#sbs the penthouse

[kdramamilfs]

eugene as oh yoon-hee // the penthouse (2021) - 1.02

[fake-married-my-dead-fiance]

This really bothered me too, how little Su-ryeon did for the twins in general but especially Seok-kyung. It's really hard to believe she was a "good" mom and didn't notice the child abuse, mostly because they made it so dramatic. The twins' arms would be covered in bruises and cuts. Did she never hug them when they were younger? Did she never see them wearing a t-shirt? A soundproof room can't hide the after effects.

And then Seok-hoon just stops helping his sister cheat (I know they got caught but it wasn't super clear why he stopped helping her) and she goes to her dad. What else did he expect her to do? I mean none of this is his fault, but maybe make a better plan than stop helping your sister cheat cold turkey...

Back to Su-ryeon, then she expells Seok-kyung from school and kicks her out of the house! And sure, she's angry and annoying, but maybe you'd expect that from a child abuse victim whose mom faked her death for half a year. Maybe get her some therapy or something? And her brother is completely against her too but he's a teenager so I don't blame him. It makes sense for a teenager to focus more on his crush than his sibling, but Su-ryeon should have known better.

While i worship the ground Shim Suryeon walks on, i can't deny how she did absolutely nothing for Seok Kyung

Suryeon didn't even know the twins were getting abused by their father the whole time, being too preoccupied with her real daughter. Then comes the Min Sol A story, and while both twins were bullies who had never been educated properly by their parents, Suryeon doesn't do much caring for them even though she ONCE said they are both hers and she wouldn't let them be separated and/or sent away.

Later comes Logan and her revenge, completely missing that Seok Kyung is slowly and painfully losing everything she once believed she had. She lost her mother, both figuratively and literally (Suryeon goes from being her biological mom to her step-mom to her dead mom), she lost her friends (and let's not lie and say they were never friends in the first place, they were too similar and even as bullies they had each other's back), she then loses her brother who goes from being her only person on earth to completely go against her.

But hear me out, Seok Kyung could've had the best character development, the best redemption arc of them all after her mom came back from the dead. But Suryeon AND Seok Hoon had both to act as if she was just a +1, a character on the side of their story and give all their love and attention to Bae RoNa (yes she's a victim but Suryeon seems to forget that she has a child).

Now tell me you'd go soft on all of them and not become even angrier and stand against them because that would be a lie. The only person who even bothered looking at her, for his own evil plans, is her father, she'd take that if that's all she can get.

That's when an original villain story starts. And frankly speaking? I'd root for her.

[waynes-multiverse]

Time After Time – Chapter 2

Summary: Unable to control your abilities, you’re stuck in the present with Billy Butcher, his team, and America’s first asshole. At this point, you’ve become Soldier Boy’s personal punching bag. But when an accident leaves you stranded in 1942, you run into a familiar face and suddenly rely on your future tormentor’s help as your only hope.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x supe!Reader

Warnings: 18+ for language, angst, humor, reader is a supe with chronokinesis (time manipulation), 1942 says hi, fluff if you squint, SB being a nice and kind human

Word Count: 4.8k

Posted on Patreon March 8, 2025

A/N: Welcome to Bizarro World, where Soldier Boy is somewhat OOC (but still a sly dog). Have fun snooping through his life, folks! Big thank you to everyone for your overwhelming support on Part 1 and kudos to all of you who figured out the little time travel theory we're going with here 🤓🩵

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 2: Is This the 40s?

Deep breaths, you reminded yourself as you squatted in a puddle of mud in an abandoned alley, throbbing and roaring head in your hands. If you could only manage to control your jittering, fragile nerves, maybe you’d find your way back.

Come on, come on, come on…

“Miss?”

Fuck.

Your gaze lifted to the tall, shadowy figure by the mouth of the alley, already recognizing the unmistakeable deep timbres of Soldier Boy before he stepped into the light.

“I believe I told you to leave me alone,” you muttered, annoyed.

An idiot like Soldier Boy would not be history’s downfall. You had to ensure the timeline stayed intact. The less interaction you had with him, the better.

“I know. I’m-… I’m sorry, miss,” he apologized once more to you.

If you hadn’t heard it with your own ears, you wouldn’t have thought apologies were even part of his vocabulary, hearing him say the word twice was almost mind-boggling. Then your eyes fixed on the little black box tightly clasped in his left hand and widened in horror – your phone.

Losing futuristic devices like this was a big time-traveling no-no.

Luckily, Soldier Boy was probably too much of a moron to puzzle it altogether. That might just be history’s saving grace.

“You-, uh, you lost this. Just wanted to return it,” he said and tentatively held the phone out to you.

With an exhaustive sigh, you jumped to your feet and ripped the device out of his hand. “Give that to me!”

You huffed a ‘thank you’ and stomped down the alley, back towards the busy street. All you needed was a quiet and warm place to figure this out and return to your own time. But Soldier Boy was still hot on your tail, following you with a swift pace.

“Miss, wait! Wait a second! Hey!”

With a few long strides of his bow legs, he had flagged you down before you’d even reached the main street. But that didn’t halt your feet completely, although he’d slowed you down significantly.

“What? I told you to stay away. Stop following me,” you snapped.

“I’m just trying to ensure you’re alright,” he insisted, attempting to appear as harmless as possible.

At this point, you thought you were beginning to hallucinate because your mind tried to convince you there was actual, legitimate worry gleaming in his forest green eyes. In reality, he was probably just acting to save the damsel in distress, so he could warm her up at his penthouse and slip something into her drink.

Not fucking happening. 

“I’m fine.” You gritted a smile and opted to ignore him as you scurried past the first crowd of people on the sidewalk.

“No offense, miss, but you don’t seem fine,” he insisted and ran in front of you, blocking your way. With a frustrated groan, you finally stopped and sent him a glare, but he only met you with a sincere look. “Let me help you, alright? I promise I mean no harm or ill-intention if that is what you’re worried about.”

Ha! 

Internally, you snorted. But he raised his open palms again as if to prove his words, his eyes boring intensely into yours. He might as well have been fucking Mindstorm.

“Listen, you look like someone who’s used to getting what he wants all the time, but no means no. Stop following me, okay?”

You hoped you had finally drilled the message into his thick skull and he’d leave you alone after this, but alas he wouldn’t be Soldier Boy if he listened to you. One step past him, and a hand grabbed your arm.

Ready to fend him off, you were surprised to find his grip wasn’t strong by any means. It was barely a brush before he dropped his hand again and looked at you remorsefully.

“I’m sorry! I just-… Please let me help you,” he reiterated with imploring green eyes. “Look, you clearly seem lost. Just tell me where you live, and I can get you home safely, okay? C’mon, you can’t do this to me.” He tried to loosen you up with a charming smile and a puppy dog look. “If you leave like this, I’m going to be up all night, worrying you’ve died of hypothermia out here.”

And my God, he seemed sincere! No wonder he had gotten attention from women like a goddamn bunny in a petting zoo.

Musingly, you then chewed on your lower lip and assessed the man in front of you. The people who strolled by you threw you the occasional weird looks – you’d chosen a bad day to wear a Led Zeppelin t-shirt and ripped jeans.

Admittedly, you could use a little help here. Maybe if you were being careful with the timeline – and him – you could risk it.

You exhaled a hesitant breath, but your head nodded slightly. “Just-, uh, just get me to Fifth Avenue. I can find my way from there, alright?”

It was a simple request, but his brows drew together as if you’d just asked him something insane.

“Fifth Avenue as in New York City?” he questioned.

Oh no, you didn’t like where this was going.

“Yes?”

He clicked his tongue, scratching the nape of his neck where the collar of his coat ended. “Well, uh, I guess I could take you there tomorrow. It’s about a four hour car ride in this weather. I mean, if we took the train, we’d be a little faster.”

Four hours?! 

“Where-, uh… What, uh, what city am-, am I?”

He clicked his tongue again. This time, a little smirk twitched on his lips too, but he tried his best to hide his amusement. “Uh, Philadelphia. You know, Pennsylvania?”

“Yeah, no, I know geography, thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

Curling your lips, you tilted your head at him, your cheeks catching heat, even though you were practically freezing. Oh, he was trying to be clever now, wasn’t he?

Sheepishly, he met your eyes and smiled innocently.

But when that little fascinating moment had passed, you realized you were still stuck here, and the panic set back in. Your gaze flickered around – there was nowhere you could go. However, you then noticed something else – no one was staring at Soldier Boy, even though he was supposed to be America’s greatest hero. Was he in a disguise? Was that what he did back then?

“So, uhm… is this the 40s?”

There was beat of silence as he licked his lips. “Yeah, uh, this is the 40s, sweetheart.” He laughed heartily, throwing his head back. “You know, I’ve had some bad hangovers and woke up someplace, not knowing where I was, but I’ve never forgotten the year before.”

No surprise, you thought wryly and then swallowed, glancing back up at him.

“So, uhm, what year is this?”

“It’s January 24, 1942,” he replied patiently, his eyes watching you closely.

And then, it began to dawn on you.

“And what d’you do? Are you, uhm–“ Soldier Boy? “–a soldier?”

He laughed again, his cheeks slightly blushing in the cold. He adjusted the flat cap on his head. “Uh, no. Well, not yet anyways. I actually just came from the office downtown and enlisted when I ran into you.”

Holy fucking shit.

The man before you wasn’t a supe yet. He wasn’t Soldier Boy yet. He was just a normal human, and you felt like you were staring through the looking-glass and seeing Wonderland.

And if your math was correct, it also meant the guy in front of you was no more than 23 years old.

Holy fucking shit.

“But, uh, I also work at my father’s office,” he added after you hadn’t said anything. “Why are-, why are you looking at me like that?” he then asked with a flustered chuckle, and you realized you were still staring at him.

“Oh, uhm, I’m sorry,” you apologized quickly and forced a smile. “You just looked like a soldier, I guess.”

His cheeks reddened even more as he bashfully averted his eyes to the snowy pavement and scratched the back of his neck. “Well, uh, thank you.”

He clearly took it as a compliment that he already looked the part of a hero. Nice save, you praised yourself.

“Why-, uh, why don’t we get you warmed up a little, huh?” he suggested kindly and finally dared to step closer. Swiftly, he took off his coat and draped it over your shoulders and bare arms. “Here, take my coat. You poor thing must be freezing. Look at you, you’re shaking.”

His smile was friendly and reassuring as he adjusted the collar around your neck. Uncomfortably, you rolled your shoulders, though, and backed away from his touch.

“Alright, uhm, just please don’t touch me,” you said, your voice meek and barely audible. You knew technically it wasn’t the same guy who had abused, tortured, harassed, and bullied you for months on end, but you still didn’t want his hands anywhere near you.

“Okay, yeah, sure,” he resigned and raised his palms again before gesturing down the street, trying his hardest not to lay a hand on the small of your back and lead you there himself. “There’s a diner a few blocks from here. Would that be okay?”

Reluctantly, you nodded, wrapping the thick coat, which smelled like his cologne and cigars, tighter around you as you followed him.

Fortunately, the diner was quaint and dimly lit. The bell above the door jingled as you entered with your unwanted sidekick. He made sure to always stay one step behind you, and you didn’t know if it was because it was polite to let the lady go first, or if he just wanted to keep a watchful eye on you in case you’d make a run for it again.

You passed a row of customers sitting hunched over at the counter before Soldier Boy – or not Soldier Boy yet – then picked a table in a quiet corner, away from everyone else as if he knew you’d appreciate the privacy. The less people saw and noticed you, the better. You knew you had to get home fast before messing up the intricate fabric of time too much.

“So, uh, what’s your name?” he asked as the waitress placed down his simple black coffee and your Earl Grey, your cold hands quickly grasping onto the hot mug and warming against the ceramic.

“Uh… Cindy,” you replied quickly, not wanting to give him your real name and share too much. It was smarter to be careful.

“Cindy, huh?” The name rolled off his tongue with a subtle smirk as if he liked the sound of it. “Does that come with a last name?”

“Uh, yes… Lauper,” you replied and bit your lip hard. “I’m, uh, from the Lauper’s of Upstate New York, you know? From a small town called, uh… Flatiron.”

“Huh. Interesting…” he mused, pursing his lips. “Never heard of it.”

“Yeah, well, like I said, it’s a small town…” you deflected and sipped on your drink.

“Well, uhm, I’m Benjamin Brooks,” he introduced himself with a suave smile. “But, uh, most people just call me Ben.”

When you only gave him a disinterested nod, he licked his lips, his fingers tapping against the coffee mug in his hold before he looked at you again and cleared his throat.

“You’ve, uh, probably heard of the name. My father owns half the steel mills in the state,” he said with a bragging grin, which lost its energy when you still didn’t give him the time of day.

“Uh-huh…”

“Brooks Steel Company? You’ve never heard of it?”

“Nope.”

“Huh.” Somewhat defeated, he pursed his lips, his fingers tapping on the table this time. Then, a soft smile formed as he leaned back in his seat. “So, uh, what about you? What brings you here to Philadelphia?”

“Uhm… business,” you said as if you were answering a customs question at the airport.

“Really? What kind of business?”

“You ask a lot of questions…”

He chuckled slightly, his cheeks blushing. “Well, uh, excuse my curiosity, please. It’s just-… well, the clothes you’re wearing and the, uh, weird black box you’re carrying… What is it, anyway?”

Shit. 

“Uh, it’s a… flashlight,” you replied, thinking of the most basic function of your phone.

“Flashlight?”

“Yes, it’s a… prototype. Uses lithium-ion batteries instead of the carbon-zinc ones you find in flashlights at this… current time… right now,” you explained in a careful stammer and only realized you might have said too much when his brow raised.

“Huh.” He stumped for a beat. “You know a lot of technical things for a woman.”

Internally, you wanted to groan at the sexist remark, but considering it was 1942, you had to admit he was probably right. Even in the 21st century, it was still a rarity to find a woman in a STEM field.

“Yes, uh, well, my father taught me some stuff,” you lied. As a matter of fact, your father was a drunk loser, who couldn’t change a single lightbulb even if you turned it into a joke. “You know, just small… simple things. God knows I could barely understand what he was saying half the time.”

Your silly giggle at the end was the cherry on top of your sales pitch.

“Ah, that makes sense,” Ben bought it, chuckling.

Jesus fuck, shoot me…

“Where did you get it?”

“Huh?”

“The flashlight.”

“Oh…” Think fast. “I-, uh, I built it, yeah… To sell, you know? It’s an experiment, but it failed, so you can forget about it, okay?”

That was believable, right? Wozniak got nothing on you. And technically, you had already swapped out the broken screen glass of your vPhone multiple times – by yourself. It wasn’t so far-fetched if you really thought about it…

“Alright.” Ben nodded, a smile playing on his lips as he took a sip of coffee. “And, uh, is that why you’re wearing those clothes? Are you a mad scientist or farmhand or–“

Your eyebrows drew together. “A farmhand?”

He laughed lightly, shaking his head. “I promise I don’t mean any offense, sweetheart. It’s just women… people usually don’t really run around wearing… well, that,” he explained and gestured a hand up and down your frame.

Uncomfortably, you wrapped his wool coat tighter around you, the small, pleased twitch of his lips at your action sending a shiver down your spine. As you let your glance wander through the small establishment, you noted the tight dresses and skirts with tailored waists all women were wearing. You definitely looked odd and out of place compared to all the Mrs. Maisels around you.

Most of them were even wearing hats, too. Hats. Wide-brimmed ones and pillboxes and snoods and berets. Fucking berets.

And here you sat – with a messy bun that you hadn’t even bothered to brush once after rolling out of bed this morning.

“No, I-, uh, I just grabbed what I found,” you answered him quickly then but could see his lips parting with another question. Luckily, you were interrupted this time.

“Benjamin Brooks! You rat bastard!”

Ben’s green eyes widened almost comically as he shared a brief look with you before turning his head to the young, furious woman who stormed into the diner, heels clicking on the floor.

Ah yes, finally a more familiar side of the man you recognized from the future.

“Grace, darling!” Flustered, he rose from his seat with an awkward laugh, and you could tell he was trying to keep the drama on the down-low for your benefit.

The harsh slap across his cheek he instantly received, however, echoed loudly through the quiet diner. A few heads turned as cutlery clinked against tableware, but no one dared to say anything. You buried your face in your tea and tried to stifle your laugh.

Man, you would love to slap the human version of him, too.

“Don’t darling me, Benjamin, after you’ve been two-timing me with that tramp Betty Vanderbilt!” the girl yelled loud enough for the whole diner to hear.

Sheepishly and with a bit of charm, Ben scratched the back of his neck. “Well, to be fair, I thought you knew about Betty. We weren’t exactly exclus–“

He barely got the word out before another slap rang through the diner as her hand came down hard on his cheek once more. It was turning crimson red rather quickly and was a sight to behold. You had to admit you liked that girl.

“Not exclusive?! We’re engaged, you dog!”

Holy shit! Soldier Boy used to have a fiancée? Well, you’re not surprised that didn’t work out…

“I already forgave you once for sleeping with Sheila! I can’t believe you did this to me again!”

As much as you enjoyed the show, you appreciated the distraction and saw it as a perfect opportunity to sneak away and finally get rid of him. Stealthily, you rose from your chair and crept by the arguing couple to the exit.

You were warmed up enough to find shelter on your own and hoped the timeline wasn’t too cracked when you’d return. Mostly, though, you hoped Soldier Boy was too self-centered to remember someone like you.

You had made it all the way to the sidewalk again before his voice reached your ears. You sighed your frustration but kept on walking, ignoring his calls.

“Cindy! Hey, uh, wait!”

Shit.

Why was he so fucking fast? He wasn’t even a supe yet.

Once more, he came to a stop in front of you and blocked your way. “Why-, uh, why did you leave? I mean, I know this looked really bad, but–“

“Look, uh, thank you for everything,” you interrupted his beginning of an excuse with as much patience as you could find within yourself. “I know you’re trying to be nice and all, and you’ve been super kind… But I’ve got it from here, alright? Just forget you ever met me, okay?”

Amused, he snorted. “Well, kinda hard to forget someone like you, sweetheart.”

Fucking fuck.

“What d’you mean? I’m completely normal.” You tried to shrug it off, but you’d never been the best actress – another thing the two of you had in common.

“No, you’re not.” A smirk rose on his lips that he tried to bite back. “I mean, sure, you’re exceptionally beautiful, but you’re also kind of… mysterious. Guess that’s what intrigues me.”

Fuck. In all your effort to get rid of him and save the timeline, you had actually attracted his attention more. It seemed like your dismissiveness and aggression had only piqued his interest instead of deterring it. Your fallacy was thinking he’d back off from a strong, rude, and unruly woman like you.

You probably should’ve acted more like Grace, Betty, and Sheila – be forgettable.

“Alright, out of curiosity, does this little routine usually work for you?” you challenged, arching a brow. A smile played across your lips as you watched his reaction.

“What routine?”

“Oh, you know… Turning up the charming smile and being nice, while also dropping your rich daddy’s name and how much money you’ve got,” you retorted. “I mean, I guess it must work, right? Surely worked for Grace, Betty, and Sheila so far.”

Bobbing his head, he pursed his lips for a moment while you enjoyed your win. But with a smack of his lips, he found your eyes, the little smirk on his lips not fully vanished yet.

“Alright, I know how this looks, okay? But it’s not what you think,” he started.

“Oh, so you didn’t sleep with all of these women?”

“Well, uhm…”

Complacently, you threw him a smile. “Goodbye, Benjamin.”

“No, wait! Why don’t you come back inside with me where it’s warm and let me explain everything?” he proposed and then sent you that charmingly cute smile again. “I’m kinda starting to freeze here, you know? You’re still wearing my coat, sweetheart.”

“Oh, uh… Sorry.” Your brow knitted as you stared down at the warm, long clothing item around you. Flustered, your cheeks blushed, but as you began to take it off with the intent to hand it back to him, he stopped you.

“No, uh, please keep it. I can find another one,” he said, laughing softly. “Besides, it looks better on you.”

God, you wanted to slap him like Grace.

“Well, uhm, thank you, but I’m still not coming back in there with you again, alright?” you said firmly. “I have to get going now. Don’t follow me anymore.”

You tried to push past him, but of course, he still wasn’t listening to you.

“Wait! Just wait a second!”

And you knew if you didn’t stop, he would just keep following you till you both died of hypothermia. So, you spun to face him with a deeply impatient frown.

“Do you even know where you’re going? Do you have a place to stay?”

“Yes.”

“Where? In New York? You know, you’re not going to make it there on foot today. Especially during this weather,” he noted with a bit of playfulness in his voice. “Unless, you’re planing on stealing a car.” He chuckled but then lifted a brow at you. “You’re not, are you?”

“No, of course not!”

Well, not the worst idea…

“Alright, look, my parents are out of town for a month. Got the the whole mansion to myself. Just stay at my place for the night, and we can figure out how to get you to New York in the morning, alright?”

“You do know what that sounds like, right? Are you even hearing yourself?” you questioned, causing him to laugh again. It was still weird to hear it without undertones of viciousness in it – like a temporal whiplash.

“The house is big enough, and I promise you’ll have your own bedroom. Not mine, alright?” he clarified but tried to hide a smile. “Unless–“

“Nope.”

“Alright, well, uh, the point is, it’s big enough, so you don’t even have to see me if you don’t want to,” he added with an innocently imploring look. “Just let me help you, please.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, your brow only creasing more. “Why do you wanna help me so badly, huh? I don’t understand. I mean, are you really doing this out of the sheer goodness of your heart of gold? What’s your angle here, soldier boy?”

He chuckled, his cheeks warming with a flush. “Gotta say, kind of like that nickname.”

“I bet you do,” you muttered wryly. “So, why? Why are you helping me?”

Ben scratched his jaw and took a step closer to you. The air shifted, a part of you wondering if he’d finally drop his mask. He kept his deep voice low as he spoke.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on here, but I know you’ve been serving me a lot of bullshit today.” Your heart stopped, but when you glanced at him, he wasn’t angry. He was… worried. “I don’t mind, okay? You just-… you look like someone who’s in a bit of trouble, and I guess I can relate, so let me help you, alright?”

“I-… I don’t know,” you replied honestly this time, both hesitation and caution shimmering in your eyes as your teeth clawed into your bottom lip. “What if I say no, you’re gonna hand me over to the cops? The asylum people?”

“Is that where you broke out from?”

A bit offended, you gasped. “The asylum?!”

Granted, you were acting a little crazy – for the time period. You were perfectly ordinary and sane in your own century.

Oh God, was that how Soldier Boy felt in your time? Always displaced and out-of-touch? What a horrible feeling…

“No, jail,” he said then, which caused your brow to raise in surprise.

“Oh.”

He cocked an eyebrow at you. “Wait, did you break out of jail?”

“No!”

“Alright, uhm…” Ben laughed and rubbed his palms together, probably to keep himself warm. His sandy-blond hair had collected quite a bit of snow. He must’ve forgotten his cap inside the diner. “Listen, I’m not going to call anyone. I promise you can trust me, okay?”

That seemed like a trap, right? A demon tricking you into making a deal for your soul.

“Are you, uhm, running from someone?” he asked, with not only concern but also determination to fight whoever was after you gleaming in his eyes.

Ironic, you thought since you were running from him.

“Uh, no, not really,” you replied hesitantly.

“Were you held somewhere?” he asked next, carefully licking his lips. “You know, against your will?”

Yes, by you, you wanted to scream.

“Kinda, yeah,” you admitted softly. And in a way, it felt weirdly therapeutic to confess that to the Dr. Jekyll version of your future Hyde.

“Okay, uhm…” He swallowed subtly, nodding. Then, his eyes bored so sincerely into yours you really thought you’d fallen down the rabbit hole. “Well, you don’t have to be scared. You’re safe with me, alright?”

Fuck. You were fucking screwed, weren’t you?

“So? You’re finally gonna let me help you?”

You exhaled a deep breath as you assessed the man in front you once more. You had no place to go, it was cold, and the sun was beginning to set. Your powers, on the other hand, still seemed to be dormant.

“Fine,” you caved at last. “One night. And you better not crawl into my bed, alright?”

Placatingly, he raised his hands again but there was a broad smile on his freckled face this time. “Understood, loud and clear. I heard you earlier – no means no.”

Wow. You began to wonder what really happened to the guy in the following 80 years to shape him into the toxic piece of shit you have to deal with on a daily basis.

“You sure your fiancée won’t mind if you take another woman home? I don’t wanna get burned at the stake again,” you quipped, but there was wariness behind it. Grace’s slaps looked pretty painful. You’d rather avoid it if you could.

“Again?”

“Long story,” you sighed. When you first had told Soldier Boy about your past, he’d been kind and understanding. He’d said it was a good thing that all those people who tried to burn you were dead now – which was about the nicest thing a guy like him could’ve said.

Then he turned around and made fun of you for months on end.

“Well, uhm, I can assure you she won’t kill you. It’s not like that, alright? She’s not my fiancée. Trust me,” Ben said, amused.

“That’s not what she said,” you pointed out. You were definitely believing that woman over him. He was a fucking dog – as Grace put it. You were sure that personality trait was the same at any point in time.

“Technicality.” He shrugged it off. You arched a brow. He smirked. “It’s a long story, too.”

You rolled your eyes, sighing. “Alright, fine.”

Ben’s smile twitched eagerly to rise higher by the heartbeat. “Okay, uhm, my car’s over there.”

He gestured down the street past the diner and let you pass, only walking closely next to you but careful not to touch as his arm only hovered protectively behind your back.

“Still no touching there, alright, Romeo?” you reminded him with a stern finger.

“I know,” he sang, chuckling. “Just trying to be proactive here. There’s a lotta ice, you know? Wouldn’t want you to slip in your basketball shoes.”

For reference, you were wearing a simple pair of black Chucks.

“Fine, I’ll allow it.”

“You allow it, huh?” he teased with a boyish grin.

“Yeah, I’ll allow you to protectively guard me from a distance,” you retorted. “You’re not supposed to enjoy it, though.”

“Oh, I don’t think that was the deal we made, sweetheart.” His grin grew even wider now.

“Don’t make me regret this already,” you sighed.

“Well, uh, too late. We’re already here,” he then said and stopped, motioning to a deep emerald green, elegant, sleek car with a beige convertible roof. “That’s it. It’s a Cadillac 75. What d’you think?”

“I don’t know enough about cars to be impressed,” you told him.

He laughed, rubbing his chin. “Well, worth a shot.”

Ben then opened the door for you and waited till you were safely seated inside (or trapped) before rounding the vehicle and sliding into the driver’s seat.

And as the two of you drove down the snowy streets of Philadelphia, you wondered if you had just gotten into a car with Clarence or with the fucking devil himself.

▶️ Chapter 3: I'm Going To Be a Lady If It Kills Me – APRIL 11

Ah, yes... Wouldn't we all love to slap him like Grace in the future? 😂 What do you think of young Ben so far? While he seems nicer and kinder than his alter ego, there are surely some core personality traits present 😜

Coming Up:

Reluctantly, you stepped into the hallway, unsure of how to ask, but the need to find something – anything – took over. It wasn’t like you could just wander around in a towel, although you were sure your host would probably appreciate the sight.

“Uhm, Ben?” you called softly, your tone a little shakier than you'd intended.

A few moments passed before his voice answered from down the hall, a bit too loud, as though he’d been waiting for this. “Yeah?”

“I-, uh, I don’t have... anything to wear,” you said quietly and swallowed, your gaze drifting to your bare feet on the floorboards.

There was a long pause before he appeared in the doorway, his face flushed. “Right. Well, I-... I can get you something,” he said. His eyes flicked to the floor for a moment before meeting yours again, the awkwardness hanging between you like a palpable thing that you could reach out and touch with your fingers. “I–” His voice dropped lower as he turned away for a second, his hand on the doorframe. He then gave a brief chuckle, almost self-conscious. “I don’t usually keep spare clothes for, uh, guests. But I’m sure I can find something that fits you. One second.”

You felt tethered to the ground as he disappeared down the hall, unsure whether to laugh or fucking scream. He came back a few moments later with a shirt and pants, an outfit clearly meant for a man, and you were pretty sure they were his own. The fit would be loose, but better than nothing.

“Here,” he said, offering it to you. His gaze lingered on you a second longer than was probably polite before he turned away again, his cheeks tinged pink.

Yeah, you had to get rid of the towel. You didn’t want to give him any ideas – or more, for that matter. He’d already seen you naked various times in the future. You knew privacy was an alien concept to that man.

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Tag List Pt 1.:

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[getoogles]

; CHOI SOOBIN 🐰 a job with good benefits

— note; if u thought i was normal abt this post you’re. dead. wrong.

— cw; ceo soobin, pa/boy toy reader, unbalanced work dynamics, subtop male reader, power bottom soobin, possessiveness, fucking in his office, sir kink (sb), praise kink (r), lil pet play (r is puppy), handjob (r receiving), cum swallowing. 2.3k words.

there’s a particular rhythm to the knock that sounds on the dark door to his office, one he knows needs no answer before it pushes open and your head pops through, a polite smile on your face. it's something to four, and the corridors on the exec floor are drastically busier with the comfort of home in sight. as you did almost every day, your blazer had been left behind, the smooth roll to your sleeves a casual reminder of your position in the company.

“hey mr choi. i finally got the reports from marketing for this quarter.” you wave the thick packet of papers in the air as you walk in further, the heavy door closing behind you and silencing the work buzz with a soft click. “you’d think i’d threatened his entire family, the way jake avoided me this week — it almost hurt my feelings.”

you laugh and your handsome boss gives you one too, except it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. he knows why it was so hard for you to get a hold of the blond; it was his doing after all. soobin had asked him (quite nicely too, according to his standards) to keep his distance after he was told of the manager's substantial crush on you, but did he have to be so obvious about it? enough for it to hinder your work? he has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. jake’s fortunate you turned out to be a little oblivious in that regard. him even more so — it made it that much easier for you to stay wrapped around his fingers. how could you not see what he and every other person in the office saw?

a shame really. the first time you met he was enthralled by your intelligence, sense of humour, and your good looks (you were hired on the spot not two months ago) but he couldn’t help but notice the humility that prevented you from reaching higher. his personal assistant? soobin’s sure the roles could’ve been reversed and would’ve worked just as well. or maybe you simply enjoyed being at someone's beck and call. who’s to say.

the older man rises from his chair and circles his desk to rest on the front, outstretching a hand towards you. you hand him the stack, as usual. then he tosses it onto open desk space without another look, you follow it with a blank stare. you’re wearing nothing out of the ordinary but soobin can’t take his eyes off of you, wolfishly taking in the way your broad shoulders look encased by your shirt and the way your watch makes your veiny hand look a little bigger.

“i’ve also saved the documents to the shared files for you to look at whenever. oh, and before i forget. your lunch tomorrow with ms huh re the fearless campaign has been moved to midday, i hope it’s not too inconvenient for you. her pa double-booked.” amateur. soobin can hear the pride in your voice, confident you’d never make such a mistake. cute.

“that’s fine, thanks for rearranging. so my meeting with hongjoong?”

“you’ll have an hour rest before seeing mr kim.”

“good job, i always know i can count on you.”

“of course mr choi,” you wave a limp wrist in his direction with a sheepish smile, finding something else, not near as eye-catching as him, to look at in the room.

“i’ve already said you can call me hyung when we’re alone — you don’t have to be so formal. or, as you know, sir works just as fine.”

“ah,” your smile falters as a flash of a memory from a few nights ago darts across your mind. ‘sir’ was his preferred title the last time you’d been in private together, his penthouse balcony two nights ago, less sober and a lot closer than you stood now. you shake your head to lose the lewd image of him bouncing on top of you that begins to form before your eyes. before you can think about them, the words are flowing from your lips, “i understand, sir.”

“good boy.” it makes you freeze on the spot; he can’t be saying that at this time, at this place. a shiver runs down your spine when you finally meet his eyes again, dark and dripping with hunger. "you always work so hard for me: i’m sure you’d like something in return for your efforts?"

he most certainly is.

rising up to his full height, soobin watches with a smirk as you stiffen up once more, now looking anywhere besides him. you steal an inch or two above your already towering boss, which makes it easier to look over his cherry-coloured head, but that leaves him in direct eye contact with your smooth neck, bobbing up and down as you begin to stammer out.

"well, you already pay me quite a lot," he steps closer, and you take a step back.

"a different form of payment," he scans your body from bottom to top, head tilted in mock curiosity as he plays your game. it hasn’t been long since you first found yourself tangled in his sheets, but soobin already knows you. knows you like the back of his hand that sneaks a finger into one of your belt loops.

“w-wait. here? n-now?” he takes another forward, you another back. the distance between your bodies is small enough that if you flinched too hard you’d touch. “i mean, it’s almost four, everyone’s going to be moving around, y-you can’t—“

“i can’t?” you shut up immediately. “are you trying to tell me what i can and can’t do, ln?”

fuck. the plush of a leather seat meets your calves when you try to take another step back. double fuck. soobin sees the opportunity and takes it, slim fingers coming up to your chest and pushing. you fall ungracefully, but there’s no time to adjust, because your attractive boss is leaning down towards you, hand now holding your tie to pull your face towards his.

“answer me.” your palms start to sweat where they lay on the armrest. your legs are spread wide and he takes a look at the not-so-modest bulge under your suit pants. a whine slips from your lips when you realise where his gaze is focused.

“no! no, i’m not, i’m sorry.” he raises an eyebrow. “i’m sorry sir.”

he beams at you, dimples coming in to steal the show. for someone so sexy, exuding such confidence and charisma, it never took long for you to submit —adorable really. soobin can’t help but demand more. “you learn so quickly puppy. why are you shy? we’ve done more in worse places, don’t you think? my office is nothing. let me treat you.”

with that, the businessman slides onto your lap, long legs clad in his pinstripe suit coming to frame your thighs. your fingers twitch beside you. despite your brain and previous experience telling you otherwise, you can’t help but want to hold him, to tug him closer and let him devour you whole.

indeed, his office wasn’t that special; you had access most others did not and more than once had found yourself there during the late hours, doing things a chief executive and his assistant shouldn’t. it was more the thought of employees coming and going, hearing you explore each other’s bodies that kept you on edge.

you know there’s nothing left on his schedule today — you organised it after all. yet, the ceo wasn’t a stranger to quick end-of-day visits, charming and inviting as he is. it’s one of the reasons morale ran so high company-wide, with everyone vying and succeeding at being on his good side. well, except a certain someone, unbeknownst to you. you could only hope this was not one of those days.

soobin thankfully presses closer until his chest is against yours and your head tilts back, almost uncomfortably, to look him in the eye. his cherry blossom hair falls forward, showing off his strong, dark eyebrows. his full lips tease you endlessly, and you stretch up to ghost them.

soobin knows what you want, watching as you watch his lips curl into a grin, “wanna touch?” you say yes instantly, hands ghosting his hips. just his weight on your legs isn’t enough. “not yet.”

your eyebrows furrow, and he thinks for a second you’ll complain, challenge him like sometimes you did. but instead, you tuck a lip between your teeth, sighing through your nose, “touch me then, please?”

his hand drops your tie to slide up onto your throat, slender fingers curling to hold your jaw in place, “since you asked so nicely, puppy.” his other drops to your belt, leisurely undoing all the barriers until he can squeeze a hand into your underwear.

his hands are cold against your hot dick, and you gasp onto his lips. the older laughs, giving you a cute. always so sensitive. all for him. only for him. he pulls you out half-hard, before making sure your eyes are still on him. they were. then he lets his saliva build in his mouth and bows forward before letting a thick wad fall onto your cockhead.

“ohhh, shit. that’s— you’re so fucking hot, sir.” spreading his spit, he starts fisting your cock to its full length in moments, the hand on your throat tightening slightly in possessiveness. no one else could hear you like this, see you like this, touch you like this. soobin can’t help but lean down and connect your lips, swallowing all of your pretty noises.

his tongue reaches into your mouth and you’re quick to suck on it, his eyes falling half-mast in lust. you do well in keeping your hands away, nails digging into the tough fabric of the armrests in an attempt to ground yourself. it’s harder to control your hips though, and you fuck gently into soobin’s fist with a hiss.

he feels you squirming under his weight and pushes harder down, a silent warning you take well. it's difficult, so difficult, to keep from moving. and being unable to squeeze at his thighs or his waist is a feat harder than you recall. you let your head roll back to regain some focus. it doesn’t help much. not when soobin starts twisting his wrist with each ascend and descend down your leaking length, calculated squeezes at your swollen cockhead and base that makes a sweat break out over your body, “so good, yeah, fuck me,”

the ceo is obsessed with how your face scrunches up in pleasure, hushed moans falling from your lips as you plead for him not to stop, to let you touch him. so handsome. even more so when you beg. a pretty dimpled smile blooms on his face, "being such a good boy for me, only for me, hm? letting me fuck you at work like this,”

still looming above you, soobin is amused by the effectiveness of your puppy-dog eyes at his words and how your breath hitches. you nod quickly, paying no mind to his controlling tone. despite your earlier worries, you quickly surrendered to his will. you always did. “say it.” he demands, slowing his pace.

“y-yes! all yours, sir, only yours. please, wanna cum for you,” soobin purrs in delight at your words, dick stirring in his pants at your indecency. seems you didn’t care so much about being heard anymore. the walls are soundproof anyway.

the older leans in closer, his hand wrapping around the back of your neck to kiss you harshly, meeting your moans with one of his own. “touch me,”

and that you do, not forgetting to thank him as you squeeze his ass and tug him closer. your other hand grips his wrist to hold him in place so you can fuck into his fist, feeling yourself shoot closer to an embarrassingly fast orgasm. more groans and whines fall from your lips and soobin can tell just how close you are.

he slides off your lap, much to your weak protests, but when he lands on his knees and swallows your leaking cock in one swift move, you’re immediately silenced. all it takes is one look down into his hungry eyes as you’re stuffed in his tight, wet mouth to push you over the edge.

“haah-! fuck sir, i’m cumming, cumming,” your hands seek his bright hair as your hips pull up from the seat, body tensing up as you release all you have into your boss. soobin’s nose is buried in your groin, tongue flattening and throat opening up for your seed to spill down. despite his controlled breathing, he can’t stop his responsive moans, unbelievably turned on as he lets you thrust lightly into his mouth until your high washes over and away from you. when your grip loosens, he slides off with a vulgar pop, having made sure to clean you up entirely. he swallows it all. as you pant, you look down at your stupidly attractive employer.

he leans back on a hand to showcase his straining bulge, feeling his body burn with desire at the taste of your salty cum. “look what you did to me, yn. ‘m so fucking hard because of you,” he bites his plump bottom lip as his other hand trails down his chest and abs until he can grip himself, whining lowly at the contact, “you’ll take care of me, right? like a good pup?”

you can’t look away from him, leaning forward and swallowing your spit as if in a trance. your softened cock jumps at the thought of soon being held between his thighs, pleasuring him with your skilled tongue. or if you’re lucky, getting to bury yourself deep inside his sweet ass, “of course, sir, whatever it is you need from me.”

soobin grins wickedly up at you, as he sheds his blazer and pulls at his knotted tie, pink hair shielding the dark look in his eyes. you’re all his, alright. no way you’d leave a job with such good benefits.

©2024 getoogles. all rights reserved.

[honeyryewhiskey]

GIRLS LIKE YOU . . .

. . . REMIND ME THAT I'M LONELY

synopsis ! you catch soldierboy's eye at a penthouse party full of nyc's socialites. your daring attitude kinda pisses him off but he can’t help wanting more warnings ! smut with plot 18+, strong language, drug/alcohol use, pet names / no use of y/n, manhalding, teasing, mouth play, slight choking, fingering j's note ! this is my first sb fic if he sucks imsosorry & maybe pixie!reader the socialite will be a thing idk — inspired by the song 'girls like you' by miguel 3k words

Ben has been to enough of these parties to know better. The same overindulgent crowd, drowning in expensive liquor and bad decisions, pretending they aren't all bored out of their minds. Another penthouse after party, another round of coke laid out on a mirrored tray, another desperate attempt of the city’s richest heirs to feel like they’re worth something more.

He should leave. He tells himself to leave.

But then his eye catches on you.

Draped over a velvet couch, laughing like the world exists solely for your amusement. People flock around you, drawn in, drinking up the energy you infuse into the space. You’re all soft skin, wicked grins, and just enough mischief in your eyes to be a problem.

A fucking PR nightmare. That’s what Ashley—or any of those Vought assholes—would call you. A spoiled little socialite wasting daddy’s money on your favorite paraphernalia and bad decisions. The kind of girl he should avoid while he’s trying to rebuild his image.

But then you spot him, and for the first time all night, Ben doesn’t feel like just another overpaid, overhyped god amongst men. You look at him like he’s a thrill, not a headline.

"Soldier Boy," you purr, tilting your head as you sip from a flute of something bubbly. "Didn’t think this was your scene, we don’t usually see supes of your caliber around here."

"It’s not," he grumbles, but he doesn’t move an inch. Just looms over you, eyes raking over the delicate dress hanging off your body. It barely covers you, and normally, Ben would have something to say about that. But it shimmers, even in this dim light—like a million little stars—and all he can think about is getting beneath that galaxy.

You laugh, the sound light and playful, and hold out a hand. “Forgive me, I only know you by your supe name.”

He flashes that charming smile, the one you’ve seen plastered on billboards across the city. But up close, in the flesh, it carries a tantalizing feeling that you just want to devour. He reaches over, taking your smaller hand in his, his grasp firm as his hand swallows yours. “Ben.”

You’re no stranger to being around men who command attention—men people fawn over, obsess over. Another super-powered figure in tight spandex hardly fazes you. But this one, this man—he’s different. Dressed in a simple black shirt and jeans, he almost looks normal, like he could blend into the crowd. Almost.

The way the fabric clings to his broad shoulders, how his biceps flex with the slightest movement, even his features catch the glow of the party—there’s nothing ordinary about him. He carries an effortless power, something raw and unpolished, something just barely restrained. It’s exactly the kind of energy that you want to capture and toy with just to see what happens.

Your fingers squeeze around his before you withdraw, your glossy lips curling into a devious little smile. “My friends call me Pixie.”

His brow quirks at the nickname, and he looks like he’s going to make a comment on the peculiar name. 

Before he can get a word out, the guy lounging beside you snorts, flicking the ash off his cigarette. “Yeah, ‘cause she rides dick like she’s got wings.” 

Ben’s eyes snap to him, his brows coiling in disgust. But before he can say a word, you roll your eyes and rise to your feet in one fluid motion. You don’t even look at the guy as you take Ben’s hand and tug. He gives into your pull, content on the fact that he’d happily follow you into any hidden corner of your choosing.  “Come on, hero. Let’s find some privacy.”

Ben follows your lead, watching the gentle sway of your sparkling dress as you take him out onto the balcony. The city sprawls out below, glittering like the edge of a world only the two of you exist in now.

And for the first time in a long time, Ben feels something other than numb without the help of a little upper in his system.

The party fades into a distant hum, the bass rattling through the glass as the door clicks shut behind him. Out here, the city stretches wide—dozens of lights blinking into the night sky, but Ben’s eyes are locked on you.

You sigh, stretching your arms over your head before resting them against the balcony railing. Your subtle lean over the bar pulls the fabric of your dress just enough to distract him, but you act like you don’t notice—or maybe you do. Either way, you flash him a lazy, knowing smile.

"So, Ben," you murmur, rolling his name off you tongue like it was always meant to come from your lips. You tilt your head up towards him, curiosity dancing in your gaze. "What’s got you out and about with the city’s finest?"

He huffs a laugh, taking his time drinking in the sight of your silhouette against the banister before stepping up beside you.

"Needed to get away from those fucking Vought robots," he mutters, his voice rough, eyes still tracing the slope of your neck and shoulders. He can’t help the wandering thoughts, wondering just how soft your skin would feel in his mouth. He clears his throat, "they’ve got all these rules for supes now—fucking suffocating."

A giggle rolls out of you, light and teasing. It stokes the fire you’ve started in him, warming him from the inside out. "Is that so?"

Pushing off the railing, you scan the patio, searching for something. Ben watches as you drift toward a low table where a glass tray sits—papers, a round container, all the right tools. It's a neat sitting area tucked into the corner, with the perfect view, nestled against the side railing.

You glance at him over your shoulder, mouth curving in that wicked little smile again as you crook a finger.

"Come along," your voice ripples like silk. "I’ve got just what you need."

And just like that, he’s following without a second thought, settling onto the cushioned bench beside you.

The first hit settles in your lungs, warm and slow, before you exhale toward the sky. The city sprawls beneath you and for the first time tonight, you feel excited to pick apart someone’s brain. You pass the joint to Ben, watching as he takes it between rough fingers, bringing it to his lips.

You lean your head back to reel in the substance mixing with the alcohol in your bloodstream. Letting the cool night air kiss your skin. “So, what’s the story, golden boy? Do you always do what Vought tells you?”

Ben rolls his jaw, taking a slow drag before flicking the ash into a nearby tray. When he scoffs, a puff of smoke ripples around you. “A little princess like you sure is one to fuckin’ talk,” he shakes his head, sucking in another hit, “You always do what Daddy tells you?”

That makes you laugh—genuine, unrestrained—and you don’t miss the way his shoulders relax just slightly. You tilt your head towards him, catching his hardened stare, “depends who you’re talking about,” you murmur, a teasing smile playing at your lips. “But I meant it. This whole America’s hero act. Is it really you?”

His lips curl into a lazy smile, head tilting as he rolls the words around in his head. “I’m a simple man. What you see is what you get, Pixie.”

You hum, unconvinced, the bare skin of your thigh brushes against his jeans as you recross them. The movement catches his eye, as he unabashedly watches the way the hem of your dress hikes higher from the resposition. “I don’t know,” you sigh, looking him over like the answer is somewhere between his pretty lips and wide shoulders. “I think there’s more under all that muscle and ego.”

His eyes drag over you, slow and assessing, like he’s deciding whether he gives a damn about what you think. He doesn’t, not genuine at least. But he’s certainly enjoying watching your pretty little brain try to pluck him apart. “Uh, huh,”  he grumbles, passing the blunt into your hand, “and what is it you think you see?”

You take another hit, watching the smoke curl toward the sky before flicking your gaze back to him. “A man who likes being in control, hates being told anything about himself.” 

You reach over to poke two nails into his chest, the cherry of the blunt burning between your extended fingers. “But there’s somethin’ in here, something I could play with.” 

His expression shifts, scowl giving way to amusement as his eyes bore into yours. Theres a subtle movement in his lap—the faintest twitch of his fingers, like he wants to reach up and crush the hand making accusations at his heart. His eyes twitch, jaw flexing with his indecision. 

Instead, he just nods, “you got me all figured out, huh?” His tone dips, rougher now.

“Not yet,” you correct with a flick of your wrist, passing the joint back to him. This time, when he reaches for it, you don’t let go right away. Your fingers brush. A pause. He watches you pull your bottom lip between your teeth before letting go.

“And what about you?” the smoke pools from his parted lips. “What’s your deal?”

You stretch, the straps of your dress slipping just slightly. His eyes track the fall of strings, the slight sagging material at the center reveals more of the skin of your chest, amusement flickering across his face.

“I just like to have a good time,” you shrug, leaning onto your hands in a slight invasion of his space. “And right now, you look like a very good time.”

His grip on the joint tightens, the muscles of his jaw popping beneath skin—and you know you’ve got him.

You lean closer, tilting your chin up to him, “You gonna keep eye-fucking me all night,” you tease, “or you gonna do something about it?”

Ben exhales slowly, smoke curling past his lips as he leans back, one arm draped lazily over the back of the bench. But the other hand—his fingers, thick and scarred, rest just within reach of your thigh.

His smirk deepens, eyes dark and full of a slow-burning warning. “Princess,” he drawls, voice like gravel and honey, “you keep talkin’ like that, and I’m gonna start thinking you want something from me.”

You tilt your head, your own smirk playing at the edges of your lips as you lean further, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him. “And if I do?”

Ben doesn’t answer. Not with words.

His hand moves fast, rough fingers sliding beneath your jaw, pushing your chin up just enough to make you catch your breath. His thumb drags over your lips, pressing down just enough to part them.

"You talk too much," he mutters, before sliding his thumb into your mouth.

You hum in amusement, letting your tongue flick over the pad of his finger before sucking lightly, playing along. His eyes stay trained on your rounded lips, a slow smile etching across his features. But just as he starts to enjoy it, you sink your teeth in—not enough to hurt, just enough to test him.

Ben's expression falls instantly, a sharp rage flashing in those green irises. His jaw tenses, a slow exhale through his nose, and for a split second, you think maybe you pushed too far—

Then you giggle, all sweet and innocent as you pull away, leaning back like you hadn’t just pressed every single one of his buttons.

Ben’s never been a patient man, never had to be. As quickly as you leave his space, his restraint snaps.

The blunt is flicked into the ashtray—forgotten. Strong hands clamp onto your hips, and before you can react, he plucks you from your seat like you weigh nothing, dragging you into his lap with a rough pull.

A startled laugh escapes you, hands bracing against his chest, but Ben just smirks up at you, his grip firm, possessive. He’s staring at you with a challenge, like he’s daring you to keep pushing him. 

"You think you're funny, huh?" His voice is thick, low, teasing as his fingers dig into your thighs. "Keep it up, dollface, and I’ll show you what’s really fucking funny."

You roll your eyes, lips curling into a near-pout. "Quit threatening me and do something about it, Ben. Like a real man."

His smirk falters, replaced by a scowl as his fingers tighten around your hips. The pressure hurts, but it's enough to let you know you’ve hit a nerve. Something raw. Something real.

It makes your head spin.

The air between you crackles, charged with the reckless thrill of toying with a man who could easily snap you in half. It's a rush you've been craving, stronger than any drug or drink coursing through your veins.

Ben’s thumb drags slowly along your hip, deliberate, before his other hand fists in your hair, tugging just enough to make your chin tilt up with a whimper. His other hand seizes both your wrists, locking you into place.

"Helpless," he murmurs, eyes devouring the sight of your half-lidded gaze, your lips parted just slightly. When your hips roll against his lap, he makes a low sound in his throat—a mix between a chuckle and a warning.

"You’re a fucking trip."

Without hesitation, he pulls you forward, crashing his mouth against yours.

The kiss is hot, wild—teeth clashing, lips parting, and his grip on you is so firm it feels like he's staking his claim. His hands tighten in your hair, pulling you down harder against him, as if he wants you closer. Needs you closer.

He lets go of your wrists and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, nails digging into the back of his neck. You grind against his hardening bulge, the friction making you moan in his mouth.

The sound only makes him kiss back harder, a messy fight of lips trying to claim dominance over one another.

You bite his bottom lip, just to tease, to see how far you can push him—but it backfires. He growls, hands moving swiftly as he flips you, slamming you against the railing. Your knees dig into the bench as he presses against your back.

"You just don’t know when to quit, do you?" His voice is rough, laced with something wicked.

You smile at him over your shoulder, breathless. "Not when I’m winning."

Ben chuckles low and dark, his hands trailing your dress up and over you with deliberate slowness. "Pretty thing, you’re not winning." His lips brush your ear as his voice drops to a husky whisper.

"I’m just getting started."

With your dress shoved up over your hips, you gasp at the quick sound of fabric ripping. Your panties fall, torn past the point of fixing. 

The air feels cool against newly exposed skin, and Ben wastes no time—his rough fingers rubbing your slick folds. The sudden pressure makes you gasp, clutching onto the railing as your mind flutters. 

“Like a real man, huh?” he gruffs, your comment from earlier evidently still taking up too much space in his mind, “you’ve got some fucking nerve saying that shit to me, y’know that?” 

You open your mouth to try and respond, but it’s cut off by his other hand coming up to wrap around your neck. He grips tight, pulling you forward in one hand and shoving two fingers inside of you with the other. The railing digs into the top of your rib cage, but you can hardly notice the pain from it when he’s working you with his moving hand.

The sounds falling from your lips are pathetic and needy, but it makes Ben’s pants tighter to hear you melting into his touch. Your arousal coats his fingers as he shoves his knuckles inside, not an ounce of his movements are gentle. 

But it makes your knees weak and pussy weep to receive his frustrated aggression. 

His fingers retract, but the absence is quickly replaced by the pads of his fingers pressing into you clit. He works circles on your sensitive spot that makes you lean down into his touch—but the movement is corrected by the quick slap of his wet fingers to your core. 

You damn near yelp in response. “Nuh, uh,” he huffs, the hand around your neck pulling your body forward again, half your body over the railing now. You have to screw yours eyes shut to keep from looking down where the ground is a dizzying distance from where you lean over the balcony. 

You keep still, save for your hands clinging to his wrist by your neck. “Good girl,” he chuckles, his fingers back to working circles on your clit like it’s a praise for listening to him. 

“You like this shit don’t you?” he chides, “being a fuckin’ brat until you get what you want.” 

You merely hum back, eyes fluttering closed again as he slips his fingers back inside, your walls instantly clenching around his thick digits as his movements become harder. 

His grip around your neck tightens, stealing just enough air to make your mind go spotty for a second, “didn’t catch that princess.” 

“Yes,” you mumble, your thighs instinctively closing together as the knot forms deep in your core. His strength makes it easy for him to pump his hand in and out of you faster, harder. 

As his fingers curl inside of you as he moves, making you whimpering again, practically humping his hand. The sight ignites an amusement within him that devours the rage you tempted out of him. 

It was worth it, he decided, letting you piss him off was worth this sight of you pathetic and needing him for a release. 

He releases his grip on your neck to wrap your hair around his fist, tugging enough to make tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. “‘m not fucking you, yet,” he decides out loud, eyes watching the needy buck of your hips into his hand, “I wanna see you cum like this, for me.” 

You whimper again, “but—“ you breathe, but it’s cut off by his grunt as he tugs your hair.

“Nuh, uh,” in one swift movement he releases your hair, slipping his hand around your waist to claim your sensitive clit beneath his fingers while his other hand pumps into you mercilessly. 

It’s almost overstimulating to have both his hands on you like this, your thighs pressed tight together and the knot in your core breaks under his touch. 

“Fuck, Ben,” you’re panting as your release makes your legs shake. Your hand clutching his arm to hold yourself up. 

As your mind comes back down to earth, Ben’s breathy chuckle fills the air, rich and smug. He steps back, keeping just out of reach, watching you like a predator amused by his prey. The city lights cast sharp shadows over his face, highlighting the cut of his jaw, the smirk twisting his lips. His hair is a little messier now, a few strands falling over his forehead, and his chest rises and falls with the steady rhythm of someone who always gets what he wants.

When you shift to sit properly on the bench, he stands over you, broad shoulders blocking out the city skyline, the joint back between his fingers. Taking a slow, deliberate drag, he watches you through half-lidded eyes, sharp and assessing, like he’s still deciding whether to ruin you or let you stew in your own anticipation for more of him.

Then, with practiced ease, he catches your jaw in his free hand, tilting your chin up, forcing your gaze to his. His palm is rough, warm, his grip just firm enough to remind you who’s in control. He exhales smoke past your parted lips as he leans in. “I think you and me could have a helluva lot more fun.”

His head tilts, tongue running along his bottom lip as his gaze drags over your face, hungry and contemplative. Like he’s measuring your worth. Testing you. “What’d you think, princess?”

Your breath still stutters, but that little devious smile creeps back onto your lips as you nod—slow, teasing, full of promise.

Ben’s lazy smile stretches wider, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth before pulling away. His voice dips, low and rough. “That’s what I thought.”

And just as easily as he reeled you in, he steps back, leaving you with the slow burn of anticipation, the feel of being in his grasp etched into your mind.

tags <3 @titsout4jackles @daylighted @deansbeer @bluemerakis @soldiersgirl @jollyhunter @ultravi0lence14 @ultravi0lence14

if i may yap once more. . . i’m envisioning a dynamic of reader and sb getting hooked on each other like a bad drug. obsessive, pushing the boundaries, messy, i think this could be fuuunnn 🤭

[edenspoem]

sugarbaby!ellie x sugarmama!reader would be so hot and idc it's going in my future ideas ౨ৎ literally sb ellie who begs u to buy her a new playstation n a whole lot of video games, comics, figures, shoes– and in return fucks you so good and deep with her strap u picked out for her. or u please yourself on her eager tongue furled out for you in ur big fancy penthouse, fucking up against the glass of ur open panorama of a bright and buzzing las vegas or sumn, wait this is hot FUCK ITS HOT FUCK FUCK FUCK IMMA WRITE THAT ONE DAY U CANT STOP ME HOLY SHIT A TEAR JUST FELL OUT OF MY GOOCH

PLEASEE (img from riverexwren on pinterest)

[wayward-dreamer]

Hi, I was wondering if you could write a story where soilder boy is dating Y/n, and they start talking, and he asks her if she thinks he would be a good dad. Which leads to them talking about starting a family together. And then one of them says something along the lines of "Why don't we try now?" Then it turns into smut. If not it's okay, thanks!

Father Material

Pairing: Soldier Boy x F!Reader

Word count: 1,468

Summary: Curiosity from the public and media has Ben expressing his dream to be a father. Y/N wants to make his dream a reality.

Warnings: Swearing, some angst, mentions of SB's nefarious actions, smut: dirty talk, rough sex, breeding kink.

A/N: This request has been in my inbox forever, so I apologise for long it took! I hope you like it Layla! Happy reading! :) Thanks to my besties/betas @hintsofhoney and @makeadealwithdean for looking over this. Sorry not sorry for killing you hehe

also there's plenty more Soldier Boy content on the way because apparently I've become an SB smut dealer lmaooo

“Do you think I’d make a good father?”

That was the question that sparked the sex marathon they had been in for hours now. Given that he was a supe, Soldier Boy had the stamina for withstanding just about anything, and if he had it his way he could probably last well into the night. She on the other hand was flagging quickly, the downside of being 100% human, but she really couldn’t bring herself to tell him to stop. Not when he always knew just how to make her toes curl and her body quake with euphoric bliss. He may have known what buttons to push to get her going, but that didn’t mean their encounters were predictable. They were far from it, and that day was no exception.

The day started out like any other. He had meetings with hero management, followed by filming a commercial for Cracker Jack, which then led to interviews with different channels. She finally stepped out of their penthouse that night to join him on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson, draped in an emerald green dress to match his suit, complete with gold accessories. Usually interviews weren’t really her favorite thing to do, but being America’s golden couple meant that they needed to be seen in public in order to keep that status. So they did what they always did. They laughed and joked with quick-witted Carson, charmed the audience and made the nation fall deeper for them with each caress of a hand or sweet kiss. Some may have thought it was just for the cameras, those cynical spectators that didn’t have any business commenting on what goes on behind closed doors, but they both knew the truth about their relationship.

They were in love. They had been since the moment he propositioned her in the elevator of the Vought American building, leading to one of the wildest nights she had ever had. Most would call it lust, but when you understood someone on a deeper level like they both did, it was most definitely love. A warped, messed up kind of love, but nonetheless, that’s what it was. She wasn’t stupid; she knew the kind of man he was, what he had to do during the war, and in Vought’s name since he joined their roster. She knew there were some off the books black ops missions he had gone on, even if she didn’t know the details. She heard the rumors about Dealey Plaza, too. She knew that he was fucked up despite his God fearing, all-American persona for the public, but she didn’t care.

In order to love someone like that, she had to be a little fucked up too. Well, more than a little.

Despite distracting everyone with their incredible charisma, questions of settling down and starting a family came up, and she knew she had to think of an answer fast when she saw Ben’s face go blank. With her biggest grin, she turned to Carson and said “Well, if anything happens Johnny, you’ll be the first to know!” They covered it up with hearty laughs as the audience joined in, along with the host, before he thanked them for their time to raucous applause.

The drive back to the Vought building was quiet, her concern growing for him until his words: “Do you think I’d make a good father?” broke the silence.

“Why do you ask?” she questioned in return, softly as to not scare him from broaching the subject.

“That fucking Carson,” he muttered, staring out the window at the bright lights. “I just… I guess he got me thinkin’, that’s all. Forget it.”

She wasn’t going to. She knew there was something he wanted to tell her, something he wanted of her, and she needed to know what it was.

“Thinking about what?”

“Thinkin’ about… about how I’d do it better than my father ever did,” he confessed. “We’d make some perfect fucking kids, that’s for damn sure.”

She smiled softly, her hand curling over his as she slid across the backseat and pressed herself against his side. She nuzzled her nose along his jaw, leaving small kisses along his stubble as she reached his ear, her breath fanning against the shell as she whispered her own desire to do the same.

“Then let’s start right now.”

And that was how they found themselves in their bedroom twenty minutes later, with her holding herself up on her quivering hands and knees as he pounded into her from behind, his fingers digging into her skin with a bruising hold as his pelvis smacked against the curve of her ass. He had contorted her into every position possible since then for the last couple of hours, with barely a few minutes to breathe between each romp in the sheets. She had lost track of how many positions, and she was about to lose count of how many times he had spilled inside her, both of them getting closer to that release once more.

“Oh god, oh god!” she moaned wantonly, her forehead pressed against the mattress as her hands fisted the sheets. She was completely unbothered about how loud she was and the fact that people had probably heard them by now.

“No need to bring him into this, doll,” he chuckled, the sound broken up by his groans of pleasure. “Just me and you here…”

“You’re so fucking cheesy,” she mumbled, a guttural whimper escaping her at a particularly angled thrust against her g-spot.

“You fucking love it,” he countered, smirking as he suddenly pulled out of her.

Ignoring her whine of protest, Soldier Boy flipped her over onto her back and grabbed her legs, bending her in half as her calves rested on his shoulders, sliding back into her tight heat with a quick, hard thrust. The sounds that left them were nothing short of pornographic, as he began to pick up the pace with each push of his hips against her. He squeezed his eyes shut as her walls clenched around his throbbing cock, both of them balancing on the edge of their blissful climax, ready to go over at any minute.

“So fucking good, so fucking perfect, Y/N,” he growled, their faces close as he leaned over her. “You love the way I fuck you, don’t ya?”

“Yes!” she cried out, nodding frantically as she stared up into his green orbs. “Love the way you fuck me… you fuck me so good, Ben. So deep, and hard, wanna feel it for days.”

“Oh you will, sugar,” he groaned, between rough kisses against her lips. “Gonna fill you up, make you feel so full, make you full and round with my babies. You want that?”

“Yeah,” she breathed.

“Fuck, yeah you do,” he husked. “Tell me, tell me you want it.”

“I want it, I want it so bad, Ben,” she whimpered, the sound practically a sob with how desperate she was to finally let go. “I want you to fill me up, give it to me.”

“Cum for me, doll, soak my cock,” he said, looking deep into her eyes.

Y/N finally felt the dam breaking as a loud, shrieking moan escaped her, her walls contracting around his shaft as her arousal spread over him. He grunted loudly, his hips snapping harder against her, as he tried to hold himself back. His eyes fluttered, about to close, but her hands on his face stopped him, making him pay attention to her as their gazes locked. As she had with each time he had reached his peak that night, she stroked her thumbs along his jaw, slowly nodding her encouragement and desire to feel his seed deep inside her.

“S-Say it,” he stuttered, his neck straining as he held on just a little longer. “Fuckkk, s-say it-”

She bit her lip, knowing how it drove him crazy, before she parted them and uttered the words that sent him over the edge at the end of round that night.

“You’re gonna be a great dad… better than your own.”

Soldier Boy threw his head back, the veins in his neck pressing against his skin as he let out a guttural moan, his cock pulsing deep inside her tight canal. She moaned softly as she felt the warm spurts of his cum coat her walls, filling her up as he had done several times that night already. They both breathed heavily, trying to calm their racing hearts, neither of them wanting to move away from the other. He buried his face in her neck, planting soft pecks along her pulse point, bringing a smile to her face as they basked in the afterglow.

Both of them hoped that it wouldn’t be too much longer before their dream became a reality.

[anundyingfidelity]

Hiya!

Just read your recent SB fics and I'm fucking hooked. Dark Ben is ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥. Can I request another Dark Soldier Boy and reader being in slave/master dynamics, please? 🥹

helloooo!! thank you so much, i'm glad to know that you liked it!! i tried my best for a dark!soldier boy haha. this is maybe the first time i write this type of master/slave dynamic and i'm mostly a sub so the reader is a sub too XD hope you enjoy this filthy thing !!

event guidelines ✮ event masterlist ✮

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

PLAYTHING — Dark!Soldier Boy x female reader

Word count: 592 (these aren't 400 words drabbles anymore lmao).

Genre: dark smut.

Warnings: dark!soldier boy, master/slave dynamics, face-fucking, cum-play, cum swallow, hair pulling, finger-sucking, if you squint forced alcohol compsumtion, usage of word 'slut'.

Your throat hurts and you try to catch a breath from your nose as much as you’re allowed to. You shut your eyes closed, feeling his strong hands against your scalp, fingers tugging at your hair as you gag on his shaft over and over, while he’s using your mouth as his personal fleshlight.

His cock throbs in your mouth, spit is running down your chin and you try to rub your thighs together, yearning for some friction between them. Your nipples are hard and stiff now, aching for release, but you know better to not touch yourself before he gives his permission to do so.

“Shit, you’re so fucking good with that mouth of yours, sweetcheeks,” he praises and follows a chain of dirty courses between his hitching breath.

You think he’s going to release down your throat but you’re so wrong. Soldier Boy forces your head back, his dick slipping out of you leaving a string of saliva connecting the tip of his veiny shaft with your swollen lips. His dark green gaze takes in the mess you are; on your knees between his legs, eyes lost in pleasure even if he hasn’t touched you yet, panting hard, showing up your bare body only with a pair of black stockings combined with high-waist suspenders that hugged your body perfectly.

Just how he loved to see you, his little plaything. So obedient, so eager to please him. His cock begins to twitch again.

“Fetch me another glass,” Soldier Boy orders, voice low and dark.

“Yes, master.”

He lets go of the grip on your hair and you stand up with wobbly legs to fill up his glass with the expensive bottle of liquor standing on the bar of his penthouse. When you come back, he trails his eyes over your figure and takes the glass as you kneel between his thighs. Innocent eyes draw back at him, he smirks, settling the glass on the carpeted floor by your side.

“Such a good pet,” Soldier Boy praises, his thumb now tugging at your lower lip. You open your mouth as a reflex and he shoves his index finger along too. You start sucking on them and he pushes further, making you gag around his fingers. “Ain’t even touching you yet and I know you’re soaking wet.”

You moan as an answer, mouth full of his digits. He pulls them out suddenly and forces your mouth to stay open with a hand, the other taking his hard cock to shove it down your throat again, this time fucking your wet cavern like a mad man looking for his release. It’s not too long until he spends his cum until it mixes with your spittle and runs down your chin, coating the base of his cock.

“Swallow,” he commands, staying still inside your mouth and you do as better as you can.

Once you’re allowed to breathe again you lick the remnants on his shaft, moaning at the salty taste of it. He forces you to stop suddenly and grabs the liquor glass again. Your aching jaw falls open thanks to his strong hand and he pours the scotch on your mouth. The taste smoothly burns as you swallow it all.

“Yeah, fucking take it all, my little slut,” he grunts, eyes on your flushed face. “You’ve been so good today. I might have to reward you.”

You whine pathetically, unable to look away from his lustful eyes. You’re basically begging to be fucked by now. And that he will, under his own terms.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Do you find it all right, my dragonfly?

Warnings: downright traumatized adults who need to fucking heal their inner child, reader is also like hl where she's mentally unstable too but at least has a bit of her sanity, not really siblingxsibling, but there is implications, weird/uncomfortable relationships, god mentality, she may not be as bad as hl or sb she still sb's kid, i'm getting a hera and zeus vibe from them honestly, vought should hire a supe therapist or something, finale

Words: 1884

Summary: Years have passed since Soldier Boy's death in Nicaragua. But you and Homelander still suffer the curse of his blood.

🌸Did you get enough love, my little dove 🌸Well you do enough talk, my little hawk. 🌸shall we look at the moon, my little loon

Homelander's eyes pop open, immediately accomodating to the darkness in his room. Even in sleep he caught the subtle noise of the front door to his penthouse suite opening and closing. Normally he would have sprung into action and apprehend whoever dared to break into his home. Only taking him a millisecond to realize who it was, Homelander relaxes back into the mattress.

When he hears you tiptoe your way into his room, he sleepily mutters "Couldn't sleep?"

You don't reply. Simply peeling back the covers of his bed and slipping in next to him. You never imagined how much you'd miss your small home in the middle of nowhere until you moved into Vought Tower with your brother. There was no way you could live by yourself during your last year in high school. Vought wouldn't allow it and neither would Homelander.

Humming at your silence, Homelander shifts to lay on his side to face you. You didn't like how far away your suite was from your brother's. Back at home, he'd been on the other side of the paper-thin wall.

After a moment of quiet, you look up at him through your lashes. "Is it fucked up that I miss him?"

He sadly smiles. "No. I think it's natural. I kinda miss that asshole too."

It was always thought that Soldier Boy was invincible. As indestructible as a cockroach. Stan Edgar was the one to bring you the news from Nicaragua. You simply couldn't believe it as the truth. Soldier Boy killed. You'd sat there in a daze, Homelander to your left as he too stares at the stained carpet under the couch.

Every night since then you'd go to Homelander's room in the dead of night; unable to take how quiet and big it was in your own rooms. Embarrassing at your age that you still needed your big brother's company to sleep.

Homelander was the only person you can seek comfort from. Someone you'd bonded with through trauma.

His blue eyes are so bright in the darkness of his room. Your shade was much more subdued, like Soldier Boy's. Vivid and bold, like a streak of lightening.

"C'mere." He scooches closer to you and wraps his arms around your frame.

All too easily, you accept the security. As long as Homelander was there, you'd be fine.

Years later and it was still the same.

Only now the spotlight was on the both of you and if word ever got out that you shared a bed with your brother, heads would turn and Vought stock would plummet. No one would understand. Everyone would think it utterly disgusting. Not that anything bad happened. You simply couldn't sleep without Homelander being in the same bed as you and vice versa.

Maybe it was odd, but you ceased to care what others thought was normal. It was only Stillwell's private words to you an hour ago. scolding you like you're still that teenager who'd just lost her toxic father. And damnit did her condescending tone still work on you. Why was there a part of you that wanted her praise? Possibly that same teenager who'd grown up without a mother.

"Who cares what they think." Homelander scoffs when you hesitate to go into his suite. He still had his tacky supe suite on, the both of you having come back from a Vought gala event.

Vought's golden children. They sure did love to tote you and your brother out to the public. Everyone ate it up. The most powerful supes in the world. You were legacies after all. Born from the seed of the infamous Soldier Boy who died for his country. There were always Vought events that exploited this fact. It was fucking tiring.

You purse your lips, looking up and down the hall. As you expected though, no one was in sight. A strict rule that no one was to disturb this corridor as it contained the suites of you and the Homelander, the top supes in the entire world. Translucent didn't even dare to peep in on you and Homelander. You always knew he was there. He didn't need any warning. You were even more popular than Payback's twin duo. Both of you having been at the forefront in the creation of Vought's team known as the Seven. The members who would join soon after knew early on not to mess with you and Homelander. You were leagues above any of them. Not only that, but due to your childhoods being not so. . . ideal, both of you had your fair share of mental instabilities.

Try as you may, you were Soldier Boy's daughter. That enough meant you carried his curse. He cursed you with an unhealthy attachment to your brother. You saw how far off he was, having suffered more from Soldier Boy and Vought than you did. Even then you ignored some of the more questionable actions you'd witnessed Homelander commit while on assignments.

Blind loyalty.

"John." You quietly use his birth name to show that you were serious. His smile dampens until his brows fall too. "You know what they're saying."

"What they're saying, or what Edgar told you?"

"Actually your girlfriend told me." Snidely you remark on Homelander's twisted relationship with Madelyn. Seems both of you were to be doomed by unusual relationships.

The muscle below his eye twitches, a note of agitation which only your eyes were capable of catching.

"Regardless, there's truth behind her words. They're lower beings than us, to be sure, but if this gets out it'll be bad press for both of us and Vought." You heave before moving to go back down the hall. "At least. . . for a little bit."

After a moment, Homelander's obnoxious grin returns to his face and he rolls his eyes. He plays along. "Okay. If you say so. But you better not try to crawl into my bed tonight."

You scrunch up your nose before chuckling. "Ah c'mon. That's definitely something you shouldn't be saying to your sister!"

He doesn't attempt to stop you from going back to your suite though you feel his heavy gaze on your back.

As he'd predicted, you indeed came crawling back later that night to curl up against his back. You knew he had a smug smirk on his face, his eyes closed in contentment. Your brother was always aware of your actions before you even knew what you were going to do.

"You're annoying." You mumble.

"I'm not gonna say 'I told you so', but. . ."

You lightly punch him in the ribs but good enough to make him jolt from the abrupt action.

"Don't worry about what others think." You close your eyes to listen to his soothing words, remembering how the two of you would lay under the stars as little kids. A beautiful dream. "We're gods."

Yes. Ichor pumped through your veins. You and Homelander were able to separate your identities from Soldier Boy. He may have started the both of you with his sperm, but you'd forged your own way through blood, sweat and tears.

Incinerators.

Soldier Boy's brutality.

All of it molded you and your brother into the most powerful beings.

"We can do as we please." Homelander turns around under his covers to face toward you. Legs weave together so that you were perfectly configured to his form that latched onto you.

This was how he held you during those long, lonely nights when it was just the two of you in your small house. The nostalgic sound of the rain hitting the windowpane of his bedroom window.

He nuzzles his nose against the soft roundness of your cheek. Your perfume from earlier in the day still clinging to your skin.

This world could take whatever it wanted from him except for you. In the end Homelander plans for it to be just the two of you, the world a pile of ashes around you. Your smile would once again belong only to him. If it came to it, he'd even kill Madelyn if it meant you could remain in his arms.

If he heard a peep out of anyone about you harmlessly cuddling up to him in the middle of the night, he'd tear them apart. Destroy the tower in order to protect you. To protect this.

Did you get enough love, my little dove, why do you cry?

Homelander thinks back to that sweet little girl you once were. Clinging onto your beloved brother's leg for dear life in an attempt to not be swept up in Soldier Boy's darkness.

Such a funny thought to wrap you up in cloth, do you find it alright, my dragon?

Remembers standing next to you as Stan Edgar stood at your front door with several other Vought agents to tell you about Soldier Boy. How there was nothing left of him to even bury. Not a trace physical of him remained on the earth. Only you and Homelander as a testament. A sense of relief washing over both of you and yet. . . a knowledge of doom and the end of your childhood; if you'd ever had a proper one. No matter the mixed feelings you had toward your father, it was a strange thing to now be in a world without him.

Stan Edgar saw to the finishing of your academic studies. He eased his way as your guardian figure while Homelander fell under Madelyn's wing.

Shall we look at the moon my little loon? Why do you cry?

Nights of looking up at the night sky with your brother weren't gone. Just different. The light pollution from the city chased off any chance of seeing stars. The moon refused to be covered though and you could still gaze at it's lonesome fixture above. Your heads pressed together in the same manner you used to do as your sprawled out on a blanket atop of the roof of Vought Tower.

He damned himself for missing the days when it was just you, Homelander, and even Soldier Boy occasionally. Where your backyard bled into the wilderness. Running through the trees while Homelander tried to catch you. Soldier Boy teaching both of you how to shoot a gun, using trees and beer cans as targets. Even picking up a drunken Soldier Boy from the bar at least meant he got to spend more time with you as you accompanied him in Soldier Boy's truck.

Well you do enough talk my little hawk, why do you cry?

You still possessed a scar from your first training day with your dad. Where he gave you a concussion. There were some days where Soldier Boy's training felt more like a punishment as he used you as a punching bag. Never did you cry in front of him. Only in the privacy of the bathroom you and Homelander shared while he cleaned you up. His strong, brave girl.

Homelander brushes back a few stray strands of your dark hair away from your face. You always fell asleep fast when in his arms. You were still that little girl. You always would be to Homelander though he acknowledges you as his equal. He would always be by your side.

After all, you promised to take him to the moon with you.

Thanks for reading!

[fake-married-my-dead-fiance]

I fixed it

[tiredlilguy]

Hiii :)

First of all, your blog looks so pretty! I'm really looking forward to seeing more works of you.

Secondly, could I please request relationship headcannons for Verlaine? Only of you feel like it of course.

Hope you have a great day/night!

Bye.

AAAAAAAAAA! thanks so much >:D i try to make it look pretty, i'm glad someone noticed tysm >o< this request is cute asf, so ty for requesting :D i hope you enjoy!!!

pairing: Verlaine X GN!Reader cw:desc: just some fluffy, romantic hc's with the silly french man mwehehe

oh my god, you finally got him out of the basement (congratulations)

Joking, but anyways

Im doing these hc’s of him post SB btw

he’s really sweet to you, but he probably doesn’t talk much

Will recite little lines of poetry that he wrote when u come visit him in the basement, sometimes sad, sometimes happy

But you’re his muse, the moment that you start frequently visiting him in the basement, you’re all that he find himself writing about

If you two are in the same room though, he probably won’t talk much, but he does enjoy your presence

He doesn’t mind if you talk though, he enjoys listening to your voice and hearing you talking about your day

Get him desserts when he’s down there, or just food in general; the mafia only gives him rations (and he barely eats them), but he’ll appreciate anything you get him

Love languages are quality time, likes to receives acts of service and strangely enough physical affection

Really hesitant to touch you at first because he thinks he’s going to hurt you for some reason, mainly because he has a hard time thinking that he’s worthy of human affection

If you touch him, he’ll probably go stuff at first before relaxing into it

When he did start initiating forms of affection though, he would probably gently put his hand over yours, or kiss you on the hand when he greets you

(Let’s say u somehow got him out of the basement)

He spoils you… he gets all this money from being a Port Mafia executive and so what's he going to do with it? I mean, you’re mafia too, but you don’t earn nearly as much as he does

You will be living in a penthouse on the top floor with way much more space that you actually need

He’ll get you luxury everything and anything, you have his credit card in your pocket whenever you’re going out by yourself and you don’t even realize it, he’ll just slip it in your wallet or pocket when you’re not paying attention

I can see him liking to slow dance with you, he’ll have a record player in the background and when you get home he’ll take you in his arms and slow dance with you

Can he cook? Hot take, but no. (Rimbaud taught him everything, just not how to cook), but I can see him being somewhat of a househusband (he cleans around a little bit and will get you groceries for dinner, but he cannot tell the different between a pickle and cucumber… please send him pictures)

If he’s not in the basement he’s in the penthouse, probably not doing much unless Mori calls him to go train another subordinate

He just likes to be at home, but sometimes he needs to get out of there too because he gets too much into his own head

If he is out with you though, he’ll enjoy going to a cafe or a library; somewhere where he can just enjoy his time with you whether you’re both quiet or talking

Or he’ll sit at the park with you, but only if there’s not too many people

He won’t be doing that on his own though, he’ll only do that with you

Is ok with PDA, but just hand-holding; he’ll kiss you on the cheek if he’s going to leave you for a second though

Likes to sleep with you on his chest, he sleeps on his back

Or he has an arm around you in some sort of way :)

will melt if you braid his hair/take care of his hair in any way-

Will hum lullabies to you, either consciously or unconsciously; he just enjoys being able to see you fully relax in his arms

And is happy to know that he’s not really a monster after all (aw, yay)

[wisteria-blooms]

⭐️

Reblog this if you want readers to come into your ask box and ask for the “director’s commentary” on a particular story, section of a story, or set of lines.  Or, send in a ⭐star⭐  to have the author select a section they’ve been dying to talk about!

Okay, so bear with me as I type this half-asleep...

long hair & tattoos (lh&t as someone kindly abbreviated; I love it!!) is obviously my baby or my first-born child, if you will. Obviously, the tropes aren't original, but it was my fake-dating template for sunburns & dragons (let's call that sb&d). You'll see the chapters mirror each other. For example:

Chapter 1: The dinner

Chapter 2: Talking to Fred/George

Chapter 3: Meeting Bill/Charlie

Chapter 4: Making plans

Chapter 5: Meeting the parents

Chapter 6: An argument with the parents

Chapter 7: Talks about moving in together...

Okay, so I want to talk about the moving in part. I don't think I'm any sort of expert on Bill and Charlie's characters nor could I give good advice on how to write them, but I tried to make the distinct in the same situations.

Bill (lh&t) (Chapter 7):

“I don’t mind it, really,” Bill responded. It seemed like he’d been thinking about what happened at dinner, too. “If the penthouse is as big as your father says it is, then we could both live there without issue. We might not even see each other.”

“I’ll use the money to rent elsewhere,” you suggested. “It’d look suspicious if you rented under your name. Your father would find out.” You wracked your brain for another option. “Then I’ll take your flat.” “I don’t know if the owners will be so happy after I announce the termination. And even then, there’d be a place under my name and yours.”

At the end of the chapter, Bill accepts (Y/N)'s offering of the penthouse. I actually had a bout of amnesia and forgot that he offered to share it with her, and shot down her suggestions because they'd be risky. To me, it shows that he wouldn't mind living with her, and she doesn't deserve not to live there. But there's a more.... rational and refined side to him that tells him it wouldn't be a great idea. Real people having real feelings. Things could get tangled and messy. At this point of the story, he doesn't have any romantic feelings for her, but knows something could happen and someone could get hurt. That's why he stays on the down low for the next couple weeks. (Aside: he starts thinking more about (Y/N) in Chapter 8 after seeing her at the family dinner).

vs. Charlie (sb&d) (Chapter 7):

“Swimming in luxury and eating fondue on quartz countertops, indulging in vintage wines while I’m wedged in between my two loudest and most annoying brothers on a bed that can barely support my weight,” Charlie wallowed in self-pity, punctuating his remarks with a long sigh. “The universe really chooses favourites.” A crescent of sweat grazed your neck, outlining your sweater, at what you were about to say. Feeling your guilt implode, you blurted out: “You can stay over if you need."

“You have to get the unit first before dreaming about living with me,” Charlie teased, emphasising the word ‘me’ by pointing at himself, and subsequently, ricocheting your lack of faith against you.

Charlie wouldn't have cared if (Y/N) had asked him to move in with her, but since she did, he definitely doesn't mind sharing a space with her. At this point, Charlie has no romantic feelings for (Y/N), but has been extremely flirtatious. (Y/N) soon realizes she has to be careful around him (like, is what he's saying real or just something to make me feel good?). Charlie, unlike Bill, hasn't thought about the weight he's putting on (Y/N) and the repercussions. He's used to being friends with woman, flirting as he likes, and not expecting any sort of commitment. Having a roommate - someone to hang out and cook with - is just fun.

That's why I say Bill knows what he wants, Charlie "dillydallies" a lot more. But will that change? We'll find out in a couple of chapters.

Anyway, that's my director's cut. Let me know if there's anything else I can explain!!

[onlyjaeyun]

Hi 👋

I hope you're well 💖 and I'm enjoying all the chapters of SB ✨

I was wondering, how do you imagine SB YN's apartment to look like? In comparison, how would SB Jay and even the others apartments look like? LoL I'm just trying to imagine SB better...so far it's kinda like a Netflix drama in the best way 💖 Take care 😘

bestie i know you sent me this ask WEEKS ago but i literally just found time to give myself to this so please excuse the long waiting, thank you sm for your sweet words!🥺💞

so, this is how i imagine SB!y/n'a apartment layout. super small, super cozy and i feel like the picture also fits her taste and personality quite well, i'd just say she generally has a little more pinks and reds everywhere and i didn't find a kitchen i liked but it's those small ones which are usually righg at the entrance door to the apartment!

i couldn't choose when it came to SB!jong's penthouse but i was sure it had those random ass stairs in the middle of the living room and generally i think he just keeps the design and decorations really neutral and in rather dark or like beige colours bc that's him. but as y/n moves in, she starts buying a few things for his place and it starts with random pink baking utensils all the way to little pillows and new bed sheets and then he finds himself loving it so much he asks her to re-decorate the whole apartment for him 🥺💞

[blaq-o]

Upcoming SBS drama “The Escape of the Seven” has shared new stills of Lee Joon!

Starring Uhm Ki Joon, Hwang Jung Eum, Lee Joon, Lee Yoo Bi, Shin Eun Kyung, Yoon Jong Hoon, Jo Yoon Hee, and Jo Jae Yoon, “The Escape of the Seven” follows the story of seven characters involved in the disappearance of a young girl, who was tangled in a complicated web of lies and ambition. “The Escape of the Seven” is the third joint project by scriptwriter Kim Soon Ok and director Joo Dong Min who previously worked together on “The Last Empress” and the hit “The Penthouse” series.

Lee Joon will play Min Do Hyuk, a precarious man who was once a gangster. Min Do Hyuk is only living life because he was born, and he has no dreams or hopes. He is a person who lives and dies by loyalty, but unfortunately his life is full of unexpected series of betrayals. Anticipation is high for Lee Joon’s portrayal of Min Do Hyuk who appears to be tough and cold on the outside but whose heart is as hot as fire.

In the released stills, Min Do Hyuk exudes a dark aura that has viewers curious about his real identity. He is captured with cold eyes that reflect the unevenness of his life. In one still, Min Do Hyuk, who has a scar on his face, is captured riding in a police vehicle.

Despite his harsh and cold outward appearance, Min Do Hyuk is actually a warm and delicate person. Min Do Hyuk wants to go back to his family, but he keeps turning back because he feels insignificant. Viewers can’t help but wonder how Min Do Hyuk will fare amidst the chaos as he unexpectedly gets caught up in an incident.

Lee Joon, who is working with writer Kim Soon Ok and director Joo Dong Min for the first time through “The Escape of the Seven” commented, “When I first saw the script after receiving an offer for the drama, I read it in one sitting because it was so interesting. I confirmed my appearance during my first meeting with director Joo Dong Min and writer Kim Soon Ok.”

Regarding why he chose to star in the drama, Lee Joon, shared, “Ideas are shared quickly and accurately, and the shoot is centered around communication. I thought the combination of the writer and director worked so well together, so I wanted to be a part of that.”

On how he portrayed the character of Min Do Hyuk, Lee Joon revealed, “Min Do Hyuk is a character who can be light and then very heavy at times, so I thought it was important to make the two sides feel like different characters so that he appears unpredictable. He’s a character that’s on the dark side of the world, but I tried to bring an innocence to the character.”

“The Escape of the Seven” premieres on September 15 at 10 p.m. KST. Check out a teaser for the drama here!

[idolskpop]

Can’t wait for #MyDemon to premiere this November! Kim Yoo Jung and Song Kang are going to make us swoon with their fantasy-romance. Who else is excited to see them as a devilish couple? 🔥😍 #KimYooJung #SongKang #KDrama

Kim Yoo Jung and Song Kang are ready to make their fans’ hearts flutter with their upcoming fantasy-romance drama “My Demon.” The series, which will air on SBS, is slated to premiere on November 24 and will take over the Friday and Saturday time slots.

What is ‘My Demon’ About?

“My Demon” is a story of an unlikely contract marriage between a rude and spoiled heiress and a devil who loses his powers after meeting her. The drama is based on a popular web novel of the same name by author Lee Seo Yeon.

(Photo : Kim Yoo Jung's Instagram) Kim Yoo Jung plays Do Do Hee, the only daughter of a wealthy business family who is about to inherit their empire. However, she is hated by everyone around her because of her arrogant and selfish attitude. One day, she gets involved in a marriage contract with Jung Gu Won, a devil who has been ruling over humans for centuries. Song Kang portrays Jung Gu Won, a powerful and charismatic devil who treats humans with indifference and contempt. He has been enjoying his immortal life until he meets Do Do Hee, who somehow makes him lose his abilities. He decides to stay with her to find out the reason behind his weakness and to protect her from danger. The drama will show how the two characters, who have nothing in common, gradually develop feelings for each other and overcome various obstacles in their relationship.

(Photo : Namoo Actors Official Instagram Account)

Why Should You Watch ‘My Demon’?

There are many reasons why you should not miss “My Demon” when it airs this November. Here are some of them: - Kim Yoo Jung and Song Kang’s Chemistry: The two actors are teaming up for the first time as an onscreen couple, and they are expected to showcase a sizzling chemistry that will captivate the viewers. Kim Yoo Jung and Song Kang are both rising stars in the Korean entertainment industry, with impressive acting skills and charming visuals. They have also expressed their excitement and passion for working on “My Demon” and delivering a good performance. - Fantasy-Romance Genre: If you are a fan of fantasy-romance dramas, then “My Demon” is definitely for you. The drama will combine elements of fantasy, comedy, romance, and mystery, creating a unique and thrilling plot that will keep you hooked. You will also get to see how the devil world operates and how it affects the human world. - Interesting Characters: Besides the main leads, “My Demon” also features a colorful cast of supporting characters who will add more fun and depth to the story. Some of them are Do Do Hee’s family members, Jung Gu Won’s fellow devils, and other people who are connected to their lives. You will be curious to know more about their backgrounds, personalities, and relationships. - SBS’s Quality Production: “My Demon” is produced by SBS, one of the leading broadcasting networks in South Korea. SBS is known for producing high-quality dramas that have gained popularity and acclaim both domestically and internationally. Some of their recent hits include “The Penthouse,” “Dr. Romantic 2,” “Vagabond,” and “While You Were Sleeping.” You can expect “My Demon” to have a great script, direction, cinematography, music, and editing.

(Photo : Namoo Actors Official Instagram Account) Kim Yoo Jung & Song Kang Spotted Filming Their New Drama ‘My Demon’

'My Demon' Starring Kim Yoo Jung & Song Kang Confirmed to Premiere in THIS November

You can watch “My Demon” on SBS every Friday and Saturday at 10 p.m. KST starting from November 24. You can also stream it online through various platforms such as Viki, iQiyi, Viu, Kocowa, and Netflix (depending on your region).

(Photo : Namoo Actors Official Instagram | Kim Yoo Jung Instagram) Are you excited for Kim Yoo Jung and Song Kang’s “My Demon”? Let us know your thoughts in the comments below!Subscribe to IDOLS KPOP for exclusive updates and captivating content. Read the full article

[dryedmangoez]

Fan Casting a GMA Network Filipino Adaptation of Korean Drama "Penthouse"

There’s been some tsismis about the potential of a Philippine adaptation of the blockbuster Korean drama series Penthouse. Everything from it becoming the second GMA Network-ABS-CBN collaboration to Marian Rivera and Heart Evangelista mending their relationship to prepare to star in it. Being someone who watched and actually enjoyed the insanity that was SBS’ Penthouse, I did wonder who could…