he’s fucking his cock up into the fabric of his boxers trying to cum in his sleep to a dream of a camgirl. Surely, that’s a new low for him….

“Fuuuuckkk” you’re letting out suck a cute little squeal, arm reaching behind you to press at Nam-Gyu’s stomach, “‘s too muchhh- right there- fuck ‘gyuuu..”

Part of him wants to ask you to say his full name. He needs to hear you sobbing and cryin’ around him while screaming his full name. But, he knows better than to ask such a thing- that would only risk fucking up the fragile reality of the dream.

He hasn’t heard you say his full name. Only ever the nickname his camsite handle had.

He can’t risk it.

Fingers digging into the fat of your ass, his thumbs slide inwards, spreading you open nice and wide. Folds so swollen and covered in your creamy arousal, you’re practically split apart by him.

God, so pretty. That’s all he can think.

Swollen n’ red, speared apart by his cock n’ creaming all around him- this is exactly what he needed.

What you needed.

Because you’ve never been fucked right.

Even in sleep, Nam-Gyu’s emotions are a whirlwind of anger into jealousy into a proudness that didn’t make sense for someone who was currently having a wet dream about some camgirl.

You’re throwing your hips back, sobbing out for him as he stretches you so wide. You’re louder than your streams! That’s right…because only he can fuck you the way you need.

Stupid, silly girl couldn’t fuck herself properly- Nam-Gyu had to come help and fuck you dumb.

The sharp smack of your ass against his hips has his skin reddening. Sticky webs of mixed arousal stringing you two together and leaking down onto those pretty pink bed sheets.

“I-in me, pleasseeee..I-i need it.”

He knows you do. He knows exactly what you need. And you’d take it all wouldn’t you??

Hands sliding up your ass, his thumbs are pressing into those pretty little dimples on your back, forcing you into a deeper arch and sinking his chubby cock so deep into your cunt.

Fuck, you’re so tight. Squeezing him like a vice and sucking him right back in each time he pulls out.

RINGGGG. RINNNGGGG. RINNNNNGGGG.

He fights it the best he can, eyes screwing shut so hard like it would lock him down in this heaven of a dream scape. Closing his eyes tighter would just make him fall deeper into sleep!!

Though he does try- it’s in vain.

Waking up with a pathetic moan that’s half wheeze and right in the middle of his own orgasm- for a second Nam-Gyu thinks he may just pass out.

Chest heaving, lungs filling with air that does nothing but sting the already blackened and scarred tissue of his lungs, he’s waking up violently and with sticky boxers.

RINNNGGG RINNNNGG RINNNGGG

It takes him a minute to even come back to reality. Body still stuck in this weird limbo of awake and sleep, Nam-Gyu is still letting the last remaining flashes of your figure bleed into his mind while his still twitching cock softens in the puddle of his own mess.

He can still taste you- the pallet of you that he’s conjured up in his dream scape still lingering along his tastebuds like the ghostly taste of cheap tequila after a night out.

It’s subconscious. One of his hands, veins nearly invisible from the dehydration he’s surly put himself in by only ingesting alcohol with a chaser of pills these past few days, pulls down the waist band of his boxers.

RINNNNNGGGGG RINGGG RRRIIINNNGGGGG

He does it slowly, hand shaking as if he’s scared to see the mess he’s made. Almost like he checking to see how much of a fucking loser he was for blowing a load in his pants like a teenager, Nam-Gyu is examining the evidence of his dream with a scowl.

Dark curly hairs that are going on weeks grown out are matted down with thick white globs of his spend. Coating his thighs, soaking his boxers. Just how much did he fucking cum?!

He’s not even sure he has clean fucking boxers…he doesn’t exactly have the money to wash clothes at the moment.

The money he swore he was going to get from that fucking crypto was now lower than what he even put in. Granted, it was just 2,000 under the guise of ‘just a little bit more to see what happens’….but it was still 2,000 he could have saved towards rent….

Or his next score.

RINNNNGGGG RINNNNNGGG RINNNNNGGG

He has to go to work. He doesn’t want to. He’s not even going to get paid for shit.

Brain still riddled with sleep and the multi-substance hangover, Nam-Gyu is going through all possible scenarios that would involve him not having to work at that fucking club ever again.

Sure, he liked it alright when he was high off his ass and being gifted free shit- but right now- head pounding, throat scratchy and lower body sticky with his own release…the last thing he wanted to do was go to work

But, he couldn’t exactly afford to not go, could he?

He doesn’t have to do much for his mind to drift to you. To the chats you two have been having.

Nam-Gyu tells himself he’s getting what he deserves- he pays you as much as he does, knows what gets you off, and has been a long term subscriber! You should be talking to him the way you are.

Giving him your attention.

He tells himself that it’s just to get himself off. There’s no actual feeling behind it other than the entitlement he feels he has towards you.

But if that was the case…he wouldn’t have told you his favorite show, or recommend you that movie he thought you’d like, or told you about his first grade math teacher that he pulled that prank on- the one that got him suspended.

If he’s just using you. Just getting himself off to some random camgirl….you wouldn’t know his birthday or his favorite band…he wouldn’t have added those two songs you recommended into his liked songs before even listening to them.

RINNNNNGGG RINNNNGGG RINNNNGGG

Sitting up on the edge of the bed, Nam-Gyu is groaning and rolling his shoulders, attempting to ease the tense muscles that were inevitably going to get worse with the on coming shivers….courtesy of the multi-substance hangover…

He’s blindly slamming his hand down on his bedside table. Covered in cigarette ash, empty cigarette cartons and a few dirty glasses, his hand pats around the mess he swore he was going to clean up last week in search for his phone.

Palm brushing against something sharp, most definitely not his phone, his hand jolts a bit before feeling around.

It’s cluttered, but it’s his clutter, the unknown feeling that’s not normally there when he pats blindly for his glasses and phone, jars him.

What fucking day was it?!!

Squinting his eyes, Nam-Gyu catches the small number 27.

05/27/2024

Fuck, today he had to go in early.

RINNNNGGG RINNNGG RINNNNGGG

Alarm now forgotten and dulling into a hum in the back of his mind, Nam-Gyu needs to find out what the fuck is on his nightstand that he can’t remember.

In quick succession, he’s grabbing his glasses and phone off the nightstand. Placing the frames on his face with one hand, the other turns the phone screen out towards the nightstand, alarm still blaring.

It’s that business card. A sorry excuse for a business card with only some shapes and a phone number on it but a business card in its own right regardless…

He flinches a bit, body recalling the night he let that weird business man…or recruiter..whatever he was….slap him around for money.

But….It really wasn’t that bad. A bruise that lasted a good week or two, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle.

Hand picking the brown card up, he’s turning it over in his hands and eyeing the number. It couldn’t be that bad right?!?

Gaze drifting back to his phone, he’s taking a deep breath. What other choice does he have?

Thumb moving to turn the alarm off, his next course of action was not to go to work anymore….but to call this weird number.

RINNNNNNGGGG RINNNNGGGG RINNNNNGGG

Pressing the cancel button on your alarm, you’re not even bothering to move once the blaring sound has ceased.

The beds too comfy and too warm. The blankets are too heavy and your body aches. Why would you even try to get up for class when you’re positive you’d throw up from a migraine before you made it out the door.

You stayed up too late. Again.

Until the sunrise broke through the top of your curtains and the birds began to wake once more- you were on your phone. Messaging him. Over and over.

You told yourself you’d go to bed at a reasonable time. Get enough sleep that you’d wake up and feel refreshed, head clear and ready to learn about the unit that you’ve already missed so much of.

But you didn’t do that, did you?

Of course not.

He just kept replying!! Each one enticing you to text back and get an additional reply that has your stomach whirling and your heart thumping. You couldn’t stop. You had to keep answering.

So, hours rolled by and undoubtedly found yourself falling asleep just 45 minutes before your alarm for class went off.

Again. You did it to yourself again.

In the throes of searching for any sort of dopamine release, you’ve managed to fuck your sleep schedule, miss weeks worth of classes, and obsess from some faceless guy who jerks off to you on the regular.

Sure, you wouldn’t call it obsession- but that’s what it is. Whether you’ve wanted to admit it or not.

The isolation you’ve put yourself in has made even the slightest bit of attention from this one random stranger mean so much to you.

It’s a painfully obvious thing that no matter how hard you try you can’t stop.

You’re already failing classes, you’re in debt, you have no drive to post on that stupid fucking site anymore….so what’s so bad about getting some serotonin from chatting with VIPGYU.

What’s bad is you keep screwing yourself. He’s the one paying you. He should be working around you but, here you are, night and night again, staying up to when you assume he’d get off of work so you could talk to him.

Talk to him on a fucking camgirl site….

Yeah, doesn’t sound great when you put it that way.

You open your phone, part of you still having some drive to attempt to make it to this 7am class off approximately 45 minutes of sleep.

Courses: Course Schedule : Biological Sciences 2000 : Class Syllabus : Class Timeline

Eyes watering as you squint against the bright screen, you’re tapping through the menus to get to where you need to go. You just have to make sure you’re going to the right building!

Look at you!! Having the drive to make it to class today!!!

Daily Reminders: 06/05/2024 TEST TODAY!

Your heart drops.

Seeing the little blurb that the professor so kindly updates before each class- you know you’re screwed and now your drive is destroyed.

No sense in going now is there?

You feel guilty. You know you needed to get your shit together and actually go to the classes you paid for but the growing apathy has bloomed to a crescendo that you couldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried.

You were already late, you’re sure that you fucked up and forgot to change over your laundry last night, your head hurts, you don’t feel well- fuck were you going to throw up?!

Why even go if you’d just fail the test anyway? You didn’t study, you forgot you even had one…you’d fail anyway, what’s the difference between a 65 or a 0 in the grade book if you’re already demolishing the ‘attendance is 20% of your grade’ aspect of your total performance.

Tucking your knees to your chest, you’re left to sit in the eerie silence of your college town apartment in the early hours of whatever day of the week it was.

How did you do this again? You swore you’d do better. You were going to make it to every class, study for your tests, get your grades back up, graduate, get your degree and get the fuck out of here. Do something with yourself!

One horrible decision to devote your whole night to some stranger in an effort to get some type of validation that you, deep down, know wouldn’t solve any of your issues, and a missed alarm later….

Looks like you’ve already screwed yourself on that front.

It’s a gross type of self hatred that blooms in your stomach with the swirling stomach acid that threatens to rise up in your throat- you did this.

The classes that you sold yourself online to make money for- you’re not attending.

The money you’re making by selling yourself online is doing nothing to chip away at the loans that you keep having to take out because of the classes you keep failing.

You never wanted it to turn out like this.

You really didn’t.

You had drive, an excitement for continuing your education that drove you to even pay for this expensive ass university anyway!!

You had a timeline for fucks sake! Go to school, get the degree, apply for that one company that you’ve been dreaming of working for since you were in middle school, move away from the area and get your own house!!!

But now?

You’re lost. It’s an accumulation of so many things that no matter how hard you try, they never seem to ease up and allow you to find any footing.

The thought happens suddenly. What was once shoved in your mind, comes back to the forefront of your mind violently.

The card.

That weird fucking card you were given by that man who gave you money….albeit money you had to be slapped stupid for…but money.

You grimace, hating yourself for even thinking of doing what you’re about to do. You told yourself you’d take the money you made from whatever the fuck that was and do something with yourself- sure, it wouldn’t save you, but it would give you some footing.

And you did use it for good…some of it.

It’s hard. Not having money, scrambling to stream to get these creepy fucks to pay you and then having a hefty amount that you could have never dreamed of.

You had good intentions at the start. Used some of it to pay off next months rent, used a small portion to get groceries so you could actually eat things with sustenance….as much as you preferred that delicious take out place down the road.

That’s about where it ended.

Having more left over than intended and your mind overwhelmed with even the slightest idea that you’d get somewhere with the money….the rest of it kind of went where ever.

New clothes, a new journal to kick start the mental wellness journey- oh! How could you forget the matching pens!- some nice wine you wouldn’t have dreamed of buying previously. And it all made you happy! For a bit.

Now you’re suffering the consequences, bank account run dryer than before and no extra money to pay upcoming bills that you swore you had an extra week to pay..

That card is looking better and better.

You know exactly where it is. Shoved in the back of a particular desk drawer and under some old decorative tape rolls is the brown card.

Circle…triangle…square…

Fucking weird to say the least.

Turning it over, the material is almost uncomfortable against your clammy hands. You even have to squint to see the numbers on the back, the break of day barely starting leaves hardly any light in your stuffy dorm.

456-034

Eyes still fixated on the card, your free hand maneuvers its way against your phone screen. Password, Home Screen, phone, 4…..5…..6….

Were you really about to do this?!

It’s a stupid fucking idea. You know it. If you got money from being slapped until you were bruised, you’re only left to assume if you wanted more money…there would be a bigger price to pay.

0…3…

You could just stream extra! Make a better schedule! Tomorrow you’d start fresh, go to every class, talk to your professors and advisors to ask for the support you need.

ACCOUNT ALERT: PAYMENT OF 500,000 TO UNIVERSITY AMENITIES FEE HAS BEEN DECLINED.

ACCOUNT ALERT: LOAN PAYMENT NOT RECEIVED

ACCOUNT ALERT: PAYMENT OF 700,000 FOR RENT UPCOMING

Life has a funny fucking way of timing things doesn’t it?!

Fuck it.

You really don’t see it getting worse.

…4

You type the last number before you can rethink your decision. Rapid, shaky, almost violent as if you think the phone number itself would be the answer to your financial woes.

Whipping your phone up to your ear, you’re throwing the little business card down like it would undo the call you’re about to make.

Each monotone ring that pulses through your eardrum is sending a painful jolt up your spine. Goosebumps prickling along your skin, stomach in knots, teeth chewing at your cheeks- you’re the picture definition of anxiety…yet you’re not putting down the phone.

The distinct click of the line connecting makes your blood run cold. Leaning forward and using your free hand to prop yourself up on the desk, you’re squeezing your eyes shut like that alone would make this feeling of impending doom stop.

It’s silent though. Just open aired static.

“Uh…h-hello?” You choke out, voice hoarse. You wince hearing how nervous you sound- you really should hang up. Anxiety welling up in your chest, you’re speaking once more to fill the static silence that remains on the other line.

“A….A while ago…you gave me this car-“

“Do you wish to participate in the game?”

Your hand tightens on the phone. The warped, distorted, almost robotic voice on the other end cuts you off before you can even finish your next sentence.

“The game?” You ask, blabbering into the phone before you can even think.

“If you wish to participate in the game, state your full name and date of birth.”

The voice repeats itself, giving no indication that it’s even registered your question.

You pull the phone away from your ear, looking down at the screen. Fuck, were you dreaming?! The call ticks upwards by the second, pixels blaring brightly in your dim room.

The way you’re squinting your eyes against the light and tracking each number tick up as the seconds pass is evidence enough that this is real.

Fuck, were you really about to do this?! This might be the dumbest thing you could do…..but what other option do you have?

Suck in the violent monotony of your own self destruction, you’ve gotten to the point where no matter how hard you try to tell yourself that tomorrow you’ll do better…you don’t. Whatever excuse you find, you’re using it.

“If you wish to participate in the game please state your name and date of birth.”The voice is far away and hardly decipherable with the phone not to your ear.

Sucking in a deep breath, you’re bringing the phone back up to your ear. For better or for worse, you’re rambling off your name and date of birth into the speaker.

“#414. Game entry received. Please arrive at the pick up location at the below date and time to secure your entry.”

“What location- you didn’t fucking-“ the line clicks and your phone is filled with dead air before you can even question the man, or it, or whatever it was that you were speaking to further.

It’s like whatever this game was is already mocking you because the second all the hurried questions fumble out of your mouth, your phone is pinging with a new notification.

It’s not a reminder to pay your loans, it’s not your bank screaming at you for an overdraft, and it’s not a notification from the camsite.

It’s from an unknown number.

If you had any sense of self preservation you would have also noticed that the number itself was just off.

It wasn’t the number you just called and in all honesty it didn’t even look like a real number to begin with. Maybe some automated thing, but not a normal number, there’s far too many numbers missing.

You’re too focused on the content of the message. It’s a date, time, and location.

Headed by a ‘please arrive at the below location at your scheduled time if you wish to continue to the game’, you’re scrunching your face at the numbers on your screen. They couldn’t even give you a genuine address, they had to be all cryptic and drop coordinates.

Browser opened on your phone, coordinates copied and pasted into the search bar- it takes a minute, clicking some links to give you the right directions that weren’t just confirming numbers that you plugged in- but you find it.

It’s a nightclub. One you’ve heard of but definitely never went to. Cover entirely too high, drinks overpriced, and more drugs than you care to be around at the moment (you’ve been there done that…that’s the last thing you need), you’re already scrunching your face at the location that has loaded on your screen.

Club Pentagon.

When you get there- you’re regretting it before you even walk in. Not a good first impression to give your club coverage half in bills and half in coins is it?

It’s not your scene. Maybe if you were shit faced of bottom shelf liquor it would be- but now, with the looming anxiety of whatever the fuck it was that you’re getting yourself into- you’d rather you gotten some field in bumfuck nowhere over this.

It’s so loud. There’s so many fucking people.

You’ve been isolating yourself from your universities campus….from your own small group of friends on text….this was a huge step up from that. And it happened way too fast.

Sitting at the bar, back rigid and the inside of your cheeks raw from the anxious chewing you’ve been doing- the longer you sat there nursing your vodka cran, the more you’re starting to think this wasn’t a single shot.

You’re head is swimming, body buzzing. You can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or anxiety that’s making you feel this way- but why not just get another drink? Just ease yourself up further!

You haven’t exactly had the funds to go drink in a while- you don’t really have them now but you need the distraction- maybe you really were just a lightweight after all this time.

It was stupid, horrible idea, but you’re not exactly in the mood to be holier than thou and act as if you didn’t want to drink yourself into oblivion to stop think about this fucking game.

About VIPGYU.

Why the fuck were you thinking about him?! You have plenty of other things you need to be worrying about…

It’s deflection. That’s what it is. Overly anxious, not able to focus on this fucking meeting for this game, not wanting to dwell on the debt you have no way out of- your mind reverts to only thing that’s seem to have given you any sort of dopamine in the last couple of weeks.

He said he worked at a club! Maybe he works here?!

Looking around the packed club, you’re attempting to search for someone that you don’t even know what he looks like. Sure, you have some image that you’ve conjured up in your mind- but that’s not a real person you can look for is it?

You need another drink. Sure you’re already feeling yourself sway just a bit, a light buzz glowing through your body and all while you’re alone at a club you’ve never been to….

Yeah, what a great way to cure your anxiety. Get another drink that you know was more vodka than cran. You don’t even have a drink want to get drunk- it would just be something different than what you’ve been dealing with.

No more stress, no more worrying about this fuck ass game until you get the text saying that your mysterious ride is here to pick you up, no more focusing on the man you’ve grown attached to through your camsite. Nope, none of that!! All you have to think about is just getting that second drink and letting loose just the smallest bit!

That will totally help!

Chugging down the last bit of your first drink with a gulp that has your face scrunching as the bitter liquid coats your tongue, you’re quickly slamming the glass back down and getting ready to order a second round.

Except there’s no bartender…

Looking left and right, your unfocused eyes try to locate the bartender, or even another staff member of the club to get a new drink but there’s no one.

You assume it’s a shift change thing- someone would eventually come back and take your order. But, as seconds pass and your heartbeat quickens with each second you’re not able to be distracted.

The other patrons, who look like regulars to a place such as this, also look annoyed- wanting another round of shots and no employe to give their order to.

An older man, hair dark and littered with grays, turns to you and lets out a drunken laugh, “shiiitt, what’s a guy gotta do to get a drink around here?! Y’know where they went sweetheart?”

It’s lighthearted. You know the drunkard means nothing too sleazy by his comment- he’s just trying to make conversation to ease his own mind. Not much different than what you were trying to do, right?

Returning a tight lipped smile and an awkward laugh, you’re shaking your head and shrugging.

PING

Your whole body reacts to the small vibration that jitters against your palm. Drink long forgotten that forbidding feeling that has been pooling in every fiber in your being now overshadows that uncomfortable alcohol buzz you gave yourself.

Should you really look?? Maybe you should say fuck it and message VIPGYU. Ask him if he’s working tonight, ask him which club he works at- bank on the fact that he works here- and see where the night takes you.

It’s a new low you find yourself in- each option you have is a deflection from the main problem at hand.

You’re in debt. You’re failing out of college once more. Your camsite earnings are hardly touching the loan amounts you owe let alone allowing you to pay for another year to try and get your shit in order. And your only options are to:

A) drink yourself to oblivion at this bar to forget about your woes and ultimately have to face all the repercussions you avoided tomorrow

B) text some stranger who jerks off to you on the regular and see if he’s working at this bar your at to see if you can get a quick fuck in- that’s what you tell yourself, anyway- to get your mind off of shit…and then inevitably have to deal with all you’ve been dealing with once more.

Or

C) look at your phone. Get this stupid pick up location. Go to said location and get out into some ‘game’ that you have no idea what it is to make money.

Though the promise of C looks somewhat pleasing…you know the only ‘real’ option you’re left with, the one that offers some sort of true escape to your worries, is looking at your phone.

Flipping the screen to face you, your home screen lights up. 1:54am. Jeez…were you really out this long?! You’re not given much time to mull it over when you’re met with a text message notification that screams at you from under the time.

The sender is again, a bunch of numbers that make no sense when used as a phone number- it’s even different than the last one that sent you your pick up location.

How secretive can one operation be?!

Your scheduled driver should be arriving with transportation. If you wish to continue with the game, enter the vehicle.

Oh you’re so screwed. Were you really doing this?!?! How much money could you even make at this game? Surely not enough to follow some weird, cryptic message and get into a car that you don’t know?!

Front door of Club Pentagon closing behind you, the cold night air is hitting your skin. The music that was so loud it hurt your brain is abruptly cutting off into a muffled thrum when the metal doors slam behind you is evidence enough that you are doing this…you’re really about to do this.

There’s no one outside at first. Not a single fucking person. So late at night that you don’t even hear cars, just the echo of bass boasted music and the flickering street lamp.

You chuckle a bit at your own anxiety.

So anxious…you were earlier waiting for the car than the very car you were nervous to get into.

Rocking on your feet and hugging your arms to your chest, all you could do was wait.

Hearing tires screech, you’re looking up to see a yellow taxi cab slid to a halt, rims nearly scraping the curb as it pulls up to the bar.

Was this your ride? Well…this doesn’t seem too bad- the man driving looks kind and has a jovial air to him!

Releasing a breath you didn’t know you were holding your taking a step forward, attempting to make your way to the awaiting cab.

There’s an attempt to make your away to the cab.

Practically tripling over your own shoes, you’re nearly knocked over when a group of girls comes barging out of the club.

“I told you!! Fuck- get her a bag- Jesus fucking Christ I told you three she wasn’t a hard liquor person- if she throws up in the taxi you are paying the fee!!”

The one girl, very much inebriated and being held up by her friends is given a bag as they fumble her into the backseat of the the taxi that they called- the driver now looking less than thrilled.

Okay…not your ride. Biting your cheek, you’re instinctively looking down the opposite side of the road to see any oncoming traffic.

You’re not sure how you didn’t hear it but parked just a couple feet down is a limo. It’s sleek, a newer model- definitely nothing you could afford.

Feet still, you’re not moving initially- that has to be some other club goers ride.

Two masked men step out from the back of the limo. Pink suits and shapes on their mask, your whole body is turning to stone.

….yeah, this was probably your ride.

Though you can’t see their eyes, you know these people are looking at you. Standing tall with faces trained directly on you, one of them is raising an arm in a ‘after you’ motion, gloved hand raised to the sky and pointed towards the open limo door.

The click, click, click of your own heels on concrete almost mocks you as you make your way down the sidewalk- you have to walk to this car, you have ample time to stop and turn away…but you’re not.

What would you do?! Go back to your apartment that you’d undoubtedly get evicted from next month and flunk out of college?!

Giving the masked man a wary look you’re stepping in line with the door. Fuck, here goes nothing…..

Crouching, you’re ducking into the limo. The red interior so pristine it looks like not a single person was here before you, and you’re sure you could see your reflection in the metal trim lining the walls…this was something you’d never have the opportunity to see let alone ride in.

Gotta find some positive….

A nervous laugh slips from your throat as you sit down. Nails biting into the side of the chair, the second your legs fully swing inside the car, the black door is shutting behind you.

ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ ꕀ

When the door shuts behind him, Nam-Gyu jumps a little. The air instantly be comes thicker, hotter…fuck, was he sweating this much before he got in the limo?!

Nose running, he’s sniffing before shuffling awkwardly in the seat. At least he’s not on bar duty.

When Nam-Gyu called that number and entered himself into whatever the fuck this was, for a while, he thought it was all some fucked up joke.

He heard nothing in the weeks after the phone call. It was just that stupid automated voice telling him he was entered into some game and then weeks of silence.

When he got the message before work, telling him that he would be picked up from club pentagon itself- he genuinely forgot what it was even for.

Only after he was reminded of his very, very shitty financial situation once more after he was denied the coke he tried to purchase even when he was half the price short, did he remember what that text was about.

The game.

Fuck it, why not see where it goes? He doesn’t have anything better to do.

He works floor for the most part of his shift, acting like he’s going to try and talk people into a VIP upgrade or even some top shelf liquor though anyone who does try to approach him is shrugged away.

Nam-Gyu even gets lucky!! Finding a small mirror left on a VIP table, half broken up lines of a white powder stare back at him, covering his reflection. Really it’s the shadows of some lines, but drugs nonetheless!!

He doesn’t think twice before he’s quickly looking both ways and snagging the small thing off the table. Fingers pressing into the cool surface, his pointer and middle finger are gliding across the mirror and collecting the residue.

The mirror is dropped to the table haphazardly and Nam-Gyu is spinning away from the table he just stole from oh-so inconspicuously. Sliding between a group of people, getting a comfortable distance away from the VIP area he just stole from, he’s bringing his fingers to his mouth.

Head tilted down, still swaying between patrons, the pads of his fingers are running along his gums. Rubbing the powder into the thin skin, he’s banking on the fact he’d get a better high this way. Tolerance already through the roof, some residue of (hopefully) coke would get him buzzed at best.

Part of him has a need to text you, to message you on that fucking camsite and tell you to get your pretty ass in the club so he’d have something to look forward to- but you were the reason he made a mess of himself in his sleep. Multiple times.

Do you even know how embarrassing that is?! Ungrateful bitch who teases him over text and shows up in his dreams to fuck him in the way he needs.

Mind far too sober for his liking, it’s almost instantaneous the way these twisted negative thoughts pop in his mind. One after the other, the irritation of being sober is taking over his psyche and leeching into every thought he has.

“Nam-Gyu!”

He’s rolling his eyes before he even turns around. He knows the voice. His boss.

“Need you on bar duty!”

Face scrunching, the little buzz he may have gotten is killed the second he hears those words. He hates bar duty.

Too many people. Stupid people. Drunk ass women who can’t get their order out without giggling when there’s a rush, pompous assholes that don’t like the top shelf shit they have, some stupid influencer trying to order some ‘secret menu’ drink that Nam-Gyu has never heard of…

He’s even been thrown up on! The last time he worked bar some dumb shit who was trying to show off to some girls drank too hard too fast and blew chunks of those frozen mozzarella sticks they sell all over his suit.

“‘M not scheduled for bar.”

“Don’t give a fuck if you’re not scheduled for it. I’m telling you.”

“Where the fuck is-“

“Went home sick. Bar. Now.” Nam-Gyu is cut off before he can even begin to complain of the coworker he knows is supposed to be at the bar.

His boss is walking away, leaving Nam-Gyu to sulk, high ruined.

BZZZTTTTTT-

Phone vibrating in his back pocket, it’s a bit weird how fast he reaches for it.

It’s embarrassing that he reached for it with that speed under the idea that it was you messaging him.

Maybe you had a moment of clarity for once and were reaching out all sweet like- doting on him the way you should be after you did those extra streams that you knew he would miss. Even after he had told you his working hours!

Your ride will arrive shortly. If you wish to participate in the game, please arrive at the NORTH ENTRANCE for pick up.

Brows scrunched, it takes Nam-Gyu a minute to even realize what this is pertaining to.

When he does remember, it’s worrisome how little he has to think about it. Nam-Gyu isn’t thinking about what the game could be or mulling over the memory of getting his shit rocked for money…no it’s simply a way to get out of bar duty.

Looking over his shoulder, he sees that his boss hasn’t walked far- glaring him down and nodding towards the bar that Nam-Gyu was now supposed to be at.

Pushing through the crowd, he starts towards the bar- just enough. The second the sea of people blocks Nam-Gyu from his bosses view, he’s turning sharp and walking in the opposite direction of the bar- towards the back entrance. The north entrance.

So what started as him simply trying to get out of bar duty leads to Nam-Gyu being locked in a moving limo with little idea of what’s to come.

Was it anxiety or did whatever he take have a long kick in time?!

Leg bouncing anxiously, the soft rustle of the fabric of his pants begins to mingle with the low hum of the AC. Though his throat is dry, so dry that it feels like he’s swallowing razor blades, he makes no move to reach for the chilled water or even the champagne that sits in the center console.

“Oh fuuuuck….” He whispers to himself. Long, drawn out and wavering, the syllables are jostled with each rapid bounce of his leg.

The vehicle lurches, the hum of the engine kicking up as it begins to move. He knows it’s just an automated thing that happens when most cars begin to drive, but when the lock clicks shut, he feels like he might throw up.

Looking back forward, Nam-Gyu is sucking in a deep breath and trying to sober himself up just the slightest bit- he needs to be aware of his surroundings here, this was too fucking weird.

At least he wasn’t working the bar! Whatever the fuck this is got him out of bar duty. Smirking to himself, Nam-Gyu is imagining the moment his boss realizes he’s gone- frantic, angry, worried- all the emotions that the fucker should have after shorting Nam-Gyu almost every paycheck.

His victory is short lived. He can’t bask in his win much when he’s effectively trapped in a limo that’s taking him to some ‘game’ he knows nothing about.

Laughs falling short, Nam-Gyu is coughing awkwardly. How long would he be here? Where was this masked driver taking him?! Leaning over, he’s staring through the small window that looks into the front area of the car.

The shadow of the driver is blurred by the tint on the window. There’s a passenger too, heads high and shoulders squared.

It’s cracked though, just the top.

“H-hey… uh… s-so where we going? You guys are weirdly fucking secretive about this shit.”

He gets no response. Not even a twitch that suggests they heard him.

“Y’know you’d get more people wanting to join if this wasn’t so fucking creepy…I-I mean props on keeping the vibe going.”

As his anxious ramblings continue, attempting anything to get the two masked figures to speak to him, Nam-Gyu doesn’t hear the soft hiss that begins to fill the limo.

“Can ya jus’ tell me how long this drive’s gonna be… w-what if I have to piss or something? I’ll straight up piss on the floor if I have to since you two are assholes- what the fuck?!”

The small window shuts closed, sealing with a mechanic whirring.

Finally realizing the oddly sweet smell that begins permeates the interior, Nam-Gyu’s chest feels heavy. Coughing, his eyes catch the thick white fog that begins to billow out of some part of the limo and rise to the ceiling.

He’s quick to launch himself to the door, pulling on the handle. He needs to leave. The door doesn’t open, some stupid child lock mechanic keeps it shut and locked.

“Hey!!! Let m-me the fu-fuck out!” Covering his nose and mouth with one arm he’s leaning forward and banging on the window. He tries to slow his breathing, to not breathe at all even- for once in his life he seems to care about a substance he’s inhaling.

Fist slowing into pathetic pats to the bulletproof glass and eyes fluttering, Nam-Gyu tries to fight the effects of the fog.

Cabin of the limo now filled with the thick white gas, Nam-Gyu’s body has no choice but to give in. Leaning back in the seat, his eyes begin to roll to the back of his head.

Body falling slack, Nam-Gyu’s mind is going blank as his nervous system falls victim to the gas. Though his entry was in place the moment he stepped into the vehicle… when he passes out, it’s secured.

#124 will be entering the games.

Main Taglist: @namsgyu @nuttybeans @namgyucat @reilapse @yuuumeee @thanosspills @thequeenbmulan @infinetlyforgotten @gothlnlove @seaweef @lov3lycosmos @lunaryoongie @thecryingangei @dennsfz @pugh-bug @ykmeoryoudont @mari-18s-world @corrdelia @skinstickets @chosangwooswife @lavenderpixieee @skarlet1 @sugusmonkeyy @arminmy4ss

Series taglist: @esemplasy @pedropascalbabygirl @anillodepapel @mysticaal-vee @bunnygirlgonewild @memorylanee @astrologicalwarrior @2brokendollies