Thanos, the rapper, is a lot of things to Nam-gyu. Untouchable, for one. Something distant, leagues above him and glistening like a star. He’s visibly imperfect, standing out from so many other celebrities with his erratic behavior and countless scandals– all of it makes it easy to imagine a connection, makes it easy to want, and Nam-gyu knows that he’s a fool for it.
It feels intentional, though, when Thanos starts frequenting the club that he works at. Nam-gyu has never believed in fate, but it’s hard not to think of it as some sort of divine intervention. Like that, maybe, he’s being shown Thanos isn’t as untouchable as he once thought, and for once in his life he's being handed something that he wants on a silver platter.
He’d be even more of a fool not to take what’s being offered to him.
The club always seems alive, in its own way. The thick, hot air feels as if it's weighing him down as he navigates through the crowd of bodies, everyone pressed far too closely together– slick with sweat, clothes clinging to skin, breaths coming heavily. The lights that hang above are blinding, flashing neon blue and electric purple, colors cutting through the darkness like broken glass and sending jagged beams across the floor. It’s disorienting in the best of ways, the intensity of it all crashing over Nam-gyu in waves, over and over again, uncaring if he drowns.
Voices are lost in the thrum of the music, but he still catches snippets– laughter, shouted conversations, the strained promise of another drink. This atmosphere, once suffocating and uncomfortable, had morphed into something soothing, something familiar, at some point.
The world flickers in bursts of colors, the bass of the music so loud it rattles his bones. He feels it in the soles of his feet, vibrating up his legs, settling somewhere low in his stomach and leaving behind an ache that begs for release.
Someone bumps into him.
Nam-gyu staggers back a few feet, knocking into somebody else with a disgruntled noise. The people around him are like a relentless tide, his path more directed by their insistent shoving than his own will. He’s still trying to regain some semblance of control over his body when he feels shuffling behind him and the grounding weight of hands landing on his shoulders.
“Hey,” Comes whispered English, low and warm against the shell of his ear. He registers the word at the same time sharp cologne invades his senses, yanking him right out of whatever daze he had been in.
He knows that voice. Would recognize it anywhere.
Nam-gyu tips his head to the side just to be sure and– yeah. It’s unmistakable, the painted nails and the tattoo splaying over the back of one hand. He didn’t think an opportunity would come so soon. He’s getting really lucky, nowadays.
Even with his mind a little clearer, it's hard to comprehend where this is going. What he does expect is to be told off for bumping into him. What he doesn’t expect is the hands on his shoulders to drop to his waist and settle there, squeezing gently over his clothes.
He opens his mouth to respond, but whatever he had to say comes out as a shaky exhale instead.
Thanos presses closer, pulls him into his body like he’s the one who's wanting. His chest is solid and warm against Nam-gyu’s back, every point of contact electrifying. It’s tempting– he can’t help the way he leans into him.
The song blaring overhead smoothly transitions into another and Thanos grinds his hips forward with the new rhythm. Nam-gyu swallows the spit pooling in his mouth. Any clarity he had before is long gone, feeling more lightheaded now than ever. The ache grows larger, spreading through his body like wildfire, consuming him whole.
Admiration no longer properly describes what he feels toward Thanos. The word isn’t quite sufficient enough when he has him behind him, rutting against him and clutching him to his body with what Nam-gyu can only identify as hunger.
Thanos’ teeth scrape lightly at the back of his ear, dragging lower until they reach his nape. He digs his teeth into Nam-gyu’s skin, hard enough that he jolts at the pain. Nam-gyu can handle the discomfort, but when Thanos’ tongue laves over the mark– soothing the abused skin like an apology– that’s when he whimpers.
“Baby,” Thanos mutters against his neck, still in English. Nam-gyu wonders how he manages to sound so attractive even with his less-than-perfect pronunciation.See AlsoNavigating Trends in Pickleball: What to Embrace and What to Avoid in 2025 - The Pickler✨ Newtay 100 Pieces Individually Wrapped Toothbrushes Manual Disposable Travel Toothbrush Medium Soft Bristle Tooth Brush Travel Toothbrushes for Hotel, Guest, Adults, Kids, Multi Color — 🛍️ The Retail Market✨ Vybrush U Shaped Toothbrush Kids 2-6 Whole Mouth Infant Toothbrush with 360° Food Grade Silicone Head and a Shampoo Toddler Brush Massager in Cool Pink & Blue Heart Styles in a Giftable Pack — 🛍️ The Retail Market
“Let’s get out of here.”
Nam-gyu nods jerkily. He’s never agreed with anything more in his life.
Thanos loops an arm around his middle and begins dragging him away before he can do or say anything else. The floor beneath their shoes is sticky, each step making a dull, sucking sound as they stumble in a direction Nam-gyu is too disjointed to identify.
“Wait-” He yelps as they exit the crowd, earning an annoyed look back at him, “I work here.”
“What?”
“There's a back room. Nobody uses it.” He rushes to explain, digging into the pocket of his jeans to fish out his keys and hold them up for the other to see.
Thanos grins, obviously pleased.
“I like you.” He declares.
Nam-gyu’s heart skips a beat– he likes me, his brain supplies, not helpful at all. He knows whatever expression he's making must look stupid as hell, so he grabs Thanos by the arm and starts leading him down an empty hallway to avoid looking him in the face.
They reach an inconspicuous door at the end of it, and before Nam-gyu can even begin to fumble with the keys he’s being crowded toward cold steel, forced to arch into it as Thanos holds him by the hips and returns to kissing up his neck.
“Stop.” He pants, immediately cursing himself for sounding so unconvincing.
“I don’t think that's what you want.” Thanos purrs, one hand snaking down to press over where Nam-gyu’s dick is straining against the front of his pants. “Look how hard you are. I think what you want is for me to bend you over right here.”
Nam-gyu’s mouth goes dry. He feels himself throb at the pressure and Thanos must notice too because he laughs, amused, as he rolls the heel of his palm against his cock.
He jerks so violently he nearly bangs his head into the door.
“See? I’ll take care of you, just calm down.” Thanos laughs louder at his struggling, pushing closer so that Nam-gyu can feel the firm outline of his erection poking into the small of his back. Which, by the way, does not make it any easier to calm down.
“Stop.” He chokes out again, exasperated, and manages to maneuver the keys between his body and the door well enough to slot them into the keyhole. There’s a quiet ‘click’ of the lock and Nam-gyu wraps shaking fingers around the handle before Thanos can rile him up any further.
Thanos makes a disappointed noise, something like a growl, but gives up and withdraws, leaving Nam-gyu enough space to pull the door open.
He’s being shoved harshly into the room and pushed back up against the other side of it in a blink. He sputters, helpless, as he's bent at an angle, legs being kicked apart impatiently and cheek pressed to the material.
“I don’t know why you're bitching. You clearly like it.” Thanos hisses, warm hand slipping under Nam-gyu’s shirt to drag rough fingers over the ridges of his spine. He's so mean, and, horrifically, Nam-gyu more than likes it. He loves it.
He hears the snap of a belt coming undone. As if conditioned to the sound, he steadies himself with both forearms on the door’s surface and bends farther down to present himself, like this is something he does often. It kind of is.
“You know what I’m gonna do?” Thanos prompts, humming thoughtfully at the position that Nam-gyu put himself in, offering his body up like a whore.
“What?” He gasps.
“I’m gonna fuck you however I want, and you’re gonna take it.” A hand finds the zipper of his jeans and pulls it down in one swift movement. “Cause that’s all you’re good for, right?”
That goes straight to his dick. He’s not sure he’s breathing at all when Thanos tugs his waistband down far enough to wrap a scorching hand around his cock, squeezing lightly as if to chide him for being so desperate.
“I'm serious. Answer.”
“Yeah- yes.” Nam-gyu sobs, burying his face into one of his arms and rocking shamelessly into Thanos’ grip. Nails rake down his back in lieu of a response, his stomach pulling taut at how it stings.
The hand underneath his shirt retreats and he shivers, first at the loss, then at the feeling of Thanos’ dick being guided to nudge at his hole. He twitches at the pressure, faint but threatening to push inside.
“So,” Thanos starts, punctuated by the obscene sound of him spitting, something warm and wet sliding down the curve of Nam-gyu’s ass and to his entrance, “You a fan? Or just a slut?”
Nam-gyu thinks he's both.
“Both?” Thanos echoes his thoughts, draping over his back and pistoning his hips forward– not enough to breach him, but so damn close to it that Nam-gyu could cry. He knows him so well already.
Thanos stills, the only thing filling the silence being Nam-gyu’s ragged breaths. The hand on his cock loosens and he whines at the loss, wracking his brain for what he did wrong to be deprived like this.
“Both?” Thanos repeats, reminding him of the question. Oh. That’s what he wants.
“Mhm.” He confirms, stuck between moving forward or backwards, itching for Thanos to just– get back to it. Make good on his promise and fuck him, already.
“You really want it, huh?” Thanos mumbles, lapping up the sweat at the back of his neck. His hand tightens once more, pulling a sigh of relief from Nam-gyu alongside it. “Well, I did say I’d take care of you.”
It could be genuine, or it could be teasing, but when Thanos finally, finally, forces the head of his cock past his rim, Nam-gyu doesn’t care what it is.
It’s only a little, but it feels like being broken open regardless. The stretch is painful– not in a good way– as Thanos continues to ease himself inside without any care for his wellbeing. Rationally, it’s not even remotely hot, so it’s a good thing that Nam-gyu lost his last shred of rationality a while ago.
“Fuck,” Thanos grunts in English, snapping his hips forward just to bury another inch inside. Nam-gyu has to bite into his sleeve not to scream, but makes a wounded noise despite his efforts. Thanos must not hear, or perhaps he enjoys hurting Nam-gyu, because he only pushes harder, ignoring the way he writhes.
Tears well in his eyes and nearly spill when Thanos’ hips meet his ass, drool sliding from the seam of his mouth and wetting his sleeve.
He starts to pull back, the burn worse, and Nam-gyu actually does start crying. His sobs are muffled into the fabric, hot tears trickling down his cheeks to join the dampness of his spit.
“Don’t cry,” And even before Thanos finishes his sentence, Nam-gyu knows not to interpret it as comfort, “It’s too cute. Just makes me want to ruin you more.”
Nam-gyu’s stomach flips. Maybe, somewhere deep down, he wants, yearns, to be ruined– that’s why he proceeds to sniffle, body periodically wracked with small sobs and eyes blurry with tears.
Thanos wasn’t bluffing. He pumps along the length of Nam-gyu’s cock, wet and flushed an angry red, before both of his hands find purchase on his waist and haul him backwards to spear him on his dick. He’s so fucking full, filled to the brim with it, and the thought makes him woozy. His eyelids flutter closed, quivering as Thanos drags back out and starts to set a pace.
It’s brutal, fast and deep and practically animalistic, how Thanos snaps into him. Each sharp thrust punches a noise– whines, moans, gasps– out of Nam-gyu, his brain and body collectively struggling to keep up.
“I wanna come inside you,” Thanos rasps, breath dancing over the skin of his neck.
Nam-gyu doesn’t respond. Can’t respond, because he’s too busy being railed within an inch of his life. He has a feeling that he doesn’t actually have much of a choice in the matter, either way.
Thanos’ fingers are surely digging bruises into his sides, his grip like a vice. Nam-gyu hopes they are– he wants to see the evidence of this later, wants to feel the ache when he's lying alone in bed and remember what it felt like to be taken apart by someone as unobtainable as Thanos.
“S-Shit,” He groans, thrusts growing more and more inconsistent with each passing second. His teeth clamp around the same mark from earlier at the base of Nam-gyu’s neck, and that’s what drives him to the edge and pushes him right off of it.
Nam-gyu comes with a strangled shout into his arm, body going completely rigid then instantly going lax. His orgasm hits him like a train– a few stray tears sliding down from the corners of his eyes and adding to the mess.
The force of it leaves him shaking, colors bursting behind his eyelids, not unlike the club lights. He hardly realizes the wetness spilling inside of him, only managing to come down from his high as hands leave his waist and the warmth enveloping him disappears.
When Thanos pulls out he feels empty. Thoroughly ruined, like nothing, nobody, will ever be able to satisfy him in the same way.
Cum dribbles down the inside of his thighs, the sensation making his breath hitch at the sensitivity. He can hear the rustling of clothes behind him, can feel rough hands grasp at his body and lug him to the side, but doesn’t string together their combined meaning until the door is slamming shut.
Nam-gyu crumbles to the floor, limbs far too weak to support himself, heaving and trying to reign in his swarming thoughts. One, though, is particularly loud.
Thanos never even asked his name.