morguecuts

[morguecuts]

just call my name, i’m yours to tame

→ namgyu x fem!reader

→ TW! smut (degradation and praise kink, begging, dom!reader, phone sex, riding, nam-gyu is PATHETIC, edging, slight overstim) , no mentions of the games, crazy bsf!!

→ authors note: BRO IVE BEEN UP FOR A DAY STRAIGHT WITH NO SLEEP OVER THIS because i didn’t wanna lose my motivation! anyways im so proud of this ngl and it’s my first squid game fic sooo i hope i did okay. this is kinda inspired by the song “middle of the night” by elley duhé so listen to it!! it’s so good! anyway if yall wanna send some asks over go ahead im actually BEGGING. well, enjoy lovelies hehe

you’re not even halfway through the door before your eyes find him.

same place. same posture. same cool indifference behind the bar like he didn’t just press restart on every nerve in your body.

nam-gyu.

you don’t know what it is about him. maybe it’s the way he looks so devastatingly bored, like the world doesn’t offer anything that could possibly impress him. maybe it’s the way he moves, precise, practiced, but not cocky. like he’s spent a lifetime learning how to be both efficient and impossible to look away from.

all you know is this club, this dim, overpriced, too-loud club, isn’t even your vibe. you started coming here for the music, maybe. but you keep coming for him.

you claim the usual spot at the end of the bar, pretending to scroll your phone. pretending not to stare. pretending that you aren’t mentally scripting every possible line you could say if you ever actually spoke to him. you won’t. you’d rather crawl into traffic in heels.

tonight is different though.

because tonight, you’re not alone.

“is that him?” your friend whispers, leaning way too close and shamelessly eyeing the man you’d barely finished describing on the walk here.

you suck in a breath, feel your whole body lock up. “shut up,” you hiss through a panicked smile.

her eyes widen. “oh my god. you’re in deep. you didn’t say he was hot hot.”

“i did say that,” you mutter, cheeks burning. you try to hide behind your drink, but it’s no use. she’s already grinning like she just uncovered state secrets.

and then the words that make your blood freeze.

“if you don’t talk to him tonight, i will.”

you snap your head toward her so fast it might break your neck. “don’t you dare.”

she only shrugs, already signaling the bartender. him. nam-gyu glances your way, and your soul might as well exit your body.

too late now. tonight’s the night.

you don’t even remember standing up. one second you’re watching nam-gyu walk toward your side of the bar, and the next you’re in the hallway by the bathrooms, gripping the sink like it might float you away from this entire reality.

your heart is a mess. your lip gloss is slightly smudged. and your brain is screaming.

you look at yourself in the mirror and whisper, “you’re a coward.”

still, you don’t move. you give yourself a solid three minutes of silent internal screaming before finally emerging again, heart pounding like you just ran a marathon in heels.

your friend is at the table, looking suspiciously pleased with herself. worse, the bar is one nam-gyu short.

“where is he?” you ask, panic rising in your throat.

she doesn’t answer. she just pushes your drink toward you. your eyes catch something underneath it. folded napkin. black ink. sharp handwriting.

a phone number.

you blink. once. twice. “what… is this?”

your friend sips her drink like she’s been waiting for this moment all night. “you weren’t gonna do it, so i helped.”

you stare at her. “what do you mean, you helped?”

“i told him you think he’s hot and that you’ve been coming here just to see him. and that if he wanted your number, he could have it.”

you make a strangled sound in the back of your throat. “you what?”

“he didn’t say anything at first,” she says with a shrug, “but then he kind of smiled, like, all slow and smug, and just said, ‘tell her i’ll text her later.’ and then he wrote his number down and left.”

your whole body goes stiff. your heart is throwing itself against your ribs like it’s trying to escape.

“he smiled?”

“mhmm.” she smirks. “you’re welcome.”

you look down at the napkin again, like maybe it’ll vanish. like maybe this is some elaborate joke.

but it’s real.

and now you have his number.

it’s been four days.

four days since the club. four days since nam-gyu handed off his number like it wasn’t a nuclear event in your life. four days since your friend practically fed him your entire romantic history while you had a panic attack in the bathroom.

and somehow… nothing.

no text. no call. no vague dm. not even a like on one of your old instagram posts.

so you did what anyone would do. you shoved the entire night into a little box in your brain labeled embarrassing but character-building and moved on.

or at least tried to. today’s just a normal lazy sunday. your friend is over again, laying on your bed while the two of you binge a drama you’re not even really watching. there’s an open bag of chips between you, your feet tangled under a shared blanket, and a familiar quiet comfort in the air.

it’s the kind of day where the light comes through your windows all soft and golden. the kind where nothing feels urgent. nothing feels loud.

until your phone buzzes.

you almost ignore it. but then the screen lights up again. twice.

unknown number:

hey

unknown number:

it’s nam-gyu, from the club?

you sit bolt upright, nearly knocking the bag of chips off the bed. your friend startles.

“what? what happened? are you okay?”

you look at her, wide-eyed. “it’s him.”

she blinks. “who?”

you shove your phone in her face. “him. nam-gyu. he just texted me.”

her mouth drops open. “oh my gosh.”

you’re staring at the screen like it’s going to explode. and maybe it has, in a way. your heart is already thudding hard enough to make your hands shake.

you read it again. and again. it’s short, sure. boring, even. just hey. but it might as well be a love letter at this point.

“okay, what do i say? i need to say something back. but not something lame. oh god, what if it is lame?”

your friend rolls onto her stomach and kicks her feet in the air like she’s thirteen again. “just say hi back. or be cool. like ‘hey, stranger.’”

you make a face. “that sounds like something a forty-year-old divorcée says on tinder.”

she laughs. “okay, okay. then keep it simple. just… ‘hey.’”

you hesitate. then type.

you:

hey

and now you’re just sitting there. palms sweating. heart racing. stomach in knots.

“do you think he’ll reply right away?” you whisper.

your friend shrugs. “he texted you first. he’s obviously been thinking about it.”

you blink at her. “…do you think he just got the courage?”

“oh my god, maybe,” she says, eyes lighting up. “maybe he’s been nervous too. maybe he was gonna text sooner but kept chickening out.”

the thought makes your brain go blank for a second. nam-gyu? nervous?

before you can spiral further, your phone buzzes again.

nam-gyu:

sorry for taking a few days

i wasn’t sure if i should text you

you read that over three times before letting out a soft “oh.”

“he was nervous,” you whisper.

“called it,” your friend says smugly.

you exhale, slowly. fingers hovering over the screen like they’re waiting for permission.

you:

i wasn’t sure if you would

but i’m glad you did

there. honest, but not needy. casual, but with a hint. it’s perfect.

he replies almost immediately.

nam-gyu:

me too

you free this week?

your jaw drops.

“oh my god,” you whisper. “he wants to hang out.”

your friend gasps. “like a date hang out?”

you blink at the message again. is this real? is this happening? is this you?

your thumbs shake a little, but you manage to type:

you:

yeah i think so

what did you have in mind?

a moment passes. another buzz.

nam-gyu:

can i show you my favorite spot after my shift one night?

i promise it’s not a club

you grin, all warm and weightless. you can’t stop smiling.

you:

sounds perfect

your friend squeals and grabs a pillow to scream into. you do the same.

this is real, and it’s only just beginning.

it’s been two days since the text. two days of overthinking, overanalyzing, and over-dramatizing every possible scenario in your head.

and tonight… it’s actually happening.

nam-gyu is meeting you after his shift. he didn’t tell you exactly where he’s taking you. just that it’s somewhere quiet, somewhere he likes. and that he wants you to see it.

you’ve never hated your closet more.

“just wear what you feel good in,” your friend says from the edge of your bed, scrolling through her phone while you hold up a fifth maybe-outfit with a groan.

“i feel good in oversized hoodies and socks that don’t match,” you mutter.

“then wear those,” she deadpans. “he already likes you.”

you give her a look. “i need to look like… i didn’t try too hard, but also like i’m not a total mess.”

she stands up and goes straight to the rack, already knowing what she’s looking for. within seconds, she holds up a plain black fitted tee and a short black skirt with a little slit on the side.

“this,” she says. “simple. cute. a little flirty, but comfy.”

you blink. “…that’s actually perfect.”

“of course it is,” she grins. “and throw on the black leg warmers. make it a whole vibe.”

fifteen minutes later, you’re dressed, hair fixed just right, makeup soft and simple. you glance at yourself in the mirror and… okay, yeah. you feel good. you look like you, but the kind of you who deserves a second look.

your phone buzzes.

nam-gyu:

off now

meet me outside the club?

you stare at the message for a second. then exhale. “it’s time.”

your friend gives you a dramatic hug. “don’t trip. don’t black out. and if he tries to kiss you, lean in.”

you laugh, nerves fluttering like a thousand tiny birds in your chest.

outside the club, it’s quieter than usual. it’s late enough that the line is gone, but early enough that the neon still glows faintly behind the tinted windows. you’re waiting near the corner, arms tucked into yourself even though the night is warm.

you hear the door swing open.

you don’t have to look to know it’s him.

you do anyway.

he’s in a dark jacket, sleeves pushed up, hands in his pockets, hair a little messier than usual. his eyes scan until they find you.

and then he smiles. just a little.

“hey,” he says, walking over.

“hey.” your voice comes out softer than expected.

his eyes flick down, taking in your outfit for a brief second. he doesn’t say anything about it. doesn’t compliment or stare. but something about the way his gaze lingers. quiet and warm and lowkey appreciative, makes your stomach flip anyway.

“you look comfortable,” he says finally. “i like that.”

you laugh, a little breathless. “thanks. i didn’t want to… try too hard.”

“you didn’t have to.” he shrugs. “you look good.”

your heart does a little jump.

he nods toward the street. “come on. it’s not far.”

you fall into step beside him. it’s easy, somehow. the silence between you is soft, not awkward. like you both know the pace. like this was always meant to happen.

“so…” you say after a minute, “are you going to tell me where we’re going, or…?”

he glances at you. “nope.”

you snort. “wow. mysterious.”

“you’ll see.”

the city gets quieter as you walk. less neon, more shadows. more sky. and then finally, after a few more turns, he stops in front of a small tucked-away building.

it’s a rooftop café. not open to the public at this hour, but the side gate creaks open when he pushes it. you follow him up a narrow staircase, past some plants and old patio furniture. and then, the view.

the city skyline is spread out in front of you, glittering and alive but far enough to feel like it belongs to someone else. it’s peaceful. high up. removed.

he looks at you. “this is my favorite place to breathe.”

you don’t speak for a moment. just take it in.

then, quietly, “thank you for showing me.”

he shrugs again, but there’s something shy about it now. “thought you might like it.”

you glance at him, catching the way his fingers twitch slightly by his side, like he wants to reach for something.

you don’t move. you just smile.

“i do.”

you don’t know how long you’ve been up here.

maybe twenty minutes. maybe an hour. it doesn’t really matter. time feels loose around nam-gyu, like it drips slow, stretches, then snaps back all at once.

he doesn’t talk much at first. just sits beside you on the ledge, legs dangling into the warm night air, one hand braced against the concrete between you. he offers you a can of something cold and vaguely citrusy, and you take it without thinking.

he doesn’t look at you right away. he just watches the skyline, the way the lights pulse and flicker, blinking like a heartbeat. you do the same.

and it’s nice.

it’s… calm.

not the kind of silence that begs to be filled, but the kind that gives you room to think.

“you always come here?” you ask eventually, voice soft.

he nods. “when i can. after late shifts. before big ones.”

“does anyone else know about it?”

he glances at you now, and there’s a quiet flicker in his eyes. something unreadable, but not cold.

“just you.”

you swallow. hard.

he looks away again, leans back on his hands, shoulders relaxed in a way you’ve never seen from him on the job.

you’re used to seeing him behind the bar. in the glow of club lights, all sharp cheekbones and calm confidence and quick hands. the guy who moves like he’s already figured out the next five steps before you’ve even blinked.

but up here, he’s softer. unguarded. still a little distant, but not in a cold way. like he’s giving you space to come closer, if you want.

“you’re quieter than i thought you’d be,” you murmur.

he raises a brow. “is that a bad thing?”

“no. just surprising.”

he gives a soft huff of amusement, then sips from his can.

“people say that a lot. guess i give off the wrong impression.”

you shrug. “maybe you give off the kind of impression that makes people want to know more.”

that makes him pause. you think you see his lips twitch, just slightly.

“do you?”

you blink. “do i…?”

he turns his head, looks at you more directly this time. “want to know more?”

your heart stutters.

your mouth is dry.

your brain, unhelpfully, decides to blank completely.

“…yeah.”

he hums, quiet and satisfied, like that’s all he needed to hear. like he already knew.

you sit like that for a while. sipping your drink, trading little glances that feel like too much and not enough.

he tells you about the first time he found this rooftop—some quiet night when he was younger, needing space, needing air. he says it like it’s nothing, but you hear it. the loneliness tucked in between the words. the reason this place matters.

you nod and share something small too. not anything big, not a sob story. just a memory from your own life where you felt like everything was too loud and you needed somewhere to just be.

he listens. really listens. no interruptions, no fidgeting. just steady eyes and steady breathing, like the whole world stopped to make room for what you’re saying.

when you stop talking, he doesn’t rush to fill the silence.

“i’m glad you came,” he says finally.

you glance over. “me too.”

and it’s quiet again, but different now. warmer. heavier, in the way a moment can be when something’s about to shift.

he stands after a while, stretches his arms above his head, then offers you his hand.

“come here.”

you blink. “where?”

“closer.”

you hesitate, then take it.

he pulls you gently, steady, until you’re standing in front of him. not too close. but not far either.

“you were shaking when i texted you,” he says suddenly. not teasing, just matter-of-fact.

you freeze. “wait…how do you know that?”

he smirks, just slightly. “your friend told me. said you almost passed out.”

you groan and bury your face in your hands. “i’m going to kill her.”

he laughs. not loud, but real. warm. and then, gently, he reaches out, brushing your hands down so he can see your face again.

you stare up at him, caught in the space between panic and something dangerously close to butterflies.

“it was kind of cute,” he says, and there’s something softer in his eyes now. “you trying not to look at me. looking anyway.”

you bite your lip. “you noticed that?”

“of course i did.” he says it like it was obvious. like he was watching you just as much as you were watching him.

you want to say something. anything. but you don’t get the chance because he steps just a little closer. not enough to cross a line, but enough to make your breath hitch.

“you still nervous?” he asks quietly.

you nod. “a little.”

he leans in, not touching, not pressing, just near.

“don’t be.”

and with that, he pulls back, lets go of your hand, and turns back toward the ledge. like he didn’t just make your heart crash into your ribs.

you stand there for a second, trying to reboot your entire system.

nam-gyu glances over his shoulder. smirks.

“you coming, or are you gonna keep staring?”

you roll your eyes and follow him back to the ledge, pretending you’re not blushing.

but he knows.

he definitely knows.

the walk back starts slow.

not the kind of slow that means you’re tired or bored, but the kind where neither of you really want it to end.

the streets are emptier now. quieter. just the sound of your footsteps echoing against the sidewalk and the occasional car humming in the distance. the city feels smaller like this, like it’s folding in around the two of you.

you’re talking about nothing in particular. something about bad music at the club, some weird guy who tried to dance behind you once. nam-gyu listens, chuckling under his breath, and you can feel the air between you shifting again. light, but charged.

you’re animated when you speak. hands moving a little when you get into the story, your skirt swaying just enough to catch the corner of his eye.

he’s looking.

he doesn’t mean to.

okay, maybe he does.

but only in quick, stolen glances. when your head’s turned, or when you’re stepping ahead just slightly.

his eyes trace the curve of your waist, the way your shirt clings to your back, the soft movement of your legs as the skirt flutters over the tops of your thighs.

it’s subtle. respectful.

but he’s definitely looking.

you don’t notice. not really. you’re too focused on keeping your voice steady, even though your heart’s been skipping every other beat since you left the rooftop.

at one point, you laugh, tilting your head back, eyes squinting a little, and he swears under his breath, so quietly not even he hears it.

you’re pretty.

you’ve always been pretty.

but now, in the dim streetlights and soft shadows, wearing that outfit like it wasn’t chosen specifically to get his attention (even though it very much was)…

you look good.

and worse, he likes that he notices.

he likes the little flip in his stomach when your fingers brush his by accident.

he likes the heat in his chest when you tilt your head toward him to ask something softly.

you stop walking at a red light, waiting at the corner with your arms folded loosely across your chest. you glance up at him, and for a second, he doesn’t look away in time.

you catch it.

not the whole thing, but just enough. the way his gaze was on your mouth. then your legs. then up again.

you raise a brow. “what?”

he doesn’t flinch. doesn’t act flustered. he just blinks, casually.

“nothing,” he says, voice cool. “you talk a lot with your hands.”

you narrow your eyes slightly, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips. “that’s not what you were looking at.”

“sure it was.”

the light turns green and he starts walking again.

you follow.

you bump into his side lightly. “liar.”

he smirks. “you gonna punish me for it?”

you go still for half a second, surprised by the casual boldness of it, but he just chuckles, clearly amused by your reaction.

you roll your eyes and shake your head.

“you’re not as quiet as you pretend to be.”

“i never said i was innocent.”

you glance sideways. “and what exactly are you, then?”

he shrugs. “curious.”

the word hangs in the air a little heavier than expected.

you swallow. look away. try not to read into it too much.

but your pulse betrays you.

and he can probably hear it.

the rest of the walk is more of the same—

close, teasing, quiet tension settling in the space between your steps.

he walks you all the way to your door.

doesn’t ask. just does it. like it’s obvious.

you pause when you get there, hand on the knob, heart suddenly slamming against your ribs because…

now what?

you look at him, waiting. hoping. not expecting.

he looks at you, still calm.

“i had fun,” you say softly.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

his gaze flicks down again, one last glance over your frame, slower this time, like he’s letting himself indulge in the view now that the night’s almost over.

then, eyes meeting yours again, he says, “we should do it again.”

you nod, barely breathing. “i’d like that.”

he doesn’t kiss you.

doesn’t ask to come in.

doesn’t linger too long.

but his eyes say a lot.

and the way he leans in, just a little, like he’s memorizing your face before leaving says even more.

“goodnight,” he murmurs, voice lower now.

“night,” you whisper back.

and then he’s walking away.

slow. sure. hands in his pockets again.

you don’t go inside right away.

you wait until he turns the corner. until you can’t see him anymore.

and when you finally do, you lean against the door once it clicks shut, breath catching in your throat.

after a while, you’re fresh out of the shower, damp hair clinging to your shoulders, the warm scent of soap still wrapped around you like steam.

your towel slips slightly lower when you bend to pick up your phone from the sink. you expect a meme. maybe your friend checking in.

but it’s not her.

nam-gyu 🤍

are you still up

fuck

i shouldn’t be texting you

but i can’t sleep

you looked so good tonight it’s driving me crazy

sorry sorry ignore me

unless you’re awake

pls

i feel insane

can you call me

you don’t have to say anything just pick up

i’m losing it here

your lips curl.

you pad barefoot to your bed, still dripping a little, towel tugged tight around your chest.

you glance down at the screen again. he hasn’t messaged since the last one.

so you call.

he picks up like he was waiting for it, voice low and full of static tension. “hello?”

“hey,” you say, soft and slow, settling against your pillows. “you okay?”

he exhales like he’s been holding his breath. “no. i mean…fuck. yes. not really.”

you hum. “what’s wrong?”

a pause. you let it stretch out, just to hear him squirm.

“…nothing. never mind. this was dumb.”

“really?” you tease, feigning innocence. “because those messages didn’t sound like nothing. kinda sounded like you were having a moment.”

he groans, quiet and guttural. “don’t do that.”

“do what?”

“that tone. like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing to me.”

you smile, smug but still playing coy.

“i really don’t. why don’t you tell me?”

another pause.

then a soft, breathy, “fuck.”

“nam-gyu,” you coax. “say it.”

“…i can’t stop thinking about you.”

“that’s sweet.”

“not like that,” he whispers. “not just that. it’s…fuck, it’s your mouth, your thighs, the way you looked at me when you caught me staring. i haven’t been able to stop thinking about your body. you wore that skirt on purpose, didn’t you?”

you smirk. “maybe.”

“jesus,” he mutters. “i’ve been hard since i got home. i tried everything. i even got in the shower, but it didn’t help. it just made it worse. i kept imagining you behind me, sliding your hands down my chest, telling me what to do…”

you hum, dragging your fingers lightly across your thigh.

“what do you want me to do, nam-gyu?”

he hesitates.

then breaks.

“tell me to touch myself. please.”

you lean back against your pillows, satisfied.

“then do it. slow.”

“fuck…”

you hear his hand move, the subtle wet sound of skin on skin, and it sends heat straight through you.

“are you imagining me touching you instead?”

“yes,” he groans. “your hands, your mouth, your voice in my ear just like this.”

“tell me how it feels.”

“so good,” he pants. “hurts, kinda. like i need more. need you.”

your breath catches at that. you squeeze your thighs together but don’t touch yet. not until he earns it.

“you wanna come already?” you murmur.

“no…yes—fuck, i can’t yet.”

“you better not,” you warn. “you don’t come until i say so.”

he moans softly, the sound raw and needy.

“say it.”

he swallows. “i won’t come until you say so.”

“good. now speed up a little.”

you can hear the shift in rhythm. his breathing faster, the slick sound sharper now.

“fuckfuckfuck, please…say something else.”

“you looked so good tonight,” you whisper. “but you were so obvious, nam-gyu. staring at my thighs. my ass. my lips. if you wanted me that badly, you should’ve just begged for it.”

he groans like he’s in pain. “i am begging—please, i need to come—”

“not yet.”

he whimpers. whimpers.

like he’s falling apart at the sound of your voice alone.

you trail a hand down your stomach, finally letting your fingers dip between your legs.

“i’m touching myself now,” you say sweetly. “and you don’t get to come until i do.”

he gasps, desperate, broken. “fuck, that’s not fair—”

“you called me, baby. you don’t get to make the rules.”

you work yourself slowly, deliberately, hips rolling against your hand, and every soft sound you make into the phone has him gasping on the other end.

“you’re gonna make me lose my mind,” he chokes out. “i wanna hear you…please, tell me what you’re doing—”

you moan quietly, just enough to drive him crazy.

“fingers in slow. two of them now. fuck, i’m so wet, nam-gyu. just from listening to you beg.”

his hand speeds up again. you hear him breathing so hard now, voice wrecked.

“can i cum now?” he whimpers. “please. i can’t—I’m so fucking close—”

you grin, voice low.

“you wanna cum, baby?”

“yes—yes, please—i need to—”

you stay silent

“please,” he groans, falling apart. “please let me come. i’ll do anything. i’ll get on my knees for you. i’ll let you tell me what to do forever. just please—”

you arch into your hand, breath catching.

you’re close too now, thighs trembling, heat pulsing with every word out of his mouth.

“come for me,” you whisper. “now.”

and he loses it.

you hear the moan he tries to hold back. sharp, ragged, dragged from deep in his chest. the sound of his hand faltering, breath gasping, curse words spilling between moans like he forgot how to function.

you come right after, pushing yourself over the edge with a sharp gasp, his broken voice in your ear making everything twist tighter, hotter, deeper.

for a few seconds, all you hear is breathing.

deep. shaky.

both of you trying to catch your breath.

“holy fuck,” he finally says.

you smirk, lazily satisfied. “feel better now?”

“…yes. no. i don’t even know.”

you laugh. “you’re lucky i picked up.”

“i’m gonna think about this every night for the rest of my life.”

you stretch across the sheets, smug. “maybe i’ll let you return the favor next time.”

he groans. “don’t tease me like that.”

“i’m not. i mean it.”

you hear him exhale again. softer now.

“…i really like you,” he murmurs.

your heart skips.

but your voice stays smooth.

“i know.”

you wake up to sunlight leaking through your curtains and your phone buzzing quietly against your pillow.

your head is foggy. your mouth dry. your towel… half on, half off, barely clinging to your chest like it gave up sometime in the middle of the night.

you blink at your screen. the call ended.

nam-gyu 🤍

good morningg

you fell asleep on me 

i’m heading to work now, i’ll text you later

…

what.

no follow-up. no voice note. no “wow that was hot” or “you ruined me.”

just a smiley face and casual talk to you later.

as if you didn’t just…

as if he didn’t…

as if you both didn’t literally lose your minds over the phone six hours ago.

you throw the phone across your bed, then scramble to grab it again.

“no no no no”

you do what any normal person would do in a full-blown, post-horny identity crisis:

you call your best friend.

“hello?” she answers, groggy. “why are you calling me before noon? did you die? did you kill someone?”

“i did something worse,” you whisper, completely horrified. “i dommed him.”

“…what?”

“i DOMMED him.”

a beat.

“okay i’m on my way.”

you don’t even hang up.

fifteen minutes later she’s at your door with her hair in a claw clip, iced coffee in hand, wearing pajamas and a look of pure curiosity.

“talk. now.”

you collapse back on your bed, towel still questionably wrapped around you, phone pressed to your chest like it betrayed you.

“he texted me good morning. like we didn’t have a full-on phone sex meltdown last night. i told him what to do. i told him when to come. i called him baby. i was saying shit i didn’t even know i could say.”

your friend blinks. “so you’re telling me… quiet, flustered, crush-on-the-club-boy you… turned into a whole dom goddess last night?”

“i don’t know who that was,” you groan, dragging a pillow over your face. “she possessed me. she used my voice. i’m scared of her.”

she’s already laughing, obnoxiously loud. “did he like it?”

“he begged. like actually said ‘please’ and everything. i think i broke him. or imprinted on him. or both.”

you peek out from under the pillow. “and then this morning he just… went to work. like he didn’t sound like a porn audio come to life last night.”

she grins. “maybe he’s playing it cool.”

“or maybe i traumatized him.” you sit up, flailing slightly. “what if he thinks i’m always like that? i don’t do that. i’ve literally never even…. i don’t command. i’m more of a ‘may i please hold your hand and cry about it’ kind of girl.”

“okay,” she says, sipping her coffee, “first of all, you’re being dramatic. second of all, he clearly loved it. third of all, this is what happens when you repress your crush for too long. it explodes. violently. with orgasms.”

you throw a stuffed animal at her.

“i’m never speaking to him again,” you declare. “i’ll move. change my name. delete all evidence of that phone call. i’ll become a monk.”

“you’ll do none of that and you’ll text him when he gets off work.”

you flop back dramatically. “what if he hates me now?”

“he doesn’t. if anything, he’s probably texting his friends like ‘bro i just got spiritually dommed by the hottest girl alive and i think i’m in love.’”

you stare at the ceiling.

then sigh.

“…do i text him first?”

“hell no. you made him beg. let him sweat.”

“you’re a menace.”

“you’re a dom now. own it.”

you both burst into laughter.

your phone buzzes again.

nam-gyu

hope you’re having a good day

i can’t stop thinking about your voice btw

call me tonight if you want, won’t force you though 

your face goes red.

your friend peeks over your shoulder.

“yeah,” she says smugly. “he’s so into it.”

you’re still holding the phone like it might bite you.

your friend reads over your shoulder again, sipping her coffee with the most annoying grin on her face.

you groan. “how is he acting so normal about it? he literally just dropped ‘i can’t stop thinking about your voice’ like we didn’t verbally destroy each other twelve hours ago.”

“you did destroy him, though. respectfully. i’m proud.”

“i can’t go outside ever again.”

she tosses a pillow at you. “actually… you can. and you will. because we’re going out again.”

you blink. “excuse me?”

“you heard me. we’re going to that same club. tonight.”

“absolutely not.”

“okay but hear me out…yes.”

you sit up, panic rising. “what if he thinks we’re going to do that again? what if he wants more? what if i want more?” your voice gets higher with each sentence.

“then you get more?” she says, completely unbothered. “this is a win-win situation.”

“i can’t just go back there and look him in the eyes after—after last night! i told him what to do! i made him say please! he literally—i literally—ugh!”

she just stares at you, waiting for your little dramatic spiral to burn out. once you’re done flailing and burying your face into the couch, she goes, “text him.”

“no.”

“yes.”

“no!!”

she snatches your phone, types something, then shoves it into your lap.

you look down.

she wrote:

hey are you free sometime soon? wanna see you againnn

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU—”

“press send.”

“i’m going to have a heart attack.”

“press. send.”

your thumb hovers like the phone might explode. your stomach does that flip thing again.

and then…

you press it.

you fling the phone across the room immediately.

your friend cackles. “what are you gonna do if he says yes?”

“i don’t know!! combust?? ascend to the next spiritual plane?? move to a rural village and live among goats??”

you’re pacing now, hands in your hair.

your phone dings.

“no—oh no—he answered! ”

you dive for it.

nam-gyu

yeah i’d really like that 

when are you free?

you sit back down like your knees gave out. “he wants to see me again. after all that. he’s not scared. what if i’m scared?”

your friend pats your head like a proud parent. “you made the man lose his soul and he’s asking for a second round. you’re winning.”

“this is a nightmare.”

“this is romance. now text him back and figure out a day. i’m going to help you pick another dangerously hot outfit.”

you text back with shaky fingers:

what about saturday night?

he replies in under a minute.

nam-gyu

saturday works

should i meet you there again or pick you up?

you’re pretty sure you’ve forgotten how to breathe.

your friend stares at the message and says, without blinking,

“oh yeah. he’s in deep.”

saturday night hits harder than it should.

you’re standing in front of your mirror, holding up outfit option number four, while your best friend lies belly-down on your bed like she’s watching a live fashion show.

“nope,” she says. “not hot enough.”

“i’m not trying to seduce him,” you lie.

she looks at you. “babe. you dommed him over the phone and he asked to see you again. the bar is gone. the tension is built. he’s already halfway seduced.”

you groan, flopping onto the floor.

“you need to look effortlessly hot. like you didn’t try. like you just woke up and accidentally made him lose his mind.”

“…how do i do that?”

she grins.

ten minutes later, she hands you the outfit.

simple black spaghetti strap top, low cut just enough to tease but not scream it.

soft denim shorts that technically cover everything, but your thighs are out and they cling when you move.

and a pair of chunky sneakers that make you look like a walking daydream.

you stare at yourself in the mirror.

“…am i about to destroy a man?”

“absolutely,” she says, smug. “you’re welcome.”

you meet nam-gyu outside the club just before ten.

he’s already there, waiting by the wall, hands in his pockets, hoodie half-zipped, hair slightly messy like he just got off shift or maybe fussed with it before coming over.

when he spots you, he freezes.

and stares.

just for a second too long.

his eyes flick down, then back up, and his lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile.

“hey,” he says, voice lower than usual. “you look…”

his words trail off.

you raise a brow, smug now that the tables are turning. “i look…?”

he clears his throat, shaking his head like he’s rebooting. “good. really good.”

“you don’t look too bad yourself,” you reply, trying not to let it show that your heart is tap-dancing in your chest.

inside, the music’s loud but not overwhelming. colored lights pulse against the walls, the kind of place where people move slow and close. the same corner table is open.

he slides into the seat across from you.

and then the tension starts.

his gaze keeps dropping to your legs, then shooting back to your face like he got caught.

you pretend not to notice. mostly.

when you lean forward to sip your drink, his eyes lock on the dip of your collarbone.

when you laugh too hard and touch his arm, he goes quiet for a second too long.

and when your knees bump under the table… he doesn’t move away.

you feel it. that pull. like you’re sitting too far apart and too close all at once.

every brush of skin feels electric. every glance is heavy.

you ask about his week.

he tells you a story about a drunk guy at work who tried to tip him with a gum wrapper.

you laugh and sip your drink, eyes on him the whole time.

his fingers drum the edge of the table like he doesn’t know what else to do with them.

“you okay?” you ask, teasing just a little.

“yeah,” he says quickly. “just… trying not to stare too hard.”

you bite your lip. “why not?”

he smiles, but it’s tight. “because i’m trying to be respectful. and you look like a sin.”

you blink.

okay.

cool.

normal.

heart rate stable. not blushing. at all.

“…you’re not too bad with words when you try,” you murmur.

he leans forward slightly, elbows resting on the table, and the way he looks at you, dark, focused, like you’re the only thing in the room makes you shift in your seat.

“that’s funny,” he says quietly. “because the other night, i couldn’t say anything unless you told me to.”

your breath catches.

his tone is casual. too casual.

you try to cover the sudden spike in your pulse with a smile. “so you didlike that.”

he shrugs, but his jaw tenses. “i haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

you don’t know what to say to that.

not really.

so you sip your drink again. legs crossed just enough to drive him crazy.

by the time you’re both finished, the air between you is practically buzzing.

you walk out together. close. arms brushing.

he doesn’t say anything, but his hand almost reaches for yours once.

then doesn’t.

and somehow, that makes it worse.

by the time you’re outside, your skin is hot, your thoughts are a mess, and you’re definitely not as cool and in control as you were pretending to be.

but he opens the door for you. walks you to your place.

and before you part ways, he looks at you one more time…

and says, “call me when you get home.”

you hesitate for half a second.

just one.

he’s about to turn and leave, head dipping with that soft little smile of his like nothing ever happened between you. like your voice didn’t wreck him over the phone. like he isn’t still aching from how you told him exactly what to do.

you breathe out, 

then say it.

“wait.”

he stops.

turns.

you step forward.

“come inside.”

his brows lift slightly. his expression doesn’t change much, but his body does. shoulders tightening, breath hitching, hands sinking deeper into his jacket pockets like he knows exactly where this is going but doesn’t want to assume.

he swallows.

“you sure?”

his voice is low. cautious. careful.

you nod slowly. “i don’t want to talk on the phone tonight.”

he doesn’t answer right away.

just steps inside when you open the door.

and everything is suddenly so quiet.

he stands in your hallway while you slip off your shoes. you feel his eyes on you—same way he looked at you all night. full of want. full of restraint.

“do you want something to drink?” you ask, pretending like your pulse isn’t hammering in your throat.

“no.”

you turn.

his hands are still in his pockets. his mouth is a tight line. he’s watching you like he’s waiting for you to make the first move.

you do.

you walk straight up to him, close enough that your chests almost touch. your fingers brush the front of his jacket, slowly pushing it open.

he doesn’t stop you. just stands there, tense.

“you’ve been looking at me all night,” you murmur.

his breath stutters.

“you looked at my thighs. my chest. you couldn’t keep your eyes off me.”

his jaw flexes.

but he still says nothing.

“say it.”

he meets your gaze. “you already know.”

you smile a little. “i want to hear you say it anyway.”

a pause.

then…

“yeah. i couldn’t stop looking.”

“why?”

he licks his lips. exhales slowly.

“because i wanted to touch you.”

you hum, fingers sliding beneath the hem of his shirt, letting your nails graze lightly up his stomach. he shivers.

“say what you really want.”

his mouth opens. closes. opens again.

you see the conflict—the push and pull, the need.

and then he cracks.

“…i want you to ruin me.”

your fingers curl into his shirt, dragging him down just enough to whisper into his ear.

“take your shoes off.”

he obeys.

you lead him to your bedroom.

the second the door shuts, the tension breaks. you push him down onto the edge of your bed. he stares up at you, hands clenching the sheets.

you climb into his lap.

his breath catches.

he tries to reach for you. instinctive, needy, but you grab his wrists and pin them to the bed.

“don’t touch me unless i tell you to.”

he groans. his head falls back slightly, chest rising like he’s struggling to breathe.

you press your body flush to his, and he twitches beneath you.

“look at you,” you whisper. “i’ve barely even touched you and you’re already like this.”

he grits his teeth. “i can’t help it.”

“you’re pathetic,” you murmur, voice laced with heat. “so desperate.”

his hips jerk.

“god, you like that?” you tease. “you like being talked down?”

he nods. fast. almost frantic. “yes.”

you lean forward, biting his earlobe gently. “say it.”

“i like it,” he breathes. “i like when you call me pathetic. i like it when you tell me what to do.”

you reach between you and undo his pants, slow, deliberate.

he twitches under your fingers.

you pull him out, and the way he moans, shaky and sharp, goes straight to your core.

“you’re hard already,” you say, mock-sweet. “poor thing. is this what happens when you don’t get to cum for a few days?”

he whimpers. actually whimpers.

“use your words.”

“yes,” he pants. “i can’t stop thinking about you. about your voice. about how you sounded when you told me what to do.”

you kiss him—sudden and rough.

he moans into your mouth, bucking up into your hand, but you pull away just as fast and squeeze his thighs to keep him still.

“don’t move.”

he groans again.

you stroke him slowly. deliberately.

his head drops back. he’s shaking.

“fuck,” he whispers. “please. please let me touch you.”

you smile.

“you want to be good for me?”

“yes.”

“then shut up and take it.”

he moans again. louder this time.

you tease him, keep him on the edge. fast strokes, then slow. lips on his neck. teeth grazing his jaw. he’s trembling under you now, hips lifting off the bed like he’s losing control.

you don’t stop.

not when he gasps. not when he begs.

“you’re close,” you whisper. “aren’t you?”

he nods. “i—I’m gonna…please—”

you stop completely.

his whole body tenses.

“what the fuck—” he starts, breathless.

you tilt his chin up. “you don’t cum unless i say so.”

he groans like it physically hurts.

“i could make you wait,” you murmur. “make you sit here hard and aching all night. would you beg for it again?”

he nods. fast. desperate. “yes. anything.”

you lean in, mouth by his ear.

“then beg.”

he does.

“please. please let me cum. please use me. i want it. i need it. fuck, i need you—”

you slam your mouth against his and finally, finally, sink down onto him.

his entire body arches. the sound he makes is feral.

“fuckfuck—”

you set the pace, grinding down slow, squeezing him tight, your nails dragging down his chest. he’s gasping, hands still clenched in the sheets like if he touches you he’ll explode.

“you feel so good,” you whisper, moaning softly in his ear. “so full. you’re doing so good for me.”

he whines.

you fuck him slow. deep. then fast, grinding, riding, dragging him to the edge and pulling back, again and again.

his face is flushed, mouth open, sweat dripping from his temple. you couldn’t help but admire how hard he was trying to stay quiet, but you both knew he couldn’t. that phone call said a lot about you two, and you loved what you heard. 

you leaned into his ear. “cum,” you whisper.

and he does. loud, shuddering, broken.

you don’t stop.

you fuck him through it, hips slapping, hands pinning his wrists, riding every wave of his orgasm until he’s gasping, twitching, eyes rolling back.

“too much,” he chokes out. “i can’t…please—”

but you’re not done yet.

“you wanted to be ruined,” you murmur. “don’t stop now.”

you watch him unravel under you.

sweat clings to his skin, his jaw slack, pupils blown wide.

his hands are fisted in your sheets, knuckles pale like he’s clinging to sanity by a thread.

and you’re not slowing down. not even a little.

“too much,” he breathes, voice hoarse. “fuck…please, i can’t—”

you tilt your head, hips grinding with slow, deliberate pressure, dragging another helpless moan from him.

“you can,” you murmur. “you can take it. i know you can.”

he whimpers. choked, broken.

and it only makes you wetter.

you ride him hard, fast, then grind slow, watching his eyes flutter. you’re soaked. everything’s slick and hot and messy now. every thrust has his thighs twitching. he’s so sensitive you can feel it. each little spasm that runs through him when your hips slam into his.

“look at you,” you whisper. “you came already and you’re still fucking hard.”

his mouth opens, but nothing comes out except another shaky groan.

“you like being used, don’t you?”

he nods, biting his lip so hard it’s going white.

“say it.”

“yes,” he gasps. “yes, fuck, i love it” he tried to whisper 

you moan softly, leaning forward to wrap a hand around his throat, just enough pressure to keep him in place, to make his breath hitch.

“you want to cum again?”

you grind down slow. full. tight.

his hips buck before he can even answer.

“please,” he gasps.“please, let me i’ll be good, i swear, i’ll do anything—”

you speed up again, hand slipping from his throat to rake down his chest, nails leaving marks behind. he’s trembling, legs spread wide under you, hair sticking to his forehead, neck flushed red from the heat.

you’re close too. so close.

“don’t stop,” he begs. “please, don’t stop…i’m gonna—please—”

you ride him harder, hips snapping, and the noise of skin against skin fills the room, filthy and loud. his moans are getting higher, messier, breath hitching every time you slam back down.

“fuck, fuck, fuck!”

he’s losing it. unraveling. breaking apart under you.

and you don’t stop.

you chase your own high, grinding down with each thrust, tightening around him until you’re gasping, shaking, eyes squeezed shut—

and then it hits.

you cry out, hips stuttering, clenching around him as your orgasm crashes down in hot, pulsing waves.

and he feels it.

“fuck…fuck—” he shouts, and then he’s coming again, thick and messy and deep inside you, hips jerking up into yours like his body’s not even his anymore.

you don’t stop moving until every last tremor is milked from his body. until he’s completely still, completely spent, chest heaving under yours like he just ran a marathon.

you slow down, finally easing your hips to a stop and letting your weight settle on top of him. his arms lift weakly, like he’s trying to hold you, but they drop back to the bed just as fast.

his voice is a whisper now.

“you’re gonna fucking kill me.”

you smile, breathless, lips brushing his jaw.

“you liked it.”

“…i fucking loved it.”

you kiss him. slow this time. gentle. and he melts into it.

his whole body feels boneless now. like you’ve drained every last ounce of tension from him.

and you’re not going to say it out loud, not yet. 

but the way he looks at you right now?

you’re pretty sure he’d let you do this again.

anytime. anywhere. any way you want.

you finally pull yourself out of bed when your legs stop shaking.

the room’s still thick with the heat of what just happened. air warm, sheets tangled, your skin tingling from every place he touched you, kissed you, filled you. you don’t say anything as you slip off the bed. he watches you go, lazily, eyes half-lidded, lips parted like he might say something, but doesn’t.

your steps are slow, careful.

you grab a towel, your sleep shirt, and disappear into the bathroom.

the light is harsh at first, too bright for your still-foggy head, and for a second, you just stand there, staring at yourself in the mirror.

your lips are swollen.

there’s a light bruise on your neck.

your thighs are trembling again and you’re not even moving.

you press a hand to your chest. your heart’s still racing.

you breathe in. out. rinse your face. clean yourself up, slow and steady. you pull on your shirt. brush your teeth. run your fingers through your hair.

your phone is charging next to the sink.

you unplug it, turn it over, open messages. you stare at the screen for a second, then type out one single thing:

you

i did something

you don’t wait for a response.

you slip your phone into your hand and head back to the room.

he’s still there. hasn’t moved. blanket half-kicked off, one arm bent behind his head. he’s looking at you now. quiet. heavy-lidded. like he’s too tired to say much, but still wants to watch you walk.

you crawl back into bed and he shifts without a word, pulls the blanket up around both of you, pulls you into him like instinct.

his hand settles on your hip.

you don’t say anything. neither does he.

his fingers stroke your skin slowly. absentminded. his breath is warm against the back of your neck.

you feel like you should say something.

that was intense. way more intense than you expected.

but instead, you just press your hand over his and squeeze it lightly.

he sighs. long and slow. melts against you like he’s never slept like this before.

and honestly… you haven’t either.

you stare at the wall until your eyelids go heavy.

his arm tightens once.

you fall asleep just like that.

warm.

sore.

and not alone.

you wake up warm. too warm, actually.

something heavy is draped over you, and it takes your barely-awake brain a full few seconds to realize it’s not a blanket. it’s an arm. strong and warm and definitely still clinging to your waist, fingers curled loosely into your shirt like you might disappear if he lets go.

you blink slowly.

sunlight spills through the cracks in your blinds. the room is quiet, filled only with the soft sound of breathing, his, steady and deep, and yours, still shallow and sleepy. your back is pressed to his chest. legs tangled. his nose is tucked into the back of your shoulder, and every time he exhales, it sends a little shiver down your spine.

he’s still asleep.

you don’t move.

you just… lie there.

soaking it in.

his chest rises and falls against your back. every now and then, he shifts a little, adjusting without even waking, like his body already knows it doesn’t want to be anywhere else. and you… god, you didn’t know it could feel like this. warm and safe and so deeply natural to be held like this. like you belong there.

you peek over your shoulder. his lips are parted slightly. his hair’s a total mess. and his face…

he looks soft.

softer than last night. younger. his guard’s down completely.

you let yourself watch him for a while.

and then, instinctively, you reach for your phone.

it’s still lying face-down on the nightstand. when you flip it over, you wince. your screen is blinding after the darkness of the room, and you have about eight missed messages.

from her.

you open them, slowly.

bestie 🤍: ????

bestie 🤍: HELLO?

bestie 🤍: i’m literally going insane

bestie 🤍: i saw you read it don’t even do this to me

bestie 🤍: TELL ME EVERYTHING

bestie 🤍: i swear to god if you leave me on read

bestie 🤍: is he STILL THERE

bestie 🤍: pls i’m begging you i need DETAILS

bestie 🤍: i will call you don’t test me

you stare at your phone for a second, fighting a smile, then glance back at him.

still asleep.

you slowly wiggle around to face him, careful not to wake him, but his eyes flutter open anyway. halfway. heavy-lidded and hazy, like he’s still stuck between sleep and dreaming.

“mm… hey.”

his voice is rough. warm. his hand slides up your waist as he blinks at you, then lets out a soft breath and tugs you in a little closer.

“hi,” you whisper, cheeks warming.

he closes his eyes again like that was all he needed. his arm stays around you, firm and certain.

you lie there for a minute, just listening to his breathing again.

“you’re gonna be late,” you murmur.

“hm?”

“work. it’s—” you check the time. “it’s literally ten.”

he hums lazily. doesn’t even flinch. “so?”

“you can’t just—”

he opens his eyes, just barely, and grins.

“what, you kicking me out already?”

you stare at him. “not that either”

he pulls you in again, slow and deliberate. buries his face into the crook of your neck and exhales hard, like he’s been waiting to do that all morning.

“then it’s fine,” he mumbles. “gimme five more minutes.”

your heart does a thing in your chest. a flutter. a skip. something warm and impossible to ignore.

you let him hold you.

your phone buzzes again in your hand.

bestie 🤍: IF YOU DON’T ANSWER ME I’M SHOWING UP

you snort quietly and type back just one line:

you: i’m busy. he’s still here.

you don’t wait for the inevitable response. you toss your phone gently back on the nightstand and nestle further into his arms.

he shifts again, tucks you tighter.

and there’s something in the way he holds you now, like he means it. like this isn’t just a post-hookup thing. like he’s not just staying for the cuddles or the morning sex or the comfort of the bed.

he’s staying because he wants to.

you close your eyes and let yourself believe it.

minutes pass. you don’t say much. you don’t need to.

eventually, he murmurs against your skin, “you hungry?”

you nod into the pillow.

“wanna order something?”

“yeah… pancakes?”

he lifts his head just enough to look at you, still sleepy-eyed. “you got a favorite place?”

“mmhmm,” you mumble. “it’s in my phone. lemme grab—”

but before you can move, he’s already reaching over you, long arm stretching across the bed to snatch your phone.

you blink at him.

he just smiles, kisses your forehead, and says, “text your friend back. i’ll handle breakfast.”

you stare at him.

he gives you another kiss. this time, on the cheek. soft and sweet.

and then he rolls over, starts tapping through your food apps like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

like you didn’t completely destroy him last night.

like you didn’t see stars on top of him.

like he didn’t want it again, the second you curled up next to him.

you press your face into the pillow to hide your smile.

your heart’s doing that thing again.

and you don’t even try to stop it this time.

you’re sitting cross-legged on the floor, stealing bites of syrup-drenched pancakes off a shared paper plate, when there’s a knock at the door.

not just a knock. a pounding.

you freeze, fork halfway to your mouth. he glances up from his seat on the couch, mid-chew.

you both just stare at each other.

another knock. louder.

“HELLO?!”

your stomach sinks.

“is that—?” he starts.

“oh my god,” you groan, dropping your fork into the plate. “she showed up.”

his brow lifts, amused. “your friend?”

“yup.”

you scramble to your feet, nearly tripping over your own leg warmers, and throw him a frantic look. “you—you can’t just be sitting here like this when she…oh my god, she’s going to implode.”

he laughs quietly, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “should i leave?”

“no! i mean..no, just… stay here. i’ll handle her.”

you don’t even make it to the door in time.

the knob jiggles and click! she lets herself in.

“okay first of all,” she says as she steps inside, “rude to leave me on read all night—”

she stops cold.

eyes lock on the table. the empty plates. the second cup of coffee. the man on your couch, still barefoot, still in yesterday’s hoodie, sipping from your mug like he lives here.

“no.”

you say nothing.

“NO.”

you wince. “hey…”

“OH MY GOD?!” she shrieks, already flinging her bag to the ground and rushing past you. “you didn’t! you actually did not, wait. did you?”

you close the door behind her slowly, cheeks burning. “can you not yell—”

“do you want to explain,” she says, spinning around to face him like a prosecutor, “or should she?”

he just raises an eyebrow and lifts the mug to his lips again, barely hiding the grin curling at the edges. “you must be the best friend.”

“you’re still here?!”

“looks like it.”

“like… still still? like slept over still? like pancakes and pillow talk and lazy morning sex still?”

you groan into your hands. “we did not have morning sex.”

she gasps. “so you did have night sex?!”

“oh my god.”

“no no no no, you don’t get to oh-my-god me! you texted me i did something and then ghosted me like a coward and now you’re telling me you actually slept with him and he’s just here? like? in the daylight?!”

he waves at her lazily.

“hi,” he says, absolutely unbothered.

she waves back, still in stunned disbelief.

“so like,” she mutters, dropping onto the floor, “are you guys dating now? or are we pretending this is casual? because he looks very not-casual in your favorite mug.”

you shoot her a look. “can you not make this weird?”

“i’m not making it weird. you made it weird by acting like you were too scared to say hi to him a week ago and now you’re out here doing god knows what in leg warmers!”

“what—”

“i’m just saying,” she says, eyes wide, “the character development is insane. like, i blinked and you went from blushing in the corner of the club to domming him over the phone and then riding him unconscious im guessing. what’s next, marriage?!”

he chokes a little on his coffee.

you slap her arm. “shut up!”

he sets his cup down, eyes flicking between you two, still grinning.

“so,” he says casually, “how long does she usually do this?”

you glare. “don’t encourage her.”

your friend was gasping through her laughter. “i like him. keep him. lock him down.”

you shake your head and lean back against the wall, cheeks aching from how hard you’re trying not to laugh.

your friend quiets for a moment. then she just smiles, soft and warm.

“you’re glowing,” she says, like she can’t help it.

you look down.

she’s right.

you kind of are.

you glance at him, and he’s watching you again, like he has been all morning. slow. easy. a little amazed.

and for once, it doesn’t make you nervous.

it just makes you want to keep looking back.

hehe i love my pathetic baby

[morguecuts]

Playtime

Pairing: Nam-gyu x fem!reader

Summary: You weren't ready to kill anyone in Hide And Seek, thank God he's there to help

Warnings: Language, Blood, Gore, Violence, Religious Trauma, Murder, Mentions of Rape Dark Fic, Smut (+18, mdni), Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dub/Con, PiV, Rough Sex, Blood Play, Ingesting Bodily Fluids, Dom!Namgyu, Sub!Reader, Mutual Masturbation, Spitting, Dirty Talk

A/n: I'm not responsible for the media you consume

Nam-gyu could taste colours.

He's quite sure that if he jumped off a high enough ledge, he'd fly.

Ever since they entered the gameroom with its low ceiling and labrinth streets, he's been on a bender unlike any other. A bender he's struggling to enjoy in its entirety because something almost akin to a conscience has been niggling away at him ever since he ran into you during Hide and Seek.

He was straddling a corpse, playing in its blood while Myung-gi called for him to hurry up.

You'd run into the same alley. You and your frightened eyes and your red vest clean of blood. He'd been smiling but that's because his face couldn't conjure up any other expression even if he tried.

And he did try.

He tried stepping towards you. Only to show you how to properly hold that knife you carried with such uncertainty.

But you'd already fled.

He knew you didn't have it in you to kill anyone.

That's why he was doing this. He was a good boyfriend.

"I don't get why we can't just kill it" Myung-gi watches with displeased eyes as Nam-gyu drags the living body of a middle aged man through the

He's stalling their movements significantly trying to pull the man whose own legs have no use for him now. Nam-Gyu made sure they weren't working. He made sure the man could not run. But he also made sure the man wasn't dead.

Nam-gyu's still twitchy, from the pills and from all the blood. It could've been so easy to stick another knife inside a hot body- it would've been way more fun. But then he thought of you. Your wide eyed gaze. Your trembling hand around the whimsical dagger.

That's when he stopped himself. That's when he whispered, to the frightened old man in the blue vest, “I'm not gonna be the one to do it,”

He could've killed this man. He could have watched the knife sink right through his blue vest.

He giggles to himself. Thinking about those corpses and their doll-like eyes. Their comatose little bodies. The fear. The peace.

"Thing is," he's speaking without noticing he's speaking. Nam-gyu drags the man through the ground like he's lugging a sack of potatoes. Like they don't have 15 minutes left in the game.

The man is either infuriatingly heavy or Nam-gyu's too high- it's proving to be a Herculean task even with his two hands on the collar of the old man's shirt. Myung-gi doesnt slow down his very serious gait but he cranes his ear back. "I kinda... like," Nam-gyu giggles to himself, still trying to find the space between reason and hallucination, "I kinda fucked things with my girl when I-" he rolls his eyes, "killed that bitch Se-mi," he groans as he pulls the man closer to an already open door. A dead end. "So now I kinda have to make up for that. You're in love too, you get it."

"You dont know what love is," says Myung-gi and before Nam-gyu enters the dead end door he looks at the man, chest rising snd falling from all that heavy lefiting. "Why would you say something so hurtful- and so true?"

"Why are we stopping here-"

"Tonight I'm gonna need her." Nam-gyu says, kicking the metal door further open to reveal you cowering in the corner of a dimly lit room. Dragon flies are painted across the wall and yet you're crouched like a shy little beetle in the corner. Nam-gyu nearly stops himself from cooing.

"I get antsy at night." He says, turning back to Myung-gi who regards you with a pitiful gaze. "Im so sick of jerking off-"

"Stop talking."

"I needed to get her a gift." Nam-gyu gestures wildly at the old man he's lugged across the streets, the man with wild eyes and broken legs.

He drops the man's collar and the blue vest's head hits the ground with a loud thud.

Nam-gyu's already walking towards you in the corner.

"Here, babe, I've brought you a gift-"

You're out of it. Spiraling. Cradling your legs. Trying to tell yourself this was never supposed to be about hurting others. It was only supposed to be about surviving. And now, here you were, face-to-face with the very reason you're in these games anyway.

"What am I supposed to do with him, Nam-gyu."

"Isn't it obvious?" He crouches down in front of you. Over Nam-gyu's shoulder, you notice his accomplice, player 333 looking immeasurably ill.

"Kill him, silly," as soon as Nam-gyu's words drop, Player 333 steps out of the room, murmuring lowly under his breath. Soon its just you, an old man pleading for his life and Nam-gyu.

You're shaking your head when your eyes meet that of the man you're supposed to kill.

Round.

Wide.

His fight or flight activated and going crazy. Someone who's prepared themselves for their own impromptu death.

Nam-gyu, still crouching in front of you, drags your face back to him by the tip of his finger.

He's blood soaked and crazy but familiar. His presence grounds you.

"I'd rather they gun me down-" the words dont leave your mouth before hes clamping your mouth shut with his hand. His mood is like a switch. Gone is his smile.

"Dont do that." He says, "babe, don't do that- I fucking killed that bitch, Se-mi, now you wanna suffer the same fate?"

Your words are muffled through his mouth but your tears spill over his hands "We're all going to hell anywayI-" your mind is flooded with Bible verses. Church sermons. All of them from your childhood. All of them condemning you. They're kickstarting a wave of panic and regret and shame and you're falling. You're drowning.

"Babe," he cradles your face once more, his thumbs drifting over yojr tear streaked cheeks, "Hell? We're already here. This is it, okay? I'm just gonna need you to be a big girl and do this one big thing for me." You look over his shoulder and you see the man's eyes, pleading. He could've tried to crawl to the door. He could've tried. But he's smart enough to know when he's right between the predator's jaws."

"What did you have out there, Princess? Hm?" Nam-gyu's still cradling your face like a baby. His bloodshot eyes are still gazing down at you like you hung the moon. His hands are trembling and he's leaving blood on your cheeks but you listen.

"A junkie boyfriend who left me in crippling debt?" You ask,

"Ok, I deserved that-"

You've avoided Nam-gyu since the lights out massacre. Since he lost himself to this place. And now, here you were, needing reassurance from the worst possible voice of reason. His eyes tracked your movements ever since hide and seek began. It was almost like a mirror of when you two were dating outside the games. The only difference is, he had been the liability then, with the shifty eyes, you'd save him...

This time he promised he'd save you.

"But you forgot something," he leans in closer until his lips graze your ear. For once you're feeling something other than fear. Other than existential doom. When he whispers his next words, gone is all hope for your humanity.

"That asshole who raped you," his voice is gentle, "Made you loose your job? I killed him."

Your brows furrow and you try to pull back but he's smelling your hair now, patting down on your braids like you mean something to him. Like you're a thing he's enjoying playing with.

"You what?"

"Yeah babe, you think I'd let him rape you and get you fired? I was a shit boyfriend, yes. But I loved you out there, and I love you in he-"

In between his words that resurrected all the ghosts of the outside world, everything that landed you in this hell in the first place, you'd detangled yourself from his limbs. By the time Nam-gyu finished his confession- about the disappearance of your boss right after you lost your job- your knife was already digging clean through the blue players vest, already unwrapping Nam-gyu's little present.

Just one kill and it saved you from yet another game.

You're out of it

Unable to look away.

The world is still.

The knife feels stable, like it's being held between two boulders.

You now know what it feels like to kill someone but before you can really drown in it, you hear his voice boom behind you

“Jesus fuck! That was so hot, did you see its eyes?!” He's pacing on unsteady feet across the room,” biting at his fingernails before crouching down beside you.

“Babe you need to see its eyes when you do it, that's the best part fuck-” you watch with wide eyes as something foreign overtakes Nam-gyu's entire being. You'd only seen him like this one other time. The lights out massacre. When he stabbed that girl over and over.

Now he's trying to open the eyelids of a corpse, as if you weren't sitting there.

“Fuck, he's already gone,” hes slapping at the corpses cheek but yku look down at your blood soaked hands bleeding heavily.

“It's okay,” he says, speaking louder than he needs to, “It's okay, Princess, we'll get another one-” You're about to protest but he's already standing up, dragging you off the floor in the process. His hands are cold and trembling in yours.

His lips are dry and warm as they pepper kisses all over your face.

“Which means-” more and more kisses- and maybe even a lick- “we have ro be really quick yeah?”

“Quick with what-”

He's already pulling his pants down far enough to pull himself out and your eyes widen as you step back. His pupils are blown. Two obsidian orbs, like the death in the room was another pill to him

“Y-You wanna have sex now?” You gesture wildly, “Here?”

He steps closer until he's completely made your personal space, his own. You turn your head away but he's breathing right against your cheek, plastering his body to you, “I need to fuck you,”

“Gyu-” he's twitchy and his words are slurred, and he's grinding against you with the urgency of a desperate man.

“Please-” he pushes your hair away messily, kissing up the side of your neck, “Play with me just for a bit, hm? Look at how pretty you look with all that blood on you-fuck-” he chuckles lowly, bringing your hand down until you're wrapping it around his exposed cock. “I nearly came watching you do it…” he whispers, squeezing your hand around his cock, “C'mon there's no one here…”

“There's a corpse right there-”

“He's not here anymore.” he's stroking himself using your hand. A part of you wishes you'd be more disgusted. A part of you wishes your moral code was still intact. But the body betrays. And right now your cunt is leaking while your boyfriend with his wild eyes jerks himself off with your hand, as if you were an object. “C'mon, please,”

You're not even sure why his asking anymore. His other hand is already mapping out the contours of your hips, already slipping under your shirt to paw at your breasts

You gasp when he pushes himself between your legs humping frantically against you as he pebbles your nipple between his thumb and index.

“Need it so bad, Princess, please,”

Your hand around his cock isn't even moving anymore, his hips are pushing forward in an act that has your mind slipping.

“I could fuck you like this,” he mumbles, “-without actually fucking you…”

You moan out loud, back arching off the wall, “I swear I'd cum,” he says, “That's how bad I want it-”

“Are you… Nam-gyu are you high?” You try to grapple onto reason with both hands because you were sinking fast. Your eyes were heavy lidded and you were jerking him off now on your own accord.

“Mm, and horny, babe I need it. Don't tell me you don't need it-”

“He spits on his hand before making it disappear through the waistband of your sweats-”

“Jesus this pussy-” in your hand, his cock twitches, right when his cold fingers make contact with your cunt, slick with its own arousal.

“Y-You're disgusting-” you try to say. As if your hips weren't rolling against his hand, as if you didn't drag your hand up and down the length of his shaft.

“Only for you-” his eyes roll back, “I'll be whatever you want me to be,” he says before dipping down to whisper. “I'd live inside you if I could-” That alone has your mind descending further and further into this pit of hellfire you're both swimming in.

“That's it,” his hand rubs circles around your clit. Fast, demanding circles that have you wincing, “Your pussy wants me so bad. You want me so bad I’m- fuck-” Its like he’s not talking to you and that alone makes you delirious.

“Gonna let me cum inside?”

Right when you're on the edge of it all, right when your about to cum, it stops. He's pulling your pants down- slotting himself messily between his legs before he brings his hand under your mouth.

“Spit.” He says, “Spit for me baby quickly.”

You do.

And when he uses it to lube up his cock your head hollows itself of all reason. You need him just as badly and soon, you're bucking upwards, guiding his cock in.

Through the slightly open door, your heart screams. Helpless, violent screams, and for a moment you delude yourself into believing you really have died and gone to hell.

But now the head of his cock is slicing right through you. He stabs you with it, slamming himself in until he's fully sheathed inside you. Your hand paws at his back. You wish he was shirtless so you can sink your nails into his back. Bring him closer. Until you've consumed him whole.

“You're pussy's so good- fuck. Between this, and the pills… Don't know which is better, baby-” he's already fucjing you at a quick and desperate pace against the wall. He lifts your leg up by hooking a hand under your thigh, only slotting himself in deeper.

With his other hand, he lifts the knife up. He lets it glint under the fluorescents. He lets you see it

“I could hurt you too.”

There's no rule that says I can't. I could make you all pretty with your eyes all empty. He presses the knife to the side of the neck as he fucks you, his eyes keenly zeroed in on your hot, sweating dark skin against the pointed tip. His cock oozes precum inside you.

“But your eyes are already pretty, yeah? My pretty baby

“Gyu- I'm gonna cum-”

“Fuck-”

He tilts the knife a little too deep, until a single bead of crimson dots your throat. You don't notice but he does.

“Im gonna cum inside you,” he says, fucking you harder against the wall. You nod, and when he dips his head between your neck to lick that bead of your blood, you feel his cock twitch inside you.

“Wanna taste you, your pussy, your skin, your blood- fuck-”

He's shooting his load inside you as he spews his unholy vitriol. It fills and then it spills and you're creaming around him as you slip into your own orgasm. It muddies your head and you cry out clutching at him like you want him completely inside you..

The door opens.

A blue vest, stops and stares at you two with wide eyes, before shuffling out.

You're both breathing heavily, both on a high that feels impossible to come down from. He's tracing patterns with the knife on your skin and you know next time he cuts you it won't be an accident.

[morguecuts]

cw; obsessive!anakin, toxic!anakin, babytrapping, afab reader, 18+

anakin skywalker is an emotional, clingy, fanatic, and obsessive little bastard.

in my heart of hearts, i believe anakin is fucking obsessed with you. he is lovesick. you're just...you, so gentle and warm. you've shown him so much love and care, and he's so so in love with you. he's ready to do just about anything for you. and hes awfully clingy, but affectionately so. he's always holding you close to his body, nuzzling his face all over yours, and kissing you excessively. sometimes it almost seems like he's trying to merge with you.

he tries to move in with you like 2 months into your relationship. he's all whiny and practically begging, "baby, we spend so much time together. why keep going back and forth like this? :(", and you solely agree cause his pout is just too pretty.

honestly, he loses his fucking mind at the mere idea of not being with you. literally. i'm talking, he'd be going on about his day, then suddenly, he's struck with the mental picture of not being yours, and you not being his. and he's brought down to his knees, head in his hands and everything.

it's to the point where he starts getting so possessive and jealous that he cannot fucking bear your friends. the concept of you taking a liking, platonic or not, to anyone but him makes him so nauseous that he's ready to throw up (that's not to say he hasn't already). and it's mutual. your friends fucking hate him, he's so mentally deranged and they can't figure out why you're with him.

oh and woe to you if any of them are men. he is in pure and utter agony. he will visibly sulk, pout and huff 24/7, he's unbearable. and when he's alone, he'll blankly stare at himself in the mirror, scream into his pillow, and cry himself to sleep.

the thought of you being with anyone but him - makes him physically incapable of breathing. it feels as if he's being suffocated. it makes him sick to his stomach and the thought of you loving anyone else makes him want to crawl up into a hole and die. he picks fights and argues with you because he just wants every ounce of your attention to be concentrated on him, needs your eyes to never stray off of him once, needs you to be all his at every waking moment. only his, his, his, his...can't you just give him that?!

and when he's finally able to see you, he practically combusts, he's fueled up by all the negative thinking :( he doesn't even stop to greet you, he just smashes his lips onto yours, and carries you to bed.

he fucks you in missionary, so he can look deep into your eyes, and show you just how much he loves you - tells you all about how he's willing to do whatever it takes for you to never, ever, leave his side. then he snarls harshly, going on about how he can't and won't let you go. and when he's close, he's practically shedding tears, begging you to never disappear on him. can't you see? he's an empty shell of a man without you, he cannot live without you. you tell him to pull out and he almost doesn't catch it due to the resounding obscene noises filling the room. almost. but he does. so he cages you in his arms, and plunges his dick so deep, and he starts babbling, all pathetic, about how your kids would have his eyes, and your nose.

he practically wails when he buries himself to the hilt one last time, shooting his cum deep inside your womb. and you're about to push him off of you when he starts moving again, helplessly and feebly mewling, "i can't stop", hes so demanding and hopeless. hes physically incapable of bringing his messy thrusts to a halt...god, what do you do with him?

[morguecuts]

Sexy F*cking Nerd

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: When Dean discovers a little secret of (Y/n)'s during a case research session he can't help but let temptation get the best of him.

Warnings: Language, Smut, Fingering, PinV, Oral (M receiving), slight angst if you squint, Dean having a glasses kink (not really a warning but not everyone wears them hahaha lucky bastards)

MDNI! 18+

Word Count: 5688

A/N: It's taken a little while but here is the second competition winner from a few weeks back, the prompt provided by the wonderful @foxyjwls007 - I hope you like it!

The motel room was stuffy to say the least - that usual aroma of stale cigarettes and cheap air freshener lingering around us. There was a dripping sound coming from God knows where and the AC hummed in between the concerning clinking from deep within the vents. It was crap. So crap. But it was home for a few nights; just like all the motel rooms that came before. Dean stepped past me and over the threshold, immediately slinging his duffle and jacket onto his chosen bed. He stretched his arms above his head, the grey Henley clutching his muscular abdomen and rising enough to flaunt what lay beneath. I sighed, following him in and slumping onto the bed beside his - the musty stench from the sheets enveloping me.

“Well…” Dean started, pulling Sam's laptop out of his bag and placing it on the small table by the window.

“Well…?” My voice echoed as I focused on the ceiling fan that spun off centre.

“...This is… nice?” His statement was more of a question as he looked around with raised eyebrows. I propped myself up on my elbows, flashing him a look of speculation.

“Seriously?” A moment passed before he huffed a long-held breath and slapped his large palms on his thighs.

“No of course not, this place sucks more dick than a hooker on payday.”

“You got that right,” I flopped back down onto the bed, a small dust cloud erupting under my weight. I closed my eyes and listened as Dean pulled a chair out from under the table, slumping down into it. Then there was the familiar click of the laptop opening followed by the sound of stuttered not-quite-touch-typing, presumably he was starting work on the case that we’d come here to investigate. The tap tap tap of whatever was leaking began to drill into my brain, my patience already wearing thin with the rooms dire ambiance. I pulled myself up to sitting, criss-crossing my legs on the bed and brushing whatever that dust from the bedding was off my sweater sleeves.

“When's Sam back?” I asked, watching as Dean searched the keyboard in front of him for some long lost letter.

“Uuuh, I'm not sure. He said to work this case without him.”

“Ugghhh, I bet he's having way more fun than us right now, it's not fair,” I plopped my chin into my palm and stared past the older Winchester out the window, almost willing Sam to appear and walk in like any other day.

“It's just some dumb wedding, I doubt he's having that much fun.”

I scoffed before I could stop myself, Dean breaking eye contact with the screen to throw me a raised eyebrow.

“Look,” I collected myself, “you didn't know Sam in college. He won't admit it but he was popular. Really popular. Not the total nerd you think he is. He's absolutely having fun with these people.”

“Yeah right. So who's at this wedding anyway? Why was it so important that he just had to be there?”

I rolled my eyes, knowing full well Sam had already told him all the details. Typical Dean.

“It's for a couple of friends who he and Jess were close with back then. Pretty sure the bride was prom queen in highschool or something and the groom was a trust fund jock. Either way, not my crowd,” I sighed slightly, memories from my college days flooding my mind.

Deans eyebrows twitched into a small frown, his thoughts seeming to cloud his vision for a second before he reluctantly dismissed them. I looked down into my lap for a moment, reminiscing how I always kept my distance from Sam whilst at Stanford, but he had always been that boy that would make my heart flutter when he spoke up in class or when I'd see him on the quad with his friends. I remember seeing him with his nose in a book once at my usual desk in the library, my cheeks burning when he caught me staring. Who would've thought several years down the line I'd be sat in a bottom-rung motel room with his obscenely good looking older brother researching monster lore. At least we would be researching monster lore, if it wasn't for the small growl my empty stomach had gurgled out. I couldn't stop the small pulse of embarrassment burning into my cheeks as Dean eyed me with a grin.

“Wanna get some lunch?” He asked, standing up like he already knew my answer.

“Fuck yes. I'm feeling burgers,” I shuffled to the edge of the bed and stood up, watching as Dean shrugged on his leather jacket and headed to the door, holding it open for me.

“Now you're speaking my language.”

*

The diner was almost as sad and withered as the motel room, however the food was nothing short of spectacular. I watched in awe as Dean polished off his second burger, a small glob of sauce sticking to his stubble and threatening to drip off his chin. He must've felt me watching in wonder - or perhaps disgust - as when he looked up from his plate he shot me a questioning glance.

“What?” His tone was a little defensive through the mouthful of fries he'd just shovelled in. I took a second before asking, half-genuine:

“Where do you put all of that?”

“Put what?”

“The food - where does it go? Do you have hollow legs? Two stomachs? Does it just evaporate as soon as you swallow it?”

He grinned, wiping the sauce from his face with a napkin.

“Goes straight to the abs baby. It's muscle fuel,” he leant back in his chair, stretching a little before patting his stomach to punctuate his statement. I simply rolled my eyes.

“Yeah right, you're not that muscly Dean.”

“How would you know? You've never seen me with my shirt off.”

“I know, and I plan to keep it that way.”

He feigned a pout before returning to his fries. We ate in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, my mind absently going back to all the lore we should be trying to gather. I gripped my milkshake that had so generously been served in a thin paper cup, attempting to suck the practically solid beverage up the equally thin paper straw. Finding the nearest library would be the next task on our to-do list, despite the protesting I know I'll get from Dean.

“Hey, (Y/n)?” My train of thought was derailed at the sound of my name. The slurping of over-thickened milkshake from myself ceased.

“What's up?”

“What were you like in college?”

I eyed him with caution, wondering what part of his brain was in control right now.

“What do you wanna know?”

Catching the wariness to divulge him to such information, he smiled slightly, shrugging his shoulders.

“I'm not asking to be weird, I just-” he paused, choosing his next words tactfully, “the way you described Sam as being a totally different person - some hot-shot with the perfect grades, popular friends and a girlfriend like Jess - it just got me thinking. How would Sam have described you?”

I almost spat my dairy-goop back into the straw, my brain freezing.

“Dean,” I started before planning what I was going to say, placing my cup on the table. “Sam wouldn't be able to describe me.”

My words brought a small smirk to his lips.

“You were that hot, huh?”

“What the fuck- no- I wasn't- he didn't- Sam never- ” I stopped myself before I had an aneurysm and took a deep breath.

“I was in a totally different crowd to Sam. He was always surrounded by people and, well, I barely even had a crowd.”

“Lone wolf?”

“Bingo. But definitely not the cool, collected, stoic type. Think more, invisible to the public eye, always carrying books, and borderline selective mute because of how shy I was.”

“Oh… what changed?,” Deans tone changed entirely, genuine intrigue seeming to take the wheel. I couldn't help but laugh slightly, remembering my method to forcing myself out of my bubble.

“The only job I could get was in a bar. No one else wanted the hours and I desperately needed cash. I didn't really have a choice after that,” I paused, remembering how terrified I was on my first day and grinned slightly, grateful for the extra confidence I had now because I took that leap.

“Hey, what sort of crowd do you think I would've been in?”

I snorted, looking up into his expectant eyes - almost captivated by the glistening greens.

“What am I? A BuzzFeed quiz? I have no idea Dean, you're too much of a wildcard to predict. You probably would've fit in with anyone and everyone.”

“Even you?”

For reasons unbeknownst to even myself, my breath caught in my throat. The sudden soft sincerity of his voice contradicting his usual temperament, my heart starting to flutter in my chest. If the college version of myself had met Dean back then I just know I would have been enthralled at first glance.

“I don't think you would've noticed me. You would've been surrounded by every tall, thin blonde and brunette with perfect tits. Trust me, you would've been distracted,” I smiled an almost sad smile at the thought of him simply being on university grounds and having the time of his life - knowing it was something that he was never going to get the chance to experience in this upside down life of his. Of ours. He tapped his fingers on the table for a second, likely lost in some ludicrous thought I don't think I'd want to be privy to. I attempted another slurp of my milkshake when the paper straw gave out and flopped in half, the need to leave conversation and the diner suddenly looming over me.

“Come on, let's get to the library before it closes,” I stood and pulled my oversized sweater down so it covered my ass before reaching for my backpack. Just as my fingers touched the worn fabric of the strap it was torn away, my head snapping up to Dean who flung it over one shoulder with his signature grin on his face.

“Lead the way nerd.”

I couldn't help but beam at his playfulness. I hated the fact that he made it so easy to adore him. Hated that he completely overlooked how I was his total opposite in almost every way. How when we were talking, his eyes never left mine - how he was genuinely interested in what I was like in the past. And how, when I had his attention, he didn't even notice that the hot waitress had written her number on a napkin and left it next to him.

*

The trip to the library was about as eventful as it sounded. After checking out multiple books on cursed items, local lore and popular antiques from the seventies, we loaded ourselves back into the impala, made an all-important beer run before heading back to the motel.

The small table by the window was now totally smothered by a blanket of books, maps and empty beer bottles. Deans chin rested in his palms as he stared blankly at the screen in front of him, and I must've read the last sentence of the paragraph laid before me a dozen times without it even sinking in. The obnoxious dripping and humming of ancient appliances was starting to make me feel restless.

“It has to be the boots,” Dean groaned, draining the last of his beer.

“Either the boots or the disco ball. But my money is on boots as well,” I sighed, pushing the book away from me and standing slowly, gathering the quickly accumulating litter now scattered around us.

“I'm gonna make some coffee, my brain is fried over how fucking ridiculous this case is,” I ditched the trash in the bin before filling the coffee machine, listening to it whir to life whilst I headed to my bed. I could feel Deans gaze on my back as I rummaged around my bag in search of a specific item.

“What are you looking fo-” he'd started to ask the question but his voice died in his throat when I turned around. I quickly pushed my newly adorned glasses up the bridge of my nose, already feeling the oversized frame start to slip down as I tried not to make a big deal over them.

“What?” My tone was a fraction off aggressive when I realised he was staring. He seemed to snap out of his daze, quickly rubbing the back of his neck and turning back to the laptop screen. He cleared his throat

“I uh, I didn't know you wore glasses,” I could tell from the slight tremble in his voice that his mind was reeling.

“Is there a problem with that?”

“No! I mean, no, absolutely not. They look good. The glasses, I mean. The glasses look good. Not on their own, obviously. On your face. They look good on your face. You have a great fa-”

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

“Sorry.”

I grabbed a mug from the cupboard and set it on the counter, filling it to the brim with caffeinated goodness. I couldn't stop the grin spreading across my lips at Deans fumbling, almost finding the whole ordeal a little charming. I sat back down at the table and pulled the books back towards me, also grabbing my pen and tattered notebook.

“The guests at the club mentioned hearing footsteps - so it has to be the boots, right? A disco ball wouldn't make that sound…” my voice trailed off when I realised that, even though Dean was looking at me, he wasn't listening to a word I was saying.

“Earth to Dean?”

He flinched slightly at his name, but felt no shame delving in with a completely off-topic question.

“So how long have you worn glasses?”

“I’ve always worn them,” I slid back into my chair at the table opposite him, not sure whether to laugh at the shocked expression on his face or whether to be concerned about his observation skills.

“What?! No way, I would’ve noticed,” He opened another beer and took a sip before tracing the opening to the bottle over his bottom lip.

“ I only wear them for concentration work, and I have emergency contact lenses if I know I’m going to be around a lot of people as I don’t particularly like how they look.”

Dean made a small disagreeable expression before averting his gaze from mine back to the laptop, taking another swig of his beer. I placed my coffee mug down and settled back into the book I was reading before, and after a few moments I could feel my skin begin to prickle - as though I could feel a pair of eyes on me. I glanced up, my breath immediately catching in my throat. Deans eyes found mine, burning with an intensity that made my heart hammer in my chest. I didn’t want to look away, but under his gaze I felt like I’d been stripped bare, unable to hide my insecurities from an eye that seemed to scorch through to my very core.

“Dean-”

“(Y/n), you should really have more confidence in yourself; I think the glasses look cute as fuck. You should wear them more,” a fierce blush erupted across my face when he spoke, his assured tone leaving no room for disagreement. I tried desperately not to let on that his words held any sort of impact over my decisions so I looked down, away from his scrutiny and simply said:

“Maybe I will.”

He hummed in approval, finally looking elsewhere and I couldn’t stop myself from breathing a sigh of relief when the pressure of his stare was averted.

The evening dragged on and an hour and a half had passed since his loaded comment. I was on the third book we’d checked out of the library, now trying desperately to find the curse that would cause a pair of 1970s glam rock boots to dance for eternity and haunt anyone who tried to wear them. This case was absurd, and I could feel myself growing restless with the small amount of progress we’d made. I huffed out a sigh and leant back in my chair, the faux leather and rusted metal creaking under my weight. Pulling the hair bobble from around my wrist I scooped my hair into a bundle on the top of my head, securing it in place; the sensation of air on my neck seemed to clear some of the fog from my brain. The messy bun was comfortably enough that I could forget it was there, and I allowed myself a stretch before leaning back over the table, grasping my pen. As I began to read the next segment, I absently traced the end of the pen over my bottom lip, running it back and forth a few times before gently nibbling on the end. I heard the shuffling of Dean moving in his seat and a ragged clearing of his throat before the sound of vigorous laptop keys clicking ensued. Without looking up at him I continued reading, the pen still tapping my bottom lip, and when I neared the bottom of the paragraph, I slowly licked the pad of my index finger. My eyes never leaving the words, I turned the page swiftly with my dampened digit, the transition from one page to the next perfectly seamless. Another shuffle from the man opposite followed by a quiet groan filled the silence between us. Pen still between my teeth, I lifted only my eyes to glance at him and noted the dusting of pink across his cheeks and the furrow in his brow. Concluding that he’d had one too many beers I decided to ignore his persistent fidgeting, returning to my previous task on monotonous reading. Several sentences in and I’d almost forgotten Deans restlessness - that was until I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, deep in thought, that I earned myself a throaty groan and an exasperated sigh. I looked up just in time to watch him wipe a large hand down his face, momentarily masking his pained expression.

“Can you not do that? I can’t concentrate when you do that.”

“Do what?” Upon asking my question I absently took the pen between my teeth again, quickly glancing down at the book to place a mental bookmark.

“That.”

“What?”

“That. That thing you do with our mouth, and the pen, and your tongue and your finger. Can you please stop before it kills me.”

The heat beneath my skin was immediate at his admission, knowing my small, absent-minded actions were playing on his mind and making it hard for him to think straight. I instinctively crossed my legs, a fluttering in my lower belly instantly dragging my mind back to the deprived things I’d imagined Dean doing to me in the depths of night. The places I’d imagined his hands travelling, the areas his lips would touch and the sensations his tongue could create. These were deeply, deeply personal fantasies, and right now as Dean looked at me with a restrained hunger, I felt like I was wearing these fantasies for the world to see. For Dean to see.

“It doesn’t help that you’ve been sat over there like a sexy fucking librarian all evening, but every time you do that anything with that mouth - shit, sweetheart you’re driving me insane.” His voice was gravelly as he looked at me with desperate eyes across the table. The overly rational part of my brain had shut down completely, and now the part of my mind that had spent hours conjuring vivid scenes of Dean Winchester ravishing me in my entirety had taken the charge. I stood slowly, taking a moment to reason with myself - unsuccessfully of course - before sinking to my knees in front of my chair. I could see Deans strong thighs were spread wide beneath the table so I crawled forwards, across the cold tiles and placed myself between his legs. Resting my palms softly on his thighs I made him flinch at the unexpected contact. He immediately scooted his chair back, allowing a gap for me to poke my head through - his hand instantly acting as a barrier between the edge of the table and my skull. I got comfortable and allowed myself a moment to gaze up at him, to take in the strained furrow in his brow and the parting of his lips. I observed the way his chest rose and fell in apprehensive breaths, and the way his free hand clenched into a fist on his thigh - like he was so desperate yet so scared to touch me.

“(Y/n)-”

“Dean,” I spoke softly, slowly running my hands up his thighs - delicate palms against rough denim, “you’re a smart boy - you know I wouldn’t do something I didn’t want to do. So please, don’t say I don’t have to do this.”

Dean released a shaky breath the moment my fingers unclasped his jeans. I tugged them down slightly with his help, just enough so I could dip my hand into his boxers and wrap my fingers around his half-hard length. The moment my skin touched his, his head lolled back and his eyes fluttered closed with a breathy moan on his lips.

“Fuck…”

I gently pulled him from his confines, coming face to face with the cock I’d literally dreamt of again and again. I took the scene in, committing to memory the sharp outline of his jaw and the way his long lashes rested on his lightly-freckled cheeks. The way that, every time he breathed in, I could see his defined muscle tone through the thin fabric of his shirt; and with every small caress that my fingers made against his length, it made his fingers twitch and teeth clench. I licked my lips before leaning in and took his tip into my mouth, not giving him a chance to finish sucking in air through his teeth before I plunged his entire length down my throat. 

“Oh FUCK.”

His hands flew to my hair, fingers gripping tight as they loosened strands from the messy bun, causing them to fall around my face. He’d lifted his head to look down at me, pupils blown as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. He looked nothing more than enthralled. Infatuated. Entranced. I moved my head up and down, up and down, again and again to a steady rhythm, pressing my tongue to the underside of his now rock-hard cock to trace every vein and nerve-ending.

“Shit, (Y/n), I didn’t know you could suck cock, like, at all… how’re you s’fuckin’ good…” his voice was breathless as he continued to grip my hair, his head flopping to the side as pleasure started to overcome his senses. I released him with a small ‘pop’, wrapping my fingers around him and smearing the warm mixture of saliva and precum from tip to base.

“Despite everything I told you earlier, Dean, I’m not a virgin - and this certainly isn’t my first rodeo,” my voice came out more sultry than I’d expected and I could feel Dean tremble beneath my palms.

“Fuck, I wish I’d known that sooner,” I chewed on my bottom lip, quickly becoming addicted to the way he writhed at my touch. The way he moaned and gripped my hair tighter when I sucked him back into my mouth was like pure ecstasy, my insides heating up and throbbing with an ache of familiar arousal. Like a thirst that could only be satisfied by him. By tasting him, feeling him on my tongue and drinking in every sound that passed his plush parted lips. The sensation of my glasses slipping down my nose as I sped up my ministrations had me reaching to push them back up, but not before Dean beat me to it. With the rough pad of his thumb he pushed on the plastic bridge, his palm and fingers pressed to my flushed cheek in the most tender, almost heart wrenching caress. I thought my heart might stop when he tilted my face up to his; lustful eyes burning into mine with a vehemence I’d never encountered. I stopped in my tracks, all actions ceased as the spell he’d somehow put me under wouldn’t let me look away. 

“If you keep going like that darlin’ this whole thing is gonna be over before you know it,” his voice was raspy, a rawness to it from the harsh breaths and ragged moans that had been pulled from his throat. He slowly pulled his cock from my spit-slick lips and grasped it loosely, giving himself a few lazy pumps whilst his other hand never left my face. He stared down at me, taking a few moments as though he was committing the sight of me, knelt between his knees with flushed cheeks and swollen lips to memory. Once it seemed that memory was locked away in the depths of his mind, he grasped me by the arm and pulled me effortlessly into his lap, his fingers almost bruising against my skin. Immediately I felt him, in his entirety, press against me with the heat and wetness seeping through my jeans and past my panties. This time when our eyes met, there was a mutual desperation; a need to consume each other and to feel every inch of his heated skin against mine. He pulled me frantically down to him and crashed his lips against mine. 

Some people describe their first kiss with someone like butterflies in their stomach, or fireworks exploding all around them. That wasn’t at all what this was like. Kissing Dean Winchester was different - it was wild and untamed - and describing this experience in such a mundane way would be like adding water to a top-shelf whiskey. Kissing Dean Winchester was like driving the impala at one thirty with the roar of the engine drowning out the rest of the world. It was like trying to ride a wild mustang without a saddle, or daring to stand on the highest peak on Earth with nothing to tie you down. It was exhilarating in the most dangerous way imaginable - and I was now officially a thrill seeker. 

The warm taste of the beer on his tongue and the masculine scent of old leather and cologne was pulling me under. Breathing no longer mattered as long as his mouth was on mine and his fingers were in my hair, now tugging the bobble out and throwing it to the floor. As my hair tumbled free he grabbed under my thighs and stood effortlessly, moving me from his lap to the edge of the table without his lips leaving mine. I winced slightly as the corners and several books and the laptop jabbed into my rear and I fumbled to move everything aside, failing when I refused to unlock our lips. Deans patience was non-existent and with one sweep of his strong arm everything tumbled to the floor - including the laptop. I threw the remaining books from underneath me down to join them, no longer caring for their wellbeing. Before I could pull Dean back in - to allow him to do whatever the fuck he wanted to do to me - he hastily pulled off my boots and tugged down my jeans, throwing every item to the growing pile of chaos beside us. I discarded my sweater and top, but before I let his fingers touch my bra I wanted nothing more than to return the favour. 

“I guess you can forget about that whole ‘never seeing me shirtless’ thing, huh?” he smirked through the sexual fog, not waiting for a reply as his lips hungrily found mine again, his own top falling to the floor. 

“Shut up Winchester. Now are you gonna fuck me or wh- OH FUCK-”

Two thick fingers crept under my panties and plunged into me with zero hesitation, curling up and stroking the sensual cushion deep within my core with skillful precision. 

“Oh yeah? You want me to fuck you?” Even with my face now buried in the crook of his neck, I could hear the smirk in his voice, the tormenting tone going straight to my brain.

“Y-yes- fuck- please,” my knees twitched either side of him, squeezing at his hips with every push of his fingers. I gripped his shoulders tight, nails indenting his skin as I leant back to look at him better. Seeing the beads of sweat on his chest and brow alongside the raw, carnal desire in his eyes could have undone me there and then. He frowned in disapproval when I moved to remove my glasses, the fingers that were just inside me now wrapped forcefully around my wrist.

“What d’ya think you’re doing?” straight away I knew his growling question left no room for negotiation.

“I was just-”

“The glasses stay on.”

“To the end?”

“‘Til I say you can take them off.”

I did as I was told, moving my hand to grip the soft strands on the back of his neck, softly dragging my nails over his scalp and drawing a shiver from his spine and a groan from his lungs. He pulled me against him, crushing his lips against mine one more time. He swiftly pulled away and I leant back on my hands, both of us taking a moment to drink each other in - to bask in lascivious glory. I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth and looked up at him through my lashes, the lenses of my glasses starting to fog around the edges. Another deep moan rumbled from his chest as his heated gaze stayed locked to mine.

“I can’t wait any longer now that you’ve looked at me like that. Fuck.”

With a large hand gripping the soft flesh of my thigh he pulled my underwear to one side and lined himself up, slowly sinking in. Blissful moans harmonised between us, the rawness of him stretching me was unlike anything I’d ever experienced and my quivering thighs wrapped around him, pushing him to the hilt. He secured his large hands on the soft flesh of my hips and held me in place as he slowly withdrew. I could feel him; feel every ridge and vein drag out and then in, out and in, over my most sensitive, intimate, area. The slick sounds of our intimacy  began to echo around the room as he picked up speed, strong thighs working at a feverish pace. With every thrust he pushed against that one spot that made my legs jerk and eyes water, my arms almost giving out underneath me as the table rattled beneath my weight. With the ferocity of his pounding and the heightened sensitivity he’d curated between my legs only moments before, we both knew that neither of us would last long. The sounds of his ragged breaths and throaty moans alone had me clenching around him already, and I know my constricting muscles already had his hips stuttering as I sucked him in with every thrust.

“Fuck (Y/n)- You’re so fuckin’ tight-”

I chewed on my bottom lip as his desperate eyes met mine.

“Oh yeah? Well I feel like you’re cock is in my fucking ribcage- oh fuck-”

He slipped one hand between us, his large palm resting on my lower belly as his thumb drew fast circles around my clit. The immediate contact on my bundle of nerves had my whole body quivering, the knot of an impending climax already starting to twist tighter and tighter in the depths of my core. The way that Dean fucked me into the motel room table was something that I would be able to feel deep in my soul for the rest of my life - my body and entire nervous system having never been worked in such a feral way before. Dean dropped forward and crushed my body into his - one large strong arm wrapped around my trembling body and kept me pressed against him as his head dropped to the crook of my neck. Soft lips pressed hot kisses against my shoulder, teeth gently nibbling the soft flesh as the coil wound and wound, the wave of orgasmic bliss rising higher and higher as my mind emptied, leaving behind only one thought.

Dean.

He was all consuming - all I could see, taste and smell. All I could feel. Oh God could I feel him; driving me to the brink of pure bliss as he frantically sped up - desperate to seek his own undoing as well as my own. One… two… three more fervid thrusts and the peak he’d helped me ascend to shattered around me as I practically screamed his name, the white-hot euphoria scorching my insides as I clamped like a vice around him. 

“Oh shit- (Y/n) I can’t- fuck-”

I grabbed the back of his head and pushed his mouth to mine as he came undone, spilling inside me as he worked through his own white-hot euphoria. 

The kiss we shared evolved from hot and needy to soft and wanting - the sensation of hot cum running down the inside of my thigh and cooling against my skin being the only thing to pull me away. Dean continued to lean over me for a moment, looking down at me with an expression that told me he had so much he wanted to say. Instead, he looked down at his release now starting to pool on the floor beneath us, then to the books and laptop that had been thrown across the floor before turning back to face me with the most devilish grin on his face.

“You know that this mess is all your fault, right?”

I scoffed.

“My fault? How is it my fault?”

“Because, sweetheart…” he tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and pushed lightly on the plastic bridge sitting on my nose.

“You put on on those fucking glasses.”

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

Taglist: @roseblue373 @hobby27 @calibootsgirl @suckitands33 @jackles010378 @lyarr24 @autistic-gothic @wattpaduser200 @spndeanwinchesterlvr @mxtansy @libby99hb @magssteenkamp @redmaro86 @slut-for-evans-stan @spookyysinsanity @localjisung

[morguecuts]

★ — imagine dean fucking you with sam asleep in the same room…

warnings: smut, caught in the act (dean x fem!reader) 18+

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

“mmmph-”

you moaned against dean’s hand as he rocked his cock up into you, his tip brushing against your cervix.

“shhh, baby…” he cooed quietly, glancing over at his brother asleep in the bed next to yours.

“mmm, can’t…” you murmured against dean’s hand, following his gaze to the younger winchester. sam’s eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks, his lips parted as soft breaths flowed in and out of his lungs.

dean’s hand stayed clamped over your mouth as his eyes flickered back to yours. your walls squeezed around him in a desperate attempt to keep yourself from gushing down his length again; you knew you couldn’t stay quiet if that happened.

“baby, come on,” dean muttered through laboured breaths, “shhhh.”

you couldn’t help the little whimpers and grunts that escaped you as dean continued to thrust his hips up into you, his girthy cock stretching your pussy so deliciously.

“ahh, dean,” you moaned out, squeezing your eyes shut as the pleasure continued to build.

“shhh…” dean whispered again, his cock twitching up into your cunt, “you wake sammy, babe, and he’ll be so mad.”

you felt your pussy tighten around dean’s cock again, nearing another orgasm at the thought of getting caught in such a compromising position. dean bit his bottom lip and scrunched his face, trying to hold in a groan at the feeling. he was barely keeping himself together.

the quiet but lewd sounds of him pumping into your wet cunt filled the room, along with both your soft grunts and the squeaking of the motel bed.

sam let out a groan and rolled over to face you and dean. you both froze, watching and waiting for his hazel eyes to flicker open and catch you two in the act.

but they didn’t. instead they stayed shut. dean hesitantly slid himself back up into you, keeping his eyes on his brother. you watched sam too.

your thoughts started racing around in your head and you couldn’t deny it, some fucked up part of you kinda wanted to get caught riding dean.

dean’s fingers began rubbing your sensitive clit again, making you whimper as he thrusted in and out of you.

“shush, i’m serious.”

you pouted against his hand, “c-can’t… feels too good…”

he gripped your face tighter, “we’ll have to stop if you can’t keep quiet, baby.”

his words sent a flash of panic through your body, your head instantly shaking as you grinded on him, desperate to show him you can be good.

“that’s it. nice and quiet,” he said breathily, feeling you clench around him even more, knowing you were about to let go, “stay quiet for me, angel.”

you hissed and tried to hold back whimpers as you came all over his cock again, your juices leaving a creamy ring around his length as he pumped into you.

dean groaned at the feeling of you gushing all over his cock. his own release washed over him. he shot thick warm ropes of his seed deep into your cunt, making you whimper and clench again as his hips jerked up. he pulled you down against him and buried his head in your neck, letting out louder grunts and moans.

“can you guys shut the fuck up?” sam groaned. you felt a pillow hit the side of you as you laid flat on dean, his softening cock still inside you. you laughed softly in dean’s ear.

“sorry, sammy,” dean smirked as he rubbed your back. he moved his head to look over at his brother, who had turned away and pulled the blanket over his head completely.

dean laughed and pulled you even closer to him, wrapping his arms around you as he whispered in your ear, “oops.”

A/N: wrote and edited this high so ignore it if something’s grammatically incorrect or doesn’t make sense LOL anyways poor sam :( i’m laughing so hard

requests and feedback are welcome and encouraged!! thank uuu <3

[morguecuts]

Incase I’m Not Here

five hargreeves has a baby with fem!reader  synopsis: five has saved the world from an apocalypse countless times. after creating a loving family of his own, his constant worry that the end will come again unfortunately became true. word count: 1.5k tags: five is a father, fluff, angst, death, a few sad moments authors note: this is one of my most beautiful, yet devastating pieces. i truly love the idea of five being a loving father :(

  ♱⛧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⛧♱ the end of the world was an ongoing tragedy for many years, ruining the lives of billions over and over again, but especially the hargreeves. the umbrella academy, as they were called, spent endless months trying to prevent an apocalypse from occurring. they traveled from timeline to timeline, skipping around decades trying to save themselves and the remainder of earth. 

when the timeline was assumed to be restored, the superhumans had agreed to go separate ways and live their lives. diego and lila created their own family, housing a new timeline version of lila’s birth parents. viktor moved all the way to canada, owning a bar and a gray cat named misty. luther was typically off the grid, except the occasional birthday post for him and all of his siblings. klaus and allison lived together, in a three story house with allison’s daughter claire. 

five hargreeves traveled the world, worrying about the potential upcoming events that would force him and his siblings to reunite in tragedy. he tracked previous timelines, looking for artifacts that hint at a glitch in the system. after the first 5 years of silence, and seeming nothing pointing toward any timeline issues, he began to calm his nerves. 

that’s when he met the mother of his child. she was the light that five never knew he was missing. she ignited a burnt flame deep inside his soul, rekindling the lost inspiration he held for things that were other than research. in addition, her beauty was unmatched to anyone he had ever seen, or met before. her long hair completely covered the back of her body, tracing the outline of her beautiful shape. her perfectly puzzled face made him swoon almost immediately. most importantly, the way that she loved him made him learn to love who he was inside, instead of who people wanted him to be. 

their home was a perfect combination of their personalities. a matte black and white aesthetic, perfectly clean and chic, with a hint of victorian vampire. her feminine touch was visible in all the right places, creating a warm home for the two of them, and anyone else who entered. his headstrong worries of future destruction set up for typically annoying safety procedures, but she didn't mind it. the pair merged together quite beautifully, carbon copies of the other. if five didn’t know any better, which to be fair he actually did, then he would say they were lovers in every possible timeline. 

five was used to living for himself, his siblings, and even the rest of the world. his purpose was always meant to save other people, live for them, protect them. however, now 5 years into the loving marriage with her, he had learned to live for someone who wasn’t superhuman. 

he stood hovering over the clean white bassinet. the small beaded eyes glance up at him, an overwhelming amount of confusion falls over them before turning to love. her small nose scrunching at the sight of him. the few hairs brushed upon her head are slicked down away from her face. her small pursed lips release grumbles and whines at an alarming volume, desiring for the tall suited man to hold her.

“she isn’t going to crumble if you pick her up, five. you have to hold her eventually, she needs to know who her father is.” the child's mother cooed, leaning into his back, wrapping her arms around his waist lovingly. the man sighed into her touch, except it wasn't really there. the air behind him was cold and stiff. his body ached for her, a sense of comfort was quickly turned back into sadness. 

“what if she doesn't like me?” he spoke into the rather empty room. “what if something triggers me to teleport and i hurt her? my only way of protecting her is loving her from a distance.” the water in his eyes glasses over the blue. he reeks of sorrow, insecurity, and fear. 

“you are the one man designed to protect her, my love. don't let what happened in the past make you afraid of what's happening in the present. she’s going to need you, we both know i can't help you anymore. please just pick her up, five.” the voice echoes around him, his eyes narrowing down onto the now sleep filled child. 

he carefully unbuttons the sleeves on his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders and draping it onto the side of the crib. he rolls his white undershirt above his elbows, hyping himself up in the process. the small fragile girl rests on the pillowed surface, her tiny chest rising and falling. his hands carefully wrapping around her body, supporting her head while raising her close to him.

the small being is unlike anything he’s ever seen. tiny hands attached to tiny arms, short legs with the smallest feet. she’s unable to do anything without him. her entire life for the next few years depends on his actions. a small worried smile spreads across his face, admiring the girl leaning against his arms. 

small eyes blink open tiredly, glaring around before landing on her fathers. pure love glistens with the hazel colors swimming around. she makes chirps and squirming noises, slightly frightening five in the process. he takes mental notes on all of her little features. definitely her mothers eyes and lips, but his nose. truly the perfect combination of the two lovebirds. tears form in his eyes when he sees her smile, a miniature yet exact replica that once belonged to her mother. 

a faint knock taps upon the nursery door, the caretaker is chattering unknown words outside. theres a moment of silence before she enters the room, glancing at five with the baby cradled lovingly in his embrace. he turns around at the sound of her appearance, looking into her puzzled face. “there’s been a call for you, it's from your sister in law.” her eyes are firm and strong, holding his gaze causing him to pause for a moment. 

“and what did she say?” he turns his back to her again, slowly rocking the baby back into her peaceful rest.

“a briefcase was found in new york this morning. i’m so sorry, but it’s starting, sir.” she holds her hands together in front of her body, head dipping into her chest. 

“how long do we have?” five knows his constant worrying would eventually lead to this. he thought by spending endless hours hunting down glitches in the timeline, he could find a cause, find a solution, but nothing ever came until now.

“they don't know anything yet. it could be weeks, months, possibly even years. i’ve been told it's not severe, but that doesn't mean that it won't become so.” the sorrow in her voice runs deep, an unfortunate sigh escapes her lips. 

his stillness is deafening, the room has a slight buzzing noise from the house's electricity, but otherwise is completely silent. the babe shifts in his arms, nuzzling into him for better warmth and comfort. it is at this exact moment that everything clicks into place. she is his new purpose, and she will be his future. if anything is to go wrong, he would sacrifice his life for her without a question. nothing will ever be able to cause harm to her as long as he is alive.

his mind races thinking of the possibilities, will she have powers like him? will she be as headstrong as him? will she be accurately able to save the world if he is no longer alive to do so himself? The caretaker takes a step backwards, beginning to leave the room before his voice breaks the silence. “i need parchment, as much as you can physically gather.” his words are cold, and demanding, nothing that he has ever been towards her before. “and pens as well, as many pens as you can find me. i have work i must do before it's too late.” he begins to lie the child back into her bassinet, gently wrapping her back into the warmth of the bed. “yes sir, is there anything else?” the caretaker steps towards the door once more, ready to step into motion as requested. five’s eyes scan over every inch of his beloved offspring, a protective concern washed over his face. “yes actually, the albums from the attic please. i want her to be able to recognize her family when things go south.” his comment is quieter, more personal and calm. the caretaker whisks away, leaving the man and his daughter alone once more.

“you will never be alone” a gentle hand brushes small hairs away and out of her face. rubbing her small, chubby cheeks before pulling back. “i will guide you through everything that i possibly know, you will not fail this world.” his feet step back from the white wooden crib, reaching for the black jacket that was hung upon it earlier that night. slipping into it before exiting the room, heading toward his office.

 ♱⛧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⛧♱

thank you so much for reading!

i hope you’ve enjoyed it, please feel free to make any comments or story requests down below. any support is always appreciated <3

[morguecuts]

Love Laced Caffeine

five hargreeves x fem!reader synopsis: lovey dovey morning with five :)  word count: 1.1k tags: lots of fluff and cute moments  authors note: i love adding pre-story lore, but if im too detailed pls yell at me, okay thx enjoy! dedication: my bestfriend @solspina who sits with me everynight as i write. i love you forever. check out her work if you enjoy warhammer, the stories are absolutely incredible.

♱⛧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⛧♱

the constant impending apocalypse is no longer a worry ever since the world was saved. special abilities have only ever been used in a joking, or more importantly an emergency manner, since then. you met the umbrella academy in 2019 but are now 3 years deep into a very loving and committed relationship with arguably the grumpiest family member, five hargreeves. 

he was surprisingly the sweetest person you’ve ever met. the overprotective nature of his actions was incredibly attractive. his words were only ever gentle towards you, a walking example of hating everybody who wasn't his lover. his “old soul” showed itself in the way that he treated the relationship with you. 

he constantly took you on dates, sometimes small, like watching a movie at the nearby theater, or larger, like trips across the world to go sightseeing. five bought you a multitude of gifts since you’ve been together as well. the most cherishable was the silver chain that dangled from your neck, symbolizing the first time he admitted he was in love with you. ever since then, you’ve dedicated yourself to being the only person he will ever need. to this day, he is still trying to repay you for loving him this hard. 

there was always a peaceful sensation waking up in the academy house. the feeling of being surrounded by those who love you, everyday, brings a smile to your face. the siblings agreed on not moving out for a couple years, taking time to overcome the years of trauma collected more recently. although you would like to have your own place with your boyfriend, there's no harm staying here with everyone else for a while longer. 

you remove the weighted sheets off five’s bed allowing the breeze to strike your body. the shock of the cold floor sends a bone chilling feeling starting from the bottoms of your feet, all the way to the tips of your hair. there's a slight grumble coming from the boy still lying in the bed. a combination of annoyance and sadness stretched across his half-awake face. 

“please, a couple more minutes..” his face turns to face your direction, sleepy eyes barely open but still pleading with yours. a lone arm reaches out to grab yours, a small attempt at preventing you from leaving.

“as cute as you are, i really want to go downstairs for coffee.” you lean into his touch, bending down to place a kiss on his lips. a smile creeps upon the boy, a sly hand wrapping around your waist dragging you down onto his chest. you let out a surprised eek before giggling. 

“can you survive 20 minutes without coffee?” he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, rubbing your back subconsciously.

“fine, 20 minutes and then i’m getting up without or without you.” you look up smiling at him, the boy leaning down to kiss you once more. his gentle touch makes you sigh into him, melting into his body, relaxing against his chest. he pulls away and wraps the bed sheets back over the two of you. 

the combination of a cold room, warm bed and safe boyfriend creates a comforting environment, your eyes fall drowsy before slipping into darkness. when you awake, the bed is empty, no five to be seen anywhere. you rub your eyes confused, sit up for a moment and sigh. a faint smell of coffee is brewing in the distance, most likely in the downstairs kitchen. you decide to follow the scent trail in hopes that your boyfriend is waiting for you at the end of it. 

the house is peacefully quiet, a gentle hum lingers over the hallways. you make your way down towards the rest of the house, whispers and giggles come from beyond the doors of other bedrooms. you pass viktor going up the stairs as you come down, greeting with a cheerful embrace and soft smile. 

“seen five anywhere?” you ask, pulling back.

“hmm, kitchen i think? was making pancakes when i passed by” he smiles at you before turning to continue his journey upstairs. with a small nod, you thank him.

rounding the kitchen's large wall, you see five standing over what seems to be the pancakes cooking on the stove. his back is facing you, unaware that you entered the room. his hair is still messy as if he woke up moments ago, loose black sweats hang from his waistline, a green jumper embracing his torso. the record player sits in the living room, playing distant calming jazz music as five hums along. 

you creep up behind him, wrapping arms around his waist and laying your head onto his shoulder. his body tenses for a minute before relaxing, his arm bends backwards to hold your waist, pressing you into him. 

“good morning, love. i was going to bring this up to you, but now you’re already here” he speaks while flipping the soft flannel cake on the pan. he gently places the spatula onto the counter, spinning in a circle to face you. your hands still wrapped around his stomach carefully, holding his touch.

“mm sorry, i smelled coffee and knew i’d find you somewhere nearby” you smiled up at him, his deep brown eyes staring back before leaning down. he places a gentle kiss upon your lips, hands cupping your face as he does so. you lean into his hands, kissing him back while running hands to the back of his neck.

his hands rest on the backs of your thighs momentarily before he bends into a swift motion, picking you up and gently setting you down onto the closet counter. you pull back from him, laughing at his action. he shoots a grin in your direction before turning back to the well toasted hotcakes. there's a peaceful silence between the two of you before he speaks up once more.

“coffee is still hot, want me to make you a cup?” his loving tone swoons you everytime he offers to do even the smallest things. you nod yes before he swiftly turns to begin making the warm beverage. the boy presents the drink just how you like. it didn't take him long to memorize exactly how you favor it.

everything he does for you is a constant act of service, from a small cup of coffee, to a full platter of breakfast foods, or even carrying you upstairs to lay together once you’re happily full of food. his love for you is laced in the caffeine high that he brings with every kiss.

 ♱⛧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⛧♱

thank you so much for reading!

i hope you’ve enjoyed it, please feel free to make any comments or story requests down below. any support is always appreciated <3

[morguecuts]

[morguecuts]

Running From Vain

five hargreeves x fem!reader synopsis: you confuse anger for love. word count: 1.8k tags: angst, heavy fluff, kissing, touching, etc. technically adopted siblings? lots of character lore lol note: story was written with s4 visuals in mind. this is my first time writing tua fanfic so i hope u enjoy. i apologize in advance for being an extremely detailed writer :)

♱⛧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⛧♱

the 8th hargreeves child was the one that reginald kept hidden and locked away for decades. her blood regeneration was able to flow through not only herself but others as well, being able to save them from death and retrieve their leaking souls when needed. she lacked the ability to control them from a young age, and her powers were deemed too impactful to society fairly quickly. when a mission goes rather poorly, she is revealed to the world by mistake. since then she’s been known as the outcast to everyone, including her own siblings. the world is coming to an end once again, issues are constantly arising with all connections pointing to the umbrella academy. the family already lost beloved parts of itself in the past, and they bare to lose any more. tension has been brewing for years and one wrong comment leads to a certain couple releasing deep emotions, both good and bad.

♱⛧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⛧♱

his hands travel from the sides of his face upwards towards the messy black hair that lays upon his head. their strands are falling to perfectly frame the chiseled boy below them. an unpleasant expression is sprawled across five’s face, his tired eyes clenched closed as his eyebrows pinch together. 

“no, you don't understand! we can’t keep wasting time, everything will be gone tomorrow.” he opens his mouth for the time in what feels like hours. his chest begins to rise and fall quickly. his feet start to carry him back and forth, passing you every few moments while his eyes are locked onto you. the hallway where you both reside is tense, heavy, and secluded from the rest of the house. for being in such a mammoth size mansion, with 7 other siblings, a robot mother, and an intelligent monkey, the world seems to be silent. the only noise that can be heard is the faint sound of five breathing, releasing a few deep sighs as he does. 

“i understand perfectly well, but your plan is useless. you are so insufferable to work with, i mean come on five, be realistic for once! if we listen to viktor then we might actually be able to stop the apocalypse.” you make an attempt at replying, but it seems like he’s starting to ignore you. 

the air is intoxicating, you hate him, you hate what he did to the umbrella name, and especially to you. it’s time for someone to stand up and confront his decision making. everything he does is egotistical and arrogant. his words are sharp and impactful in the most negative ways imaginable. the sound of his shuffling feet stop, his dark beaded eyes trace every aspect of your face before opening his mouth in response to you. 

“you know you’re a real piece of work right? calling me insufferable is completely distasteful when all you do is follow diego around like a lost puppy. it’s fucking embarrassing for everyone in this family, and you know it.” he stops to let out a small chuckle before pointing his finger towards your chest. “don't even make me mention the grave mistake you made on our last mission either” his expression is ridden in evil, a small upturned smile resting on his face and he stares into you.

“that was not my fault,” you spit back, angrily stepping towards him. “i am the ONLY person who TRIED to help ben and everyone who was in that chamber could tell you that themselves.” red flashes of anger spread across your skin as you continue to step closer to five. “he died from something completely unrelated to my powers, but I FUCKING TRIED! I DID, NOT ALLISON, NOT DIEGO, ME.” by this time you are meters away from being chest to chest with the boy. 

“you’re a waste of space. you disappoint everyone in this house.” he glares down, his taller figure towers over you menacingly.

"that's really rich coming from you." you take a step back and laugh to yourself. "do you know that nobody in this family likes you anymore? hmm? after all the shit you've constantly put us through, five?”

"i dedicated my entire life to saving your asses, i spent 40 goddamn years in an apocalypse just to come back and save all of you countless times! what do i get in return? impertinence." his demeanor is getting worsened by each remark, hot red anger is spread across his face as he snaps back at you. 

"none of us asked you to! you are always taking charge and forcing us to follow your plans, what if we didn't want to do this anymore? you're such a narcissist everything is always about you!" a near table rattled slightly from the yelling, the flowerpot on top shook before calming back down after a moment. 

"fuck you. fuck all of you. i'm TIRED of trying to save this family. if you all want to die in another apocalypse, then be my guest." he scoffs looking at you one more time and turns to walk away. "god you're so pathetic, always teleporting away when things don't go your way. you’re so childish." you hiss

"what did you say to me?" five spins back around, his feet carrying him back towards you. "you heard me." you raise your head and straighten up, holding his tough gaze. by this time the two of you are practically chest to chest again, his eyes beaming down into you. if he wasn’t human, you'd imagine smoke being blown from his ears and nostrils out of anger.

"say it again." 

"you're. fucking. pathetic." 

in a heartbeat his lips are smashing into you hungrily. one of his hands is gripping your face while the other snakes around your waist. all of the pent up anger between the both of you comes crashing down, blending into lust. he feels warm, his soul is bleeding into yours as his tongue explores your mouth. his hands are running all over your body, stopping to hold onto your mid section, then your behind, and finally dragging their way up to your neck. five pulls back, panting slightly, his eyes searching yours worried and confused.

“do you want this?”  

“more than anything.” you drive your hands into his hair, yanking his lips back into yours. his small smile is felt pressing into your mouth, fingers lingering around the belt loops on the front of your jeans. he’s pulling your body into his as he deepens the kiss, groaning into you when you rub against him slightly. 

he pulls away and leaves trails of hot wet kisses on the front of your throat. you grumble and moan at this touch, causing five to laugh into your skin. he leaves small love bites all over your neck and collarbones while you run your hands through his hair. his eyes glance up at you, a different light beams through them now then moments before. his anger has faded into something similar to love. his little pecks come to a slow rhythm before he returns to your lips. dragging you into him, the two of you slowly begin backing up towards one of the hallway walls. 

he presses his long fingers into the sides of your waist, shoving you into the stone behind you. five’s grip is firm and tight, stopping you from being able to wiggle loose. the way his mouth moves is like a work of art. there’s no doubt that someone had taught him how to kiss like this, but my god, you are thankful for them. you touch him memorizing every piece of his body from his chest, his jawline, to the back of his neck, and up through his hair. the way he leans into your touches with such desperation is absolutely god like.

his slight groans and noises grow in volume when you reach your fingers towards his waist. a sly hand lifting the edge of his shirt and running along the front of his bare body. his small smile returns, pulling back from your lips. 

“your hands are cold.” he leans forward, placing a kiss on your forehead. the invisible bubble draped over the two of you seems to pop. he’s moving hands into the back pocket of your jeans, keeping you pressed into him. you smile at the small actions, glaring up to analyze his face.

“come with me” five reaches for your hand interlocking his fingers between yours. his feet are ready to speed away as he gently pulls you toward whenever he’s leading. 

“five we can’t…” you look at him guilty. 

“no, no… not that.” his head shakes in disbelief as he smiles at you. “please just trust me and come” his hand tugs at yours pleadingly. 

there’s another moment of hesitation before you give him a small nod and move your feet to follow his. the grip he has on your hand tightens as he pulls you forward, a blue smokey powder flashes in front of you before realizing what he was doing. 

there’s a millisecond of discomfort and stinging before you feel the ground beneath your feet again. it hadn’t crossed your mind before how it felt for five to use his powers, but my god it was strange. 

the room is similar to a greenhouse with its large glass windows and open ceiling. it’s covered in vines and greenery with a small white pitched tent in the center. there are boxes and a large wooden table to the side, scattered papers sprawled over its surface. there’s a couple whiteboards on the back wall with calculations and symbols scribbled all over. the messy handwriting looks like five’s, and a photo of his stupid mannequin ex-girlfriend, delores, is hung from one of them confirming this was his doing. 

“where are we?” you glance at him before returning to observe the room.

“the highest level of the house, it’s locked behind one of dads bookshelves but i found it a couple years ago. i used to sneak in here when i needed a quiet place. it’s hard to be bothered when nobody else can get inside except for me” he smiles down at you, tracing small circles with his thumb onto your hand, still intertwined.

you analyze the writings and questions scattered along the room, puzzled about the true purpose of being taken up here. he looks at you confidently while holding a small pale wooden box with the umbrella logo printed on top. 

“i didn't think you were ready before, but i think you are now. i know how we will all survive the apocalypse.” 

 ♱⛧ ⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⛧♱

thank you so much for reading!

i hope you’ve enjoyed it, please feel free to make any comments or story requests down below. any support is always appreciated <3