#COMPLIMENTS ARE SUPPOSED TO BE EASY LIKE WHAT

[megarhyssa-sp]

Prehistoricsilverfish is my main. Im the same person. I didnt really want to respond because I didn't want to draw attention to this callout post and because I know you're going through some stuff, but since youve @'ed me twice now, i guess i'll bite.

I understand your situation. I've been in your shoes before. When I was a teen, I used to give someone permission to post my art on their deviantart account; they would credit me in the description but then all the comments underneath, people would say "great job!" and the poster would say "thanks!" and I would remind them often to clarify in their responses that they were not the artist, but they'd forget. And it was a bummer, but I also knew they didn't mean anything malicious by it. I've had my artwork reposted without permission, ideas taken, scientific papers published with my contributions but without my credit. Believe me, I've been here. But this type of reaction alarms me.

To me, making friends online, bonding over shared interests, building ideas off of each other, getting inspired by others and inspiring people myself, all of that is worth the risk of getting my stuff reposted or miscredited every once in awhile. I'd much rather people interact with my work than be too afraid of me to engage. But, I am me and you are you, so I cannot tell you how to feel about this. I've also been on the other end of this. I am currently writing a fic whose premise is 100% taken from someone else's work, and while I credit them in the main part of the fic, sometimes in the comments I drop the ball on reminding people that the premise is not my own work, because sometimes I struggle striking a balance with crediting properly while also wanting my work to stand on its own, rather than giving people the impression that it is simply a gift fic. I'll message them privately after this and let them know that they can remind me at any time if I word things incorrectly.

For what it's worth, I still don't think this anonymous author meant any ill-will toward you. When I was reading, because I read your specbio post first, it was easy for me to see where they drew from your work, and what they embellished on their own, and I was under the assumption that the specbio that people were complimenting in the comments was the new stuff that they added. However, you're right that not everyone who read the fic is guaranteed to have read your original post too, so I agree that they could have definitely been clearer about that. However, when you pointed this out to them in their comments, they responded politely and respectfully, even when you called them names and made accusations about their intent. They agreed to edit all their responses to comments; I've already started getting emails from AO3 with their edited responses to my own comments.

Nobody is earning money from this. They posted this anonymously so theyre not even making friends from it. I suppose I just don't understand why this warrants such a visceral reaction. Fandom works are already transformative in and of itself; credit where credit is due, of course, but if we want to continue to have fun in this community and freely share ideas, we need to treat each other with respect and be prepared to give each other a chance if something like this arises.

Honestly, I've been feeling super guilty over this because I am the one who pointed out the fic to you, and I'm the one who reminded you again about it with my fanart. This makes me scared to recommend fics and make fic fanart again in the future. This whole exchange has made me feel like I'm fourteen again, and it is simultaneously bizarre and agonizing. This is absolutely not the type of respectful fandom environment that I would like to cultivate for myself, so from this point forward, I will be disengaging from this conversation. I hope you understand and respect my decision.

I encourage everyone else to not engage or escalate this, as well.

I NEED TO FUCKING VENT OKAY???

Okay.

So there’s this fanfic called “Impossible Geometries and Biologies” and it’s a mpreg fic that uses my speculative biology of Bill Cipher as basis for it. Today I accidentally, sadly, ran into some fanart of it and for some idiotic reason I decided to check it again. And I saw comments.

AND THE BITCH THAT IS THE AUTHOR OF THIS FIC NEVER CREDITED ME IN THE COMMENTS!!!!

Now, I genuinely, GENUINELY don’t give a shit what people use my speculative biology for. I told fanfic authors to have fun and I stand by that.

BUT FUCKING CREDIT ME! THAT WAS NOT YOUR IDEA, ANONYMOUS!!!

I spent so, so much time working on that speculative biology, you can’t just say shit like this:

THIS IS NOT YOUR RESEARCH, YOU BITCH!!! IT’S MINE!!! SAY IT!!! How hard would it be to just say “Hey, I’m glad you like the fic, but the biology is actually by Giulliadella”???????? WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU????

I can’t believe someone would just do this. Like why? I know I said I hate mpreg (and any kind of preg) fics, but I deserve to be credited for my work. And of course they are anonymous, so I can’t block them and find them.

I’m sorry I sound so angry, but it’s not okay to use somebody else’s art and hard work and not credit them. AND THEY USED IT WORD FOR WORD! Read the fic and read my speculative biology - it’s the same. I just… I’m left speechless.

Now it is true that they linked my spec bio in the beginning notes of the first chapter, but they only wrote that they were “somewhat influenced” by my work. Being “somewhat influenced” is NOT quoting me WORD FOR WORD!?!? WHATTT???

[justmossyaps]

why is telling people you appreciate them so hard bro like this is supposed to be the one easy thing in the world. “i really appreciate that you do this for me and” actually you know what why don’t you just shoot me right now

[moldy-flowers]

Fym "?" Just tell us bitch

[magicschoolbus-stowaway]

the vast spectrum of emotions I feel when someone quotes a tumblr post out loud in real life. because i’ve either unlocked sacred and cursed information about them (they’re on tumblr) or i’ve unlocked mundane and uncool information about them (they consume tumblr posts through screenshots or uncredited reposts on other sites). the torture of not knowing which one it is

[fakevariety]

one time this past summer my friend said i was cute and i still think about it

[lacyblades]

౨ৎ professor!gojo is insatiable. from the second you walked into his class, he's had his eyes on you. he's always doing whatever he can to get your attention, to get more of you.

it's ridiculous, at times, really.

how he'd use you as a human prop, swinging an arm around your neck, leaning against you — whenever you were presenting, he'd claim it was to loosen you up. it was all causal, after all. and, no, you didn't point out how it was just you he was loosening up.

how he'd give you unsolicited compliments, telling you how today's outfit made your body look great. how nice you looked in it, and then jokingly adding in how you'd look better out of it. one of those things that borders dangerously on the territory of not quite being a joke.

how he'd play little games with you, asking you questions throughout class, prolonging them, just to get to speak with you longer.

or, maybe, how he'd come up from behind you, hand on the small of your back, as he leaned in by your ear, asking if you needed any assistance. telling you that if you ever needed anything, ever, he'd be more than willing to help you out.

how was he supposed to help it? you were just so kind. especially, when he accidentally dropped his chalk, and you'd bend over to grab it for him, the fat of your ass peeking out from under that tiny little skirt. it just long enough for him to memorize how snug your panties sat on your pussy lips.

if anything, he was the victim. it wasn't easy hiding a boner from a class of twenty-five, you know.

you may have been a little virgin, unable to comprehend the depths of his need for you, but you weren't dumb. you knew it was odd, but whenever you brought it up to your friends, they shot you down, telling you he was just like that. gojo was eccentric, and all the students loved him for it.

besides, they told you, you'd be lucky if he was, by chance, lusting after you. had you even seen him? what was a greek god like him doing here? didn't he belong in heaven?

he'd make you feel like you were in heaven, another one of your friends would add.

so, you dealt with it. ignored how a certain something pooled in your stomach when his eyes roved, shamelessly, over your figure.

but, he's a lot less insatiable when he's looking down at you, like that, holding pure adoration in his eyes. his red-tipped, leaky tip is lined up between your thighs, prodding your swollen clit. your legs are wrapped around his waist, a pool of arousal on his desk you're on.

"fuck, do you even know how pretty you are like that?" he coos, a hand moving up to your chest, to gently fondle a tit. you can't even remember how you got here, hot, naked, and whiney on your physics teacher's table.

on second, he's asking you to stay back after class, insisting to talk to you about your grades. the next?

whatever was going on now. you only whimper in response, tired from when, just moments ago, he'd made you cum once with just his tongue, and twice more with his fingers. you don't protest, not as he pushes his thick length in. you're clenching around him, already, and he's maybe only an inch-and-a-half in.

gojo groans, "ah, shit, baby. s— squeeze like that, 'n' i won't last much longer."

you writhe under him, with tears dotting at your lash line, digging your nails into the flesh of his back. "o— oh, s'too much! ngh, won't fit," you plead, though, you're not sure for what.

"shh," he murmurs, forcing himself past your spongy walls of resistance. "it'll fit. don't worry about it, yeah? i'm gonna take r— real good care of'ya."

a cry leaves your throat, and he presses his lips to yours, silencing you. "god, you know i love those noises, but you gotta stay quiet, princess."

tears stream down your cheeks, and he kisses them away. you've never felt so much at once, a bitter pain washing into a warm pleasure. you let out a shaky moan, and his thumb rubs against your clit, trying to get you to relax.

it's when he finally bottoms out, that he has to stop and go though a roster of baseball teams, in order not to cum. oh, well, it serves as a moment for you to adjust. with how you're scratching up his back, he's sure you've drawn blood — but, shit, the pain is exhilarating.

and, jesus, you don't think you could ever adjust to his size. you call feel him everywhere, deep in your body. gojo's lips pepper pecks all over, his hands roaming.

he clicks his teeth, slowly starting to thrust. his movements are cautious, as if he might break you, and you wouldn't be surprised if he did. "so— so tight, f'me."

it takes him a moment, but it almost gives you whiplash, how his demeanor changes. his hips snap against yours, mean and relentless. you're made for him, he's sure, with how perfectly you mold against him.

he's rambling nonsense, babbling on about how beautiful you are, how well you take him. you don't know if it's directed at you, whether you're meant to listen, but you can't focus, anyways.

gojo doesn't last long, and neither do you. you're sobbing as you release onto him, clenching and unclenching around his cock. he spurts hot ropes of cum into you, your back arching. his movements slow, riding your orgasms out.

"you know," he pants, burying his face in the crook of your neck, "you've always been my favorite student."

[sqgeism]

𐙚 𓏵𓏵𓏵 𐙚 lovey dovey | various hsr men x gender neutral reader

💌 — ; your boyfriend is tooootally the type of guy to...

love mail — a girl gotta do what a girl gotta do. good NIGHT. (it's 8pm as of posting) another short one :p i'm starting to grow to like writing these...

anaxa's the typa guy to prefer slowburn over anything. he wants to earn you, really. doesn't like it when things are too easy because he appreciates the art of courting, though if you DO make it easy for him he still tries to be romantic. wanting to at least feel like he's doing something right to receive such love from you </3

mydei's is the typa guy to appreciate when you bring him in for a dance while he's in the kitchen. while waiting for a dish to cook or the oven to preheat, you begin to hum a familiar song and take his hand. he lets out that deep chuckle of his, indulging in your antics as you two slowdance to your humming. it's so domestic i threw up hi guys

phainon is ABSOLUTELY the type of guy to cross half a battlefield just to help you during a fight. doesn't care how much he's hurt, the distance he has to run, he's at your side immediately. absolutely tears the enemy apart too like.. he is NOT losing anyone else.

dan heng is soooo the type of guy to love taking pictures of you :) candids, proper photoshoots, during dates.. all of it! he adores having his formerly barren camera roll be full of his brightest part of his day. he also keeps some photographs in his wallet, phonecase, all of that! isn't a big words guy so uses this as his way of appreciation <3

dr ratio is the typa guy to use you as his muse. has used your beauty as inspiration for sculptures and doesn't hold back on his compliments for you. you will STRUGGLE to be insecure with how insistent and sharp he is about how perfectly you're 'carved' to be. will playfully debate w u about it

boothill's the typa guy to let you leave your mark on his mechanical body. stickers, kiss marks if you feel like it, little accessories.. do whatever you want, wears it proudly like a medal. personal favorite is his wedding ring <3

moze is the typa guy to like going invisible before hugging you from behind. it used to startle you, but you've grown to appreciate it. he was only like this in the beginning, since he was quietly embarrassed about affection and wasn't sure how to approach it the way you did. decided this was the best way. although you miss it cause it was cute, you like how he doesn't feel the need to anymore. he's grown comfortable with affection <3

jing yuan is the typa guy to know your little 'questions' and subtle hints to things. ask him if he's hungry? he has your cravings being ordered on the phone. does something look nice on you? he already has his wallet out to pay for it. he also makes sure not to walk too fast and matches your pace, all while of course holding your hand. nothing works anymore because he just knows you too well 💔 gives you kisses on your forehead for trying. if you're unhappy he knows to follow up to your cheek, and if it doesn't work he finishes with a kiss to your lips. that one always works :)

gallagher the typa guy to LOOOVE flirting when your tipsy. sometimes you forget he's your boyfriend and get all giggly like when you first met him, it's his favorite thing. doesn't push it too far ofc because he wants to be respectful when you're under the influence, but it takes a lot of years of practice to be able to hold his constraint when you lean in for a kiss.. all sweet with your hands pressed up against his chest

caelus is totally the typa guy who loves to let you wear his jacket. for one, everybody knows it is his, and you wearing it means he's yours <3 so that means nobody approaches you and he likes it that way. also it's comfortable and fashionable! you never get cold :D (and you see his arms so i suppose it's a bonus)

luka is ONE HUNDRED percent the type of guy to love playfighting but he always lets you win. it's always fun with you, you're always so giggly and play dirty, plus while he can totally counter it, he doesn't. let's you have your fun the whole time! unless you start teasing him and that's when he locks in (to tease you back)

blade is the typa guy to appreciate the fact you patch him up. while you're doing so he mumbles about how perfect you are, how he's undeserving of your kindness as he takes one of your hands and kisses your palm softly, making you cup his cheek as he continues his praise of your amazing care for him. sometimes goes overboard and is too focused on showing you how thankful he is and forgets to have his injuries properly treated :p

luocha is the typa guy to like sleeping shirtless. doesn't know why he started this habit, just knows that it started when you two started to sleep together in the same bed. he liked waking up and really feeling you being there. it meant everything to him, this kind of vulnerability. it was beyond lust, it was trust.

gepard is the type of guy to always be flustered easily. we all know it, we love it, but your favorite moments are when you surprise him while he's on duty. when he's stationed to more isolated parts of belobog, he always seems bored or you know.. maybe just doing his duty. whatever it is, he's clearly too focused to let any emotion slide. so when you show up, all smiley and sweet, your energy bounces off of him and he can't help but get all giggly too. only to realize he's still on watch, gets embarrassed, and you relish in the sweet red on his cheeks.

© sqgeism or wtv (^_^;)

[roanofarcc]

MEDDLING KIDS

pairing: yelena belova x fem!reader (requested)

summary: when your fellow thunderbolts find out you have a crush on yelena, they make it their mission to tease you about it (and maybe help you out a little along the way too) - read part.2 here

warnings: some self-depricating thoughts from reader; crushes and meddling teammates; bucky is team mom

word count. 2.1k || masterlist

It started out as admiration, a simple feeling of awe for Yelena Belova. She was awe-worthy, an ex-window with skills and strength to take down attackers, a natural leader with a dry sense of humor, and a secret softie with an urge to protect those she cared for - whether they were a grown man or a rescued guinea pig. 

Somewhere along the way, as the team formed and moved into the Watchtower, your admiration shifted into something else. You found yourself growing affection toward the blonde, laughing at her jokes that weren’t even that funny, offering to help her with errands to simply be around her, and stuttering when she tossed out the occasional compliment. It was a disaster waiting to happen, you knew that much. 

A crush was one thing, but having one on your roommates/teammates was another. Yelena was hard to read and was so focused on the team that she hardly talked or did anything else. You doubted she time to entertain your feelings. And you doubted she felt the same way.

You were too in your head about it; you knew that. But it was hard not to be when you were constantly around her with a complicated back and forth of your crush and self-doubt. 

“You’re doing it again,” Ava said, eyeing you from across the kitchen table. She begrudgingly enjoyed a breakfast made by Walker, stabbing her eggs with a roll of her eyes as he served you and her plates with a cocky grin. 

“What?” you asked, averting your gaze down onto your plate. 

“Staring like a love-sick school girl,” Ava replied. “And before you try to deny it, don’t.” 

You closed your mouth, swallowing your objection as you sank back in your seat. Walker took a seat at the table, everyone else having already eaten earlier. “Are you talking about her crush on Yelena?” he asked. 

“Oh, my God. Say it louder. I don’t think they heard you in Jersey!” you snapped and buried your head in your hands, mortified. Your crush on Yelena was supposed to remain between you and your mind, no one else. But your new teammates prided themselves on being nosy. Okay, and maybe you weren't the most subtle. Still, they could’ve done you the favor of staying quiet about it. 

Walker laughed. “Come on, it’s kind of obvious. Even Bucky’s mentioned it, and he ignores us most of the time.” 

“I’m going to throw myself off the balcony,” you muttered, sinking lower in your seat. 

Ava even smiled, and you momentarily wished for her and Walker’s bickering over the current topic of conversation. “Don’t be so dramatic. It’s just Yelena, not a shark. I don’t think she’ll bite, unless you ask her to.” 

“I’m not asking her anything,” you hissed, glaring at the two. “This is not one of those crushes where you admit it to the other person, okay?!” 

Ava furrowed her brows. “You have crushes where you don’t tell the person how you feel? What’s the point?” 

It was Walker’s turn to be confused. “You tell people you have a crush on them?” Ava nodded like that was a super easy and normal thing. “That’s crazy.” 

“What do you do about it, exactly?” 

“Nothing,” Walker replied with a shrug.

You gestured to him. “See! Exactly. I’ll do nothing, and eventually it’ll go away.” 

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I expected this kind of emotional constipation from Walker, but not from you. But if you want to die alone, be my guest.” 

The heavy footsteps from combat boots sounded, pulling your, Ava, and Walker’s attention. Much to their humor and your horror, Yelena strode in with her training bag slung over her shoulder and hair tousled from her session. You busied your hands with your mug of coffee and tried to ignore the heat that flooded your face. 

“Who is dying alone?” Yelena asked, dropping her bag on the floor beside the counter and pouring herself a mug of coffee. 

Ava and Walker exchanged glances with you, then with each other. Before you could get ahead of whatever they were about to say, Ava shrugged Yelena’s question off coolly. “Doesn’t everyone?” 

Yelena raised her brows, biting into a piece of toast that Walker had left on a plate on the counter. “Wow, that’s a cheery morning conversation. Do I need to call Bucky and have him up your time at therapy, because I can totally do that.” 

Ava glared playfully at the blonde before phasing beside her, plucking the piece of toast from her grasp, then phasing back into her seat. 

“You bitch,” Yelena said with a grin. 

You thought the conversation would turn onto something else, maybe a new mission or something unrelated to you and your feelings. But you had missed the mischievous glint in Walker’s eyes. He leaned back in his chair and looked around the group. 

“You know how Alexei’s been hounding us for a movie night?” he said, oddly and out of the blue. 

“Oh, yeah,” Ava said, stretching out the last word suspiciously. “Walker and I were thinking about it, and we…well, we kind of feel bad for shutting him down every time.” 

Yelena looked surprised. “You two feel bad about rejecting movie night? Do you have fevers?” 

“No, we just, we’re trying to be more of…” Ava glanced at you, a stupid smile playing on her lips. “Team players.” 

“Yeah,” Walker added, sharing a similar look. “A movie night won’t kill us.” 

You pressed your lips in a thin line, trying to figure out what the hell they were up to. 

“How about you?” Yelena asked, drawing your attention. 

Under the table, Ava kicked your shin hard. You bit your lip and nodded before finding your voice. “S-Sure. That sounds fun.” 

With a shrug, Yelena agreed. “All right. I’ll tell Alexei movie night’s on tonight.” She left the kitchen, focus drawn to her phone as she texted her dad, who had probably forced his way into a morning jog with Bucky. Once she was out of the room and earshot, you glared daggers at the two at the table. 

“What was that?” 

They just smiled, gathered their dishes from their downed breakfast, and left. 

“Uh, where is everyone?” You entered the living room dressed in your pajamas and carrying a blanket. You expected to see the rest of your team arguing over seats or popcorn bowls, but the only person there was Yelena, seated in the middle of the sofa with a large bowl of popcorn in her lap and a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. 

She shrugged, tapping on her phone. Her brows furrowed as she read something on the screen. “Those little assholes all bailed,” she said. 

You mentally cursed at Ava and Walker and started forming some kind of plan to get back at them. “All of them? This was Alexei’s plan, and Bob doesn’t even like to leave the tower.” 

“I know,” Yelena hummed. “But I guess something came up.” She seemed much more indifferent about the team bailing than you, but that was likely due to the fact that you knew Ava and Walker had set you up to be alone with Yelena. How they got the others to agree, you had no idea, but they had. 

You shifted from one foot to another, toying with the blanket in your hand. “Well, I guess movie night’s off then.” 

Yelena looked at you oddly. “Why?” 

“Because no one’s here?” 

She pointed to herself, then at you. “Are we not here?” You rolled your eyes in response, and she smirked. “Come on! That means we don’t have to fight with everyone to pick a movie.” She patted the spot on the couch directly next to her before starting to flip through movie options on the screen. 

Ignoring the quickening of your heartbeat at being alone with Yelena without at least one team member there to prevent any awareness you may cause, you joined her, leaving a good amount of space between the two of you. 

You two settled on a movie rather quickly, and Yelena placed the popcorn bowl in the space between you. For a while, you sat in silence and focused on the film. You tried to ignore the little voice in your head that was in override at your current situation. If you didn’t want things to be weird, you had to bury your crush. Yelena was your friend, your teammate, that was all. 

It wasn’t until the movie was nearly over that Yelena broke the silence. “Are you okay?” 

You looked at her, slightly startled by the question. “Yeah. Why?” 

She shrugged, eyes focused on the screen. “You’ve seemed weird lately.” 

“Oh,” you said quietly. Have you been weird? Around Yelena, maybe. You know you didn’t interact with her as much as you had when you first met, but you didn’t think she’d notice. 

“I guess I should have asked you if you even wanted to watch a movie, huh? I’m not always the best at that. Blame my dad for that.” 

You studied the side of her face, gently illuminated by the glow of TV. Your chest ached; your feelings bubbled against your will. With a sigh, you shook your head and forced yourself to focus on anything else. 

“No, I wanted to,” you said. 

It was her turn to look at you. You felt her eyes and couldn’t help but meet them. A small smile rested on her lips as she moved the empty popcorn bowl onto the coffee table before scooting closer to you. There was still a space between you, a friendly space, but your heart beat faster anyway. 

“Good,” she said, snatching half of your blanket from your lap and tossing it over her legs as she kicked her feet up on the coffee table. “If I’m being honest, I was kind of glad everyone bailed. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I do like those assholes. I really do. But I felt like we hadn’t gotten a chance to, you know, hang out.” 

“You wanted to hang out with me?” The words slipped out before you could even think about it. You had a hard time understanding why Yelena would want to hang out with just you. It wasn’t that you didn’t think you two were friends, but you assumed you were just the kind of friends that exist in a group. 

She stared at you like you had said the most insane thing. “Duh? You are…nice.” 

The softness in her tone unfurled some of the tension and nervousness in your body. “I think you’re nice too.” 

“The others can be nice, but with you I am…I don’t know…comfortable.” She paused as her words sank into you, sending your mind into a whirlwind of confusion. Then, she laughed, deep and raspy. “Sorry, that sounds crazy.” 

“No,” you said quickly. “It doesn’t.” 

Yelena held your gaze for a moment longer before she dragged her eyes back onto the screen. You did the same, a dizzy feeling comfortably wrapping its way around your head. Her words were the only thing you thought about as you began to doze off on the couch, mind filled with her pretty smile and intense gaze. 

Tip-toeing into the tower’s living room, Ava and Walker led the charge. They stopped, peaking around the wall that held the TV. 

“I told you,” Ava whispered, digging her elbow into Walker’s side. 

He wanted to retort with a snarky comment, but refrained, smiling fondly at the sight in front of them. 

Even Alexei managed to stay quiet as he fumbled for his cell phone and held it up. “Oh, this is getting framed for New Avengerz Christmas card,” he said in the quietest voice they’d ever heard from him. He snapped a photo, almost giddy. 

On the couch, with a movie long since over, you and Yelena slept sharing a blanket, your head resting on her shoulder, and her arm draped lazily around you.

The sight was sugary sweet, even enough for Bucky to crack a smile. 

“They look so cozy,” Bob whispered.

Alexei tossed an arm around Bob’s shoulders, causing him to tense up momentarily before relaxing. “That, my boy, is young love.” 

Bucky chuckled softly. “All right, let’s not push it. And-” he looked pointedly between Ava and Walker. “Less meddling, okay?” 

With a roll of her eyes, Ava replied, “Yes, mom.” 

The group broke apart, leaving you and Yelena to spend the rest of the night sleeping together on the couch. 

As they made their way toward their bedroom, Walker knocked his shoulder with Ava’s. “We’re not actually stopping meddling to get them together, right?” 

She eyed him, smirking lightly. “Not a chance.”

[neverendingford]

.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

MW2 Reaction to You Being A Virgin

Warnings: 18+, Implications of Smut, Corruption Kink, Purity Kink, Innocence Kink, Ownership Kink, Age Gap, Implied Slight Yandere Graves Inexperience, Objectification, Dominant MW2, Soft MW2, Gaz is anxious :-( but trying his best, MW2 Trying To Be Smooth, Profanity, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except ‘You’.

Ghost

The fact that you, innocent, are his to love and corrupt sends white-hot anticipation between his legs.

He’s imagined what you’d be like in bed: how you’d take him, the sounds you’d make. Of course he has – practically everyone on Base has.

But now, his fantasies are tinged with something feral. A primal need to show you that he is the best choice for you (even if he doesn’t believe it himself) – the only one strong enough and skilled enough to be yours and to make you his.

He’s fantasised about you looking up at him with doe eyes while he pins your wrists to the mattress, voice meek as you tell him, as if it’s a secret, that you’ve “Never done this before…”

He can’t live without it. The fact that he can – will – be your first time. Satisfy you in ways nobody else will ever be able to compete with.

He’d never admit it, but a dark part of him has plagued him with ideas of ravaging and corrupting you, about making your first time so pleasurable and carnal that nobody will ever be able to satisfy you as he can.

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart,” he tells you, taking your chin between his fingers. He lowers his lips to your ear. You don’t see the dark gleam in his eye. Don’t see the deliciously dark idea cross his mind – the impulse to fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to feel anything, nevermind pain. And he makes a promise to you anyway.

“I’ll take care of you.”

König

“Thought as much.” König’s words are blunt yet sharp.

“Seeing as you have everyone wrapped around your finger, it’s clear you have no regard for the way you conduct yourself.”

You may construe König’s words as mean. Derogatory, even. He means it as a compliment. Even if you don’t know it yet.

“You think I don’t see the way you flaunt yourself in front of the soldiers – thinking that you’ll be able to get away with it without consequence.”

König’s frame towers over you. His gaze is ice, and any trace of the socially anxious soldier you knew is gone.

“I wonder how you like it.” he muses aloud. His voice is tinged with something unreadable. Venomous.

“How you’ll take it. Rough, gentle…” His eyes narrow.

“Mean.”

He’s boxed you in with his stature alone.

“Makes no difference to me,” he tells you. Deceptively calm. And then, an offer. One you can’t refuse.

“I’ll fuck you every which way until I find what makes you scream the loudest.”

Soap

“Oh, really?” he says, eyebrow quirked and a hidden smile teasing his lips.

Johnny really couldn’t care less that you’ve never had sex before. But, the fact that you shared this information with him – albeit after he steered the conversation towards more…intimate topics – gave him hope that you were hinting towards something.

Something that Johnny’s wanted since he realised he was massively, whorishly down bad for you.

From his position opposite you, against the kitchen counter, he takes a step forward.

“I suppose you’re not very experienced then, are you?”

He advances until he’s in front of you. A wolf and a lamb. Close enough that you can smell his cologne.

His eyes are piercing, but there is a softness behind them. Something that writhes and wants and needs.

His hands come to rest upon the counter behind you. Nowhere for you to run. The heat from his body is scorching.

“Though, I’d be more than happy to…” His voice husks. “Beef up your résumé.”

Valeria

Corruption kink to the MAX

Valeria is a territorial, dominant woman – that much is easy to see.

And the fact that you haven’t had anyone else before her just does something to her.

Alters her brain chemistry permanently.

There’s not one soldier, police officer or government official she doesn’t own in Las Almas.

So why shouldn’t she own you, too?

Now she’s thinking of every conceivable way she’s going to take ownership of you.

She thinks about it so often that she struggles to complete her paperwork without having to disperse the issue before she can continue.

But be warned: there will come a day when satisfying herself just won’t cut it. When she’s going to seek you out and ruin you.

“It might hurt at first, mi Amor,” she tells you, hand stroking your cheek, coming down to your jaw. “But trust me when I say that–”

Her hand grips your jaw. Tight. A viper’s strike. A fire burns in her eyes and the corners of her lips curl up in a cruel smile.

“I’ll make it hurt a whole lot more if you don’t do as I say.”

Price

Given his age, Price has had his fair share of experiences.

But that doesn’t harden him to the simple fact that you haven’t.

In his eyes, there’s something endearing about how you’ve yet to give yourself to another person.

Another person that, he hopes, will someday be him.

The idea makes something in him stir. The fact that the difference between your age and his makes him that much more confident in his ability to please you in ways no mere boy can makes him anxious to act.

“Oh. Is that right, Love?” He says, eyes light and his smile dangerous.

“S’ppose you’re waiting for the right person.” His posture is inviting. Tempting. Belies the rush he’s feeling — the desire to have you at his mercy in the most carnal sense.

“Pretty little thing like you, you could have your fill of men.”

He’s angling for something. His face says it all.

He steps towards you. Again. Again. He’s in front of you.

His chest is almost to yours. His smile is shallow now. Strained. Like his pants.

“Probably looking for someone with experience.”

He thrives on the way your chest flutters. His does, too, but it’s masked beneath a  heavy stare.

“And trust me, Love,” his voice is low. A message for you and you alone as he brings his lips to your ear, breath hot against your skin.

“I’ve got plenty to spare.”

Horangi

You don’t hear it for his mask, but Horangi lets out a shuttered breath.

“That’s why you’re always so quiet when sex talk comes up.”

He says it as a fact, but you take it as a question. You nod.

Horangi’s arms unfurl from his chest, come to rest at his sides. He’s looking at you.

Even through the layers of his mask, his gaze is heavy. Leaden.

He steps towards you. His frame, broad, fills your vision.

You can hear how heavy his breathing has become. How thick the air is.

How much he’s trying to restrain himself.

“How about a deal,” he proposes. Commands.

“You give me something to have a nice, long, hard think about,” his hips are to yours. You feel him pressing against you.

“And I’ll give you something to talk about.”

Alejandro

“You surprise me, mi amor,” he says, natural as anything. As if he already knew.

“I’d have thought someone would have swooped in and claimed you by now.”

Truth be told, Alejandro wanted to be that somebody so badly that it made him ache in places he’d rather not think about. Especially when you’re already making containing himself incredibly difficult with that pouting, wide-eyed, innocent look.

God, you had no idea what you were doing to him.

“Or…are you saving yourself for someone specific?”

Before you, his frame is broad and imposing even without all his military gear on.

He takes your chin between his fingers. Tilts your head so your gaze can’t escape his. A shiver runs up his spine at the sound of your breath stuttering.

His words aren’t rhetorical. He’s pulled the answer from you – seen it in your eyes.

“Or are you just waiting for a man who knows how to take care of you?”

Rodolfo

“O-oh!” Rudy chokes out. His cheeks are already giving way to a telltale pink. He tries to cover it.

“But– you’re so pretty and smart and kind – I thought you’d have a boyfriend by now!”

In some ways, Rudy’s a bit of a traditionalist: his mind still jumps to the idea that you’d typically only be intimate with someone you’re already in a relationship with.

Not that he’d judge you if this were not the case for you.

But he sees his chance. And he takes it.

“Well, if you’re not with anyone, then…would you like to go out sometime? With me?”

His eyes are wide and filled with hope – something you’d never have expected from a  man in such a brutal line of work.

Sex is the last thing on his mind right now: truly, he’s so taken in with the idea that you’re single and available that your sexual status means very little to him.

Though, that isn’t to say he hasn’t thought about you like that before, or that he hasn’t spent many a night with his face smothered with pillows as your name escapes from between his lips, panting, moaning.

That’s a little secret for you to uncover later in your relationship…

Graves

“So you’re tellin’ me that no one’s had the privilege of fuckin’ that pretty little ass of yours?”

Graves sure has a way with words.

For all his slimy business practices, this is the one time he’s genuinely surprised. Unable to be slick.

He puts his game face on. Gives you a half-lidded stare and lowers his voice. His heart hammers: he conceals it behind a cool tone.

“Well, colour me impressed, Angel,” he says. A hand comes to the hem of your shirt, takes it between slow, intentional fingers. He has to resist the urge to look at your chest when he pulls the fabric taut.

“And here I was thinkin’ I already knew everything about you.”

He’s moving in before you can analyse his statement. Before you can begin to understand how badly this man has lusted after you – how deeply entrenched in your life he’s become. And all without you knowing.

He places a hand on the wall behind you. Presses himself closer to you.

“How much to let me be the first,” he drawls. Your eyes widen. His thin smile grows.

“And last.”

Gaz

Bless his little cotton socks, he doesn’t know what to do with both this information and himself.

See, despite being incredibly intelligent, Gaz is still the youngest of the 141, so he’s not entirely accustomed to situations like this.

He can’t tell if you’re hinting, flirting, or just telling him something about yourself.

He remembers what Soap taught him, though.

Should a situation arise where someone is flirting with you, just use your intuition and don’t fuck it up.

Gaz leans against the doorframe, almost misses, scrambles to resume his ideal posture.

“Oh, so we’re more similar than you’d think, then.”

He can feel Soap banging his head against a wall. Jesus, Gaz – at least try to impress (Y/N) !

At your raised eyebrow and your playful “Oh?” Gaz coughs. His voice lowers.

“But…” he steps closer. “Maybe we can un-virgin each other.”

Long story short, Gaz has no idea what he’s talking about. But, somehow, his nervous disposition and pretty boy charm have enamoured you. And you may have told him you’d take him up on his offer 👀.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[moonstruckme]

hello!

Could you maybe do poly!marauders x reader and the boys discovering she has a major praise kink!

It doesn’t have to be smutty or it can be whatever you think!!

(ps: you are such an amazing author and the way you write the marauders together and their personalities is impeccable 💋)

This was fun and funny, thanks for requesting!

cw: praise kink, suggestive ending (no smut)

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

Remus makes a soft hissing sound. “Is that how you always chop onions?” 

You look at him sideways. “With a knife? Yes.” 

“Don’t be cheeky,” he says, smiling. “You’re going to hurt yourself.” 

You look down at your cutting board, still chopping but now bemused. “I don’t plan on it.” 

James, who’s appeared over your shoulder, makes a similar sound, hissing through his teeth. “No, sweetheart.” He places his hand over yours on the handle of the knife, silently prompting you to stop. “Rem’s right, you’re going to lose the tips of your fingers.” 

You feel a tad defensive of your chopping skills. “I’ve managed to keep them all ‘til now. What am I doing wrong?” 

“Here, let me.” James eases the knife from your grip, squishing in alongside you in front of the cutting board and taking your onion. “See, you want to curl your fingers in a tiny bit so the knife skims off them. Like a claw.” 

You lean over, peering at his hand. “It looks hard to keep a grip like that.” 

“It takes a bit of practice,” he allows. James slices through the onion a few times with smooth, easy motions, then passes the knife back to you. “Give it a try.” 

You try to hold the onion the way he had, looking at James for approval. He taps your pinkie finger, getting you to curl that one a bit more, before smiling at you. 

“There you go. That’s good, now try cutting down your knuckles.” 

“This feels scarier than my way,” you admit, though you do as he says, skimming the knife down your knuckles and slicing through the onion slowly. 

“No, you’ve got it,” James praises. “That’s really good, angel. You’re a natural.” 

Your cheeks are starting to warm from all the compliments. “Thanks,” you say in a small voice. 

“Don’t go getting shy,” says Sirius, coming in to steal a dry pasta noodle from Remus. He bites down on it with a crack that makes James grimace. “You were so vocal about how you knew the proper way a minute ago.” 

“I still like my way better,” you say, recovering some. 

“Right, well do it this way for our peace of mind, would you?” James’ hand warms the small of your back as he watches you work. “You have very pretty fingers, and I don’t think I’m being too presumptuous in saying that we all like them too much to risk it. Plus, you’ve picked it up so quickly.” 

The heat from your face spreads lower. It’s all you can do to squeak out a meek “okay.” You’re grateful when James leaves to return to his own task. 

A minute later, Remus comes over to check that you’re doing what you’re supposed to. He hums approvingly. “Good girl,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hair. All the air in your lungs dries up. “Thank you, darling. That looks great.” 

“She learned from the best,” James quips. 

Remus hums and kisses his hair too before turning back to his work. It’s only a handful of seconds before they realize you’ve not replied. 

“Dove?” Remus looks at you. 

“Hm?” you hum tightly. 

“You alright?”

“Mhm.” 

James and Sirius have turned to look now, too. You keep your face downturned to the cutting board, but you can feel the weight of three curious stares on the back of your head. Sirius prowls over to you like a cat, taking you by the shoulders and turning you slowly. 

“Humor me for a moment?” he asks, smirking. “I want to test a theory.” 

You’re wound too tightly by this point to respond, his smug teasing pushing you to the edges of sanity. You barely have the wherewithal to set your knife down carefully behind you. 

Your boyfriend’s cold hands find your warm face, shit-eating grin only spreading as he takes his time feeling about your cheeks with his knuckles and fingers. Sirius isn’t always the most perceptive of your boyfriends, but unfortunately, humiliatingly, he’s the first to unravel this particular mystery. 

He asks smoothly, “Do you like it when we tell you how good you are, pretty girl?” 

You’re not sure if he can actually feel the flare of heat to your face at the words, but something about your expression must confirm it. Sirius laughs gleefully. 

“Awe, angel.” James comes over to wrap his arms around you from the side, also laughing. “I didn’t know we were winding you up when we talked like that. I was just trying to compliment what a quick learner you are.” 

“She is a quick learner,” Sirius says in a salacious tone. “You always follow instructions well, don’t you, gorgeous?” 

“Stop,” you plead, covering your face with your hands and forcing Sirius to move his. All three of your boyfriends snicker, James pressing a conciliatory kiss to your burning ear. “It’s not like it happens all the time, you’re just being so much right now. You can’t just call someone—call them—” 

“A good girl?” Remus asks you, and you don’t think he’s putting on a tone like Sirius is, you really don’t, but his regular voice is already so nearly pornographic that the heat in your core spreads anyway. 

“Right,” you say weakly. 

Remus chuckles. “I didn’t mean anything by it, sweetheart. Sorry if I put you in an…uncomfortable position.” 

“No, don’t be sorry.” Sirius is giddy, smugness dialed up to eleven. “This is a revelation. Just think what we could do with this. You’ve given us all a gift, babe.” 

“Oh, our poor girl,” James laughs when you try to hide your face in his shoulder. “Sirius is right, this is good! It’s always good for us to know what you like, right?” 

You’re too flustered to reply, but Remus agrees for you, humming contemplatively. 

“You know,” he says, “if I leave this to simmer for a while, we could make it up to you now, dove. I’d feel awful if I wound you up without giving you any payoff.” 

His tone implies he’s at least partly joking, but Sirius doesn’t take it that way. He has you all in the bedroom in thirty seconds flat, your chopping left to wait for your return. 

[wonderjanga]

Marvel and the YJ

So, Marvel in the YJ. He’s one of their den mothers and all that. So like, in this AU, and in fact in all of my posts so far, Billy’s kept it under wraps that he’s a kid. So, as a result, the YJ think he’s just this really cool big brother (dad (they just don’t know it)) type of dude. Like he’s so nice. And he’s so nice to them especially. Like, he treats all of them the same way he treats adults. He doesn’t doubt their abilities, and when they fail, he’s still there to encourage them to get back up and he doesn’t even make them feel bad about it.

Like, the one time he was asked to spar with the YJ cause they wanted to for funsies I guess, he positively whooped their asses and somehow, someway found a way to still compliment their abilities, even if they didn’t last that long because the battle was a little one-sided. To be fair though, they had asked him not to go easy, which he didn’t. In the end, he got promptly scolded by Canary heavily when she found out he quite literally used Kid Flash as a rag doll and threw him at Aqualad. She said that the entire tape of him having a “friendly spar” with those kids, was essentially just him bullying them. To which Billy tried to defend himself by saying those kids were plenty capable. The defense didn’t work.

Then, there was this time Kon mentioned he couldn’t fly and Marvel offered him a lift. This somehow ended up with Marvel sort of T posing mid air as Kon and Robin hung on one arm, Artemis and Aqualad hung on the other arm, then Kid Flash held onto one leg while M’gann held onto the other.

Flash: “Wow.” *looking up at the YJ and Marvel* “That’s… actually kinda majestic, not gonna lie.”

Superman: *also looking up at Marvel and the YJ* “Is it though? What if one of them falls?”

Flash: “Eh. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

Kid Flash proceeds to almost slip off and fall, which almost gives both the speedster and Kryptonian a heart attack. Thankfully, he catches himself by moving his feet really fast to boost himself back up. Worst part in their opinion is that Marvel didn’t even seem to notice.

Then, there was the time M’gann with Robin about something. Batman was also working nearby on a computer.

M’gann: “Hmm… We need advice.”

Robin!Tim: “We need an adult.”

Batman: *keeping an ear out cause he’s always happy to help one of his kids*

M’gann and Robin!Tim: *thinking before they speak up at the same time* “Marvel.” *they then both walk out of the room to find the Captain*

Batman: *a little upset that Tim did didn’t come to him for help but also a lot more concerned as to why they thought Marvel was a suitable choice to ask for advice, especially considering the fact that just earlier that day, he had caught the man scribbling on one of the meeting tables like a 5th grader scribbling on their desk*

Contrary to what Bruce thought might happen (I.e. something going wrong) apparently Marvel’s advice wasn’t too bad, seeing nothing had gone wrong yet. (He later found out that the two had asked for the best advice on how to incapacitate your enemy quickly. He found this out when he saw Tim throat punch a man. Said man went down almost immediately. When prodded for information for as to why he did that, he proudly proclaimed “Cap taught me”)

Also a little tidbit from the Marvel Cursing post about the YJ thinking that Marvel called one of them a dumb cunt. Courtesy to @helps-the-writing-brain-go

Billy’s recently noticed that the kids are acting funny. Though, he supposes it’s not a bad funny. If anything, whatever’s got them acting weird has got them doing better on missions, but still. It’s weird. What’s weirder is that whenever he compliments them, they shine twice as brighter than they normally do. What’s even weirder than that is that whenever they’ve messed up recently they look twice as nervous. Speaking of which, this was one of the moments they’ve messed up.

Marvel: “So… Uh- that didn’t go so well.”

YJ: *obvious signs of anxiousness on some and subtle on others*

Marvel: “But that’s okay! But that’s okay.” *trying his best to make the anxiety in them disappear* “We just have to try to be better next time. Like, and I hate to say this, maybe try calling in an adult next time? Like me? I could’ve zoomed over and helped you guys.”

YJ: *look at each other*

Artemis: “Wally’s the one who said that we shouldn’t call you in a try to do this on our own.”

Kid Flash: *dramatic gasp* “You know why I said that! It would’ve helped us all if Kaldur had tried to put the fires near the gas tanks out with his water powers!”

Aqualad: “I was busy being attacked by nearly five different people.”

YJ: *dissolve into arguing*

Marvel: “Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wally what did you mean by it would’ve helped you all? Me not being there would’ve been good?” *confused*

YJ: *immediate silence*

Kon: “Wally found out that you think one of us is dumb cunt.”

Kid Flash: “Dude! You guys need to stop ratting me out!”

Marvel: “What.” *stares in befuddlement*

M’gann: “And then he told us. So we’ve been trying to think of ways to not be uh… dumb cunts.”

Marvel: *blinks rapidly* “Again, what? Wally, where did you get this information from?”

Kid Flash: “When you were making cookies! I heard you say blah blah blah, what a dumb cunt.”

Marvel: *still staring in confusion*

Kid Flash: “Then, when I asked what you were talking about, Mary said you were talking about our performance on missions.”

Marvel: “…Okay. I’m going to be completely honest with you. I don’t remember a thing of what you’re talking about.”

Marvel then goes on to make a speech about how they’re wonderful heroes who shouldn’t let one person’s words guide them, especially in risky situations like a mission. He then told them that he was now going to stress bake and make some Minnesota cool whip, jello, fruit, not really salad, salad. (Courtesy to @jedipirateking) On the bright side though, the speech did leave the teens feeling better.

[writeriguess]

Can you do one where katauki has a crush on yn but shes oblivious and she snaps when shes really friendly with kiri? Please and thank you

More Than Just Friends

You always knew Bakugo was a bit... intense. His temper, his scowl, the way he barked orders like everyone around him was a bunch of extras. But you also knew that beneath that rough exterior was someone who truly cared, even if he’d rather set himself on fire than admit it.

You and Bakugo had been in the same class at UA since your first year, and you’d long since gotten used to his explosive personality. You even considered him a friend—sort of. Though, the idea of actually saying that to his face was kind of terrifying.

You were pretty sure he thought you were annoying most of the time. Still, it never stopped you from trying to be friendly. You always made sure to include him in conversations and offer him snacks during training breaks. Sometimes he took them with a quiet “Tch,” and sometimes he just glared at you like you’d offered him poison. Either way, you didn’t let it discourage you.

Today was no different. You had just finished sparring with Kirishima, both of you panting and laughing as you wiped the sweat from your brows. He grinned at you, flashing those sharp teeth of his.

“You’re getting stronger!” Kirishima praised, giving you a hearty slap on the back. You stumbled a bit, giggling.

“You’re just going easy on me,” you replied, nudging him playfully. “But I’ll take the compliment!”

Bakugo was a few meters away, supposedly busy with his own workout, but his crimson eyes were locked onto you and Kirishima, narrowed and seething. He couldn’t hear what you were saying, but he didn’t need to. The sight of you laughing and getting all chummy with his best friend made his jaw clench so tightly it hurt.

You hadn’t even noticed his glare, too busy joking with Kirishima to pay attention to anything else.

“Seriously, though,” Kirishima continued, wiping sweat from his neck. “You’ve been working hard lately. I bet even Bakugo would—”

“Would what?” Bakugo growled, appearing beside you two like a damn shadow. You jumped at his sudden presence, your heart racing from the shock.

“Oh! Hey, Bakugo!” you greeted with a bright smile. “We were just—”

“Don’t care,” he interrupted, eyes fixed on Kirishima like he was seconds away from blowing him to bits. “Ain’t you got somethin’ better to do than flirt with her, Shitty Hair?”

Kirishima blinked, clearly caught off guard. “Whoa, man, we weren’t—”

“Didn’t ask,” Bakugo cut him off, stepping closer until he was practically towering over you. “You done here or what?”

You raised a brow, confused by his sudden hostility. “Uh... we were just training. Why are you acting all weird?”

“‘Weird’?!” he snapped, his hands sparking dangerously. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

You exchanged a glance with Kirishima, who just gave you an awkward smile and a shrug before muttering something about checking on Mina. You barely had time to wave goodbye before Bakugo’s hand wrapped around your wrist, dragging you toward the locker rooms.

“Hey! Bakugo, what’s your problem?!” you protested, trying to pull your arm free.

He didn’t answer until you were out of sight from the others, practically shoving you against the wall. You stared up at him, heart pounding—not from fear, but from the sheer intensity of his gaze.

“What the hell were you doing with him?” he demanded, voice low and dangerous.

You blinked, utterly confused. “Training? Same as you? What’s gotten into you?”

He growled, his palm slamming against the wall next to your head, and you flinched at the loud sound. His face was so close now, his breath brushing against your cheek.

“You’re always hangin’ off him,” he muttered. “Laughin’ and touchin’ him like it’s nothin’. Pisses me off.”

Your eyes widened. “Bakugo... are you jealous?”

His glare intensified, and his lips pulled back into a snarl. “As if! Like I’d give a shit about who you waste your time with!”

You just stared at him, and something seemed to crack in his expression. He clenched his jaw and looked away, frustration practically radiating off him. You softened, reaching up to lightly touch his arm.

“Hey,” you said gently. “If you wanted to train with me, you could’ve just asked.”

His eyes snapped back to yours, and he scoffed, but it sounded forced. “Like I’d ask for somethin’ so damn stupid.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how flustered he was, despite how hard he tried to hide it. “You’re so bad at this,” you teased.

“Bad at what?” he barked, glaring at you again.

You rolled your eyes. “Bad at admitting how you feel. You like me, don’t you?”

Bakugo went rigid, his cheeks flushing red. “Shut up,” he muttered, looking anywhere but at you.

Your smile softened, and you tugged on his arm to make him look at you again. “You know, you could’ve just told me instead of blowing up on Kirishima. He’s your friend, you know.”

“Tch. Dumbass didn’t even notice I was gonna murder him,” Bakugo muttered.

You giggled, and to his surprise, you leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. He froze, his face going even redder.

“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” you whispered.

His eyes widened before his hands suddenly gripped your waist, yanking you closer until your chest was pressed against his. You gasped, and he leaned down, lips brushing against yours in a way that made your knees weak.

“You really are an idiot,” he whispered against your mouth. “Dancin’ around with other guys like that when you’re mine.”

Your face heated up. “I didn’t know I was yours,” you shot back, trying to sound confident despite how his proximity was making your heart race.

“You are now,” he growled before finally capturing your lips in a rough, possessive kiss. You melted into him, hands curling into his shirt as he practically devoured you, like he’d been holding back for far too long.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was heavy, and his forehead rested against yours. You were just as breathless, your fingers still gripping his shirt like you were afraid he might pull away.

“Bakugo...”

“Katsuki,” he corrected, his voice softer than usual. “Call me Katsuki when it’s just us.”

Your heart fluttered, and you couldn’t help but smile up at him. “Alright... Katsuki.”

He gave a satisfied grunt, then smirked, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “You’re gonna stay away from that idiot, got it? Only need you lookin’ at me like that.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile never faded. “Possessive much?”

He leaned down to nip at your bottom lip, making you squeak. “Damn right I am. You’re mine, and I’m not lettin’ anyone else get any ideas.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him back down into another kiss. This time it was softer, more genuine, and when you pulled away, he didn’t look nearly as pissed.

“Fine,” you whispered. “I’m yours.”

Katsuki didn’t bother replying, just kissed you again like he was making up for lost time.

[velvetvisionsaurora]

Alpha ATEEZ x Assistant Omega Reader

Warnings: omega reader, alpha ateez, scenting, heats, ruts, slow burn, eventual smut, forced command, more to come!

When Y/n accepts a position as assistant to alpha K-pop group ATEEZ, she's prepared with professional skills and scent blockers to hide her omega status. What she's not prepared for is the immediate, inexplicable connection she feels with all eight members—a resonance that defies her careful boundaries.

As Y/n becomes eerily attuned to their needs, her suppressed omega nature begins to emerge: purring for the first time in years, responding to alpha growls, feeling safe in ways she never has before. When a protective incident reveals the depth of the members' attachment to her, Y/n must confront the possibility that what binds them together is something ancient and profound.

Authors note: Double post because I missed yesterday! If you haven’t read Compass of the Heart, you may not know but I have twin toddlers, and with preschool ending, summer things and my full time job it’s going to take me a minute to adjust to finding writing time. So if things do get wacky please don’t worry, if I’m taking a longer break I will always let you know!

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Masterlist Ko-Fi☕️

Chapter 12: Awakening

There was something about Yunho’s easy energy that had always put you at ease, and today especially. 

After finishing breakfast, you both moved to the living room. You settled onto the couch with your tablet, still hoping to get some work done despite Hongjoong's orders, while Yunho sprawled on the floor with his gaming controller.

"You know," he said, pausing his game setup to look at you, "you don't have to pretend to work just because I'm here. It's supposed to be a rest day."

"I'm not pretending," you protested, though the way you were aimlessly scrolling through the same schedule you'd already memorized suggested otherwise.

Yunho grinned, setting down his controller and moving to sit beside you on the couch. "Come on, when's the last time you just... relaxed? No schedules, no coordinating, no making sure eight chaotic alphas don't burn the house down?"

You considered his question seriously. "I... honestly can't remember."

"Exactly," he said, gently taking the tablet from your hands and setting it aside. "So today, we're going to practice the art of doing absolutely nothing productive."

"I don't know how to do nothing," you admitted, feeling oddly lost without your usual tasks to focus on.

"Lucky for you, I'm an excellent teacher," Yunho replied with that bright smile that never failed to make you feel lighter. "Step one: forget about work. Step two: find something that makes you happy. Step three: do that thing."

"And what if work makes me happy?" you challenged playfully.

"Then you need better hobbies," he shot back, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "What did you like to do before you became our incredibly efficient but slightly workaholic assistant?"

The question made you pause. It had been so long since you'd thought about leisure activities that weren't somehow connected to your job. "I used to read a lot. And I liked cooking, though I never had much time for elaborate meals."

"See? We can work with that," Yunho said enthusiastically. "Reading and cooking. Both perfectly valid ways to spend a forced day off."

"You make it sound so simple," you said, though you were smiling despite yourself.

"It is simple. You're the one making it complicated," he replied, then reached over to gently poke your nose. "Stop overthinking everything, Tulip."

The casual use of Wooyoung's nickname for you, delivered with such fond affection, made your heart flutter unexpectedly. "Did you just—"

"What? Call you Tulip?" Yunho's grin widened at your flustered expression. "I like it. It suits you. Sweet and beautiful, but stronger than people expect."

Heat rose to your cheeks at the compliment. "You can't just say things like that."

"Why not? It's true," he said simply, his expression growing more serious. "You are beautiful, Y/n. Inside and out. And stronger than you give yourself credit for."

The sincere way he spoke, the gentle intensity in his eyes, made your breath catch. "Yunho..."

"What?" he asked softly, leaning slightly closer. "Is it wrong of me to want you to see yourself the way we see you?"

The space between you seemed to shrink without either of you consciously moving. You could see the golden flecks in his brown eyes. 

"How do you see me?" you whispered, the question escaping before you could stop it.

"Like you're precious," he replied without hesitation, his hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. "Like you're exactly what we've all been missing without knowing it. Like you're home."

Your heart hammered against your ribs as his thumb traced across your cheekbone with reverent gentleness. "Yunho, I—"

"Can I kiss you?" he interrupted softly, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again. "Please?"

The simple request, asked with such tender hope, made your omega purr with satisfaction even as your rational mind tried to catch up with what was happening. Instead of answering with words, you found yourself nodding, leaning into his touch.

When his lips met yours, the kiss was different from the passionate encounters you'd shared with Hongjoong, Wooyoung and Seonghwa. This was soft, sweet, almost tentative—like Yunho was savoring every second, memorizing the feel of you against him.

When you finally broke apart, both breathing slightly harder, Yunho rested his forehead against yours with a contented sigh.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he admitted quietly.

"Really?" you asked, still feeling slightly dazed from the kiss.

"Really," he confirmed, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Now, how about we find you a good book while I set up my game? We can be unproductive together."

You laughed softly, the sound making Yunho's smile brighten even further. "That sounds perfect."

As he settled back onto the floor with his controller and you curled up on the couch with a book from their impressive collection, you couldn't help but marvel at how right this felt—spending a quiet morning with Yunho, no schedules or responsibilities, just the two of you existing in comfortable companionship.

---

Yunho had retreated to his room after lunch, the sounds of his gaming session drifting down the hallway—enthusiastic exclamations punctuated by the rapid clicking of his controller. You'd assured him multiple times that you were fine, that he didn't need to hover, and eventually he'd relented enough to give you some space while still remaining within earshot.

Now you found yourself sprawled on the living room couch, staring at the ceiling and trying to understand what was happening to your body. The restless energy that had started this morning was only getting stronger, making it impossible to sit still or focus on anything for more than a few minutes.

Your omega felt... different. More aware, more attuned to the house around you. Ever since yesterday's revelation, since the members had begun openly acknowledging what you were and responding to you with increased affection and protectiveness, something fundamental had shifted in your nature.

It was as if spending months surrounded by eight alphas while suppressing your omega instincts had created a dam that was now beginning to crack. Their casual touches, their protective hovering, their unguarded affection—it was awakening parts of your omega that you'd kept carefully dormant.

After twenty minutes of fruitless lounging, the restless energy won out. You pushed yourself off the couch and began moving through the house, drawn by an inexplicable need to... what? Clean? Organize? Care for the space that housed your alphas?

The thought should have startled you—your alphas—but instead it felt natural, right in a way that made your omega purr with satisfaction.

You started in the living room, straightening throw pillows and folding the blankets that had been left draped over chairs. The simple acts of bringing order to their space felt surprisingly fulfilling, each small task soothing the restless itch beneath your skin.

Moving to the kitchen, you found dishes from breakfast still waiting in the sink. Without thinking, you rolled up your sleeves and began washing them, the warm water and routine motions helping to calm your agitated omega. As you worked, you found yourself humming softly—another omega behavior you'd suppressed for so long it felt strange and wonderful to let it emerge naturally.

The laundry was next. Following your nose to the utility room, you discovered several loads of clothes waiting to be sorted and washed. As you began separating dark from light, your hands stilled suddenly on a particular shirt.

You lifted the garment to your face before you could stop yourself, breathing in deeply. The scent that filled your senses was unmistakably Hongjoong's—sandalwood and ocean breeze, rich and masculine and completely intoxicating. Your omega responded immediately, a soft whine escaping your throat at the pure rightness of his scent.

Confused, you checked your scent blocker patch with one hand. It was still firmly in place, still functioning. So why could you suddenly smell...?

Curious now, you rifled through the pile of clothes, bringing different items to your nose. A soft sweater that smelled like vanilla and cedarwood—Seonghwa's scent, warm and comforting and safe. A dance practice shirt that carried the bright, energizing scent of citrus and clean linen that could only be Yunho's.

A black t-shirt that made your knees weak with its potent combination of cinnamon and dark chocolate—San's scent, spicy and tempting and utterly masculine. Your omega practically purred at the intensity of it, your body responding with a heat that had nothing to do with the temperature of the room.

Another shirt, this one carrying the rich, earthy combination of soil and pine that belonged to Mingi. The scent brought memories of his protective presence, his gentle touches, the way he'd looked at you with such fierce care. Your omega whined again, a soft sound of longing that you couldn't suppress.

What was happening to you? How were you suddenly able to detect their scents through your blocker? You touched the patch again, pressing on it to make sure it was properly adhered, but it seemed to be working normally.

Yet here you were, surrounded by the distinct scents of your alphas, your omega responding to each one with increasing desperation. When you encountered a hoodie that carried the light, alluring scent of musk and cherry blossoms—Yeosang's scent, subtle but unmistakable—you actually had to grip the edge of the washing machine to steady yourself.

The lively, invigorating scent of bergamot and ginger from one of Wooyoung's shirts made your omega keen with want. Even the crisp, refreshing scent of apples and mint from Jongho's workout clothes affected you, despite him being the youngest of the pack.

By the time you'd loaded the first batch of clothes into the washing machine, you were practically trembling with need. Your omega was in overdrive, responding to the concentrated scents of eight different alphas with an intensity that left you breathless and confused.

The overwhelming intensity of their scents was becoming too much to bear. With shaking hands, you made your way to the guesthouse, your omega whining softly at leaving the den that smelled so perfectly of your alphas. You needed to change your scent blocker—maybe the current one was malfunctioning, allowing their scents to break through when it shouldn't.

In your bathroom, you carefully removed the patch behind your ear and replaced it with a fresh one from your supply. The relief was immediate but incomplete—the scents around you dulled to manageable levels, but your omega seemed to grow even more anxious in response.

It was as if blocking their scents again had triggered something deeper, a desperate need to care for the alphas who had protected you, who had shown you such fierce loyalty and affection. Not in the way omega stereotypes suggested—submissive and mindless—but in the way you naturally wanted to care for people who mattered to you.

Your hands moved without conscious thought as you returned to the kitchen, mixing ingredients for cookies you didn't remember deciding to make. The motions felt automatic, instinctual, your omega driving you to provide comfort and nourishment for your pack.

While the cookies baked and dinner continued to simmer, you found yourself climbing the stairs to Yunho's room with a plate of the fresh-baked treats. You knocked softly on his door before entering, finding him absorbed in what appeared to be an intense battle sequence.

"I brought you some cookies," you said softly, not wanting to startle him during what looked like a crucial moment.

Yunho paused his game immediately, turning to look at you with an expression of pure wonder. His eyes tracked your movements as you set the plate beside his setup, then noticed his empty water glass.

"Let me refill this for you," you murmured, already reaching for the cup.

"You don't have to—" he started, but you were already heading back downstairs.

When you returned with his freshly filled glass, setting it carefully within reach, Yunho's smile was radiant—that beautiful, sunshine expression that never failed to make your heart flutter.

"Thank you Tulip," he said, his voice warm with genuine appreciation and something deeper, something that made your omega practically glow with satisfaction.

The praise, the gratitude, the sheer happiness in his expression triggered something primal in your omega. Before you could stop yourself, a soft purr rumbled from your chest, followed by a delighted chirp that sounded foreign to your own ears but felt completely natural.

You fled the room immediately, embarrassed by the omega sounds you couldn't control, but not before you caught the way Yunho's eyes widened and his mouth fell slightly open.

Back in the kitchen, you threw yourself into finishing dinner preparations, trying to ignore the way your omega continued to purr softly with contentment at having pleased one of your alphas.

---

In his room, Yunho sat frozen, staring at his game screen where his character had been brutally defeated while he'd been distracted. But he couldn't bring himself to care about the loss, not when the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard was still echoing in his ears.

That purr. That soft, musical chirp.

His omega had made those sounds for him, because of him, in response to his simple gratitude. The realization sent a wave of alpha satisfaction through him so intense it was almost overwhelming.

He'd heard omega sounds before, of course—in videos, in passing—but nothing had prepared him for the effect of hearing them from you. Your omega expressing contentment and pleasure at caring for him, at receiving his praise.

His hands moved automatically to restart the level, but his mind was entirely focused on one desperate thought: he needed to hear those sounds again.

The cookies you'd brought him sat forgotten on the plate as Yunho tried to process what had just happened. Your omega was awakening, responding to them with increasing openness, and the sounds you were making were the most perfect thing he'd ever experienced.

His alpha was practically vibrating with the need to find you, to praise you more, to coax more of those incredible sounds from your omega. But he forced himself to stay put, knowing that crowding you right now might scare your newly awakening omega back into hiding.

Still, as he attempted to refocus on his game, Yunho couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face. Your omega had purred for him. Had chirped with happiness at his simple thanks.

And he was absolutely determined to make it happen again.

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[pohyuck]

where pretend becomes real

lee donghyuck x reader — a variety show marriage. a fake spouse. cameras in your face every day. (5.9k)

• in celebration of our fullsun’s birthday!! this story is inspired by the show we got married, though please note that it may contain some inaccuracies, as it’s not strictly based on the show’s actual format or segments

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

you almost didn’t sign the contract.

the offer had come out of nowhere. an email from your manager, phrased with cautious excitement. 'we got married' was being rebooted after years off air. you’d be one of the main couples, if you agreed.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

you reread the email several times before closing your laptop and calling your best friend. “do i look like i have time to fake a marriage right now?” “you’ve literally been single for two years,” she said flatly. “yeah, but at least that’s authentic.”

the truth was, your agency thought it would be good exposure. and part of you, deep down, was curious. about what it would feel like. to pretend to fall in love. about whether pretending might start to feel real.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

donghyuck said yes because he thought it’d be funny. the managers barely got the words out. “they want you for we got married” he started laughing before they finished. “you’re joking. that’s the show where idols act in love for strangers, right?”

but later that night, lying in bed, he scrolled through old clips of the show. something about the way those couples looked at each other in the last episodes stuck with him.

he could fake chemistry. easy. he’d been doing that for stages and fan signs since he was fifteen.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

the camera lens captured everything.

your nervous fidgeting, the way your eyes darted around the unfamiliar set, the tiny puff of breath you let out when the PD said, “action.”

you weren’t a stranger to the industry, but this was different. this wasn’t acting. this was you, paired with someone you’d never met, pretending to be newlyweds on national television.

and then he walked in.

lee donghyuck. better known to most as haechan—nct’s infamous sunshine with a mischievous streak and a smile that could disarm even the toughest senior idol.

you have seen clips of him before: teasing his members and turning charm into a weapon. and now, he stood in front of you, grinning like he already knew all your secrets.

“oh?” he said, head tilting slightly. “they really blessed me with a pretty wife.” you blinked. “they told me my husband would be cute, but i didn’t expect him to flirt five seconds in.”

he laughed, hand coming up to hide his mouth. “gotta give the fans what they want. don’t worry, i’m not always like this.”

“…actually, i am”

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

the first few shoots were awkward, as expected.

you learned quickly that haechan had no shame in front of the camera. he was a professional flirt, tossing out compliments and jokes with effortless precision. every time you thought you had the upper hand, he’d flip the script.

"you’re not wearing your ring," he pointed out during episode two, eyes flicking to your bare finger as the two of you sat across from each other in a café.

"i forgot," you said, deadpan. "i left it next to the dignity i lost when they made us do couple yoga yesterday." he cracked up, but you caught the flicker of something behind his smile. maybe he hadn’t expected you to match his energy.

after that, it became a rhythm. witty back-and-forths. glances that lingered a second too long. moments that should’ve been harmless, like sharing an umbrella, decorating your "married" apartment, brushing flour off his cheek during a baking segment, but somehow weren’t.

you told yourself it was the cameras. the setting. the editing. they were supposed to make it look romantic.

still, you couldn’t help but notice the way haechan’s teasing softened when the staff weren’t around. how he started remembering the smallest things about you. how, during the fourth shoot, when your heel broke and you stumbled slightly, he caught you with an ease that felt too natural.

he blinked down at you. you blinked up at him.

then someone yelled "cut" and the moment disappeared like smoke.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

it was around episode six when things started to shift.

you were filming a camping trip. just the two of you, a tent, a rented suv, and several production crew members pretending not to exist.

after the marshmallow roasting and scripted couple games, you found yourselves sitting by the fire, wrapped in matching blankets. it was one of those rare lulls where neither of you felt like performing.

"are you always like this?" you asked. he glanced at you. "like what?"

“like you’re constantly trying to win some imaginary flirting competition."

haechan smirked. "would it kill you to admit i’m charming?" "i think the entire population already knows that," you said flatly.

his smile widened. "so you do think i’m charming." you groaned, pulling the blanket over your face. "regret. immediate regret."

but he didn’t tease you further.

instead, he sat in quiet beside you. the fire crackled. you could hear distant rustling, maybe a staff member adjusting the camera angle, but the world felt oddly still.

you peeked out from under the blanket. haechan was watching the flames, his expression unusually unreadable.

"you know," he said after a moment, voice low, "i thought this would be easier."

you turned to him. "what do you mean?"

he didn’t look at you. "i thought i’d be better at pretending."

you didn’t answer. you weren’t sure you could.

because the truth was, you were struggling too.

not because you didn’t like him.

but because maybe you did.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

the next few shoots blurred together.

the couple trip to busan. the matching outfits. the accidental hand-holding that neither of you pulled away from. the unscripted glances. the too-long hugs. the inside jokes that the cameras didn’t catch.

you still called it acting. he still called it fan service.

but the way his hand always found the small of your back? the way you leaned into his shoulder when you were tired between takes?

that wasn’t in the script.

neither was the night he texted you after filming, a message that simply said:

"are you okay? you seemed quiet today."

you stared at it for too long before replying:

"yeah. just tired. thanks."

he didn’t say anything else.

but the next shoot, he brought you your favorite coffee order without asking.

you didn’t thank him. he didn’t mention it. the moment passed quietly, like all the others.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

it happened on an off day. no cameras. no script. just the two of you, killing time between schedules.

your manager had dropped you off early at the company building. haechan’s studio was just a floor above, and somehow you ended up in the practice room together. music played low from the speakers, nothing specific, just some playlist on shuffle. you were stretched out on the wooden floor with a water bottle pressed to your cheek, eyes closed.

"you know you’re allowed to sit on the couch," haechan said, voice light.

"i’m cooling off," you mumbled. "this floor has healing properties. don’t question them."

he laughed, sitting cross-legged beside you, watching as the sunlight through the window caught the edge of your hair.

for a while, neither of you said anything. it was easy, being quiet with you. easier than it should’ve been.

he leaned back on his hands, eyes tracing the outline of your face.

you were still in your casual clothes, makeup faded from earlier, a faint sheen of sweat on your skin from dance practice. there was nothing particularly special about the moment.

you opened one eye, looking at him sideways.

"what?"

"nothing," he said, too quickly.

you sat up a little. not fully, just enough to look at him properly.

"do i have something on my face?"

"no," he said again, quieter this time. "you just... look different when you’re not acting."

you blinked. "we’re not acting most of the time."

"aren’t we?" he asked. and then smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "sometimes i forget what’s real."

you watched him carefully, the air going still between you.

"i don’t think it matters anymore," you said eventually, voice soft. "real or fake. you’re still here."

he looked at you like you’d said something too big. like he hadn’t expected you to cut through him so cleanly.

you turned away after a second, brushing your hair out of your face. he didn’t move.

and that’s when it hit him.

not with fireworks. not with a romantic soundtrack or some grand emotional monologue. just a quiet, breathless awareness that settled into his chest like gravity.

he liked you.

he thought about you even when he didn’t have to. texted you jokes late at night, rehearsed conversations he wanted to have with you while waiting in traffic. his mood shifted depending on whether you smiled at him that day. he’d started looking forward to filming, not because of the exposure or the paycheck, but because it meant he got to stand next to you for a few hours and pretend you were his.

and it wasn’t pretend anymore.

haechan looked down at his hands. his palms were a little sweaty.

he was in trouble.

he stayed quiet after that, afraid that if he opened his mouth, the truth might spill out too fast.

you didn’t notice the way he looked at you after that.

but he did. and he didn’t stop.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

he didn’t flirt as much anymore.

at least, not in the same way.

it was subtle, the way things shifted. haechan still joked, still teased, but his words started landing softer. less edge, more care. the things he used to say to get a reaction out of you—calling you pretty just to see you roll your eyes, leaning too close just to fluster you— were all starting to feel real.

you didn’t notice.

or maybe you did, but refused to mind it.

when you got a sore throat from overworking and showed up to set with a raspy voice, he handed you a warm honey drink without a word. you assumed a staff member gave it to him.

when you forgot your phone charger during an overnight shoot and muttered about your battery dying, he offered you his without hesitation.

"don’t you need it?"

"i can live without my phone for one night," he said, smiling.

when your hands were cold in the middle of winter filming, he tucked one of them into his coat pocket with his.

you laughed. "you’re just doing this for the cameras." "yeah," he said. but he wasn’t looking at the cameras.

you brushed it off. he was haechan. playful, dramatic, full of unnecessary skinship. you’d seen him flirt with microphones, charm auntie fans, do aegyo on command like it was second nature.

so when he started waiting for you after your other schedules, just to walk you out, when he started sending you good morning texts before call time, and good night ones after wrap, when he got weirdly quiet whenever someone on set joked about you two being a real couple, you didn’t think too hard about it.

because thinking too hard would mean acknowledging that it felt different now. that he felt different now.

you told yourself it was still fake. that he was just that good at his job.

you didn’t notice the way his gaze lingered on you when you weren’t looking.

didn’t catch how he started memorizing your moods, your habits, your silences. how he stopped filling every silence with jokes and started letting you be.

you stayed blissfully, stubbornly unaware.

and haechan let you.

because even though he wanted you to see it—even though his feelings were starting to rise up like a tide, impossible to hold back—he was still scared.

scared that if he said it out loud, the spell would break. scared that you didn’t feel it too. scared that you’d laugh, like it was just another punchline.

so instead, he kept showing you in all the quiet ways.

and you, heart fluttering in ways you still refused to name, kept calling it coincidence.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

episode thirteen.

you weren’t nervous, exactly. but you did reapply your lip tint twice in the van on the way over.

the producers had teased a surprise guest for today’s shoot, and variety shows loved nothing more than forced love triangles. you braced for awkward. but you didn’t brace for him.

cha sungwoo.

tall. handsome. charming in that effortless, trained-for-this way. you’d filmed a drama together almost two years ago, and for a brief moment, fans thought the on-screen chemistry might have spilled off-camera. it hadn’t. but the rumors stuck anyway.

"look who it is," sungwoo said as you stepped onto set, voice warm. "didn’t think i’d get to see you again on a fake honeymoon."

you smiled automatically. "long time no see."

beside you, haechan shifted his weight.

he didn’t say anything at first. just watched. his expression was unreadable, but his silence was louder than anything.

finally, he spoke.

"should i be worried?" he asked, light tone cutting sharp beneath the surface. "or is this just good tv?"

"depends," sungwoo said, amused. "are you the jealous type?"

haechan smiled. not the usual, teasing kind—the one that reached his eyes. this one was smaller. flatter.

"only when i have a reason to be."

you laughed, trying to brush it off, but your fingers tightened slightly around the sleeve of your jacket.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

the shoot moved on. it was supposed to be funny and competitive—three of you cooking dinner together like a sitcom setup.

you were chopping vegetables when sungwoo leaned in behind you, his hands brushing yours.

"still bad with a knife?" he said, voice low near your ear.

you didn’t even flinch. "i’ve improved."

but behind you, haechan dropped the spatula he was holding.

you turned. "you okay?"

he bent to pick it up, muttering, "yeah. slipped."

but when he stood again, his eyes didn’t meet yours.

they were still on sungwoo.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

later, the three of you sat at the low table, eating what barely passed as a meal. the cameras were still rolling, but things had turned quiet.

sungwoo was telling a story—something about a late-night shoot and a prank. you were laughing, loose and warm in a way you hadn’t noticed before.

and haechan was watching you.

his chopsticks hung in mid-air. his shoulders tense. his jaw set like he was biting back words.

you looked at him. "what?"

he blinked. "nothing."

you tilted your head. "you’re acting weird."

"just tired."

"you sure?"

he didn’t answer right away. then he leaned in, low voice meant only for you.

"you act like none of this matters," he said quietly.

you stared at him. "what?"

"this." he gestured, vague. "the show. the pretending. him."

you searched his face, unsure if this was part of the bit or something else entirely.

"we’re just filming, haechan."

his eyes didn’t leave yours.

"maybe you are."

the words hung there. suspended between you, fragile and real.

you opened your mouth to respond—but the PD clapped, announcing a break, and the spell broke with it.

haechan stood up without another word and walked off set.

you sat there, blinking, unsure why your chest felt so tight.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

you didn’t call haechan after the shoot.

you almost did. twice.

once, when you got home and dropped your bag on the floor like something was missing.

once more, in the middle of the night, when you were staring at your ceiling and couldn’t stop replaying the way he looked at you before he walked off set.

you didn’t call. you couldn’t.

so instead, you called her. your best friend. the one who knew the before version of you, before the show, before the cameras, before him.

"hey, everything alright?" chiya asked, her voice quiet over the line. soft with sleep but already worried.

"can i come over?"

"always."

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

her apartment was warm. messy in the way homes should be. you sat on the floor wrapped in an old hoodie you’d left there months ago, your fingers curled around a mug of tea neither of you remembered making.

you told her everything. not just about today, but about all of it.

the way filming used to feel like a joke, like a role you could slip into and out of without thinking.

how that changed.

how he changed.

how you changed.

"today… he looked at me like he didn’t recognize me," you said. "like he was hurt, and trying really hard not to be."

she didn’t speak, letting the silence hold space for you.

"and when sungwoo showed up, it felt like the air shifted. like i’d stepped into a room i didn’t belong in anymore."

"because of haechan?" she asked gently.

you nodded.

"he didn’t say much. just… one thing."

"what’d he say?"

you swallowed.

"he said, ‘you act like none of this matters.’"

the words still echoed in your head. they’d been soft, almost careful. like he wasn’t trying to pick a fight. like he was asking you to see him.

"and i didn’t know what to say. because i didn’t know how to tell him that i think it does matter. more than it should. more than i want it to."

your voice shook.

"and i’m scared. i’m scared that maybe this isn’t just acting anymore. not for me."

your best friend moved closer, resting her chin on your shoulder like she used to when you were both teenagers, crying over things that felt too big for your hearts to hold.

"have you ever been in love before?" she asked quietly.

"not like this."

you weren’t even sure it was love. but it was something. something that blossomed slowly, and then all at once, when you weren’t looking.

"he makes me feel like i’m being seen. not the version of me that the cameras want. just... me. and when he looks at me, sometimes i feel like he’s about to say something he doesn’t know how to say."

"and what do you want him to say?"

you paused. the answer hurt to admit.

"that i’m not just imagining it."

your friend reached over, squeezing your hand.

"you’re not," she said. "i don’t even need to meet him to know. you’re not the kind of person who gets confused about this stuff. you’d never fall for someone unless it was real. and it sounds like you already have."

your eyes stung.

"i didn’t mean to."

"you never do."

she pulled you into a hug, and for the first time since you wrapped that scene, you let the weight of it press down on you. not the confusion. not the fear. just the feeling.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

episode fourteen

you weren’t sure how to act around him now.

you told yourself you’d just play it cool. do what you always did: slip into character, smile when you were supposed to, laugh when the producers gave you a cue, go home.

but when you saw haechan waiting on set, leaning against the kitchen counter in the little “home” you’d built together over the past months, sleeves pushed up, hair still damp from styling, something inside you stilled.

he looked up when you walked in.

and then he smiled.

small. real. tired, maybe. but his eyes softened the way they always did when he looked at you.

"hey," he said, voice gentle.

"hey," you replied, and the word felt different in your mouth. too small for how much you’d missed him in just a few days.

he opened his mouth like he was going to say more, but the PD clapped loudly and called for standby.

you both moved into position like professionals.

but you couldn’t stop glancing at him.

and he didn’t look away when you did.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

the day’s concept was domestic bliss.

folding laundry. grocery shopping. making dinner together. things that looked boring on paper but, somehow, felt like the most intimate parts of the fake marriage.

just pretend it’s real, the writer joked before you started rolling.

you wanted to say, it’s getting harder to pretend it’s not.

you were standing beside haechan at the sink, rinsing vegetables, when your fingers brushed under the running water. you flinched slightly.

he didn’t.

his hand stayed against yours just for a second too long.

your heart skipped, and you hated how noticeable it felt. how loud it became in your own chest.

"you okay?" he asked, voice low.

you nodded too quickly. "just cold water."

he didn’t call you out on it. but his eyes didn’t leave yours for a long time.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

after filming, you stayed behind for a bit. the cameras were off, the crew busy packing up equipment. haechan was still in the kitchen, stacking plates to be returned to props.

you didn’t know why you lingered. only that you didn’t want to leave yet.

he looked up, sensing you there.

"you didn’t call," he said quietly.

you froze. "what?"

"after the last shoot. i thought maybe you would. or… maybe i hoped you would."

you opened your mouth. closed it again.

"i didn’t know what to say," you said eventually.

he nodded, like he understood. like he’d expected that.

then, after a long pause

"you don’t have to say anything," he murmured. "but i need you to know… i wasn’t acting. not with that."

you met his eyes. for once, there was no smirk. no sarcasm. nothing playful to hide behind.

just him.

just the truth.

your breath caught in your throat.

but before you could speak, a crew member popped their head in.

"you guys done? we need to lock up soon."

haechan glanced away. the moment passed like a held breath.

he nodded slowly. "yeah. we’re done."

but as you walked out of that little house, your fingers still tingling from the brush of his, you knew something had shifted for good.

you weren’t just playing pretend anymore.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

it was the last shoot before the final week.

the set felt more quiet than usual, like the whole crew was holding their breath. maybe because everyone knew this was the last stretch—the end of the show, the end of pretending.

you and haechan moved through the day’s scenes with practiced ease, but the easy rhythm from before was gone. now, everything between you felt heavy, like invisible strings tugging tighter with every look and every touch.

you were sitting on the couch, pretending to scroll through your phone, but you weren’t really looking at the screen. your eyes kept flicking to haechan, who was sitting beside you, hands folded awkwardly on his lap.

he glanced at you once, then quickly looked away, face unreadable.

the silence between you stretched longer than usual, thick and uncomfortable.

finally, you broke it, voice barely above a whisper.

“are you okay?”

he didn’t answer right away. then, without meeting your eyes, he said, “i’m fine.”

you didn’t believe him.

he shifted in his seat, fingers twitching like he wanted to say more but couldn’t.

the director called “cut,” and the crew buzzed quietly as they reset the next scene, but you and haechan stayed still, caught in a space where neither wanted to cross the line first.

he looked over, voice low, almost rough.

“this… all of this. it’s harder than i thought.”

you swallowed, heart racing.

“yeah.”

“i don’t want it to end,” he said, eyes finally locking with yours.

you felt your breath hitch. everything inside you was screaming to reach out, to tell him you felt the same, but the words stuck.

“me neither,” you whispered.

he gave a small, sad smile.

“what do we do now?”

you looked down, fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“i don’t know.”

but maybe that was okay.

maybe the not knowing was the start of something real.

the cameras might have been off for the moment, but the space between you was alive with everything you couldn’t say—and everything you both desperately wanted to feel.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

the last day of filming felt like the end of something you weren’t ready to lose.

the set was buzzing with energy, but for you and haechan, it was heavy. heavier than before. the playful teasing, the easy smiles—they were all there, but beneath them was a current you could no longer ignore.

during a break, you found yourselves alone in the quiet corner of the studio. the noise of crew and cameras faded, and suddenly the space between you felt too small.

haechan looked at you. his usual grin gone, replaced by something softer, vulnerable.

“i’ve been a coward,” he said, voice low, almost breaking.

you blinked, heart pounding.

“me too,” you whispered back.

he took a slow breath, stepping closer, hands trembling slightly at his sides.

“i was supposed to be the one who didn’t fall,” he said, “but it’s me. it’s always been me.”

you swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in.

“why didn’t you say anything?” you asked, voice barely audible.

“because i was scared,” he admitted. “scared you wouldn’t feel the same. scared it was just me.”

your eyes stung. “it’s not just you.”

the silence stretched, thick and full of everything you hadn’t said before.

finally, he reached out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “can i.. hold you?”

your breath hitched, but you nodded.

as he pulled you close, the world outside the studio ceased to exist.

for the first time, pretending wasn’t enough. this was real.

and somehow, it left you feeling both lucky and appalled.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

the studio emptied quickly, the usual noise fading until you and haechan were left alone. the silence between you felt thick, heavy with everything neither of you had dared to say.

he led you to the rooftop garden, the soft glow of string lights wrapping around the space like a secret only the two of you shared.

you sat close, shoulders brushing, every tiny movement sending sparks you could feel deep under your skin.

his fingers found yours, slow and deliberate, thumb tracing lazy circles on your palm. the warmth of his touch spread, setting fire to nerves you didn’t know you had.

he tilted his head, eyes dark and searching. “you feel it too, right?”

your breath hitched, heart pounding. “i do.”

his hand slid from your palm, fingers grazing your wrist, then up your arm, light as a whisper.

“this,” he murmured, voice low and rough, “this isn’t just for show.”

you swallowed hard, the heat in your chest rising. his gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, daring you to say no.

instead, you leaned in, letting your breath mingle, the space between you crackling with anticipation.

when he finally closed the gap, his kiss was slow, teasing—like he was savoring every second.

his hand cupped your neck, thumb stroking softly, sending shivers down your spine.

you curled into him, the world narrowing to the press of skin on skin, the heat of his breath, the ache building in your chest.

he pulled back just enough to murmur against your lips, “i’ve wanted this for so long.”

your voice barely a whisper, “me too.”

the night wrapped around you, every touch, every glance loaded with a promise neither of you was ready to say out loud.

but both of you knew.

this was only the beginning.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

soft light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room.

you stirred slowly, the weight of haechan’s arm draped over your waist anchoring you in place.

for a moment, everything was still, the world outside paused, and there was just this—the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back, the quiet rhythm of breath and heartbeat.

you turned your head slightly, catching his profile in the morning light. his eyes were closed, lashes resting softly against his cheeks, peaceful and completely unguarded.

a gentle smile tugged at your lips.

careful not to wake him, you traced lazy circles on his arm, memorizing the feeling of skin beneath your fingertips.

he shifted slightly, murmuring something unintelligible, but didn’t open his eyes.

you let yourself soak in the quiet intimacy, the kind of closeness you hadn’t dared imagine before.

finally, haechan blinked open his eyes, meeting yours with a soft, sleepy smile.

“good morning,” he whispered, voice rough but warm.

“good morning,” you replied, heart fluttering.

he tightened his arm around you just a little, as if afraid you might disappear.

“last night was… real,” he said, voice low, full of something like awe.

you nodded, feeling the same weight of it.

“yeah,” you said softly. “it was.”

for a moment, neither of you spoke, just held onto the fragile newness of what had started between you.

and in the quiet of that morning, everything felt possible.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

the studio was buzzing again, crew rushing, cameras rolling, but for you and haechan, the world felt different.

you caught each other’s eyes across the set more times than you could count, every look loaded with a secret neither dared say out loud.

during a break, haechan slipped beside you, voice low enough that only you could hear.

“you okay?” he asked, thumb brushing lightly over your hand.

you nodded, heart pounding. “yeah. just… tired.”

he gave a small, knowing smile. “me too.”

the silence between you felt full, like an unspoken understanding.

filming felt harder now. not because the scenes were difficult, but because the line between acting and feeling was thinner than ever.

when the director called cut, you both lingered, reluctant to step back into the roles you’d played for so long.

haechan caught your gaze, eyes searching.

“we need to talk,” he said quietly.

your breath hitched.

“about us,” he added, voice softer now.

you nodded, the weight of it settling in your chest.

“after this is over,” you whispered.

“of course,” he agreed.

the cameras might have been rolling again soon, but in that moment, the world outside could wait.

because finally, you were ready to stop pretending.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

the days after filming ended felt like a strange in-between.

you and haechan were no longer pretending, but everything else still felt like uncharted territory.

text messages came more often now, sometimes just a good morning or a meme that made you laugh, other times long, quiet conversations about fears and hopes.

you met up after practice one evening, somewhere quiet—a small café off the main streets where no one knew your names.

he was a little awkward, fumbling with his words like he was nervous all over again.

“i’m not great at this,” he admitted, stirring his coffee.

“neither am i,” you said, smiling softly.

he reached across the table, taking your hand. “guess we’re both beginners.”

some days were easier than others. sometimes, a glance or a touch spoke louder than any words.

other times, the weight of schedules, the constant eyes watching, made it hard to find space just for the two of you.

but slowly, you learned to navigate the new rhythm—stealing moments between rehearsals, quiet calls in the middle of the night, little jokes shared just between you.

there were missteps, too—missed calls, misunderstandings, moments where the fear of losing what you had made you both pull away.

but every time, you found your way back.

because beneath it all was something real, something neither of you wanted to let go.

and as the days turned into weeks, you realized that maybe, just maybe, this was more than just a story.

it was your story.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

it started with a headline.

nothing scandalous, but enough to stir the internet—a fan account posted a blurry photo of you and haechan leaving a café, the caption dripping with speculation.

are they dating for real?

fake marriage turned real?

what does this mean for their agencies?

the messages flooded your phone—some from friends, some from fans, some from strangers.

you stared at the screen, heart pounding.

haechan was beside you, phone in hand, face tight.

“they’re going to spin this into a mess,” he muttered.

you nodded, biting your lip.

it was the first time your private feelings had become public territory, and neither of you knew how to navigate it.

that evening, you met at haechan’s dorm, wanting to face it together.

“what do we do?” you asked, voice trembling.

he took your hands in his, eyes steady and fierce.

“we don’t let rumors define us,” he said. “we keep being honest. with each other, and when we’re ready, with everyone else.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling the weight of the moment.

“i’m scared,” you admitted. “of losing what we have.”

he pulled you close, forehead resting against yours.

“me too,” he said. “but whatever happens, i’m not walking away.”

in that quiet room, surrounded by the noise of the world outside, you found a promise that felt stronger than any headline.

you weren’t just partners on a show anymore.

you were something real.

and you would face whatever came next—together.

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

the room was tense as you and haechan sat across from your agencies. the conversation was careful, cautious, filled with questions you’d both anticipated but dreaded.

“are you sure this isn’t just for publicity?” one manager asked.

“this is real,” haechan said quietly, eyes locked on yours. “we want to take this seriously.”

your own manager nodded slowly, “then we’ll support you. but you need to be prepared for everything.”

the words hung heavy in the air, a mix of relief and new pressure settling over you.

once the meetings ended, you didn’t speak much on the way back. the city lights blurred past the windows, your hands finally finding each other’s in the quiet.

as soon as you stepped inside haechan’s apartment, the tension broke.

he pulled you close, fingers threading through your hair, lips pressing soft and sure against yours.

“no matter what they say,” he murmured between kisses, “this is ours.”

you traced his jawline, heart pounding in your chest.

“ours,” you echoed.

the night wrapped around you, a sanctuary from the world.

in the quiet between heartbeats, you’ve found a place—a fragile world where pretend becomes real.

[hearts4hughes]

ೃ࿔:･ wallstreet!rafe fires the new employee who flirts with you

doug was a nice guy. hard worker. sharp with numbers, even sharper in meetings. rafe had liked him. that was until he looked at you.

the young boy was new, and when he laid his eyes on you, it was over for him. after all, how was he supposed to know you were off limits?

not officially, of course. there was no memo, no HR policy. just a quiet understanding that bounced through the halls like gospel. you were rafe’s. an implicit boundary no one dared test. well, except doug.

you never noticed. you smiled at everyone, laughed when people made jokes, didn’t catch the way conversations stalled when you walked by.

but the others noticed.

they saw how someone would lean in too close, ask if you wanted to grab lunch, maybe compliment your perfume. the next morning, their desk would be empty. cleared out. wiped clean. like they’d never existed. rafe never offered an explanation. and no one was stupid enough to ask for one.

you’re leaning against the front desk, coffee in one hand, laughing. rafe hears it before he sees it. the easy kind of laugh you save for moments when you’re not working, not thinking, just feeling.

it sounds too good. too familiar. and it isn’t meant for him.

doug’s standing close…too close. he says something with a grin, and you nudge his arm, playful and sweet, your lashes batting like you don’t know you’re the reason the entire room slows to a crawl.

you sip your coffee. you smile at him. and rafe sees red. he doesn’t show it, not really. just a tick of his jaw, a subtle shift in his stance. his eyes lock onto the scene like a sniper scope. you glance over and catch his gaze, but rafe doesn’t look away. not yet.

doug, oblivious and riding high on that smile of yours, goes about the rest of his day with a little more swagger. he thinks he made an impression.

he thinks he’s safe.

~

it’s dark by the time doug makes it to the parking garage. he’s halfway to his car when the sound of italian leather cuts through the silence.

“doug.”

he turns. rafe steps out of the shadows like the fucking reaper. his tie loosened, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled. that smug smirk? gone.

“mr. cameron- sir,” doug fumbles, standing straighter. “wasn’t expecting-”

“you weren’t expecting anything,” rafe cuts in, voice low, almost conversational. “that’s your problem.” he stops a few feet away, gaze pinned like a dagger. “you think I hired you for your charm? your banter?” a soft, humorless laugh. “i’ve seen your numbers. average at best.”

“sir, if this is about-”

“you touched what’s mine.” he growls, all mean and possessive. it takes all his control not to use the weapon tucked securely in his waistband.

doug blinks, face beet red. “i-i didn’t mean-”

“you flirted with my assistant like you had a fucking chance. like you didn’t walk past ten other desks cleared out before yours.” rafe steps closer, and doug visibly swallows. “i’ve buried better men for less. you’ll be gone by morning. pack your shit.”

he turns like the conversation bores him “and doug?” he adds, voice echoing slightly in the cavernous space. “if i see you near her again, you won’t need to worry about severance. you’ll need to worry for you goddamn life.”

~

the next morning, you walk into his office with coffee in hand and that same sweet smile. “doug didn’t last long, i see.”

rafe doesn’t look up from his desk.

“shame,” you add, just to push. “i thought he was nice.”

he finally looks at you. slow. deliberate. luke he was seconds away from breaking his composure. “he wasn’t.”

you sit, crossing your legs like you don’t feel his gaze tracing the curve of your thigh. you take a sip of your coffee. “shame,” you say again.

and smirk.

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